SOME STRANGE EXPERIENCES.
For many years to come residents of the western counties will have
tales to relate of marvellous incidents, involving both great and small
consequences, that occurred in connection with this memorable blizzard.
The remarkable tenacity of life exhibited by birds and animals had been
probably wholly unsuspected, until this recent sudden storm supplied
the opportunity for its discovery. We have already heard of lambs born
under the snow; of geese hatching their young within a day or two of
release from days under a heavy snow coverlid, which not only covered
but enwrapped them; and of horses being dug out alive and well after a
night's chilly burial.
An experience of this kind, as curious as any, was that of Mr. J.
Trant, of Redlap, Stoke Fleming, who dug a lamb out of a snow-drift,
where it had lain buried for sixteen days. To quote the words of our
informant, "the little creature seemed none the worse for its long
imprisonment, but began to graze as soon as it was released. I have
just seen it, and it was busy making up for lost time." Mr. Trevethan,
of Beer Barton Farm, Beerferris, also met with some instances of this
kind. After he had succeeded in releasing his lambs, of which he had
missed a large number, he found them generally weak, and rather
drowsy, but they at once bleated for their mothers, and their call
being answered, they trotted off in the direction from which the call
came. A bottle of gin was kept on hand for the resuscitation of the
recovered creatures, and its efficacy in imparting the needed warmth is
highly spoken of.
Mr. Trevethan's shepherd was making for his cottage on Monday evening,
carrying with him a basket of provisions which he had been into the
village to purchase. In attempting to get over a gate, within a short
distance of some outhouses that stood between him and his cottage,
he was separated from his basket by a violent gust of wind. Picking
himself up, he reached his home in safety, and his basket was found,
after a few days, empty. In the course of the following week, while
clearing up his garden, he discovered, under some feet of snow,
a package of tea, which had formed part of the Monday's stock of
provisions, lost from the basket. The package, which was unbroken, and
in good condition, had evidently preceded him to his home more than a
week before.
"Mrs. Hatherley, living near Bickleigh, missed a hen, which she
naturally gave up as lost. After a lapse of ten days, a cackling was
heard to proceed from under a heap of snow. On going to the place, Mrs.
Hatherley was surprised to find the long-lost hen force an exit through
the snow, and, flapping its wings, make its way home to the house with
all speed. Mrs. Hatherley then examined the spot, and found on the
ground two eggs which the bird had laid whilst held prisoner by the
snow."
Mr. George Sara, of Plymouth, traveller for Messrs. Cadbury Bros.,
was enabled during the Monday night of the storm to administer comfort
to his fellow-travellers. The train by which he was travelling on the
Great Western line from Penzance to Plymouth became snowed up at St.
German's. Mr. Sara, happening to have his samples with him, and hot
water being available, was able to dispense cups of chocolate to his
companions. Some Easter eggs, made of chocolate, are described by the
narrator of the story as forming an excellent ingredient for a beverage
of this kind. Approval of the samples of Messrs. Cadbury Bros.' wares
was expressed by all the belated travellers who had the good fortune to
taste them.
[Illustration: A ROOM AT WALREDDON MANOR, TAVISTOCK.]
Snow effects resulting from this storm were remarkable in many places,
but perhaps none could be found more striking than the illustration we
give of the result of leaving open, a few inches, a lattice window,
facing north, at Walreddon Manor, near Tavistock, on the night of
Monday, March 9th. The illustration is from a photograph kindly
supplied by Henry D. Nicholson, Esq.
At the Land's End the gale was very severe, and the snowed-up
passengers on the omnibus from Penzance to St. Just on Monday night
had a dreadful time. They left Penzance about six o'clock, and should
have reached St. Just by half-past seven, but it was nine o'clock
before the 'bus reached the point where it had to remain, some three
miles from St. Just. The horses failed to proceed, and the driver, a
young man about 20, was also very much exhausted. He unhitched the
horses, and proceeded to a farmhouse near and asked for shelter. This
was refused him, the people of the house saying that there was no room
for the horses, as all their cattle were in the house. He begged for
admittance, and offered to stand by the horses all night, but he was
again refused. Not knowing what else to do, he took the harness off the
horses, turned their heads towards St. Just, and told them to go home.
The horses went off in the darkness, and he saw them no more. They did
not reach home, but were recovered alive next day. The driver returned
to his passengers in the omnibus, and remained with them until midday
on Tuesday.
