Chapter Five.Land’s End.A fine, bright morning found us outside the harbour, with the Manacles on our starboard bow, steering for the Lizard, which we hoped to round before noon, so as to reach Penzance that evening. We passed sufficiently near the Manacles to distinguish their black heads standing with threatening aspect high out of the water.“It was there, sir, a few years ago, a large ship—The John—was lost during thick weather when making for Plymouth, and upwards of one hundred of her passengers and crew perished,” observed Truck, as he pointed out the rocks to us. “She had no business to be so close in shore, and that is all I can say. It is sad to think how many stout ships have been cast away on the rocks about here. When we set to the Lizard we shall see the Stags.”After passing the Lizard we kept the land close on board. As the wind was south-west, we sailed straight for Penzance. We could distinguish high and broken cliffs of a reddish hue extending the whole way to the Lizard; when they disappeared we could perceive a low rocky point running out towards the Stags. On the summit of the cliffs which form the Lizard Head stand two lighthouses, two hundred and twenty-three feet apart. A covered passage runs between them, in the centre of which are the residence and offices attached to the towers, so that the keepers can communicate without being exposed to the fierce gales of winter. Each of the white towers is sixty-one feet high, and contains a brilliant fixed catoptric or reflecting light.The Lizard is the most southerly point of England, and although it is exposed to heavy gales the climate is very healthy. Just as we were about to round the Stags the wind shifted, and compelled us to stand away to the southward, by doing which we hoped, aided by the next ebb, to be able to steer direct for Penzance.Had we gone about at that time, we should have run the risk of being driven on the Stags, both wind and tide setting in that direction. The wind became very light, and we made but slow progress.Our hopes of reaching Penzance gradually decreased as the day wore on, and yet, while the flood was making, it would have been folly to stand towards the shore. At length papa calculated that the tide had turned. We were on the point of putting the vessel’s head to the northward when a thick mist, driving up from the chops of the Channel, completely enveloped us, while the wind rapidly increased, as of course did the sea.Dick, who had been walking about with his hands in his pockets, now suddenly found himself jerked here and there, and was compelled to pull them out to catch hold of anything which came in his way; sometimes a stanchion, sometimes the side of the vessel, now and then Truck, or me, or the man at the helm.“Take care, my lad, you don’t go overboard,” sang out papa. “You’d better turn in and keep out of harm’s way.”Dick, however, was too proud to do this. “No, thank you; I’d rather stay on deck,” he answered. “I’ll pull and haul, and help the sailors in any way you like.”“I won’t ask you to do that; only sit down on the skylight, and should a sea strike us hold on with your eyelids.”Dick did as he was advised; at first he sat up, and looked very bold; but gradually he became paler and paler, and yellower and yellower, while his lip curled, and a groan every now and then escaped his breast.“Hulloa! what’s become of the Dolphin?” I exclaimed, looking round, and not seeing her anywhere.“She was away to leeward of us when I went down to tea,” observed Truck, who had just then returned on deck. “Where did you last see her?” he asked of the man at the helm.“Maybe a couple of hundred fathoms astern, sir; but I don’t think more,” was the answer.We hailed the Dolphin, but there was no reply. “She was further off than you supposed,” said papa, who had himself gone below for a few minutes.We could not understand why they did not answer our hail, for they must, we thought, have heard us. As it was important to keep as close to the wind as possible, that we might be sure of weathering the Stags, we could not run down to speak the Dolphin. Papa, however, felt sure that Uncle Tom would also keep as close to the wind as he could, with the same object in view.We had by this time gone about, and were heading up towards the port we wished to reach. Papa judged that we were already near Mount’s Bay. Dick had thrown himself down on deck, completely overcome. I was standing by him, urging him to get up and go below, when what was my dismay to see towering above us the dark hull and wide-spreading canvas of a large ship.“Steady! keep her as she goes!” papa shouted out. Had we attempted to keep away, the stranger must have struck us on our quarter. Had we luffed up, she would have run completely over us, and we should have been carried to the bottom. I fully expected even then that such would be the case.“Run forward, my lads!” he shouted out to Dick and me and the crew, while he himself seized the helm, making the helmsman throw himself flat on his back. All was the work of a moment. In another instant I heard a crashing and rending. Our boat was knocked to fragments, and the davits carried away. I saw the bowsprit sweeping across our deck, tearing the mainsail as it did so, and carrying away back-stays and other rigging.Dick was shouting out, “What has happened? What are we going to do?”“I hope to get rid of this craft!” cried Captain Truck, who having seized an axe, followed by the rest of the crew, was cutting away at the stranger’s bowsprit rigging.Happily, our gaff stood, although our topmast was carried away by her foreyard-arm, and came down with a crash on deck, papa narrowly escaping being struck. The next instant we were free.“You’ll be on shore in a quarter of an hour if you steer your present course!” shouted papa. “Steer to the south-east.”“Ay, ay! Thank you,” came from the ship; “sorry to have run you down, but you’ve returned good for evil.”“I pray that I may always do so!” answered papa; and the next instant the stranger was lost to sight in the thick mist.We immediately hove-to, to get in the wreck of the topmast, and to repair damages. A piece of planking was nailed over the side which had been stove in, and the fragments of the boat were stowed on deck.“I hope the Dolphin will escape that fellow,” observed Captain Truck. “If he doesn’t alter his course he may run her down, and then, maybe, wreck himself on the Stags.”“I am thankful to believe he has altered his course,” observed papa. “I heard the order given; but I should like to fall in with the Dolphin, for we must run back to Falmouth and repair damages. She, probably, not knowing what has happened to us, will stand on to Penzance. We can reach Falmouth, however, much sooner than we can get there, and have the work done more rapidly.”We accordingly kept away, and in a short time the Lizard Lights appeared through the mist at such a height that papa knew we were clear of the Stags. After this we steered for Saint Anthony’s Light, and soon came in sight of a green fixed light on the Prince of Wales’ Breakwater, passing which before midnight we brought-up in safety in the harbour.“We have good reason to be thankful at having escaped the danger to which we were exposed this evening,” observed papa, as we were taking some supper in the cabin before turning in. “It is one to which yachts as well as other vessels must always be exposed, especially at the present time, when so many steamers are running up and down. I should have been happier had the Dolphin been with us; but I hope we may find her the day after to-morrow, as she is sure to wait at Penzance for us.”The first thing in the morning we went on shore to get carpenters off to repair the bulwarks and make a new topmast. Papa found a boat exactly the size we required, and purchased her, for it would have taken too much time to repair the damaged one.The carpenters made quick work. By daybreak the next morning, having all again ataut, we sailed for Penzance. When we were well round the Lizard, we fell in with a fleet of boats which had come off shore. On looking in the direction towards which they were pulling, we saw the water curiously agitated.“They are after a school of pilchards,” said Captain Truck. “See how the water glitters with them; if you look through your glasses at the top of the cliffs, you will see a number of people with boughs in their hands waving them. They have been on the look-out to give notice as soon as they caught sight of the school. When they see the first, they sing out ‘Heva;’ but what it means I don’t know, except to give notice to the men in the boats.”Meantime, the rowers were straining their muscular arms to the utmost, until they reached the school, when they immediately united the nets they had on board; and thus starting from the same point, quickly began to cast them out, until they formed a circle not less than two thousand feet in circumference, in the midst of which we could see the shining fish leaping and struggling in a mass together.Truck told us that the seine was about twelve fathoms deep, that it thus formed a wall, the upper part being supported by corks, and the lower weighted by lead.While the circle was being formed, a third boat was employed in driving the fish toward the centre of the enclosure, as there was a risk that they might otherwise escape before it was completed. The wind was very light, and the sea calm, so that we could watch the operation at our leisure. The other boats, now fastened with long ropes to the seine, began slowly dragging it towards the shore, the fish, meantime, mostly keeping in its centre. Now and then a few would make their escape by leaping over it, but the greater number did not appear to have the sense to do this.We followed them, as we knew where there was water for the nets there must be water for us. At length, we saw them approach a sandy beach. Here the rowers ceased exerting themselves; but they did not attempt to drag the net on to the beach, for it would inevitably have been broken through by the vast quantity of fish inside. Several smaller boats had put off, the men in them carrying small nets and baskets. They now commenced what is called “tucking.”The small nets were thrown out, each forming a circle, and the fish caught in them were hauled on board in the ordinary way. The other boats ladled out the pilchards with baskets. Each boat as she was laden pulled back to the shore by a passage left open for her to pass through, which was immediately closed again.A number of women and lads, with creels on their backs, were collected on the beach to carry the fish up to the curing-house, situated some little way off on the top of the downs.A considerable time was occupied in emptying the seine, for though no fish appeared on the surface of the water, the tucking nets brought up a considerable quantity which were swimming lower down. The whole of the vast net was then dragged up on the beach, when the fish which had been caught in the meshes, or had before escaped capture, were secured.As the calm continued, papa took us on shore in the boat to visit the curing-house; and we heard a great deal more about the pilchard fishery from the men on the beach. We were surprised to find that the value of the fish caught in that single seine was estimated at fully six hundred pounds. Sometimes a thousand pounds’ worth of fish is caught in one seine. If the fishermen were always thus successful they would soon grow rich; but they often meet with misadventures. On one occasion a large net full of fish was caught by the tide before it could be dragged on shore, and carried away against the rocks, when not only did the fish get free, but the net itself was almost destroyed. At another time, when a large school had been encircled, the fish making a dash together at one point, capsized the net and got clear over the top, not a quarter of the number remaining. Just before this, a seine had been securely moored, when a ground swell setting in from the westward before the fish could be taken out, the net was rolled over and over, and every fish escaped, while the net was utterly destroyed.The fishing-boats we met with in Mount’s Bay are not only very picturesque, with their brown-tanned sails, but are amongst the finest to be found anywhere; and they often ride out gales in which larger vessels might founder. Their plan is, when caught in a heavy sea, to form a sort of breakwater of planks and spars, under the lee of which they ride with sufficient scope of cable. We were told of one, with a crew of five men, which performed a journey to Australia, having touched at the Cape of Good Hope for water and fresh provisions. Since then, several small craft, with only a couple of men on board, have crossed to America. On one occasion, a man, with his wife, came from the United States to England; but they both suffered severely from the privations to which they were exposed.In the spring fishery the nets are shot near shore, off some sandy inlet, at sunset; and it is curious to note that the fish thus meshed are all on the inside of the net, but when they are meshed in the morning they are found on the opposite side. This proves that they come into shallow water during daylight, and go off again into deep water at night.The people in this part of the country were at one time greatly addicted to smuggling, and many of their vessels were commanded by daring fellows, on whose heads a price had been set. Among the most desperate of these outlaws was Captain Wellard, who commanded the Happy-go-Lucky, carrying fourteen guns. For years he had carried on his trade with impunity, and it was said he had vowed that he would never be caught. When, however, Samuel Pellew, a brother of Lord Exmouth, became collector of customs at Falmouth, he determined to put a stop to this illicit traffic. Wellard had the audacity to issue notices, promising a reward to any one who would kill the collector. Captain Pellew was not to be daunted, and sent out his cruisers in every direction to look for the smugglers. At length two of the king’s vessels, early one morning, found the Happy-go-Lucky at anchor, not far from Saint Michael’s Mount. On seeing the royal cruisers, the outlaws cut their cables, and making sail, stood out to sea. Undaunted by the vastly superior odds against them, the daring smugglers stood to their guns, and fought with a bravery worthy of a better cause. For a whole hour—entertaining to the last the hope of escape—they maintained the unequal contest. They knew, indeed, that if taken alive, they would to a certainty be hanged. At last Wellard fell, mortally wounded; but he held out as long as life lasted. His mate was then killed, and twelve of his crew wounded, when the survivors were compelled to surrender, and the smuggling craft was carried in triumph into Falmouth Harbour. Here the prisoners were shut up in Pendennis Castle; but their friends outside were not idle. A large body of armed smugglers soon collected, and breaking into the castle, rescued the imprisoned outlaws, and at the same time carried off some of the wounded who were lodged in the town. One man was too much hurt to be moved, so he was left behind, and eventually sent to London, tried, and—having been captured red-handed—was hanged. This happened only at the end of the last century.We walked as far as the curious hollow in the earth called “The Devil’s Frying-pan.” It is like a vast crater, two acres in extent, two hundred feet deep, and converging to an orifice at the bottom, some sixty feet in diameter. Round the upper edge we observed furze, gorse, and a variety of grasses growing in great profusion, but below was the bare rock. Carefully creeping down, we noticed through the hole the shine of the water in the cavern beneath. We were wondering how this curious aperture could have been formed, when papa explained that the ground was once level, but that there had been a cavern below it, which was gradually increased by the roof crumbling away, and thedébrisbeing washed out by the sea, until the rock became too thin to bear the superincumbent weight of earth, when the centre gave way, and sinking down, the surrounding earth followed, until it was formed into its present shape. The sea continually rushing in, again cleared out the cavern. As we were anxious to look up it, we hurried back to the boat, and the tide being suitable, we pulled in, and were able to look up through the hole down which we had before gazed.We afterwards visited two other extraordinary caverns, known as “Dolor Hugo,” and “Raven’s Hugo,” up one of which we pulled for a considerable distance. Grand and picturesque in the extreme were the cliffs above us, which in every variety of shape extend along the whole of the Lizard peninsula.The curing establishment we found was much more extensive than we had expected it to be. It consists of a circular court, called a cellar, inside which the fish are piled up on the slabs running round the court. First, a layer of salt is spread, then a layer of pilchards, and so on—layers of pilchards and salt alternating until a vast mound is raised. Below the slabs are gutters which convey the brine and oil oozing out of the fish into a large pit in the centre of the court. Upwards of three hundredweight of salt are used for each hogshead. After the pilchards have remained about a month, they are cleansed from the salt, and packed in hogsheads, each of which contains two thousand four hundred fish, weighing four hundred and seventy-six pounds. Pilchards when thus cured are called “fair maids”—a corruption offumado—the Spanish for smoked. Originally they were cured by smoking, but salt preserves them much better.The fish are not always caught near the shore, for the school frequently keep out at sea, where the fishermen go in search of them. For this purpose two descriptions of boats are employed; the largest measures about thirty tons, the other is much smaller. The fishermen use a number of nets—about twenty in all—called a set, which are then joined together; each is about forty feet deep, and one hundred and seventy feet long. When united they form a wall three quarters of a mile in length, though sometimes they are much longer. The fish are not caught by being encircled, but by running their heads through the meshes, where they are held by the gills, which open in the water like the barbs of an arrow, and consequently cannot be withdrawn; their bodies being larger than the meshes, they thus remain hanging, unable to extricate themselves.At one end of this wall of nets a boat is secured, and drifts with the tide. Here she remains until it is supposed that all the fish coming in that direction have either passed by or been caught. The fishermen then begin hauling in the net. The operation of hauling in nearly a mile of net, perhaps full of fish, is no easy task, especially when there is a “loppy” sea and the night is dark. This is, however, the most easy way of catching pilchards, which can be pursued at nearly all times of the year, for the fish swim about in small schools away from the shore, from May until winter is well advanced, when the water becoming cool, they return westwards to a warmer climate in the depths of the Atlantic. The fishermen told us that the most propitious time for fishing is when there is a loppy sea during a thick fog at night, as the pilchards do not then perceive the nets in their way, and swimming against them, are caught. When the water is transparent, the fish, perceiving the luminous meshes, swim aside and escape. This appearance is called brimming. As it rarely occurs during twilight, the fishermen choose that time for shooting their nets, and wait until dawn before hauling them again into their boats.We could learn nothing about the natural history of pilchards; the fishermen did not appear to trouble their heads on the matter. Some said that they went away to far off regions during February, March, and April, to deposit their spawn; others, that they went in search of food; but where they went to, none of them could venture to suggest.As we wished to get to Penzance before dark, should a breeze spring up, we returned on board. Sailing along very close to the coast, we came off Helston, situated on the inner side of a curious lagoon, separated from the sea by a narrow spit of sand. Occasionally, in rainy seasons, when the streams which run into the lagoon cause the water to rise to an inconvenient height, so as to flood the shores, a narrow channel is cut in the spit; and the water rushing through it at tremendous speed forms a broad and deep passage, until the lake speedily sinks to its usual level.The breeze now freshening, we ran across the bay past Marazion, until we sighted Mousehole, on the western side. Near it was a large cavern in the side of the cliff, from which the village is said by some to take its name. Mousehole, though a small place, contained some gallant men, who, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, defended it bravely, under Sir Francis Godolphin, against an attack of four hundred Spaniards, who came in four galleys, and landing, did considerable damage to the neighbouring places. In its harbour we now saw a large fleet of boats, engaged in the pilchard and mackerel