The Uncommercial Traveller | Page 2

the tide--that I myself seemed, to my own thinking,
anything but new to the spot. Yet, I had never seen it in my life, a
minute before, and had traversed two hundred miles to get at it. That
very morning I had come bowling down, and struggling up,
hill-country roads; looking back at snowy summits; meeting courteous
peasants well to do, driving fat pigs and cattle to market: noting the
neat and thrifty dwellings, with their unusual quantity of clean white
linen, drying on the bushes; having windy weather suggested by every
cotter's little rick, with its thatch straw-ridged and extra straw-ridged
into overlapping compartments like the back of a rhinoceros. Had I not
given a lift of fourteen miles to the Coast-guardsman (kit and all), who
was coming to his spell of duty there, and had we not just now parted
company? So it was; but the journey seemed to glide down into the
placid sea, with other chafe and trouble, and for the moment nothing
was so calmly and monotonously real under the sunlight as the gentle
rising and falling of the water with its freight, the regular turning of the
windlass aboard the Lighter, and the slight obstruction so very near my
feet.
O reader, haply turning this page by the fireside at Home, and hearing
the night wind rumble in the chimney, that slight obstruction was the
uppermost fragment of the Wreck of the Royal Charter, Australian
trader and passenger ship, Homeward bound, that struck here on the
terrible morning of the twenty-sixth of this October, broke into three
parts, went down with her treasure of at least five hundred human lives,
and has never stirred since!
From which point, or from which, she drove ashore, stern foremost; on
which side, or on which, she passed the little Island in the bay, for ages
henceforth to be aground certain yards outside her; these are rendered
bootless questions by the darkness of that night and the darkness of

death. Here she went down.
Even as I stood on the beach with the words 'Here she went down!' in
my ears, a diver in his grotesque dress, dipped heavily over the side of
the boat alongside the Lighter, and dropped to the bottom. On the shore
by the water's edge, was a rough tent, made of fragments of wreck,
where other divers and workmen sheltered themselves, and where they
had kept Christmas-day with rum and roast beef, to the destruction of
their frail chimney. Cast up among the stones and boulders of the beach,
were great spars of the lost vessel, and masses of iron twisted by the
fury of the sea into the strangest forms. The timber was already
bleached and iron rusted, and even these objects did no violence to the
prevailing air the whole scene wore, of having been exactly the same
for years and years.
Yet, only two short months had gone, since a man, living on the nearest
hill-top overlooking the sea, being blown out of bed at about daybreak
by the wind that had begun to strip his roof off, and getting upon a
ladder with his nearest neighbour to construct some temporary device
for keeping his house over his head, saw from the ladder's elevation as
he looked down by chance towards the shore, some dark troubled
object close in with the land. And he and the other, descending to the
beach, and finding the sea mercilessly beating over a great broken ship,
had clambered up the stony ways, like staircases without stairs, on
which the wild village hangs in little clusters, as fruit hangs on boughs,
and had given the alarm. And so, over the hill-slopes, and past the
waterfall, and down the gullies where the land drains off into the ocean,
the scattered quarrymen and fishermen inhabiting that part of Wales
had come running to the dismal sight--their clergyman among them.
And as they stood in the leaden morning, stricken with pity, leaning
hard against the wind, their breath and vision often failing as the sleet
and spray rushed at them from the ever forming and dissolving
mountains of sea, and as the wool which was a part of the vessel's
cargo blew in with the salt foam and remained upon the land when the
foam melted, they saw the ship's life-boat put off from one of the heaps
of wreck; and first, there were three men in her, and in a moment she
capsized, and there were but two; and again, she was struck by a vast

mass of water, and there was but one; and again, she was thrown
bottom upward, and that one, with his arm struck through the broken
planks and waving as if for the help that could never reach him, went
down into the deep.