Mr. William Penrose, of Bojewan, St. Just, had also a terrible
experience on Monday night. He arrived at Penzance by the half-past
six down-train, intending to catch the omnibus, but, finding it gone,
he walked after it. Not catching it, he struggled on through the storm
for several hours. Some time in the night he found himself near a
farmhouse. The people of the house had gone to bed, and there was no
light, but he knocked vigorously at the door, succeeded in awaking the
inmates, and asked to be admitted, as he was well nigh exhausted. The
farmer, however, refused to admit him, and, after a long rest under the
shelter of the house, he battled again with the storm, determined to
make another effort for life. He finally reached the snowed-up omnibus
at six in the morning more dead than alive, having been exposed to the
storm for twelve hours. Instances of inhospitality such as these were
rare during the blizzard, and they are worth recording on that account.
Mr. Theo H. Willcocks relates as follows:--
"On the memorable Monday night, the storm raging furiously and showing
no signs of abating, I left the Molesworth Arms, Wadebridge, at about
eight o'clock, after being persuaded to do otherwise by the worthy
proprietor, Mr. S. Pollard, and numerous other friends, and made tracks
for Tregorden, some two miles distant. The town itself was desolate in
the extreme, the streets being absolutely deserted except by a passing
chimney-pot or tile.
"The wind howled and whistled as I wended my way over the bridge,
hurling the flakes in my face with almost blinding force, but at the
far end I found myself greatly sheltered, and made fairly good progress
over the hill until I reached Ball, where I encountered the full
force of the gale. It must have taken me at least ten minutes making
100 yards, at the end of which I was thoroughly exhausted, but managed
to reach the cottage occupied by Eliza Burton, which I entered; after
furiously rapping the door to wake the inmates, who had retired for the
night. Here I received the kindest attention, also severe ridicule from
'Dick,' a person of no mean size, and the man of the house, for being
obliged to seek help. He immediately volunteered to accompany me, so
after lighting a lantern, and getting tied up securely, as we thought,
from the tempest we closed the door behind us.
"By this time the snow in the highway was several inches in depth, and
the storm raged with greater fury than ever. On turning down Tregorden
Lane, this road, though running nearly at right angles to the wind,
was being rapidly filled, for the blizzard came rushing across a
twelve-acre field, with nothing to impede its course, and, gathering
the snow up in clouds, whirled it along until it reached this sheltered
lane, where it came over the hedge and through the bushes in streams
of sleet, and it was as though we were inhaling icicles, for when we
turned our backs it was just the same. It pierced our clothes, freezing
as it did so, and our hair and necks became saturated with the driving
snow which formed into a mass of ice. The lane was rapidly becoming
impassable, the snow being now even up to our waists. In this state we
plodded along for a short distance, I being determined that this time
'Dick' should be the first to be beaten, and I had not long to wait,
for he gasped out 'Let's turn back, I am done;' so round we turned and
struggled back to the cottage more dead than alive, having been out for
some twenty-five minutes. Eliza, prophesying our return, had by this
time got up a roaring fire, and at once forced some hot brandy down our
throats, after which we changed our stiff clothes and made ourselves
comfortable for the night before the fire, and I enjoyed a cup of tea
as I did not know how to before." On the following day the narrator was
able to proceed to Tregorden.
Among other peculiar and beautiful forms taken by the blizzard snow,
and seen with great effect during the sunshine of the Wednesday after
the storm, were the huge, shell-shaped hollows scooped out by the wind
from the snow-drifts. An examination of many of our illustrations will
reveal examples of this very unusual feature. In the accompanying
scene, which is a view of a drift in the Liskeard cricket field, the
peculiarity is very marked, the hollow being apparently sufficiently
deep to cause the surface of the drift to overhang for some two or
three feet.
Brief reference has already been made in another chapter to the gallant
exploits of Mr. Harold S. Williams, of Torridge, near Plympton.
On Tuesday afternoon, at about five o'clock, he left his home and
proceeded in the direction of the Great Western Railway line. Making
his way in the storm, he found No. 160 engine standing in a deep drift
which had formed on the bridge crossing the lane leading from the
George Hotel. Alone on the engine was the driver, Coleman, in imminent
danger of being frozen to death. Getting back as fast as possible to
Torridge, Mr. Williams procured stimulants. Returning to the driver,
he found him almost in a state of collapse. All he could say was, "I'm
dying, I'm dying." Mr. Williams, who showed great pluck and presence
of mind, got him off the engine, and conducted him towards Torridge,
nearing which a portion of a relief party was met, and they carried
the driver into the house. By that time he had become unconscious, but
restoratives having been administered, and Coleman's limbs vigorously
rubbed, he in about an hour was restored to partial consciousness.