fishery. Not far off, on the summit of a cliff, we observed two batteries, with guns mounted, to keep any enemy who might venture near at bay.Mackerel are caught much in the same manner as pilchards; but as they will not keep, and are not so suitable for pickling, they are sent off immediately to market.All along this coast are caverns, which we much wished to explore. In this neighbourhood also, up a valley which extends from a pretty little place called Lamorna Cove, is a place where a large amount of the finest granite is quarried.Tacking when off Mousehole, we stood directly for Penzance. Approaching the north shore, we had a fine view of Saint Michael’s Mount, rising out of the blue water washing its base, crowned by its far-famed and ancient monastery.Sailing on, we passed the white lighthouse at the end of the pier, and dropped our anchor in the sheltered harbour, where, to our great delight, we found the Dolphin.Uncle Tom, and Jack, and Oliver at once came on board, very thankful to find that we had escaped all dangers. Uncle Tom said that he was on the point of sailing to look for us. We had just time to see the outline of the tower, its domed hall rising in its midst, with pretty villas surrounded by woods beyond, before the fast-gathering darkness shut them out of our view, while the twinkling lights from the old town and a number of stone-vessels and other coasters and fishing-boats cast their glimmer on the surface of the water.Penzance is a pretty and picturesque place, and is now an important fishing-town. It is also celebrated as being the birthplace of Sir Humphrey Davy. It has greatly improved since the last century, when it is said that the people refused to allow a mail coach road to be extended to their town, that they possessed but one carpet and one cart, and had not heard of silver forks; while theSherborne Mercurywas the only newspaper which circulated among them. When a stranger approached, the boys in the town invariably armed themselves with stones to fling at him, shouting out, “Whar do you come from? Be off, now!” John Wesley did much to introduce the pure gospel among the inhabitants; and we saw several fine churches, inaddition to a number of houses in which the floors were undoubtedly carpeted.Next morning we put off in our two boats to visit Saint Michael’s Mount, on which we landed on a stone pier, with a few houses near it. As we gazed upwards at the pile of buildings which crowns the summit of the mount, we expected to find much interest in exploring its ancient halls and passages. We were somewhat disappointed when, having made our way up to the top, we found that it had been so greatly renovated as to be deprived of much of its antique look. But it is a grand old pile—the tower, which rises in the centre, and is the most ancient portion, having been built in the fifteenth century. Although used as a monastery, it was strongly fortified; and guns round the walls still remain, notwithstanding that they would be of little use in the present day. We saw, just above the edge of a cliff, a curious and ancient cross, richly carved. The monks’ refectory was, after the Reformation, turned into a banqueting hall; and the cornice which runs round it represents hunting scenes of boars, stags, wolves, and bulls. Obtaining a light, we descended by a flight of stairs, through a small door in the side of the wall, down to a low, dark vault, in which it was said the bones of a man were discovered when the vault was found, some years ago. Whether he had been shut up there by the monks, or had been a prisoner of war, it was difficult to determine. The vault was evidently used for the purpose of concealing the treasure of the monastery.We afterwards climbed up by a narrow spiral staircase to the top of the tower, from whence we had a fine view over the whole of the bay and the surrounding shores. On the summit are the remnants of a lantern which was formerly used as a beacon for the benefit of mariners entering the bay. This monastic castle, for such it should be called, has frequently been besieged. On the last occasion it was held by Sir Francis Bassett, for Charles the First, when it was besieged by the Parliamentary forces; but he was at last compelled to capitulate, though as a reward for his bravery he and his followers were allowed to retire to the Scilly Islands. Altogether, we agreed that it was one of the most interesting spots we had hitherto visited during our voyage.As we were anxious to see the Land’s End, and could not approach the point in the yachts without risk, we determined to visit the famous promontory by land. Engaging a carriage, we set off, making a circuit to see several curiosities on our way. First we stopped at a cave, apparently part of a fortification. Near it are two upright granite rocks, fifty yards apart, said to form the head and foot-stones of a Cornish giant.“He must have been a tall fellow!” exclaimed Oliver, as he paced the distance between the two stones. The site is called the Giant’s Grave; and a countryman who met us declared that “Once upon a time, two giants fought here,—for I don’t know how many days,—until one had his skull knocked in by a club formed out of an enormous oak.”Another legend assigns the name of “The Pipers” to them, because not far off is a circle of nineteen stones, said to be the petrified bodies of a number of damsels who spent the Sabbath in dancing instead of going to church. These stones were therefore called the Dancing Stones, or the “Merry Maidens.” Some time ago a farmer, to whom the field on which they stand belongs, wishing to get rid of them, commenced operations by harnessing a yoke of oxen to one of the damsels; but he was warned to desist, in consequence of one of the animals falling down dead. Since then they have remained unmolested, except by the hammers of amateur geologists.Farther on we reached a fine headland called Castle Treryn, an ancient entrenchment having occupied the whole area. On the summit stands the famous Logan rocking-stone, which is said to weigh eighty tons. Putting our shoulders under it, by some exertion we made it rock or move. Once upon a time a Lieutenant Goldsmith of the Royal Navy—a nephew of the author of theVicar of Wakefield—happening to land here, took it into his head to try to dislodge the stone; and, somewhat to his dismay, probably, he succeeded in doing so completely. Over it fell, but did not go rattling down the cliffs, as I had heard asserted, for it would then have inevitably been broken to pieces. Still, as the stone was on the ground, and could no longer rock, the people in the neighbourhood were highly incensed against the lieutenant, especially as visitors were not likely to come as heretofore to the spot. They accordingly memorialised the Admiralty, complaining of what had happened, and Lieutenant Goldsmith was ordered to replace it. He thereupon erected over it some vast shears, and by means of tackles ingeniously contrived, lifted back the stone on to the pivot on which it had before rested. He, however, found it impossible to poise it as nicely as before, and consequently it is necessary to exert more strength to make it move than was required before it had been tumbled over. To make some amends to the people, the gallant lieutenant replaced another stone of a similar character which had fallen from its position.We passed numerous very small cottages built with enormous stones. They have diminutive windows, which will not open—this style of architecture being necessary to resist cold and the fierce gales which blow across the narrow peninsula. As we proceeded, trees grew scarcer and scarcer. At last we came to a tavern with a sign-board, on the east side of which was painted “The last refreshment house in England;” and on the other, facing the Atlantic, “The first refreshment house in England.”Among the many pretty coves we saw was one called Vellan Dreath, or the Mill in the Sand; but not a vestige of the mill remains. Once upon a time it was inhabited by a bold miller and his stout son. One morning, as he was looking seawards, just as he was about to turn on the water to move his mill, he observed above the sea-mists the masts of a tall ship. What object she had in coming so near the coast he could not divine; but it was as well to be cautious, lest she should prove an enemy. Going down to the edge of the water, he listened, when he heard the sound of oars, indicating the approach of a boat, and voices which sounded strange to his ears. Calling to his son, he summoned him back into the mill, the door of which he closed. A hole formed for lifting the latch enabled him to look out, when he saw a party of Spaniards with long guns coming towards the mill. On this, running the muzzle of his piece through the hole, he ordered the enemy to keep off; but as they—regardless of his warning—still came on, he fired, and knocked one of them over. After he had fired, the Dons retired to a distance; but it was pretty evident that they intended to attack the mill. On this, being certain that the small garrison could not hold out, and seeing the enemy again approaching, he set fire to a rick of furze, and while the wind blew the smoke in the faces of the Spaniards, he and his son, each taking a sack of flour on their shoulders, issued out through a back door and made their way up the hill. They had got some distance up the steep ascent before they were discovered by the Spaniards, who then began firing at them. The gallant millers made their escape, but the old man received a wound of which he ultimately died. The son declared that his sack, from the number of bullets in it, was far heavier than when he set out.Near it is Sennen Cove, where there is a fishing-village and a Coastguard station. Some way off the shore, rising from amid the foaming waves, is a high rock, denominated “The Irish Lady,” from the peculiarity of its form, which is that of a female figure, with a long robe, advancing into the sea. We were told that many years ago an Irish vessel was driven on the rocks; but that one female alone was seen clinging to the wreck until the waves washed her away, and that it is her figure which now appears still surrounded by the foaming billows.“I wonder she hasn’t got tired of standing out there all by herself!” exclaimed Dick.Another rock in the same neighbourhood, far out in the sea, is called “The Armed Knight.” It is a magnificent pile, two hundred feet in height. The summit, from the point we saw it, assumes the profile of a man’s head, while the regular way in which the blocks of granite join each other has much the appearance of armour. As Dick observed, he must have been related to the giant whose grave we had visited.Later in the day we reached what we were assured was the Land’s End, although other rocks appeared to project as far westward into the ocean. It was a grand scene. In all directions were headlands, crowned by what appeared to be ruined castles and towers, rocks scattered around, piled up into a variety of fantastic shapes; while afar off we could distinguish the faint outline of the Scilly Islands. Imagination might picture them as some fairy land, likely at any moment to vanish, though we had little doubt that they would remain to let us pay them a visit. A few hundred yards off is a headland called “Doctor Johnson’s Head,” because the rocks at the extremity present somewhat the appearance of a human face with massive features, like those of the great lexicographer. The point is surmounted by an oval boulder, which is so easily poised on one point that it rocks far more easily than the better known Logan Rock.Land’s End itself consists of a mass of granite which extends in a lofty ridge far into the sea, the summit crowned by rocks which have the appearance of some vast castle. Indeed, so curiously-shaped are the rocks in this neighbourhood, that they have generally an artificial appearance.Many years ago, a party of officers had come to Land’s End on a visit of inspection. Two of them proposed riding down the slope towards the extreme point, which has perpendicular precipices on both sides. A third officer—Captain, afterwards General, Arbuthnot—dismounted, and led his horse after his companions, considering that the place was too dangerous to ride down. After enjoying the view for some time, the party proposed returning, when Captain Arbuthnot, believing that there would be no danger in riding up, mounted to follow his companions. Scarcely, however, was he in his saddle, than his horse, a spirited animal, became restive, and began to kick and plunge, inclining to the precipice on the right side. In vain its rider tried to show the animal her danger; to his horror, he found that her feet were close to the precipice. He had just time to throw himself off, and clear his feet from the stirrups, when over she went down the cliff, and was dashed to pieces, leaving him on the slippery sward close to the edge of the precipice. The spot where the accident occurred is still shown.Two miles off Land’s End, on a mass of rocks which rise some seventy feet above the surface at low water, stands the Longships Lighthouse, the summit of which is fifty-six feet above the rock. The tower is divided into three stories. In the lower is kept provisions, with water and coal; the second is a cooking-room and oil-store: while the third is a sleeping-room. The lantern consists of a brilliant catoptric fixed light, produced by nineteen Argand lamps. It was built in 1793 by a Mr Smith. Before the granite blocks of which it is composed were brought to the rock, they were hewn out and put together at Sennen Cove. The stones are dovetailed one into the other, and are secured by oak trennels strongly cemented. Often, when a storm is raging, the waves beat completely over the structure; indeed, when any wind is blowing, it is surrounded by masses of foam. Four men belong to the lighthouse, three always remain in it, and one goes on leave every twenty-eight days, when the weather permits; but this, during the winter season, is very often impossible; and sometimes for weeks together the man on shore cannot get off.During a storm, some years ago, so furious were the waves, that the lantern was broken in, and the keepers fully believed that the whole structure would be washed away. We heard of an inspectorwho had visited the rock during fine weather, and who had begun to find great fault with the large stock of provisions kept in the storehouse. Before the cutter which brought him could return, a heavy gale sprang up, and he himself was kept a prisoner for nine weeks, after which the lighthouse-keepers heard no more complaints as to the quantity of food kept in store.The bright light, which burst forth from the top of the white tower, warned us to beat a retreat.Not far from Land’s End we found another inn, which looked much out of place in that wild region. Dick declared that it should be called “The firster and laster inn in England,” it having been built some time after the one we had previously passed. As it was too late to return to Penzance that evening, we took advantage of it, and put up there for the night, that we might visit some mines and other interesting spots in the neighbourhood.The first thing in the morning we set off to visit the Botallack mine, the machinery of which we could see perched among crags that looked almost inaccessible. We had not time to go into the mine, which is carried far under the ocean. In some places there is not more than six or eight feet between the roof of the galleries and the water. Once the sea broke into it; but the hole was plugged and the water pumped out. On another occasion, a party of miners discovered a magnificent piece of ore little more than three feet below the ocean. The treasure tempted them to risk their lives to obtain it. They cut it out, and successfully filled up the hole. It is said that so terrific is the noise during heavy weather, when the waves dash in on the shore, and roll the pebbles backwards and forwards, that even the bold miners are compelled to rush out, unable to endure the uproar. The scene was most extraordinary. Vast pumps appeared amid the cliffs, unceasingly drawing up water, which rushed in a red torrent into the sea. Steam and smoke were spitting out in all directions; and men, women, and boys were employed in sorting the ore as the kibble brought it to the surface. This was only one of many similar mines along the coast. Having satisfied our curiosity, we drove back to Penzance; and at once repaired on board the yachts, as papa and Uncle Tom were unwilling to lose more of the fine weather.Without a moment’s delay, the anchors were got up, and we made sail out of Mount’s Bay.
A fine, bright morning found us outside the harbour, with the Manacles on our starboard bow, steering for the Lizard, which we hoped to round before noon, so as to reach Penzance that evening. We passed sufficiently near the Manacles to distinguish their black heads standing with threatening aspect high out of the water.
“It was there, sir, a few years ago, a large ship—The John—was lost during thick weather when making for Plymouth, and upwards of one hundred of her passengers and crew perished,” observed Truck, as he pointed out the rocks to us. “She had no business to be so close in shore, and that is all I can say. It is sad to think how many stout ships have been cast away on the rocks about here. When we set to the Lizard we shall see the Stags.”
After passing the Lizard we kept the land close on board. As the wind was south-west, we sailed straight for Penzance. We could distinguish high and broken cliffs of a reddish hue extending the whole way to the Lizard; when they disappeared we could perceive a low rocky point running out towards the Stags. On the summit of the cliffs which form the Lizard Head stand two lighthouses, two hundred and twenty-three feet apart. A covered passage runs between them, in the centre of which are the residence and offices attached to the towers, so that the keepers can communicate without being exposed to the fierce gales of winter. Each of the white towers is sixty-one feet high, and contains a brilliant fixed catoptric or reflecting light.
The Lizard is the most southerly point of England, and although it is exposed to heavy gales the climate is very healthy. Just as we were about to round the Stags the wind shifted, and compelled us to stand away to the southward, by doing which we hoped, aided by the next ebb, to be able to steer direct for Penzance.
Had we gone about at that time, we should have run the risk of being driven on the Stags, both wind and tide setting in that direction. The wind became very light, and we made but slow progress.
Our hopes of reaching Penzance gradually decreased as the day wore on, and yet, while the flood was making, it would have been folly to stand towards the shore. At length papa calculated that the tide had turned. We were on the point of putting the vessel’s head to the northward when a thick mist, driving up from the chops of the Channel, completely enveloped us, while the wind rapidly increased, as of course did the sea.
Dick, who had been walking about with his hands in his pockets, now suddenly found himself jerked here and there, and was compelled to pull them out to catch hold of anything which came in his way; sometimes a stanchion, sometimes the side of the vessel, now and then Truck, or me, or the man at the helm.
“Take care, my lad, you don’t go overboard,” sang out papa. “You’d better turn in and keep out of harm’s way.”
Dick, however, was too proud to do this. “No, thank you; I’d rather stay on deck,” he answered. “I’ll pull and haul, and help the sailors in any way you like.”
“I won’t ask you to do that; only sit down on the skylight, and should a sea strike us hold on with your eyelids.”
Dick did as he was advised; at first he sat up, and looked very bold; but gradually he became paler and paler, and yellower and yellower, while his lip curled, and a groan every now and then escaped his breast.
“Hulloa! what’s become of the Dolphin?” I exclaimed, looking round, and not seeing her anywhere.
“She was away to leeward of us when I went down to tea,” observed Truck, who had just then returned on deck. “Where did you last see her?” he asked of the man at the helm.
“Maybe a couple of hundred fathoms astern, sir; but I don’t think more,” was the answer.
We hailed the Dolphin, but there was no reply. “She was further off than you supposed,” said papa, who had himself gone below for a few minutes.
We could not understand why they did not answer our hail, for they must, we thought, have heard us. As it was important to keep as close to the wind as possible, that we might be sure of weathering the Stags, we could not run down to speak the Dolphin. Papa, however, felt sure that Uncle Tom would also keep as close to the wind as he could, with the same object in view.
We had by this time gone about, and were heading up towards the port we wished to reach. Papa judged that we were already near Mount’s Bay. Dick had thrown himself down on deck, completely overcome. I was standing by him, urging him to get up and go below, when what was my dismay to see towering above us the dark hull and wide-spreading canvas of a large ship.
