Battles with the Sea | Page 2

perpetually going on around our shores. We are not sufficiently
impressed, perhaps, with the nationality of the work done by the Royal
National Lifeboat Institution, which manages our fleet of 270 lifeboats.
We do not fully appreciate, it may be, the personal interest which we
ourselves have in the great war, and the duty--to say nothing of
privilege--which lies upon us to lend a helping hand in the good cause.

Before going into the marrow of the subject, let us put on the wings of
imagination, and soar to such a height that we shall be able to take in at
one eagle glance all the coasts of the United Kingdom--a sweep of
about 5000 miles all round! It is a tremendous sight, for a storm is
raging! Black clouds are driving across the murky sky; peals of thunder
rend the heavens; lightning gleams at intervals, revealing more clearly
the crested billows that here roar over the sands, or there churn and
seethe among the rocks. The shrieking gale sweeps clouds of spray
high over our windward cliffs, and carries flecks of foam far inland, to
tell of the dread warfare that is raging on the maddened sea.
Near the shore itself numerous black specks are seen everywhere, like
ink-spots on the foam. These are wrecks, and the shrieks and the
despairing cries of the perishing rise above even the roaring of the gale.
Death is busy, gathering a rich harvest, for this is a notable night in the
great war. The Storm-fiend is roused. The enemy is abroad in force,
and has made one of his most violent assaults, so that from Shetland to
Cornwall, ships and boats are being battered to pieces on the rocks and
sands, and many lives are being swallowed up or dashed out; while, if
you turn your gaze further out to sea, you will descry other ships and
boats and victims hurrying onward to their doom. Here, a stately
barque, with disordered topsails almost bursting from the yards as she
hurries her hapless crew--all ignorant, perchance, of its
proximity--towards the dread lee-shore. Elsewhere, looming through
the murk, a ponderous merchantman, her mainmast and mizzen gone,
and just enough of the foremast left to support the bellying foresail that
bears her to destruction.
Think you, reader, that this sketch is exaggerated? If so, let us descend
from our lofty outlook, and take a nearer view of facts in detail. I quote
the substance of the following from a newspaper article published some
years ago.
The violence of the storm on Wednesday and Thursday night was
terrific. The damage to shipping has been fearful. On sea the
tremendous gale proved disastrous beyond precedent. Falmouth
Harbour was the scene of several collisions, and one barque and a tug

steamer sank at their anchors. A wreck is reported at Lelant, to which
the Penzance lifeboat with a stout-hearted crew had started, when our
despatch left, to rescue thirteen men who could be descried hanging in
the shrouds. A fine new ship is on Hayle bar, and another vessel is
believed to be wrecked there also. Doubtless we have not yet heard of
all the wrecks on the Cornish coast; but it is in the magnificent bay
which includes Torquay, Paignton, and Brixham that the most terrible
havoc has occurred. On Wednesday, about sixty sail were anchored in
Torbay. Eleven have gone ashore at Broadsands, five of which are total
wrecks. The names of those we could ascertain were the Fortitude, of
Exeter; the Stately, of Newcastle; the Dorset, of Falmouth, and a
French brigantine. At five o'clock on Thursday evening some of the
crews were being drawn ashore by lines and baskets. At Churston Cove
one schooner is ashore and a total wreck; there is also another, the Blue
Jacket, which may yet be saved. At Brixham there are two fine ships
ashore inside the breakwater. At the back of the pier ten vessels have
been pounded to matchwood, and all that remains are a shattered
barque, her masts still standing, two brigs, and a schooner, all
inextricably mingled together. Twelve trawlers have been sunk and
destroyed. Out of the sixty ships at anchor on Wednesday night there
were not more than ten left on Thursday afternoon. Many of these are
disabled, some dismasted. A fishing-boat belonging to Brixham was
upset in the outer harbour about eight o'clock, and two married
fishermen of the town and a boy were drowned. At Elbury a new brig,
the Zouave, of Plymouth, has gone to pieces, and six out of her crew of
ten are drowned. Eleven other vessels are on shore at Elbury, many of
the men belonging to which cannot be accounted for. One noble
woman, named Wheaton, wife of a master mariner, saved two lives by
throwing a rope