He remained the guest of Mr. Williams all night, and next day had
sufficiently recovered to be removed to his home.
[Illustration: DRIFT, CRICKET FIELD, LISKEARD.]
Not long after Coleman had been received into Torridge, news was
brought that another driver, rather further up the line, was dying. Mr.
Williams, who is only nineteen years of age, again started on an errand
of mercy and rescue. This time he was accompanied by Mr. Thornton, his
tutor, and some of the relief party, who had helped to carry Coleman
into his hospitable home. About 150 yards beyond Coleman's engine the
party came across another engine completely buried in the snow, even to
the funnel. Lying near to it was its driver, who had evidently crawled
off the footplate in the hope of reaching shelter from the bitter
snowstorm. At once he was carried to Torridge, apparently dead, and was
laid on a mattress before a large fire.
An attempt to administer restoratives failed, so tightly was the man's
teeth clenched. All that could be done was to promote circulation
by the warmth of fire and friction. Rubbing the limbs and body was
persevered in, and at length the man gave a groan. That, however,
was the only sign of life he gave for three hours, during which
time the rubbing was persevered in by relays of helpers. Two hours
afterwards--that is five hours after he had been brought in--he was
sufficiently recovered to speak, but it was some time after that before
it could be said that he was out of danger. When he first recovered
speech he was found to be delirious, and he continued in a state of
delirium, more or less, the whole of the night.
When Mr. C. C. Compton, the divisional superintendent, called at
Torridge early next morning, to ascertain how the driver was, it was
reported that he was making favourable recovery, but that it would not
be possible to remove him for some days. The man suffered much in his
legs and feet, which are believed to be considerably frostbitten. His
hands appeared to be all right. He remained some time at Torridge, and
was most carefully tended. Eventually he and the driver first rescued
recovered.
A plucky journey was undertaken on the Wednesday after the storm by
Captain Cowie, R.E., with a view to ascertaining the damage done
between Totnes and Plympton to the postal telegraph wires, and being
unable to proceed on the journey by rail in consequence of the blocks
_en route_, he set out from the former place with a determination to
cover the distance on foot. He was the first to attempt the venturesome
task, and the consciousness of the difficulties that would have to
be encountered did not appear to trouble him. Proceeding as fast as
circumstances would permit, he eventually accomplished the journey of
nineteen miles, meeting with hardly a solitary individual the whole of
the way.
It is almost needless to say that his experiences were of a most trying
and perilous character. The road being impassable at many points he
mounted the hedges, and occasionally losing his footing he fell into
snowdrifts many feet high, being completely buried. He succeeded in
releasing himself from his dangerous predicament, but on each of
the occasions he met with this misfortune there was absolutely no
assistance at hand even should it have been required. He ultimately
reached Kingsbridge Road, and notwithstanding the adventures which he
had already experienced, he decided to continue the journey to Plympton.
Having regaled himself with a little milk and some light refreshment,
he started off again, and the remainder of the journey was no less
perilous than the portion already accomplished had been. He had to
wade through accumulations of snow almost as high as himself, and
was frequently compelled to crawl along on his hands and knees. He
eventually reached Plympton, saturated with water and sore from the
difficult and dangerous ordeal he had passed through, and here left
instructions for some men to follow him, finding, however, that the
wires _en route_ had suffered very little damage.
THE END.
A. H. SWISS, "BREMNER" PRINTING WORKS,
FORE STREET, DEVONPORT.
Transcriber's Notes
In the first chapter, much of the meterological data does not make
sense but there was no way to correct it.
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Hyphen removed: bed[-]rooms (p. 141), break[-]down (pp. 23, 44, 47).
Hyphen added: down[-]train (pp. 46, 51, 120, 162), sea[-]port (pp. 98,
100).
The following words appear both with and without hyphens and have not
been changed: farm[-]house, life[-]boat(s), mid[-]day.
"a.m." and "p.m." changed to small capitals (pp. 33, 103, 110).
P. 57: "on on" changed to "on" (Whilst the heavy squalls were on
Tuesday).
P. 143: "thermometer" changed to "barometer" (calm, and barometer
29·60).