“Steady! keep her as she goes!” papa shouted out. Had we attempted to keep away, the stranger must have struck us on our quarter. Had we luffed up, she would have run completely over us, and we should have been carried to the bottom. I fully expected even then that such would be the case.
“Run forward, my lads!” he shouted out to Dick and me and the crew, while he himself seized the helm, making the helmsman throw himself flat on his back. All was the work of a moment. In another instant I heard a crashing and rending. Our boat was knocked to fragments, and the davits carried away. I saw the bowsprit sweeping across our deck, tearing the mainsail as it did so, and carrying away back-stays and other rigging.
Dick was shouting out, “What has happened? What are we going to do?”
“I hope to get rid of this craft!” cried Captain Truck, who having seized an axe, followed by the rest of the crew, was cutting away at the stranger’s bowsprit rigging.
Happily, our gaff stood, although our topmast was carried away by her foreyard-arm, and came down with a crash on deck, papa narrowly escaping being struck. The next instant we were free.
“You’ll be on shore in a quarter of an hour if you steer your present course!” shouted papa. “Steer to the south-east.”
“Ay, ay! Thank you,” came from the ship; “sorry to have run you down, but you’ve returned good for evil.”
“I pray that I may always do so!” answered papa; and the next instant the stranger was lost to sight in the thick mist.
We immediately hove-to, to get in the wreck of the topmast, and to repair damages. A piece of planking was nailed over the side which had been stove in, and the fragments of the boat were stowed on deck.
“I hope the Dolphin will escape that fellow,” observed Captain Truck. “If he doesn’t alter his course he may run her down, and then, maybe, wreck himself on the Stags.”
“I am thankful to believe he has altered his course,” observed papa. “I heard the order given; but I should like to fall in with the Dolphin, for we must run back to Falmouth and repair damages. She, probably, not knowing what has happened to us, will stand on to Penzance. We can reach Falmouth, however, much sooner than we can get there, and have the work done more rapidly.”
We accordingly kept away, and in a short time the Lizard Lights appeared through the mist at such a height that papa knew we were clear of the Stags. After this we steered for Saint Anthony’s Light, and soon came in sight of a green fixed light on the Prince of Wales’ Breakwater, passing which before midnight we brought-up in safety in the harbour.
“We have good reason to be thankful at having escaped the danger to which we were exposed this evening,” observed papa, as we were taking some supper in the cabin before turning in. “It is one to which yachts as well as other vessels must always be exposed, especially at the present time, when so many steamers are running up and down. I should have been happier had the Dolphin been with us; but I hope we may find her the day after to-morrow, as she is sure to wait at Penzance for us.”
The first thing in the morning we went on shore to get carpenters off to repair the bulwarks and make a new topmast. Papa found a boat exactly the size we required, and purchased her, for it would have taken too much time to repair the damaged one.
The carpenters made quick work. By daybreak the next morning, having all again ataut, we sailed for Penzance. When we were well round the Lizard, we fell in with a fleet of boats which had come off shore. On looking in the direction towards which they were pulling, we saw the water curiously agitated.
“They are after a school of pilchards,” said Captain Truck. “See how the water glitters with them; if you look through your glasses at the top of the cliffs, you will see a number of people with boughs in their hands waving them. They have been on the look-out to give notice as soon as they caught sight of the school. When they see the first, they sing out ‘Heva;’ but what it means I don’t know, except to give notice to the men in the boats.”
Meantime, the rowers were straining their muscular arms to the utmost, until they reached the school, when they immediately united the nets they had on board; and thus starting from the same point, quickly began to cast them out, until they formed a circle not less than two thousand feet in circumference, in the midst of which we could see the shining fish leaping and struggling in a mass together.
Truck told us that the seine was about twelve fathoms deep, that it thus formed a wall, the upper part being supported by corks, and the lower weighted by lead.
While the circle was being formed, a third boat was employed in driving the fish toward the centre of the enclosure, as there was a risk that they might otherwise escape before it was completed. The wind was very light, and the sea calm, so that we could watch the operation at our leisure. The other boats, now fastened with long ropes to the seine, began slowly dragging it towards the shore, the fish, meantime, mostly keeping in its centre. Now and then a few would make their escape by leaping over it, but the greater number did not appear to have the sense to do this.
We followed them, as we knew where there was water for the nets there must be water for us. At length, we saw them approach a sandy beach. Here the rowers ceased exerting themselves; but they did not attempt to drag the net on to the beach, for it would inevitably have been broken through by the vast quantity of fish inside. Several smaller boats had put off, the men in them carrying small nets and baskets. They now commenced what is called “tucking.”
The small nets were thrown out, each forming a circle, and the fish caught in them were hauled on board in the ordinary way. The other boats ladled out the pilchards with baskets. Each boat as she was laden pulled back to the shore by a passage left open for her to pass through, which was immediately closed again.
A number of women and lads, with creels on their backs, were collected on the beach to carry the fish up to the curing-house, situated some little way off on the top of the downs.
A considerable time was occupied in emptying the seine, for though no fish appeared on the surface of the water, the tucking nets brought up a considerable quantity which were swimming lower down. The whole of the vast net was then dragged up on the beach, when the fish which had been caught in the meshes, or had before escaped capture, were secured.
As the calm continued, papa took us on shore in the boat to visit the curing-house; and we heard a great deal more about the pilchard fishery from the men on the beach. We were surprised to find that the value of the fish caught in that single seine was estimated at fully six hundred pounds. Sometimes a thousand pounds’ worth of fish is caught in one seine. If the fishermen were always thus successful they would soon grow rich; but they often meet with misadventures. On one occasion a large net full of fish was caught by the tide before it could be dragged on shore, and carried away against the rocks, when not only did the fish get free, but the net itself was almost destroyed. At another time, when a large school had been encircled, the fish making a dash together at one point, capsized the net and got clear over the top, not a quarter of the number remaining. Just before this, a seine had been securely moored, when a ground swell setting in from the westward before the fish could be taken out, the net was rolled over and over, and every fish escaped, while the net was utterly destroyed.
The fishing-boats we met with in Mount’s Bay are not only very picturesque, with their brown-tanned sails, but are amongst the finest to be found anywhere; and they often ride out gales in which larger vessels might founder. Their plan is, when caught in a heavy sea, to form a sort of breakwater of planks and spars, under the lee of which they ride with sufficient scope of cable. We were told of one, with a crew of five men, which performed a journey to Australia, having touched at the Cape of Good Hope for water and fresh provisions. Since then, several small craft, with only a couple of men on board, have crossed to America. On one occasion, a man, with his wife, came from the United States to England; but they both suffered severely from the privations to which they were exposed.
In the spring fishery the nets are shot near shore, off some sandy inlet, at sunset; and it is curious to note that the fish thus meshed are all on the inside of the net, but when they are meshed in the morning they are found on the opposite side. This proves that they come into shallow water during daylight, and go off again into deep water at night.
The people in this part of the country were at one time greatly addicted to smuggling, and many of their vessels were commanded by daring fellows, on whose heads a price had been set. Among the most desperate of these outlaws was Captain Wellard, who commanded the Happy-go-Lucky, carrying fourteen guns. For years he had carried on his trade with impunity, and it was said he had vowed that he would never be caught. When, however, Samuel Pellew, a brother of Lord Exmouth, became collector of customs at Falmouth, he determined to put a stop to this illicit traffic. Wellard had the audacity to issue notices, promising a reward to any one who would kill the collector. Captain Pellew was not to be daunted, and sent out his cruisers in every direction to look for the smugglers. At length two of the king’s vessels, early one morning, found the Happy-go-Lucky at anchor, not far from Saint Michael’s Mount. On seeing the royal cruisers, the outlaws cut their cables, and making sail, stood out to sea. Undaunted by the vastly superior odds against them, the daring smugglers stood to their guns, and fought with a bravery worthy of a better cause. For a whole hour—entertaining to the last the hope of escape—they maintained the unequal contest. They knew, indeed, that if taken alive, they would to a certainty be hanged. At last Wellard fell, mortally wounded; but he held out as long as life lasted. His mate was then killed, and twelve of his crew wounded, when the survivors were compelled to surrender, and the smuggling craft was carried in triumph into Falmouth Harbour. Here the prisoners were shut up in Pendennis Castle; but their friends outside were not idle. A large body of armed smugglers soon collected, and breaking into the castle, rescued the imprisoned outlaws, and at the same time carried off some of the wounded who were lodged in the town. One man was too much hurt to be moved, so he was left behind, and eventually sent to London, tried, and—having been captured red-handed—was hanged. This happened only at the end of the last century.
We walked as far as the curious hollow in the earth called “The Devil’s Frying-pan.” It is like a vast crater, two acres in extent, two hundred feet deep, and converging to an orifice at the bottom, some sixty feet in diameter. Round the upper edge we observed furze, gorse, and a variety of grasses growing in great profusion, but below was the bare rock. Carefully creeping down, we noticed through the hole the shine of the water in the cavern beneath. We were wondering how this curious aperture could have been formed, when papa explained that the ground was once level, but that there had been a cavern below it, which was gradually increased by the roof crumbling away, and thedébrisbeing washed out by the sea, until the rock became too thin to bear the superincumbent weight of earth, when the centre gave way, and sinking down, the surrounding earth followed, until it was formed into its present shape. The sea continually rushing in, again cleared out the cavern. As we were anxious to look up it, we hurried back to the boat, and the tide being suitable, we pulled in, and were able to look up through the hole down which we had before gazed.
We afterwards visited two other extraordinary caverns, known as “Dolor Hugo,” and “Raven’s Hugo,” up one of which we pulled for a considerable distance. Grand and picturesque in the extreme were the cliffs above us, which in every variety of shape extend along the whole of the Lizard peninsula.
The curing establishment we found was much more extensive than we had expected it to be. It consists of a circular court, called a cellar, inside which the fish are piled up on the slabs running round the court. First, a layer of salt is spread, then a layer of pilchards, and so on—layers of pilchards and salt alternating until a vast mound is raised. Below the slabs are gutters which convey the brine and oil oozing out of the fish into a large pit in the centre of the court. Upwards of three hundredweight of salt are used for each hogshead. After the pilchards have remained about a month, they are cleansed from the salt, and packed in hogsheads, each of which contains two thousand four hundred fish, weighing four hundred and seventy-six pounds. Pilchards when thus cured are called “fair maids”—a corruption offumado—the Spanish for smoked. Originally they were cured by smoking, but salt preserves them much better.
The fish are not always caught near the shore, for the school frequently keep out at sea, where the fishermen go in search of them. For this purpose two descriptions of boats are employed; the largest measures about thirty tons, the other is much smaller. The fishermen use a number of nets—about twenty in all—called a set, which are then joined together; each is about forty feet deep, and one hundred and seventy feet long. When united they form a wall three quarters of a mile in length, though sometimes they are much longer. The fish are not caught by being encircled, but by running their heads through the meshes, where they are held by the gills, which open in the water like the barbs of an arrow, and consequently cannot be withdrawn; their bodies being larger than the meshes, they thus remain hanging, unable to extricate themselves.
At one end of this wall of nets a boat is secured, and drifts with the tide. Here she remains until it is supposed that all the fish coming in that direction have either passed by or been caught. The fishermen then begin hauling in the net. The operation of hauling in nearly a mile of net, perhaps full of fish, is no easy task, especially when there is a “loppy” sea and the night is dark. This is, however, the most easy way of catching pilchards, which can be pursued at nearly all times of the year, for the fish swim about in small schools away from the shore, from May until winter is well advanced, when the water becoming cool, they return westwards to a warmer climate in the depths of the Atlantic. The fishermen told us that the most propitious time for fishing is when there is a loppy sea during a thick fog at night, as the pilchards do not then perceive the nets in their way, and swimming against them, are caught. When the water is transparent, the fish, perceiving the luminous meshes, swim aside and escape. This appearance is called brimming. As it rarely occurs during twilight, the fishermen choose that time for shooting their nets, and wait until dawn before hauling them again into their boats.
We could learn nothing about the natural history of pilchards; the fishermen did not appear to trouble their heads on the matter. Some said that they went away to far off regions during February, March, and April, to deposit their spawn; others, that they went in search of food; but where they went to, none of them could venture to suggest.
As we wished to get to Penzance before dark, should a breeze spring up, we returned on board. Sailing along very close to the coast, we came off Helston, situated on the inner side of a curious lagoon, separated from the sea by a narrow spit of sand. Occasionally, in rainy seasons, when the streams which run into the lagoon cause the water to rise to an inconvenient height, so as to flood the shores, a narrow channel is cut in the spit; and the water rushing through it at tremendous speed forms a broad and deep passage, until the lake speedily sinks to its usual level.
The breeze now freshening, we ran across the bay past Marazion, until we sighted Mousehole, on the western side. Near it was a large cavern in the side of the cliff, from which the village is said by some to take its name. Mousehole, though a small place, contained some gallant men, who, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, defended it bravely, under Sir Francis Godolphin, against an attack of four hundred Spaniards, who came in four galleys, and landing, did considerable damage to the neighbouring places. In its harbour we now saw a large fleet of boats, engaged in the pilchard and mackerel fishery. Not far off, on the summit of a cliff, we observed two batteries, with guns mounted, to keep any enemy who might venture near at bay.
Mackerel are caught much in the same manner as pilchards; but as they will not keep, and are not so suitable for pickling, they are sent off immediately to market.
All along this coast are caverns, which we much wished to explore. In this neighbourhood also, up a valley which extends from a pretty little place called Lamorna Cove, is a place where a large amount of the finest granite is quarried.
Tacking when off Mousehole, we stood directly for Penzance. Approaching the north shore, we had a fine view of Saint Michael’s Mount, rising out of the blue water washing its base, crowned by its far-famed and ancient monastery.
Sailing on, we passed the white lighthouse at the end of the pier, and dropped our anchor in the sheltered harbour, where, to our great delight, we found the Dolphin.
Uncle Tom, and Jack, and Oliver at once came on board, very thankful to find that we had escaped all dangers. Uncle Tom said that he was on the point of sailing to look for us. We had just time to see the outline of the tower, its domed hall rising in its midst, with pretty villas surrounded by woods beyond, before the fast-gathering darkness shut them out of our view, while the twinkling lights from the old town and a number of stone-vessels and other coasters and fishing-boats cast their glimmer on the surface of the water.
Penzance is a pretty and picturesque place, and is now an important fishing-town. It is also celebrated as being the birthplace of Sir Humphrey Davy. It has greatly improved since the last century, when it is said that the people refused to allow a mail coach road to be extended to their town, that they possessed but one carpet and one cart, and had not heard of silver forks; while theSherborne Mercurywas the only newspaper which circulated among them. When a stranger approached, the boys in the town invariably armed themselves with stones to fling at him, shouting out, “Whar do you come from? Be off, now!” John Wesley did much to introduce the pure gospel among the inhabitants; and we saw several fine churches, inaddition to a number of houses in which the floors were undoubtedly carpeted.
Next morning we put off in our two boats to visit Saint Michael’s Mount, on which we landed on a stone pier, with a few houses near it. As we gazed upwards at the pile of buildings which crowns the summit of the mount, we expected to find much interest in exploring its ancient halls and passages. We were somewhat disappointed when, having made our way up to the top, we found that it had been so greatly renovated as to be deprived of much of its antique look. But it is a grand old pile—the tower, which rises in the centre, and is the most ancient portion, having been built in the fifteenth century. Although used as a monastery, it was strongly fortified; and guns round the walls still remain, notwithstanding that they would be of little use in the present day. We saw, just above the edge of a cliff, a curious and ancient cross, richly carved. The monks’ refectory was, after the Reformation, turned into a banqueting hall; and the cornice which runs round it represents hunting scenes of boars, stags, wolves, and bulls. Obtaining a light, we descended by a flight of stairs, through a small door in the side of the wall, down to a low, dark vault, in which it was said the bones of a man were discovered when the vault was found, some years ago. Whether he had been shut up there by the monks, or had been a prisoner of war, it was difficult to determine. The vault was evidently used for the purpose of concealing the treasure of the monastery.
We afterwards climbed up by a narrow spiral staircase to the top of the tower, from whence we had a fine view over the whole of the bay and the surrounding shores. On the summit are the remnants of a lantern which was formerly used as a beacon for the benefit of mariners entering the bay. This monastic castle, for such it should be called, has frequently been besieged. On the last occasion it was held by Sir Francis Bassett, for Charles the First, when it was besieged by the Parliamentary forces; but he was at last compelled to capitulate, though as a reward for his bravery he and his followers were allowed to retire to the Scilly Islands. Altogether, we agreed that it was one of the most interesting spots we had hitherto visited during our voyage.
