The Romance of the Coast | Page 3

of the stone-work. There was wild excitement
amongst the brigade men, for they saw that she must be smashed into
matchwood in five minutes. The rockets were got ready; but before a
shot could be fired the ill-fated vessel gave way totally. A great sea
rushed along the side of the pier, and the pilot saw something black
amongst the travelling water. "There's a man!" he shouted; and without
a moment's thought plunged in, calling on the other fellows to pitch
him a rope. Had he tied a line around his waist before he jumped he
would have been all right. As it was, the Dutchman whom he tried to
save was washed clean on to the pier and put safely to bed in the
brigade-house. The pilot was not found until two days afterwards.

AN UGLY CONTRAST.
The steam-tug "Alice," laden with excursionists from several Tyneside
towns, struck in the autumn of 1882 on the Bondicar Rocks, sixteen
miles north of Blyth. The boat was not much damaged, and could easily
have been run into the Coquet River within a very few minutes if the
passengers had only kept steady. But the modern English spirit came
upon the men, and a rush was made for the boat. Women and children
were hustled aside; and the captain of the tug had to threaten certain
persons of his own sex with violence before he could keep the crowd
back. Some twenty-seven people clambered into the boat, and then a
man of genius cut away the head-rope, and flung the helpless
screaming company into the sea. Twenty-five of them were drowned. It
will be a relief if time reveals any ground of hope that the men of our
manufacturing towns will lose no more of the virtues which we used to
think a part of the English character--coolness and steadiness and
unselfishness in times of danger, for example. The Englishmen who

live in quiet places have not become cowardly, so far as is ascertained;
nor are they liable to womanish panic. In the dales and in the
fishing-villages along our north-east coast may still be found plenty of
brave men. Where such disgraceful scenes as that rush to the "Alice's"
boat are witnessed, or selfishness like that of the men who got away in
the boats of the "Northfleet," there we generally find that the
civilization of towns has proved fatal to coolness and courage.
Curiously enough, it happens that within six miles of the rock where
the "Alice" struck, a splendidly brave thing was done, which serves in
itself to illustrate the difference that is growing up between the race that
lives by the factory and the men who earn their bread out-of-doors.
Passing southward from the Bondicar Rocks you come to a shallow
stream that sprawls over the sand and ripples into the sea. You wade
this stream, and walk still southward by the side of rolling sand hills.
The wind hurls through the hollows, and the bents shine like grey
armour on the bluffs of the low heights. You are not likely to meet any
one on your way, not even a tramp. Presently the hills open, and you
come to the prettiest village on the whole coast. The green common
slopes down to the sea, and great woods rustle and look glad all round
the margin of the luxuriant grass-land. Along the cliff straggle a few
stone houses, and the square tower with its sinister arrow-holes
dominates the row. There is smooth water inshore; but half a mile or so
out eastward there runs a low range of rocks. One night a terrible storm
broke on the coast. The sea rose, and beat so furiously on the shore that
the spray flew over the Fisher Row, and yellow sea foam was blown in
patches over the fields. The waters beyond the shore were all in a white
turmoil, save where, far off, the grey clouds laid their shoulders to the
sea and threw down leaden shadows. Most of the ships had gone south
about; but one little brig got stuck hard-and-fast on the ledge of rocks
that runs below the village. She had eight men aboard of her, and these
had to take to the rigging; where the people on shore heard them
shouting. It is a fearful kind of noise, the crying of men in a wrecked
ship. Morning broke, and the weather was wilder than ever. There was
no lifeboat in the place, and it was plain that the vessel could not stand
the rage of the breakers much longer. It was hard to see the ship at all,
the spray came in so thickly. The women were crying and wringing

their hands on the bank; but that was of small avail. However, one little
trouting-boat lay