As we were anxious to see the Land’s End, and could not approach the point in the yachts without risk, we determined to visit the famous promontory by land. Engaging a carriage, we set off, making a circuit to see several curiosities on our way. First we stopped at a cave, apparently part of a fortification. Near it are two upright granite rocks, fifty yards apart, said to form the head and foot-stones of a Cornish giant.
“He must have been a tall fellow!” exclaimed Oliver, as he paced the distance between the two stones. The site is called the Giant’s Grave; and a countryman who met us declared that “Once upon a time, two giants fought here,—for I don’t know how many days,—until one had his skull knocked in by a club formed out of an enormous oak.”
Another legend assigns the name of “The Pipers” to them, because not far off is a circle of nineteen stones, said to be the petrified bodies of a number of damsels who spent the Sabbath in dancing instead of going to church. These stones were therefore called the Dancing Stones, or the “Merry Maidens.” Some time ago a farmer, to whom the field on which they stand belongs, wishing to get rid of them, commenced operations by harnessing a yoke of oxen to one of the damsels; but he was warned to desist, in consequence of one of the animals falling down dead. Since then they have remained unmolested, except by the hammers of amateur geologists.
Farther on we reached a fine headland called Castle Treryn, an ancient entrenchment having occupied the whole area. On the summit stands the famous Logan rocking-stone, which is said to weigh eighty tons. Putting our shoulders under it, by some exertion we made it rock or move. Once upon a time a Lieutenant Goldsmith of the Royal Navy—a nephew of the author of theVicar of Wakefield—happening to land here, took it into his head to try to dislodge the stone; and, somewhat to his dismay, probably, he succeeded in doing so completely. Over it fell, but did not go rattling down the cliffs, as I had heard asserted, for it would then have inevitably been broken to pieces. Still, as the stone was on the ground, and could no longer rock, the people in the neighbourhood were highly incensed against the lieutenant, especially as visitors were not likely to come as heretofore to the spot. They accordingly memorialised the Admiralty, complaining of what had happened, and Lieutenant Goldsmith was ordered to replace it. He thereupon erected over it some vast shears, and by means of tackles ingeniously contrived, lifted back the stone on to the pivot on which it had before rested. He, however, found it impossible to poise it as nicely as before, and consequently it is necessary to exert more strength to make it move than was required before it had been tumbled over. To make some amends to the people, the gallant lieutenant replaced another stone of a similar character which had fallen from its position.
We passed numerous very small cottages built with enormous stones. They have diminutive windows, which will not open—this style of architecture being necessary to resist cold and the fierce gales which blow across the narrow peninsula. As we proceeded, trees grew scarcer and scarcer. At last we came to a tavern with a sign-board, on the east side of which was painted “The last refreshment house in England;” and on the other, facing the Atlantic, “The first refreshment house in England.”
Among the many pretty coves we saw was one called Vellan Dreath, or the Mill in the Sand; but not a vestige of the mill remains. Once upon a time it was inhabited by a bold miller and his stout son. One morning, as he was looking seawards, just as he was about to turn on the water to move his mill, he observed above the sea-mists the masts of a tall ship. What object she had in coming so near the coast he could not divine; but it was as well to be cautious, lest she should prove an enemy. Going down to the edge of the water, he listened, when he heard the sound of oars, indicating the approach of a boat, and voices which sounded strange to his ears. Calling to his son, he summoned him back into the mill, the door of which he closed. A hole formed for lifting the latch enabled him to look out, when he saw a party of Spaniards with long guns coming towards the mill. On this, running the muzzle of his piece through the hole, he ordered the enemy to keep off; but as they—regardless of his warning—still came on, he fired, and knocked one of them over. After he had fired, the Dons retired to a distance; but it was pretty evident that they intended to attack the mill. On this, being certain that the small garrison could not hold out, and seeing the enemy again approaching, he set fire to a rick of furze, and while the wind blew the smoke in the faces of the Spaniards, he and his son, each taking a sack of flour on their shoulders, issued out through a back door and made their way up the hill. They had got some distance up the steep ascent before they were discovered by the Spaniards, who then began firing at them. The gallant millers made their escape, but the old man received a wound of which he ultimately died. The son declared that his sack, from the number of bullets in it, was far heavier than when he set out.
Near it is Sennen Cove, where there is a fishing-village and a Coastguard station. Some way off the shore, rising from amid the foaming waves, is a high rock, denominated “The Irish Lady,” from the peculiarity of its form, which is that of a female figure, with a long robe, advancing into the sea. We were told that many years ago an Irish vessel was driven on the rocks; but that one female alone was seen clinging to the wreck until the waves washed her away, and that it is her figure which now appears still surrounded by the foaming billows.
“I wonder she hasn’t got tired of standing out there all by herself!” exclaimed Dick.
Another rock in the same neighbourhood, far out in the sea, is called “The Armed Knight.” It is a magnificent pile, two hundred feet in height. The summit, from the point we saw it, assumes the profile of a man’s head, while the regular way in which the blocks of granite join each other has much the appearance of armour. As Dick observed, he must have been related to the giant whose grave we had visited.
Later in the day we reached what we were assured was the Land’s End, although other rocks appeared to project as far westward into the ocean. It was a grand scene. In all directions were headlands, crowned by what appeared to be ruined castles and towers, rocks scattered around, piled up into a variety of fantastic shapes; while afar off we could distinguish the faint outline of the Scilly Islands. Imagination might picture them as some fairy land, likely at any moment to vanish, though we had little doubt that they would remain to let us pay them a visit. A few hundred yards off is a headland called “Doctor Johnson’s Head,” because the rocks at the extremity present somewhat the appearance of a human face with massive features, like those of the great lexicographer. The point is surmounted by an oval boulder, which is so easily poised on one point that it rocks far more easily than the better known Logan Rock.
Land’s End itself consists of a mass of granite which extends in a lofty ridge far into the sea, the summit crowned by rocks which have the appearance of some vast castle. Indeed, so curiously-shaped are the rocks in this neighbourhood, that they have generally an artificial appearance.
Many years ago, a party of officers had come to Land’s End on a visit of inspection. Two of them proposed riding down the slope towards the extreme point, which has perpendicular precipices on both sides. A third officer—Captain, afterwards General, Arbuthnot—dismounted, and led his horse after his companions, considering that the place was too dangerous to ride down. After enjoying the view for some time, the party proposed returning, when Captain Arbuthnot, believing that there would be no danger in riding up, mounted to follow his companions. Scarcely, however, was he in his saddle, than his horse, a spirited animal, became restive, and began to kick and plunge, inclining to the precipice on the right side. In vain its rider tried to show the animal her danger; to his horror, he found that her feet were close to the precipice. He had just time to throw himself off, and clear his feet from the stirrups, when over she went down the cliff, and was dashed to pieces, leaving him on the slippery sward close to the edge of the precipice. The spot where the accident occurred is still shown.
Two miles off Land’s End, on a mass of rocks which rise some seventy feet above the surface at low water, stands the Longships Lighthouse, the summit of which is fifty-six feet above the rock. The tower is divided into three stories. In the lower is kept provisions, with water and coal; the second is a cooking-room and oil-store: while the third is a sleeping-room. The lantern consists of a brilliant catoptric fixed light, produced by nineteen Argand lamps. It was built in 1793 by a Mr Smith. Before the granite blocks of which it is composed were brought to the rock, they were hewn out and put together at Sennen Cove. The stones are dovetailed one into the other, and are secured by oak trennels strongly cemented. Often, when a storm is raging, the waves beat completely over the structure; indeed, when any wind is blowing, it is surrounded by masses of foam. Four men belong to the lighthouse, three always remain in it, and one goes on leave every twenty-eight days, when the weather permits; but this, during the winter season, is very often impossible; and sometimes for weeks together the man on shore cannot get off.
During a storm, some years ago, so furious were the waves, that the lantern was broken in, and the keepers fully believed that the whole structure would be washed away. We heard of an inspectorwho had visited the rock during fine weather, and who had begun to find great fault with the large stock of provisions kept in the storehouse. Before the cutter which brought him could return, a heavy gale sprang up, and he himself was kept a prisoner for nine weeks, after which the lighthouse-keepers heard no more complaints as to the quantity of food kept in store.
The bright light, which burst forth from the top of the white tower, warned us to beat a retreat.
Not far from Land’s End we found another inn, which looked much out of place in that wild region. Dick declared that it should be called “The firster and laster inn in England,” it having been built some time after the one we had previously passed. As it was too late to return to Penzance that evening, we took advantage of it, and put up there for the night, that we might visit some mines and other interesting spots in the neighbourhood.
The first thing in the morning we set off to visit the Botallack mine, the machinery of which we could see perched among crags that looked almost inaccessible. We had not time to go into the mine, which is carried far under the ocean. In some places there is not more than six or eight feet between the roof of the galleries and the water. Once the sea broke into it; but the hole was plugged and the water pumped out. On another occasion, a party of miners discovered a magnificent piece of ore little more than three feet below the ocean. The treasure tempted them to risk their lives to obtain it. They cut it out, and successfully filled up the hole. It is said that so terrific is the noise during heavy weather, when the waves dash in on the shore, and roll the pebbles backwards and forwards, that even the bold miners are compelled to rush out, unable to endure the uproar. The scene was most extraordinary. Vast pumps appeared amid the cliffs, unceasingly drawing up water, which rushed in a red torrent into the sea. Steam and smoke were spitting out in all directions; and men, women, and boys were employed in sorting the ore as the kibble brought it to the surface. This was only one of many similar mines along the coast. Having satisfied our curiosity, we drove back to Penzance; and at once repaired on board the yachts, as papa and Uncle Tom were unwilling to lose more of the fine weather.
Without a moment’s delay, the anchors were got up, and we made sail out of Mount’s Bay.
Chapter Six.A Shipwreck.On passing Rundlestone, a hidden rock upwards of a mile from the southern shore of the Land’s End peninsula, we came in sight of the Wolf Rock, about ten miles off the coast. It was one of the greatest dangers in the English Channel, for the beacon placed on it was not visible at night or during thick weather. Attempts were made to fix bells on the rock, which might be rung by the waves dashing against them; but the first gale quickly carried away the well-intentioned contrivance.Now, however, a lighthouse has been erected of great strength and massiveness, to endure the fierce battering it must encounter from the angry billows. The wind shifting against us, we had a good view of the Wolf Rock, and afterwards of the Longships Lighthouse, the white tower of which, rising above its black base, can be seen afar off.It was with difficulty that we could distinguish Land’s End from the neighbouring headlands, Cape Cornwall, to the northward, apparently approaching further into the ocean.As we looked at that fearful Wolf Rock, we thought of the number of vessels, out of their reckoning, homeward-bound, or coming round from the North Sea, intending to proceed up the Irish Channel, which must have run against it in days gone by. But now the red and white “flashes” which follow each other at half-minute intervals all through the night, enable mariners to steer clear of the danger.Papa remarked: “I wish that every Christian man would remember that he is bound to be a lighthouse, and to warn his fellows of the peril into which they are running. How many human beings would thus be saved from shipwreck, if all thus understood their duty and acted accordingly! Remember the text—‘Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.’”Papa told us it was the opinion of geologists that the surrounding rocks, as well as the Scilly Isles, were once connected with England. Indeed, of that there can be no doubt. Tradition declares that articles have been fished up proving that cities once stood on spots over which the tides now ebb and flow; but then tradition is the most uncertain of all uncertain things. Although an iron kettle may have been fished up from the bottom of the sea, it might only show that it had been thrown overboard, or washed out of a sunken vessel.As we had determined not to be defeated, we continued beating backwards and forwards until we saw the coast of Cornwall, and the bright beams of Saint Agnes’ Lighthouse appeared on our port-bow; while those from the light-vessel moored off the Seven Stones were seen on the other.We hailed the Dolphin, which passed us on the opposite tack; and papa agreed to lead in; “The sooner we are in the harbour the better,” he observed; “I don’t quite like the look of the weather.”Clouds had, indeed, been thickly gathering in the south-west; and the stars, which had hitherto shone brightly, were totally obscured. The wind also, which had been steady, now began to blow in strong squalls, compelling us to shorten sail. First, two reefs were taken down in the mainsail; it was then closely-reefed, while the foresail was hauled down, and the storm jib set. Still, it was as much as the cutter could do to look up to it. Heavy seas now began to roll in from the Atlantic, tumbling the cutter about. Now she rose to the summit of a foam-crested wave, now she sank down into the hollow.“Will she ever come up again?” exclaimed Dick, who was clinging on to the companion hatch. “Oh, dear—oh, dear! I thought the sea was always going to remain as smooth as it has been since we sailed.”Presently, up we rose again, and Dick drew a long breath. Papa, however, advised him to go below.“We will look after the craft in the meantime, my boy,” he said. “There is nothing to fear, though it is possible that one of these seas may break on board, and if you are not on the look-out, may carry you away.”A flash of lightning which now burst forth from a dark cloud, accompanied by a heavy squall, causing the cutter to heel over until her lee bulwarks were almost under water, revealed Dick’s terrified countenance. As may be supposed, he clung on the harder to the companion hatch; and papa had to repeat his advice and help him down the ladder.“You’d better go too, Harry,” he said. “I can’t answer for a sea not coming on board; and it might tear even you from your hold. Those who remain on deck will secure themselves with lashings; and as the craft is as light as a cork, we shall weather out the gale, even should it come on to blow twice as hard as it now does.”I begged to be allowed to remain.“Well, it will be but a summer gale. You may stay on deck; but here, make yourself fast with this rope;” and papa secured one round my body, which he fastened to the companion hatch.He now gave the word to set the trysail; and the mainsail being stowed, it was hoisted in its stead. Still we had as much sail as the cutter could carry. The night had become very dark, except when the flashes of lightning dashed from the black clouds. Papa had resolved to heave the vessel to, when we caught sight of a white sail a short distance ahead of us.“That must be the schooner,” shouted Truck; “she is taking a wise course, and is intending to run under Cape Cornwall, or maybe to get into Saint Ives Bay, in case the gale should continue.”“We may as well do the same,” observed papa; and the helm being put up, away we ran before the wind.Though the cutter behaved very well, still there was a chance of our being pooped. A strong current was setting us in the direction of the Longships light, which now appeared broad on the starboard bow. We ran on, following, as we supposed, the Dolphin; but she was going faster than we were, and we soon lost sight of her. We knew our exact position, for, although we had got beyond the gleam of Saint Agnes’ Lighthouse, we could still see on our port-bow the two lights on board the light-vessel off the Seven Stones. I own I wished that we were safe back in port, though papa appeared so cool that I could not suppose there was any real danger; still, as the seas came rolling up on either quarter, high above our deck, it seemed impossible that the vessel could escape being swamped.At last papa peremptorily ordered me to go below, and coming to where I was standing, lifted up the hatch and literally pushed me down, closing it again over me. I groped my way into the cabin, where I found Dick holding on to one of the sofas. The cabin lamp had not been lighted, so that we were in perfect darkness.“Oh! where are we? Where are we going? What’s about to happen?” he exclaimed, in a weak voice, which I could barely hear amid the uproar caused by the seas dashing against the vessel’s sides and deck, the creaking of the bulk-heads, the whistling of the wind, and other sounds.“Papa says there is no danger; so you need not be alarmed, Dick,” I observed. At the same time I confess that I felt far from comfortable myself. Poor Dick was dreadfully sick. I had to assist him as best I could; but I need not enter into particulars. His sickness overcame his terror. Every now and then, however, he cried out, “Oh, I wish I was on shore! couldn’t your papa land me? If he cannot, please ask him to throw me overboard. Oh, how miserable I am! Oh dear, oh dear!” and then for certain reasons he could not utter a word.Having to attend to him made me think perhaps less of our situation; but I know that I was not at all happy. All sorts of dreadful thoughts came into my mind. Every instant I expected to hear a tremendous sea come rushing over our deck, and perhaps to find that papa or some of the men had been washed away. I was most anxious about papa. If he was lost, I believed that the vessel would be lost too; but then I remembered what a good sailor he was; and as he had been to sea all his life, he was sure to manage the vessel properly; and, as he had often said, she was such a tight little sea-boat she would go through anything. Still, we were in a part of the ocean where the tide runs with great force, and when meeting the wind a very awkward sea is beaten up. This made the cutter tumble about in a way I had never known her do before. Everything in the cabin had been securely lashed except a few books and charts. First one came flying out as the vessel rolled over, and hit poor Dick on the head.“What a shame of you to be heaving books at me, Harry!” he cried out.I assured him that I was innocent of anything of the sort; and presently another flew out, and nearly knocked me over. I tried to reach the books, to secure the remainder: but the whole lot came tumbling out, and sent me sprawling on the cabin floor. I picked myself up, and crawled back to assist Dick, who just then greatly required my support.I cannot describe more of that fearful night. Finding that Dick was tolerably quiet, advising him to hold fast to the sofa, I lay down at the opposite end, where I clung on like grim death; and, in spite of the tossing and tumbling the vessel was undergoing, I at length fell asleep. I cannot say I was very fast asleep, for I was conscious all the time that something very unpleasant was taking place.Occasionally I fancied that I was being tossed in a blanket by my schoolfellows, who were jeering round me as I entreated to be let down; then that a wild bull was throwing me up in the air, and was about to catch me on his horns. Then that I was on a raft danced up and down by the foaming waters. Now, that I was on deck, and was pitched overboard, and left to struggle alone amid the raging seas. My voice—as I shouted out for help—awoke me; and to my infinite satisfaction I found that the vessel was much steadier than she had hitherto been. In a short time daylight gleamed through the bull’s eyes on deck, and getting up, I made my way to the companion hatch. Just before I reached it, it was lifted up, and papa put his head down.“All right, my lads,” he said; “we are under the lee of the land, and the wind has greatly moderated. In a short time, if it continues to be fine, we shall be able to haul up and beat back to Scilly. How is Dick?”“He has been very ill; but he is now fast asleep; and it would be a pity to awaken him,” I answered as I got up on deck.I looked round, and could see the land on the starboard side bearing south and east. The Longships Lighthouse was no longer in view. I could make out a cape, which papa said was Cape Cornwall, to the southward. I looked out for the Dolphin, but she was nowhere to be seen.“I am rather puzzled about her,” said papa; “she could scarcely have run us out of sight. Perhaps the vessel we saw last night was a stranger bound up the Bristol Channel; still, she was closer in shore than was advisable. Possibly the Dolphin remained hove-to, or if not, perhaps she bore up before we did, and is already safe at anchor in Saint Ives Bay. We must make the best of our way there. Hand me the glass.”I took the telescope from the bracket on which it hung inside the companion hatch, and gave it to him. He looked earnestly for a minute towards some high rocks which were at some distance from the land.“I feared so,” he observed; “there’s a vessel on the rocks, with her masts gone; but she’s much too high for the Dolphin, or I should have supposed it was that. We will stand in closer and have a look at her; we shall find less sea there, and the wind has gone down so much and the weather is so evidently improving, that we shall run no unnecessary danger. What do you think, Truck?”Papa had handed the glass to Truck, who was looking through it.“If anybody is left alive, we may have a chance of taking them off,” answered Truck. “As the wreck lies, she is not likely to be seen from the shore, and the people may perish before they can receive assistance.”As soon as it was settled that we should do so, the trysail was lowered, and the mainsail, with a couple of reefs down, was set, with a bigger jib and foresail. We now stood in towards the rocks. As we drew nearer, we saw that the wreck was that of a large vessel, and that she so lay as to be partially sheltered from the heavier seas, which must have been raging when she struck. The depth of water, however, would prevent us anchoring. Papa proposed to heave the cutter to while the boat pulled in under the lee side of the rock, whence he hoped to be able to communicate by means of lines with the people on board, should any still remain alive.As we drew still nearer, I took the glass, and turning it towards the wreck, I could distinguish a number of people on the fore part, which was the least battered, from having been more protected than the stern. I spied out a man who had climbed to the upper part of the bulwarks, and was waving a handkerchief or towel.“She went on shore at high-water, and the tide left her where she is. When it returns it will wellnigh cover her; and as those poor people will be washed off, there is no time to be lost,” observed Truck.Papa agreed with him. We had a long way to beat back to where the wreck was lying. Those on board probably knew their danger. How anxiously must they have looked out for our coming!It was a question whether we could get near the vessel. Papa ordered all the spare rope we possessed to be coiled away in the boat, and he had one of our round life-buoys, slung by four ropes, fastened to a block—the largest we had on board. This formed a cradle, by which, if necessary, we could haul the people from the wreck to the boat, could we once get close enough to pass a rope on board.At length, getting sufficiently near to leeward of the rock, we hove-to, when, greatly to my satisfaction, papa allowed me to go and steer, while he, with two hands, went in the boat, leaving Truck and Dick to manage the vessel. We first pulled round to where the wreck lay; but papa was soon convinced that we could not approach her on the weather-side without great risk of being swamped. Papa hailed, and made signs that we were going round on the lee side of the rock; we there found a little cove, or bay, into which we could pull and remain without risk by securing the boat with a grapnel.Carrying the line and the cradle, we made our way over the rock until we got abreast of where the vessel lay. The distance was considerable, and the water whirled and surged round and round in a way which would make swimming difficult; still I had often swum much further.“Let me carry a line,” I said to papa. “I think I can do it, if no one on board will undertake to swim to the rock.”We shouted to the people, who, strange to say, did not hear us; nor had they seen us come over the rock, for they had all been looking seaward. Two or three of the men at length appeared on the side nearest us; but when we called on them to swim on shore, they shook their heads, evidently not liking to make the attempt. The tide was now flowing fast, and their position was every instant becoming more perilous. It, however, made the passage less dangerous, as even in a few minutes the water became smoother than it had hitherto been.The people on board threw an oar, with a line fastened to it, into the water; but it was carried sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, and did not approach the rock.“I am sure I can do it, papa,” I said, at length. “Just fasten a line round me, and I shall be able to get hold of that oar. You can soon haul me back.”Papa no longer refused my request, and having stripped, and fastened a rope round my waist, I plunged in, and struggled hard to make way through the hissing water. Sometimes I found myself carried onwards towards the stern of the vessel, but another sea brought me back again; and in a few minutes, greatly to my satisfaction, I clutched hold of the oar, when, securing the end of the rope which held me round it, I sung out to papa and the men to haul away. In a short time I was brought back close to the rock. My chief danger was in landing, as the sea at times beat violently against it; but papa, quickly seizing me, hauled me up.“You have acted bravely, Harry,” he said. “Now put on your clothes, and we shall soon have a communication with the vessel.”While I was dressing, the rope with the cradle was hauled up to the side of the vessel, and secured to a stanchion; when the crew, getting up a stouter warp, shouted out to us to haul it in, they having secured the cradle to it. We thus had a safe communication established with the wreck, and a stout line to draw the cradle backwards and forwards.Greatly to our surprise, a female was the first person we drew ashore; she burst into tears as we lifted her out of the cradle. Another and another followed; two had infants in their arms; and then came two little boys secured to the cradle. Three men followed, each with a child.“Have all the women and children landed?” asked papa.“All who have escaped,” was the answer. “Several were washed away with the master and two mates.—”Six more men now came, the sole survivors of the crew.“Are all hands out of the ship?” asked papa.“Every soul, sir,” answered one of the men.There was no time to make inquiries as to how the vessel was wrecked. We heard that she was a homeward-bound barque from the United States, and that the passengers on board were returning to see their friends. We hurried over to the leeside of the rock, and at once embarked the two women with the infant, who seemed to be totally exhausted.As soon as we got alongside, we lifted them on board, where papa and I remained, he sending the boat back with our two men. Truck had lighted the galley fire, and we soon had some hot broth for the poor creatures, who, having taken off their wet clothes, got into our beds. Papa then looked out all the blankets, and we made up as many beds as we could on the sofa and cabin deck.By this time the boat had returned with the remaining women and children. She made no less than seven trips before all were brought off; and, as may be supposed, our little vessel was pretty well crowded. Even the men were in a greatly exhausted state, and could not do much for themselves. Papa, however, seemed to think and act for everybody.As soon as all were on board, we hoisted in the boat, and the wind being fair, having shaken out the reefs in the mainsail, we steered for Saint Ives. Dick, who was not fit for much when we first left the vessel, had now recovered, and assisted in getting off the wet clothes from our young passengers, and in carrying round food.The cabin presented a curious appearance, with the people stowed as thickly as herrings in a cask, all wrapped up in blankets and peacoats. Fortunately, the water was smooth under the lee of the land; but the number of people on board brought the vessel much below her usual bearings.“I am thankful we have not a long voyage to make, or we should soon be short of provisions,” said papa, as we got out tin after tin of soup and meat.The soft bread and fresh beef we had taken on board at Penzance were soon consumed by the women and children, who speedily rallied from their exhaustion.The wind, however, fell very light, and there appeared to be a prospect of our not being able to get in that night.On inquiry, papa found that the master and first mate of the wrecked ship had been tipsy for some days, and had quarrelled desperately with each other, and the second mate, interfering, had been nearly killed. They had got completely out of their course, and none of them knew where they were. They had been bound for the Thames. The men said that when they saw the Longships they fancied that it was the Eddystone, and that when they struck they supposed that they were not far off Plymouth Breakwater, though they were wondering why they did not see the light.“It is one of the many sad examples we have had of the effects of drinking,” observed papa. “If I had to make a voyage, I should choose a temperance vessel. Though a master may appear sober enough in port under the eyes of his owners, unless he is a temperate man, one can never tell what he may do at sea.”On further inquiries we found that nearly half the crew were as tipsy as their officers, and that they, with the cabin passengers who had remained aft, had been washed away. The people saved were steerage passengers, with the exception of one little boy, whose parents and friends had perished. However, the satisfaction of having been the means of saving the lives of these poor people was to us very great. We were of course greatly interested in the boy, Nat Harvey, who was about six years old. Poor little fellow, he had been so frightened that he was not fully aware of what had occurred, and did not appear fully to realise his loss. He seemed to think that his papa and mamma, and his Aunt Fanny and brother and sister, had gone off in a boat, and that he should see them again before long. He kept continually asking why they were not with us. When he heard that we were going to Saint Ives, he said that he hoped we should find them there. One of the women, with a kind heart, had taken him under her charge, and she sat on the cabin floor holding him in her arms with his head resting on her lap, every now and then speaking words of comfort, and endeavouring to get him to go to sleep. Papa inquired from the passengers and crew if they knew anything of his family, or where they were going. No one could say what part of the States Mr and Mrs Harvey, with three children and a young lady, who was sister either to Mr or Mrs Harvey—these were their names—had come from.“We can’t turn the poor child adrift among strangers,” observed papa. “We must take him with us, and try to find out his friends.”“Oh pray do!” Dick and I exclaimed. “I’ll look after him, and keep him out of mischief,” added Dick.At last papa agreed that the best thing he could do for the child was to keep him on board, unless some kind person of influence at Saint Ives would take charge of him, and endeavour to find out his friends.When speaking of the way the wreck occurred, papa said he was not surprised, as he had known an instance of the master of a vessel who with his mate had got drunk, and who had managed to take his vessel to the south of Jersey, while all the time he fancied that he was among the Scilly Islands.The wind had fallen, and we feared that a calm would come on and keep us all night, which would have been a great trial to our poor passengers. It was therefore with much satisfaction that, the wind holding fair, we came in sight of the peninsula on which part of Saint Ives is situated, the remainder being on the mainland on the south side of Saint Ives Bay.The water was smooth, the sky bright, and as papa looked at the town he exclaimed—“Why, I could almost fancy myself among the Greek islands, so exactly does the place, in its form and picturesque beauty, remind me of a Greek village.”We stood on until, running under a battery which defends the town on the seaside, we anchored off a pier. The view was indeed highly picturesque. The town has an ancient appearance, the houses being built without any regard to order, many of them looking as if destined ere long to tumble down. Then our eyes wandered round the deep bay, on the surrounding broken ground, and the commanding cliffs, lighted up by the rays of the setting sun, which cast a dark shadow over the town itself on the western side.Papa, hastening on shore, immediately applied to the authorities, who received the shipwrecked crew. The poor people expressed their gratitude for the service we had rendered them; and papa, to assist them still further, healed a subscription which was raised in the town for their relief.We were very thankful when we got them all on shore. We looked out on entering the bay for the Dolphin; but among the various vessels which had brought-up there, she was not to be seen; and on inquiring on shore we could gain no tidings of her. Papa now thought, or hoped, as he had at first supposed, that she had got safely into Saint Mary’s.Of course our cabins had not been improved by being occupied by so many passengers. We therefore slept on shore, that our bedclothes might be washed and the cabin cleaned; and we had also to replenish our stock of provisions, which had been almost exhausted. Papa’s first care was to arrange an outfit for little Nat, as he had only the garments he wore. We soon had him rigged out in a regular sailor’s suit, with a piece of crape round his arm, for we could find no black clothes ready. He frequently asked for his papa and mamma, as well as for his Aunt Fanny.“You must not expect to see them, my boy,” answered papa; “but we will take care of you; and Harry here will give you your lessons, as I dare say you do not wish to be idle.”“Oh yes, I like lessons. Aunt Fanny used to teach me,” answered Nat; “but if she doesn’t come back soon I should like to learn of Harry.”I gladly promised to be his tutor while he remained on board, and felt not a little proud of the position. I at times fancied that he had a suspicion of what had happened to his friends. The first time we were alone together he looked up into my face, while the tears sprang into his eyes, as he said, “Do you know, Harry, that I am afraid that the sea washed papa and mamma and Aunt Fanny and dear Reuben and Mary away? I don’t like to ask, because I am afraid of anybody telling me that I shall never see them again.”I had not the heart to say that his suspicions were correct, so I at once got out a book and said, “Come, Nat, you shall read to me, then I will read to you, and then we will talk about what we have read.” I did the same whenever he again mentioned the subject.Saint Ives itself was soon seen. There is a church standing so close to the sea that when there is a strong wind it is almost covered with spray. Most of the inhabitants are engaged in the pilchard and herring fishery.We made an excursion along the coast to visit the ruins of the church of Perranzabuloe, supposed to be the most ancient in Britain. It had for centuries been covered up by the sand. We had left Nat under the charge of the landlady, and engaged a boat to carry us round to visit these interesting ruins. After a long pull we landed up a little creek, near which stand two rocks, known as “The Old Man and his Wife.” Near at hand was a small fishing-village, in the neighbourhood of which we visited an ancient amphitheatre, still wonderfully perfect. We here obtained a guide to conduct us to the church. It must be understood that the whole shore is covered with fine sand, which is moved in a wonderful manner by northerly winds. It has gradually swept over the country, destroying vegetation and covering up buildings as effectually as has been done by ashes from burning mountains. The progress of the sand is sometimes gradual and almost imperceptible; at other times, in the course of a gale, whole villages have been overwhelmed, allowing the inhabitants scarcely time to escape. Such was the case with this ancient church and the surrounding habitations. So completely had the sand swept over it, that it had quite disappeared; and it was only, after the lapseof centuries, discovered about forty years ago, though a tradition existed in the neighbourhood that a church had once stood there. It was discovered by a Mr Mitchell, who, undeterred by difficulties, succeeded in removing a mass of sand and exposing the building which had so long been covered up. The masonry is rude, but the walls are solid and complete. The interior was perfectly free from the modern accompaniments of Roman Catholic places of worship. There was no rood-loft, no confessional, no pictures of the Virgin and saints, nothing to indicate the unscriptural adoration of the wafer, or masses for the dead. The most diligent search was made for beads and pyxes, censers and crucifixes; not a fragment of either could be discovered. At the eastern end we saw a plain, unornamental chancel; in the nave are stone seats attached to the walls.Near the church were discovered three skeletons, one of gigantic dimensions, the second of moderate size, and the third apparently that of a female; and the wind blowing off the sand, the ground around was found covered with human bones.We were deeply interested with our visit to this ancient church, which tends to prove that our ancestors worshipped God in simplicity and truth, and that they knew nothing of the forms and ceremonies of Rome.With regard to these sand-dunes we heard a curious circumstance, that even a narrow stream will stop the advance of the sand, which will accumulate on its banks, but has not the power to cross to the opposite side.On returning on board, we found that our stock of provisions had arrived, that our blankets were dried, and the cabin cleaned out. We therefore immediately got under weigh, and stood out for the bay.“What!” exclaimed Dick, “is this the Saint Ives I’ve heard of all my life?” and he repeated—“As I was going to Saint IvesI met a man with seven wives;Seven wives had seven sacks,Seven sacks had seven cats,Seven cats had seven kits,Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,How many were going to Saint Ives?”Papa laughed, and said he believed that the honour was also claimed by a little town in Huntingdonshire of the same name. “The two,” he said, “may fight it out. It is not very important.”The wind now blew from the northward, and in a short time we opened the Longships, bearing due south-west. It had hitherto been hidden by the land, so that we knew perfectly well where we were. We then kept away until we came in sight of the two lights of the Seven Stones Lightship, until we brought them on our starboard beam, when we were within the radius of Saint Agnes Lighthouse just before daybreak.We were hoping to get in or off Saint Mary’s in the morning, when it fell calm; and there we lay, with our sails flapping idly, and rolling in the swell of the Atlantic, which came in from the southward. We could see through our glasses the Longships Lighthouse on one side and the light-vessel on the other, while the Scilly Islands rose blue and indistinct out of the ocean. One tide carried us to the northward; but in the next we regained our lost ground. It was, however, very tantalising, as we were anxious to ascertain what had become of the Dolphin.Though papa always hoped for the best, he could not help acknowledging that he feared that she might have met with some accident. At length a breeze sprang up, but it was against us; still, that was better than a calm, as we could gain ground by tacking. Dick and Nat asked more than once why we were sailing away from the land when we wanted to get there.At last we came in sight of a lofty tower on the top of a hill in Saint Martin’s Island, with the long low outline of Saint Mary’s beyond. Still, we had several tacks more to make before we gained the entrance to Crow Sound, between Saint Mary’s and Saint Martin’s. By this time it was dark. A bright look-out was kept for rocks and shoals in the channel. Suddenly rounding a point, the light from Saint Agnes shone brilliantly down on us, and further to our right we saw the little twinkling lights from the windows of the houses in Hugh Town, the capital of the Scilly Islands.Having come safely to an anchor among several other vessels, we shouted out, “Dolphin, ahoy!” hoping that she was among them, though in the dark night we could not distinguish her. We had shouted out several times, and papa was on the point of putting off inthe boat to make inquiries on shore, when a hail came down from the other side of the harbour, “Is that the Lively?”“Ay—ay!” we answered. “Is that the Dolphin?”“Ay—ay!” was the reply. “I’ll be aboard you presently.”In a short time we heard the splash of oars, and, much to our relief, Uncle Tom, followed by Oliver and Jack, sprang on deck.Our first inquiries were as to how they had weathered the gale. “Famously,” answered Uncle Tom. “We kept hove-to till the morning, when, as the wind moderated, we stood in here, a pilot having boarded us and showed us the way.”“Who have you got here?” exclaimed Oliver, as he looked into Nat’s little berth.Great was the astonishment of all the party when we described the adventures we had met with. We talked over various plans for finding out Nat’s relatives, and what should be done with him, should we not succeed.Next morning we went on shore to inspect the town and to make the tour of the island, which is easily done, as it is only two and a half miles long and one and a half broad. The town had a somewhat sombre look until we got on shore, when the neat gardens full of flowers, and the clean appearance of the streets, made us think better of the place. Most of the houses are low, few of them having more than two stories.On the hill, about one hundred feet above the town, is the castle, which has seen a good many stirring events in its time; but its only garrison now consists of a single individual, who, I suppose, is placed there to prevent the rats from taking possession. It was built in the time of Queen Elizabeth, by Sir Francis Godolphin; but its chief interest arises from its being the last spot on British soil which held out for the Royalists in the days of Cromwell, when Sir John Grenville was governor. Prince Charles fled here, and remained until he took his departure for Jersey. For six years the stout Sir John retained his post, and having collected a number of vessels, fitted them out as cruisers, for the purpose of crippling the forces of the Parliamentary party. These cruisers had, in truth, very much the character of pirates, and were not particular what vessels they robbed. Having plundered some Dutchmen, they were very nearly being severely punished by old Van Tromp, who appeared with a squadron. When summoned to surrender, Sir John refused, and Van Tromp sailed away. At length, so urgent became the representations of the merchants whose vessels had been captured, that Parliament sent an expedition, under Admiral Blake and Sir George Askew, when Sir John was compelled to surrender; and he, with the eight hundred men forming his garrison, received honourable terms.Though at one time the inhabitants of the Scilly Islands were noted for their barbarous customs, they have now become as peaceably disposed and civilised as any of Her Majesty’s subjects.Saint Mary’s is divided into two parts by a narrow neck of land, on which Hugh Town stands. It is very possible that some day it will be washed away. We passed over a well-laid-out piece of ground covered with soft turf, on which sheep and deer were feeding, called the Park; and from it we could see the tall lighthouse and the few cottages on Saint Agnes Island.We then proceeded to Buzza Hill, whence we could look down on the harbour, which had the appearance of a large lake. Sometimes, we were told, several hundred vessels take shelter within it. Opposite to Hugh Town was Tresco, the residence of Mr Smith, the lord proprietor, surrounded by gardens containing avenues of geraniums and plantations of the rarest exotics.Some of the heights we reached were grand and picturesque in the extreme—one of them, Penninis, especially so. Rocks seemed piled on rocks; beneath, vaults and caverns, abounding with lichens and ferns, with crystal pools in the hollows of granite. Climbing to the summit, our eyes ranged over the ocean, rolling in sublime magnificence, its voice never silent.On Tolmen Point is a Druidical monument—a perforated stone, which we examined. Papa said that no one knew for what purpose this monument, and others like it, were intended. He told us of one especially, which he had seen at Constantine Penryn, of which he had a photograph. It had lately, he said, been thrown down for the sake of getting at the granite underneath. I think such destruction of old monuments ought to be forbidden by law!Then we went to Porthhellick Cove, with wild rocks seen beyond it, on which, in the year 1707, Sir Cloudesley Shovel, with four ofhis ships and two thousand men, were cast away. The body of the admiral, known by a valuable ring on his finger, was buried on the shore of the cove. It was afterwards removed to Westminster Abbey.Papa remarked that the strong current produced by the indraught of the Irish Channel drifted these ships out of their course, and was the cause of the catastrophe.The inhabitants of the islands were once known for their smuggling and wrecking propensities. A fisherman whom we fell in with—a venerable-looking man, with white hair streaming under his cap—pointed out several spots on which ships with rich cargoes had run on shore, and assured us that coin was still to be picked up in the sand, if people would but take the trouble to look for it. In former days everybody was engaged in smuggling, or trusting to salvage from wrecks. There was but little farming. No potatoes were grown, and there were no gardens, while their huts were as low and damp as those in the Hebrides. But when Mr Smith came he changed all that; and now the people live in comfortable houses, have gardens full of flowers, and the productions of the islands afford them ample support. Wheat and rye, and every description of vegetable, are grown; scarlet geraniums flourish, while fuchsias, and a variety of other magnificent flowers, not only grow in the gardens, but form hedges several feet in height.Next morning we got under weigh to take a cruise among the islands. Passing round on the other side of Hugh Town, we perceived the narrowness of the strip on which it stands, and sincerely hoped that the sea would not again—as it once did—break across and inundate the place. I cannot attempt to describe the numerous rocks and islands we sighted in our course, there being altogether upwards of three hundred, large and small. Steering to the south-west, we passed Gorregan and Rosevean, where our pilot told us that many a stout ship had been lost; some, striking on the rocks, having gone down and left no sign of their fate, except some articles thrown up on the shore. Coming to an anchor, we pulled off in the boat to catch fish, with which the sea literally swarmed. We could see them swimming about through the clear water. We were amused by the way in which our pilot, who was a great fisherman, caught them. Throwing the bait always before their noses, and singing out, “Come along, Dick, come along, Tom; bite, my boy;” and, sure enough, the fish bit, and were caught.We afterwards passed several ruins of ancient chapels, when we arrived off Saint Agnes, on which the magnificent lighthouse stands. On the island were a few cottages; and here the scarlet geranium was almost a tree.From this point we steered for the Bishop’s Lighthouse, the most western part of Scilly. It is a magnificent stone tower, one hundred and forty-seven feet high, with one fixed bright light. This can be distinguished from that of Saint Agnes, which revolves every minute.Passing up Broad Sound we came off a fine headland, the proper name of which is the “Menavawr;” but our pilot called it the “Man o’ war.”In our cruise we passed Bryher and Sampson, the two largest islands in the group. The latter island is called after a saint of that name. It consists of two hills, the outlines of which present the form of the back of a camel. Landing on the shore, we made a collection of beautiful shells, which accumulate in large quantities on the beach. Our pilot told us that, until lately, the isle of Sampson was thickly peopled; but the inhabitants, being addicted to certain illegal practices, such as wrecking and smuggling, and illicit distillation of spirits, it was found necessary, as the only means of weaning them from their bad habits, to disperse them, either on the mainland, or through the other islands, where they could be better watched.We again got out our fishing-lines, which we baited with flies formed out of untwisted pieces of rope. In a short time we had caught a dozen fine whiting-pollock. We, however, had a still greater catch shortly afterwards.As we were sailing along through the Sound, a herd of porpoises came gambolling by, their black bodies and fins now appearing, now sinking beneath the surface. Captain Truck had a harpoon ready, and he placed himself in the forechains, with a rope round his waist. He stood with his weapon high poised in the air, ready to strike. We were all on the watch. In a few moments his harpoon flew from his hand.“Pay away, lads!” he shouted out; “the fellow’s fast.”The porpoise dived, and the line ran out at a rapid rate. Truck sprang in board, and quickly checked it. We then got two running bowlines ready, one in the fore part of the vessel, and the other aft. There was great excitement.“Now haul away,” he sang out; and the porpoise was dragged, in spite of its struggles, close alongside, when the running bowlines were passed one over its head, and the other round its tail; and all hands joining, including Nat, who took the end of a rope—although, as may be supposed, he was not of much use—we hoisted the huge fish on board. It was at once killed and scientifically cut up by Truck and the pilot. So eager was the latter, that he very nearly let us strike on a rock. We had some pieces of the porpoise beef for dinner, which were pronounced very good. We supplied the Dolphin with a portion of our catch, and our united crews lived on it for the next two days.Next day we had another similar cruise, during which we visited the beautiful Sound called New Grimsby. On one side stands the tower, known as Cromwell’s Castle—not that he was ever in the island, but he ordered it to be built. On the opposite side are the ruins of another fort. It was here that the forces under Blake and Askew landed, and attacked the fortifications, though they met with a stout resistance from the Royalists, who at length took to flight.Farther on we came off vast masses of rock piled one upon another. The two yachts having hove-to, we pulled on shore, and, under the guidance of the pilot, managed to land; when, climbing up some distance, we reached a cone, from the bottom of which we could hear the sea roaring fearfully. We then arrived lower down at a small opening, when a guide, who had joined us, lighted some candles, that we might find our way into a celebrated cavern, called “Piper’s Hole.” For some distance we had to crawl along on our hands and knees. At length we reached a narrow but high vault; this we followed until we arrived at the head of a ladder. “You will find a boat at the bottom, gentlemen,” said the guide.Jack and I, with Uncle Tom, descended, as we were told that the boat could not carry a larger fare. After looking down for a few seconds, we distinguished a light; and going down the ladder, we stepped into a boat, in which a man, whom we of course denominated Charon, was seated. Instead of oars, he used a long pole to urge on the boat. We noticed the dark appearance of the water as we made our way through the vaulted chambers. We now found ourselves floating on a lake, the water black as ink, but perfectly smooth. Above our heads was a lofty and extensive dome; but the sides were invisible. Charon ferried us across, and landed us on a smooth sandy shore, along which we proceeded for a considerable distance through a succession of caverns, until we arrived at a small circular chamber where they appeared to terminate.On putting my hand into the water on my return, to my surprise I found it perfectly fresh, although so close to the sea. Here any number of outlaws might take refuge, with small chance of being discovered, or defend themselves against any force sent in pursuit, provided they had food to hold out until their enemies had grown weary of looking for them. Charon—unlike his namesake—had no objection to ferry us back across the Styx; and having made our way into the upper air, we regained the boat.Our next visit was to Rock Island, the resort of countless numbers of sea-birds. It is at the extreme northern end of the group, and consists of a high table-land, surrounded by precipitous cliffs. As we approached, the gulls rose in masses so thick as positively to darken the air, while all around the sea was speckled with the white feathers of innumerable puffins. On the cliffs were ranged numerous clusters of black cormorants, who seemed to be watching us eagerly. Their plumage was very fine, being of a lustrous invisible green, while their eyes were of the brightest emerald hue. The boats which went in pursuit brought back a number of gulls and puffins and cormorants, some of which Oliver begged might be preserved for stuffing.We paid a visit on the last day of our stay to the residence of Mr Smith, in the island of Tresco. On landing, we proceeded across a park, and approached the large, many-gabled house, in front of which the rocky ground was completely concealed by masses of blooming creepers. We passed between beautiful flower-beds, among which grew magnificent aloes, twenty feet in height, covered with bloom. We wellnigh lost ourselves in the labyrinth of walks, literally shaded by scarlet geraniums of giant growth, and shrubs, such as grow nowhere in the open air on the mainland, many of them of extremebeauty, brought from all parts of the world. In the midst of the gardens we came upon the ivy-mantled arches of the ruined abbey of Tresco, which has reared its head in these far off islands for the last eight centuries. We all of us agreed that we had never before been in so perfect a garden, so rich with a profusion of flowers. Mr Smith, in making this “Paradise,” had an object in view—to set an example to the inhabitants of these lonely islands, to show them what Nature will do for them, when they put their shoulder to the wheel; and in few parts of the world are the climate and soil so suited to the production of floral wonders.I must not venture to give a further description of the place, but I must say that Scilly is well worth a visit; and I am sure that any of my friends who may go there will not be disappointed. We were quite sorry when papa and Uncle Tom determined to sail, reminding us that, if we remained longer, we should have no time to see the other places of interest it was our intention to visit on our voyage round England.
On passing Rundlestone, a hidden rock upwards of a mile from the southern shore of the Land’s End peninsula, we came in sight of the Wolf Rock, about ten miles off the coast. It was one of the greatest dangers in the English Channel, for the beacon placed on it was not visible at night or during thick weather. Attempts were made to fix bells on the rock, which might be rung by the waves dashing against them; but the first gale quickly carried away the well-intentioned contrivance.
Now, however, a lighthouse has been erected of great strength and massiveness, to endure the fierce battering it must encounter from the angry billows. The wind shifting against us, we had a good view of the Wolf Rock, and afterwards of the Longships Lighthouse, the white tower of which, rising above its black base, can be seen afar off.
It was with difficulty that we could distinguish Land’s End from the neighbouring headlands, Cape Cornwall, to the northward, apparently approaching further into the ocean.
As we looked at that fearful Wolf Rock, we thought of the number of vessels, out of their reckoning, homeward-bound, or coming round from the North Sea, intending to proceed up the Irish Channel, which must have run against it in days gone by. But now the red and white “flashes” which follow each other at half-minute intervals all through the night, enable mariners to steer clear of the danger.
Papa remarked: “I wish that every Christian man would remember that he is bound to be a lighthouse, and to warn his fellows of the peril into which they are running. How many human beings would thus be saved from shipwreck, if all thus understood their duty and acted accordingly! Remember the text—‘Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.’”
Papa told us it was the opinion of geologists that the surrounding rocks, as well as the Scilly Isles, were once connected with England. Indeed, of that there can be no doubt. Tradition declares that articles have been fished up proving that cities once stood on spots over which the tides now ebb and flow; but then tradition is the most uncertain of all uncertain things. Although an iron kettle may have been fished up from the bottom of the sea, it might only show that it had been thrown overboard, or washed out of a sunken vessel.
As we had determined not to be defeated, we continued beating backwards and forwards until we saw the coast of Cornwall, and the bright beams of Saint Agnes’ Lighthouse appeared on our port-bow; while those from the light-vessel moored off the Seven Stones were seen on the other.
We hailed the Dolphin, which passed us on the opposite tack; and papa agreed to lead in; “The sooner we are in the harbour the better,” he observed; “I don’t quite like the look of the weather.”
Clouds had, indeed, been thickly gathering in the south-west; and the stars, which had hitherto shone brightly, were totally obscured. The wind also, which had been steady, now began to blow in strong squalls, compelling us to shorten sail. First, two reefs were taken down in the mainsail; it was then closely-reefed, while the foresail was hauled down, and the storm jib set. Still, it was as much as the cutter could do to look up to it. Heavy seas now began to roll in from the Atlantic, tumbling the cutter about. Now she rose to the summit of a foam-crested wave, now she sank down into the hollow.
“Will she ever come up again?” exclaimed Dick, who was clinging on to the companion hatch. “Oh, dear—oh, dear! I thought the sea was always going to remain as smooth as it has been since we sailed.”
Presently, up we rose again, and Dick drew a long breath. Papa, however, advised him to go below.
“We will look after the craft in the meantime, my boy,” he said. “There is nothing to fear, though it is possible that one of these seas may break on board, and if you are not on the look-out, may carry you away.”
A flash of lightning which now burst forth from a dark cloud, accompanied by a heavy squall, causing the cutter to heel over until her lee bulwarks were almost under water, revealed Dick’s terrified countenance. As may be supposed, he clung on the harder to the companion hatch; and papa had to repeat his advice and help him down the ladder.
“You’d better go too, Harry,” he said. “I can’t answer for a sea not coming on board; and it might tear even you from your hold. Those who remain on deck will secure themselves with lashings; and as the craft is as light as a cork, we shall weather out the gale, even should it come on to blow twice as hard as it now does.”
I begged to be allowed to remain.
“Well, it will be but a summer gale. You may stay on deck; but here, make yourself fast with this rope;” and papa secured one round my body, which he fastened to the companion hatch.
He now gave the word to set the trysail; and the mainsail being stowed, it was hoisted in its stead. Still we had as much sail as the cutter could carry. The night had become very dark, except when the flashes of lightning dashed from the black clouds. Papa had resolved to heave the vessel to, when we caught sight of a white sail a short distance ahead of us.
“That must be the schooner,” shouted Truck; “she is taking a wise course, and is intending to run under Cape Cornwall, or maybe to get into Saint Ives Bay, in case the gale should continue.”
“We may as well do the same,” observed papa; and the helm being put up, away we ran before the wind.
Though the cutter behaved very well, still there was a chance of our being pooped. A strong current was setting us in the direction of the Longships light, which now appeared broad on the starboard bow. We ran on, following, as we supposed, the Dolphin; but she was going faster than we were, and we soon lost sight of her. We knew our exact position, for, although we had got beyond the gleam of Saint Agnes’ Lighthouse, we could still see on our port-bow the two lights on board the light-vessel off the Seven Stones. I own I wished that we were safe back in port, though papa appeared so cool that I could not suppose there was any real danger; still, as the seas came rolling up on either quarter, high above our deck, it seemed impossible that the vessel could escape being swamped.
At last papa peremptorily ordered me to go below, and coming to where I was standing, lifted up the hatch and literally pushed me down, closing it again over me. I groped my way into the cabin, where I found Dick holding on to one of the sofas. The cabin lamp had not been lighted, so that we were in perfect darkness.
“Oh! where are we? Where are we going? What’s about to happen?” he exclaimed, in a weak voice, which I could barely hear amid the uproar caused by the seas dashing against the vessel’s sides and deck, the creaking of the bulk-heads, the whistling of the wind, and other sounds.
“Papa says there is no danger; so you need not be alarmed, Dick,” I observed. At the same time I confess that I felt far from comfortable myself. Poor Dick was dreadfully sick. I had to assist him as best I could; but I need not enter into particulars. His sickness overcame his terror. Every now and then, however, he cried out, “Oh, I wish I was on shore! couldn’t your papa land me? If he cannot, please ask him to throw me overboard. Oh, how miserable I am! Oh dear, oh dear!” and then for certain reasons he could not utter a word.
Having to attend to him made me think perhaps less of our situation; but I know that I was not at all happy. All sorts of dreadful thoughts came into my mind. Every instant I expected to hear a tremendous sea come rushing over our deck, and perhaps to find that papa or some of the men had been washed away. I was most anxious about papa. If he was lost, I believed that the vessel would be lost too; but then I remembered what a good sailor he was; and as he had been to sea all his life, he was sure to manage the vessel properly; and, as he had often said, she was such a tight little sea-boat she would go through anything. Still, we were in a part of the ocean where the tide runs with great force, and when meeting the wind a very awkward sea is beaten up. This made the cutter tumble about in a way I had never known her do before. Everything in the cabin had been securely lashed except a few books and charts. First one came flying out as the vessel rolled over, and hit poor Dick on the head.
“What a shame of you to be heaving books at me, Harry!” he cried out.
I assured him that I was innocent of anything of the sort; and presently another flew out, and nearly knocked me over. I tried to reach the books, to secure the remainder: but the whole lot came tumbling out, and sent me sprawling on the cabin floor. I picked myself up, and crawled back to assist Dick, who just then greatly required my support.
I cannot describe more of that fearful night. Finding that Dick was tolerably quiet, advising him to hold fast to the sofa, I lay down at the opposite end, where I clung on like grim death; and, in spite of the tossing and tumbling the vessel was undergoing, I at length fell asleep. I cannot say I was very fast asleep, for I was conscious all the time that something very unpleasant was taking place.
Occasionally I fancied that I was being tossed in a blanket by my schoolfellows, who were jeering round me as I entreated to be let down; then that a wild bull was throwing me up in the air, and was about to catch me on his horns. Then that I was on a raft danced up and down by the foaming waters. Now, that I was on deck, and was pitched overboard, and left to struggle alone amid the raging seas. My voice—as I shouted out for help—awoke me; and to my infinite satisfaction I found that the vessel was much steadier than she had hitherto been. In a short time daylight gleamed through the bull’s eyes on deck, and getting up, I made my way to the companion hatch. Just before I reached it, it was lifted up, and papa put his head down.
“All right, my lads,” he said; “we are under the lee of the land, and the wind has greatly moderated. In a short time, if it continues to be fine, we shall be able to haul up and beat back to Scilly. How is Dick?”
“He has been very ill; but he is now fast asleep; and it would be a pity to awaken him,” I answered as I got up on deck.
I looked round, and could see the land on the starboard side bearing south and east. The Longships Lighthouse was no longer in view. I could make out a cape, which papa said was Cape Cornwall, to the southward. I looked out for the Dolphin, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“I am rather puzzled about her,” said papa; “she could scarcely have run us out of sight. Perhaps the vessel we saw last night was a stranger bound up the Bristol Channel; still, she was closer in shore than was advisable. Possibly the Dolphin remained hove-to, or if not, perhaps she bore up before we did, and is already safe at anchor in Saint Ives Bay. We must make the best of our way there. Hand me the glass.”
I took the telescope from the bracket on which it hung inside the companion hatch, and gave it to him. He looked earnestly for a minute towards some high rocks which were at some distance from the land.
“I feared so,” he observed; “there’s a vessel on the rocks, with her masts gone; but she’s much too high for the Dolphin, or I should have supposed it was that. We will stand in closer and have a look at her; we shall find less sea there, and the wind has gone down so much and the weather is so evidently improving, that we shall run no unnecessary danger. What do you think, Truck?”
Papa had handed the glass to Truck, who was looking through it.
“If anybody is left alive, we may have a chance of taking them off,” answered Truck. “As the wreck lies, she is not likely to be seen from the shore, and the people may perish before they can receive assistance.”
As soon as it was settled that we should do so, the trysail was lowered, and the mainsail, with a couple of reefs down, was set, with a bigger jib and foresail. We now stood in towards the rocks. As we drew nearer, we saw that the wreck was that of a large vessel, and that she so lay as to be partially sheltered from the heavier seas, which must have been raging when she struck. The depth of water, however, would prevent us anchoring. Papa proposed to heave the cutter to while the boat pulled in under the lee side of the rock, whence he hoped to be able to communicate by means of lines with the people on board, should any still remain alive.
As we drew still nearer, I took the glass, and turning it towards the wreck, I could distinguish a number of people on the fore part, which was the least battered, from having been more protected than the stern. I spied out a man who had climbed to the upper part of the bulwarks, and was waving a handkerchief or towel.
“She went on shore at high-water, and the tide left her where she is. When it returns it will wellnigh cover her; and as those poor people will be washed off, there is no time to be lost,” observed Truck.
Papa agreed with him. We had a long way to beat back to where the wreck was lying. Those on board probably knew their danger. How anxiously must they have looked out for our coming!
It was a question whether we could get near the vessel. Papa ordered all the spare rope we possessed to be coiled away in the boat, and he had one of our round life-buoys, slung by four ropes, fastened to a block—the largest we had on board. This formed a cradle, by which, if necessary, we could haul the people from the wreck to the boat, could we once get close enough to pass a rope on board.
At length, getting sufficiently near to leeward of the rock, we hove-to, when, greatly to my satisfaction, papa allowed me to go and steer, while he, with two hands, went in the boat, leaving Truck and Dick to manage the vessel. We first pulled round to where the wreck lay; but papa was soon convinced that we could not approach her on the weather-side without great risk of being swamped. Papa hailed, and made signs that we were going round on the lee side of the rock; we there found a little cove, or bay, into which we could pull and remain without risk by securing the boat with a grapnel.
Carrying the line and the cradle, we made our way over the rock until we got abreast of where the vessel lay. The distance was considerable, and the water whirled and surged round and round in a way which would make swimming difficult; still I had often swum much further.
“Let me carry a line,” I said to papa. “I think I can do it, if no one on board will undertake to swim to the rock.”
We shouted to the people, who, strange to say, did not hear us; nor had they seen us come over the rock, for they had all been looking seaward. Two or three of the men at length appeared on the side nearest us; but when we called on them to swim on shore, they shook their heads, evidently not liking to make the attempt. The tide was now flowing fast, and their position was every instant becoming more perilous. It, however, made the passage less dangerous, as even in a few minutes the water became smoother than it had hitherto been.
The people on board threw an oar, with a line fastened to it, into the water; but it was carried sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other, and did not approach the rock.
“I am sure I can do it, papa,” I said, at length. “Just fasten a line round me, and I shall be able to get hold of that oar. You can soon haul me back.”
Papa no longer refused my request, and having stripped, and fastened a rope round my waist, I plunged in, and struggled hard to make way through the hissing water. Sometimes I found myself carried onwards towards the stern of the vessel, but another sea brought me back again; and in a few minutes, greatly to my satisfaction, I clutched hold of the oar, when, securing the end of the rope which held me round it, I sung out to papa and the men to haul away. In a short time I was brought back close to the rock. My chief danger was in landing, as the sea at times beat violently against it; but papa, quickly seizing me, hauled me up.
“You have acted bravely, Harry,” he said. “Now put on your clothes, and we shall soon have a communication with the vessel.”
While I was dressing, the rope with the cradle was hauled up to the side of the vessel, and secured to a stanchion; when the crew, getting up a stouter warp, shouted out to us to haul it in, they having secured the cradle to it. We thus had a safe communication established with the wreck, and a stout line to draw the cradle backwards and forwards.
Greatly to our surprise, a female was the first person we drew ashore; she burst into tears as we lifted her out of the cradle. Another and another followed; two had infants in their arms; and then came two little boys secured to the cradle. Three men followed, each with a child.
“Have all the women and children landed?” asked papa.
“All who have escaped,” was the answer. “Several were washed away with the master and two mates.—”
Six more men now came, the sole survivors of the crew.
“Are all hands out of the ship?” asked papa.
“Every soul, sir,” answered one of the men.
There was no time to make inquiries as to how the vessel was wrecked. We heard that she was a homeward-bound barque from the United States, and that the passengers on board were returning to see their friends. We hurried over to the leeside of the rock, and at once embarked the two women with the infant, who seemed to be totally exhausted.
As soon as we got alongside, we lifted them on board, where papa and I remained, he sending the boat back with our two men. Truck had lighted the galley fire, and we soon had some hot broth for the poor creatures, who, having taken off their wet clothes, got into our beds. Papa then looked out all the blankets, and we made up as many beds as we could on the sofa and cabin deck.
By this time the boat had returned with the remaining women and children. She made no less than seven trips before all were brought off; and, as may be supposed, our little vessel was pretty well crowded. Even the men were in a greatly exhausted state, and could not do much for themselves. Papa, however, seemed to think and act for everybody.
As soon as all were on board, we hoisted in the boat, and the wind being fair, having shaken out the reefs in the mainsail, we steered for Saint Ives. Dick, who was not fit for much when we first left the vessel, had now recovered, and assisted in getting off the wet clothes from our young passengers, and in carrying round food.
The cabin presented a curious appearance, with the people stowed as thickly as herrings in a cask, all wrapped up in blankets and peacoats. Fortunately, the water was smooth under the lee of the land; but the number of people on board brought the vessel much below her usual bearings.
“I am thankful we have not a long voyage to make, or we should soon be short of provisions,” said papa, as we got out tin after tin of soup and meat.
The soft bread and fresh beef we had taken on board at Penzance were soon consumed by the women and children, who speedily rallied from their exhaustion.
The wind, however, fell very light, and there appeared to be a prospect of our not being able to get in that night.
On inquiry, papa found that the master and first mate of the wrecked ship had been tipsy for some days, and had quarrelled desperately with each other, and the second mate, interfering, had been nearly killed. They had got completely out of their course, and none of them knew where they were. They had been bound for the Thames. The men said that when they saw the Longships they fancied that it was the Eddystone, and that when they struck they supposed that they were not far off Plymouth Breakwater, though they were wondering why they did not see the light.
“It is one of the many sad examples we have had of the effects of drinking,” observed papa. “If I had to make a voyage, I should choose a temperance vessel. Though a master may appear sober enough in port under the eyes of his owners, unless he is a temperate man, one can never tell what he may do at sea.”
On further inquiries we found that nearly half the crew were as tipsy as their officers, and that they, with the cabin passengers who had remained aft, had been washed away. The people saved were steerage passengers, with the exception of one little boy, whose parents and friends had perished. However, the satisfaction of having been the means of saving the lives of these poor people was to us very great. We were of course greatly interested in the boy, Nat Harvey, who was about six years old. Poor little fellow, he had been so frightened that he was not fully aware of what had occurred, and did not appear fully to realise his loss. He seemed to think that his papa and mamma, and his Aunt Fanny and brother and sister, had gone off in a boat, and that he should see them again before long. He kept continually asking why they were not with us. When he heard that we were going to Saint Ives, he said that he hoped we should find them there. One of the women, with a kind heart, had taken him under her charge, and she sat on the cabin floor holding him in her arms with his head resting on her lap, every now and then speaking words of comfort, and endeavouring to get him to go to sleep. Papa inquired from the passengers and crew if they knew anything of his family, or where they were going. No one could say what part of the States Mr and Mrs Harvey, with three children and a young lady, who was sister either to Mr or Mrs Harvey—these were their names—had come from.
“We can’t turn the poor child adrift among strangers,” observed papa. “We must take him with us, and try to find out his friends.”
“Oh pray do!” Dick and I exclaimed. “I’ll look after him, and keep him out of mischief,” added Dick.
At last papa agreed that the best thing he could do for the child was to keep him on board, unless some kind person of influence at Saint Ives would take charge of him, and endeavour to find out his friends.
When speaking of the way the wreck occurred, papa said he was not surprised, as he had known an instance of the master of a vessel who with his mate had got drunk, and who had managed to take his vessel to the south of Jersey, while all the time he fancied that he was among the Scilly Islands.
The wind had fallen, and we feared that a calm would come on and keep us all night, which would have been a great trial to our poor passengers. It was therefore with much satisfaction that, the wind holding fair, we came in sight of the peninsula on which part of Saint Ives is situated, the remainder being on the mainland on the south side of Saint Ives Bay.
The water was smooth, the sky bright, and as papa looked at the town he exclaimed—“Why, I could almost fancy myself among the Greek islands, so exactly does the place, in its form and picturesque beauty, remind me of a Greek village.”
We stood on until, running under a battery which defends the town on the seaside, we anchored off a pier. The view was indeed highly picturesque. The town has an ancient appearance, the houses being built without any regard to order, many of them looking as if destined ere long to tumble down. Then our eyes wandered round the deep bay, on the surrounding broken ground, and the commanding cliffs, lighted up by the rays of the setting sun, which cast a dark shadow over the town itself on the western side.
Papa, hastening on shore, immediately applied to the authorities, who received the shipwrecked crew. The poor people expressed their gratitude for the service we had rendered them; and papa, to assist them still further, healed a subscription which was raised in the town for their relief.
We were very thankful when we got them all on shore. We looked out on entering the bay for the Dolphin; but among the various vessels which had brought-up there, she was not to be seen; and on inquiring on shore we could gain no tidings of her. Papa now thought, or hoped, as he had at first supposed, that she had got safely into Saint Mary’s.
Of course our cabins had not been improved by being occupied by so many passengers. We therefore slept on shore, that our bedclothes might be washed and the cabin cleaned; and we had also to replenish our stock of provisions, which had been almost exhausted. Papa’s first care was to arrange an outfit for little Nat, as he had only the garments he wore. We soon had him rigged out in a regular sailor’s suit, with a piece of crape round his arm, for we could find no black clothes ready. He frequently asked for his papa and mamma, as well as for his Aunt Fanny.
“You must not expect to see them, my boy,” answered papa; “but we will take care of you; and Harry here will give you your lessons, as I dare say you do not wish to be idle.”
“Oh yes, I like lessons. Aunt Fanny used to teach me,” answered Nat; “but if she doesn’t come back soon I should like to learn of Harry.”
I gladly promised to be his tutor while he remained on board, and felt not a little proud of the position. I at times fancied that he had a suspicion of what had happened to his friends. The first time we were alone together he looked up into my face, while the tears sprang into his eyes, as he said, “Do you know, Harry, that I am afraid that the sea washed papa and mamma and Aunt Fanny and dear Reuben and Mary away? I don’t like to ask, because I am afraid of anybody telling me that I shall never see them again.”
I had not the heart to say that his suspicions were correct, so I at once got out a book and said, “Come, Nat, you shall read to me, then I will read to you, and then we will talk about what we have read.” I did the same whenever he again mentioned the subject.
Saint Ives itself was soon seen. There is a church standing so close to the sea that when there is a strong wind it is almost covered with spray. Most of the inhabitants are engaged in the pilchard and herring fishery.
We made an excursion along the coast to visit the ruins of the church of Perranzabuloe, supposed to be the most ancient in Britain. It had for centuries been covered up by the sand. We had left Nat under the charge of the landlady, and engaged a boat to carry us round to visit these interesting ruins. After a long pull we landed up a little creek, near which stand two rocks, known as “The Old Man and his Wife.” Near at hand was a small fishing-village, in the neighbourhood of which we visited an ancient amphitheatre, still wonderfully perfect. We here obtained a guide to conduct us to the church. It must be understood that the whole shore is covered with fine sand, which is moved in a wonderful manner by northerly winds. It has gradually swept over the country, destroying vegetation and covering up buildings as effectually as has been done by ashes from burning mountains. The progress of the sand is sometimes gradual and almost imperceptible; at other times, in the course of a gale, whole villages have been overwhelmed, allowing the inhabitants scarcely time to escape. Such was the case with this ancient church and the surrounding habitations. So completely had the sand swept over it, that it had quite disappeared; and it was only, after the lapseof centuries, discovered about forty years ago, though a tradition existed in the neighbourhood that a church had once stood there. It was discovered by a Mr Mitchell, who, undeterred by difficulties, succeeded in removing a mass of sand and exposing the building which had so long been covered up. The masonry is rude, but the walls are solid and complete. The interior was perfectly free from the modern accompaniments of Roman Catholic places of worship. There was no rood-loft, no confessional, no pictures of the Virgin and saints, nothing to indicate the unscriptural adoration of the wafer, or masses for the dead. The most diligent search was made for beads and pyxes, censers and crucifixes; not a fragment of either could be discovered. At the eastern end we saw a plain, unornamental chancel; in the nave are stone seats attached to the walls.
Near the church were discovered three skeletons, one of gigantic dimensions, the second of moderate size, and the third apparently that of a female; and the wind blowing off the sand, the ground around was found covered with human bones.
We were deeply interested with our visit to this ancient church, which tends to prove that our ancestors worshipped God in simplicity and truth, and that they knew nothing of the forms and ceremonies of Rome.
With regard to these sand-dunes we heard a curious circumstance, that even a narrow stream will stop the advance of the sand, which will accumulate on its banks, but has not the power to cross to the opposite side.
On returning on board, we found that our stock of provisions had arrived, that our blankets were dried, and the cabin cleaned out. We therefore immediately got under weigh, and stood out for the bay.
“What!” exclaimed Dick, “is this the Saint Ives I’ve heard of all my life?” and he repeated—
“As I was going to Saint IvesI met a man with seven wives;Seven wives had seven sacks,Seven sacks had seven cats,Seven cats had seven kits,Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,How many were going to Saint Ives?”
“As I was going to Saint IvesI met a man with seven wives;Seven wives had seven sacks,Seven sacks had seven cats,Seven cats had seven kits,Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,How many were going to Saint Ives?”
Papa laughed, and said he believed that the honour was also claimed by a little town in Huntingdonshire of the same name. “The two,” he said, “may fight it out. It is not very important.”
The wind now blew from the northward, and in a short time we opened the Longships, bearing due south-west. It had hitherto been hidden by the land, so that we knew perfectly well where we were. We then kept away until we came in sight of the two lights of the Seven Stones Lightship, until we brought them on our starboard beam, when we were within the radius of Saint Agnes Lighthouse just before daybreak.
We were hoping to get in or off Saint Mary’s in the morning, when it fell calm; and there we lay, with our sails flapping idly, and rolling in the swell of the Atlantic, which came in from the southward. We could see through our glasses the Longships Lighthouse on one side and the light-vessel on the other, while the Scilly Islands rose blue and indistinct out of the ocean. One tide carried us to the northward; but in the next we regained our lost ground. It was, however, very tantalising, as we were anxious to ascertain what had become of the Dolphin.
Though papa always hoped for the best, he could not help acknowledging that he feared that she might have met with some accident. At length a breeze sprang up, but it was against us; still, that was better than a calm, as we could gain ground by tacking. Dick and Nat asked more than once why we were sailing away from the land when we wanted to get there.
At last we came in sight of a lofty tower on the top of a hill in Saint Martin’s Island, with the long low outline of Saint Mary’s beyond. Still, we had several tacks more to make before we gained the entrance to Crow Sound, between Saint Mary’s and Saint Martin’s. By this time it was dark. A bright look-out was kept for rocks and shoals in the channel. Suddenly rounding a point, the light from Saint Agnes shone brilliantly down on us, and further to our right we saw the little twinkling lights from the windows of the houses in Hugh Town, the capital of the Scilly Islands.
Having come safely to an anchor among several other vessels, we shouted out, “Dolphin, ahoy!” hoping that she was among them, though in the dark night we could not distinguish her. We had shouted out several times, and papa was on the point of putting off inthe boat to make inquiries on shore, when a hail came down from the other side of the harbour, “Is that the Lively?”
“Ay—ay!” we answered. “Is that the Dolphin?”
“Ay—ay!” was the reply. “I’ll be aboard you presently.”
In a short time we heard the splash of oars, and, much to our relief, Uncle Tom, followed by Oliver and Jack, sprang on deck.
Our first inquiries were as to how they had weathered the gale. “Famously,” answered Uncle Tom. “We kept hove-to till the morning, when, as the wind moderated, we stood in here, a pilot having boarded us and showed us the way.”
“Who have you got here?” exclaimed Oliver, as he looked into Nat’s little berth.
Great was the astonishment of all the party when we described the adventures we had met with. We talked over various plans for finding out Nat’s relatives, and what should be done with him, should we not succeed.
Next morning we went on shore to inspect the town and to make the tour of the island, which is easily done, as it is only two and a half miles long and one and a half broad. The town had a somewhat sombre look until we got on shore, when the neat gardens full of flowers, and the clean appearance of the streets, made us think better of the place. Most of the houses are low, few of them having more than two stories.
On the hill, about one hundred feet above the town, is the castle, which has seen a good many stirring events in its time; but its only garrison now consists of a single individual, who, I suppose, is placed there to prevent the rats from taking possession. It was built in the time of Queen Elizabeth, by Sir Francis Godolphin; but its chief interest arises from its being the last spot on British soil which held out for the Royalists in the days of Cromwell, when Sir John Grenville was governor. Prince Charles fled here, and remained until he took his departure for Jersey. For six years the stout Sir John retained his post, and having collected a number of vessels, fitted them out as cruisers, for the purpose of crippling the forces of the Parliamentary party. These cruisers had, in truth, very much the character of pirates, and were not particular what vessels they robbed. Having plundered some Dutchmen, they were very nearly being severely punished by old Van Tromp, who appeared with a squadron. When summoned to surrender, Sir John refused, and Van Tromp sailed away. At length, so urgent became the representations of the merchants whose vessels had been captured, that Parliament sent an expedition, under Admiral Blake and Sir George Askew, when Sir John was compelled to surrender; and he, with the eight hundred men forming his garrison, received honourable terms.
Though at one time the inhabitants of the Scilly Islands were noted for their barbarous customs, they have now become as peaceably disposed and civilised as any of Her Majesty’s subjects.
Saint Mary’s is divided into two parts by a narrow neck of land, on which Hugh Town stands. It is very possible that some day it will be washed away. We passed over a well-laid-out piece of ground covered with soft turf, on which sheep and deer were feeding, called the Park; and from it we could see the tall lighthouse and the few cottages on Saint Agnes Island.
We then proceeded to Buzza Hill, whence we could look down on the harbour, which had the appearance of a large lake. Sometimes, we were told, several hundred vessels take shelter within it. Opposite to Hugh Town was Tresco, the residence of Mr Smith, the lord proprietor, surrounded by gardens containing avenues of geraniums and plantations of the rarest exotics.
Some of the heights we reached were grand and picturesque in the extreme—one of them, Penninis, especially so. Rocks seemed piled on rocks; beneath, vaults and caverns, abounding with lichens and ferns, with crystal pools in the hollows of granite. Climbing to the summit, our eyes ranged over the ocean, rolling in sublime magnificence, its voice never silent.
On Tolmen Point is a Druidical monument—a perforated stone, which we examined. Papa said that no one knew for what purpose this monument, and others like it, were intended. He told us of one especially, which he had seen at Constantine Penryn, of which he had a photograph. It had lately, he said, been thrown down for the sake of getting at the granite underneath. I think such destruction of old monuments ought to be forbidden by law!
Then we went to Porthhellick Cove, with wild rocks seen beyond it, on which, in the year 1707, Sir Cloudesley Shovel, with four ofhis ships and two thousand men, were cast away. The body of the admiral, known by a valuable ring on his finger, was buried on the shore of the cove. It was afterwards removed to Westminster Abbey.
Papa remarked that the strong current produced by the indraught of the Irish Channel drifted these ships out of their course, and was the cause of the catastrophe.
The inhabitants of the islands were once known for their smuggling and wrecking propensities. A fisherman whom we fell in with—a venerable-looking man, with white hair streaming under his cap—pointed out several spots on which ships with rich cargoes had run on shore, and assured us that coin was still to be picked up in the sand, if people would but take the trouble to look for it. In former days everybody was engaged in smuggling, or trusting to salvage from wrecks. There was but little farming. No potatoes were grown, and there were no gardens, while their huts were as low and damp as those in the Hebrides. But when Mr Smith came he changed all that; and now the people live in comfortable houses, have gardens full of flowers, and the productions of the islands afford them ample support. Wheat and rye, and every description of vegetable, are grown; scarlet geraniums flourish, while fuchsias, and a variety of other magnificent flowers, not only grow in the gardens, but form hedges several feet in height.
Next morning we got under weigh to take a cruise among the islands. Passing round on the other side of Hugh Town, we perceived the narrowness of the strip on which it stands, and sincerely hoped that the sea would not again—as it once did—break across and inundate the place. I cannot attempt to describe the numerous rocks and islands we sighted in our course, there being altogether upwards of three hundred, large and small. Steering to the south-west, we passed Gorregan and Rosevean, where our pilot told us that many a stout ship had been lost; some, striking on the rocks, having gone down and left no sign of their fate, except some articles thrown up on the shore. Coming to an anchor, we pulled off in the boat to catch fish, with which the sea literally swarmed. We could see them swimming about through the clear water. We were amused by the way in which our pilot, who was a great fisherman, caught them. Throwing the bait always before their noses, and singing out, “Come along, Dick, come along, Tom; bite, my boy;” and, sure enough, the fish bit, and were caught.
We afterwards passed several ruins of ancient chapels, when we arrived off Saint Agnes, on which the magnificent lighthouse stands. On the island were a few cottages; and here the scarlet geranium was almost a tree.
From this point we steered for the Bishop’s Lighthouse, the most western part of Scilly. It is a magnificent stone tower, one hundred and forty-seven feet high, with one fixed bright light. This can be distinguished from that of Saint Agnes, which revolves every minute.
Passing up Broad Sound we came off a fine headland, the proper name of which is the “Menavawr;” but our pilot called it the “Man o’ war.”
In our cruise we passed Bryher and Sampson, the two largest islands in the group. The latter island is called after a saint of that name. It consists of two hills, the outlines of which present the form of the back of a camel. Landing on the shore, we made a collection of beautiful shells, which accumulate in large quantities on the beach. Our pilot told us that, until lately, the isle of Sampson was thickly peopled; but the inhabitants, being addicted to certain illegal practices, such as wrecking and smuggling, and illicit distillation of spirits, it was found necessary, as the only means of weaning them from their bad habits, to disperse them, either on the mainland, or through the other islands, where they could be better watched.
We again got out our fishing-lines, which we baited with flies formed out of untwisted pieces of rope. In a short time we had caught a dozen fine whiting-pollock. We, however, had a still greater catch shortly afterwards.
As we were sailing along through the Sound, a herd of porpoises came gambolling by, their black bodies and fins now appearing, now sinking beneath the surface. Captain Truck had a harpoon ready, and he placed himself in the forechains, with a rope round his waist. He stood with his weapon high poised in the air, ready to strike. We were all on the watch. In a few moments his harpoon flew from his hand.
“Pay away, lads!” he shouted out; “the fellow’s fast.”
The porpoise dived, and the line ran out at a rapid rate. Truck sprang in board, and quickly checked it. We then got two running bowlines ready, one in the fore part of the vessel, and the other aft. There was great excitement.
“Now haul away,” he sang out; and the porpoise was dragged, in spite of its struggles, close alongside, when the running bowlines were passed one over its head, and the other round its tail; and all hands joining, including Nat, who took the end of a rope—although, as may be supposed, he was not of much use—we hoisted the huge fish on board. It was at once killed and scientifically cut up by Truck and the pilot. So eager was the latter, that he very nearly let us strike on a rock. We had some pieces of the porpoise beef for dinner, which were pronounced very good. We supplied the Dolphin with a portion of our catch, and our united crews lived on it for the next two days.
Next day we had another similar cruise, during which we visited the beautiful Sound called New Grimsby. On one side stands the tower, known as Cromwell’s Castle—not that he was ever in the island, but he ordered it to be built. On the opposite side are the ruins of another fort. It was here that the forces under Blake and Askew landed, and attacked the fortifications, though they met with a stout resistance from the Royalists, who at length took to flight.
Farther on we came off vast masses of rock piled one upon another. The two yachts having hove-to, we pulled on shore, and, under the guidance of the pilot, managed to land; when, climbing up some distance, we reached a cone, from the bottom of which we could hear the sea roaring fearfully. We then arrived lower down at a small opening, when a guide, who had joined us, lighted some candles, that we might find our way into a celebrated cavern, called “Piper’s Hole.” For some distance we had to crawl along on our hands and knees. At length we reached a narrow but high vault; this we followed until we arrived at the head of a ladder. “You will find a boat at the bottom, gentlemen,” said the guide.
Jack and I, with Uncle Tom, descended, as we were told that the boat could not carry a larger fare. After looking down for a few seconds, we distinguished a light; and going down the ladder, we stepped into a boat, in which a man, whom we of course denominated Charon, was seated. Instead of oars, he used a long pole to urge on the boat. We noticed the dark appearance of the water as we made our way through the vaulted chambers. We now found ourselves floating on a lake, the water black as ink, but perfectly smooth. Above our heads was a lofty and extensive dome; but the sides were invisible. Charon ferried us across, and landed us on a smooth sandy shore, along which we proceeded for a considerable distance through a succession of caverns, until we arrived at a small circular chamber where they appeared to terminate.
On putting my hand into the water on my return, to my surprise I found it perfectly fresh, although so close to the sea. Here any number of outlaws might take refuge, with small chance of being discovered, or defend themselves against any force sent in pursuit, provided they had food to hold out until their enemies had grown weary of looking for them. Charon—unlike his namesake—had no objection to ferry us back across the Styx; and having made our way into the upper air, we regained the boat.
Our next visit was to Rock Island, the resort of countless numbers of sea-birds. It is at the extreme northern end of the group, and consists of a high table-land, surrounded by precipitous cliffs. As we approached, the gulls rose in masses so thick as positively to darken the air, while all around the sea was speckled with the white feathers of innumerable puffins. On the cliffs were ranged numerous clusters of black cormorants, who seemed to be watching us eagerly. Their plumage was very fine, being of a lustrous invisible green, while their eyes were of the brightest emerald hue. The boats which went in pursuit brought back a number of gulls and puffins and cormorants, some of which Oliver begged might be preserved for stuffing.
We paid a visit on the last day of our stay to the residence of Mr Smith, in the island of Tresco. On landing, we proceeded across a park, and approached the large, many-gabled house, in front of which the rocky ground was completely concealed by masses of blooming creepers. We passed between beautiful flower-beds, among which grew magnificent aloes, twenty feet in height, covered with bloom. We wellnigh lost ourselves in the labyrinth of walks, literally shaded by scarlet geraniums of giant growth, and shrubs, such as grow nowhere in the open air on the mainland, many of them of extremebeauty, brought from all parts of the world. In the midst of the gardens we came upon the ivy-mantled arches of the ruined abbey of Tresco, which has reared its head in these far off islands for the last eight centuries. We all of us agreed that we had never before been in so perfect a garden, so rich with a profusion of flowers. Mr Smith, in making this “Paradise,” had an object in view—to set an example to the inhabitants of these lonely islands, to show them what Nature will do for them, when they put their shoulder to the wheel; and in few parts of the world are the climate and soil so suited to the production of floral wonders.
I must not venture to give a further description of the place, but I must say that Scilly is well worth a visit; and I am sure that any of my friends who may go there will not be disappointed. We were quite sorry when papa and Uncle Tom determined to sail, reminding us that, if we remained longer, we should have no time to see the other places of interest it was our intention to visit on our voyage round England.