CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXI.Sketches of our South Coasts.Southampton: its Antiquity—Extensive Commerce—Great Port for Leading Steamship Lines—Vagaries of a Runaway Steamer—The Isle of Wight—Terrible Loss of theEurydice—Finding of the Court-martial—Raising Her from the Bottom—“London by the Seaside”—Newhaven and Seaford—Beachy Head—An Attempt to Scale it—A Wreck there—Knowledge Useful on an Emergency—Saved by Samphire—The Coast-guard: Past and Present—Their Comparatively Pleasant Lot To-day—The Coast-guard in the Smuggler Days—Sympathies of the Country against them.Southampton, one of the most important towns in the South of England, is a place of great antiquity, having been in existence prior to the Conquest, while many Roman remains are to be found in its neighbourhood. What schoolboy is not familiar with the story of King Canute and his courtiers, who flattered their royal master that even the winds and waves would do his bidding? The Danish monarch was made of too stern material to believe such nonsense; and to convince his fawning courtiers that he did not possess attributes which belong to the Creator alone, he is said to have seated himself by the seaside, and in a loud voice commanded the waves to stay. But the fleecy billows obeyed him not, and in due course reached the feet of the king and his obsequious court. The spot upon which this memorable circumstance occurred is still pointed out in the neighbourhood of Southampton.Nearly surrounding the town remains of the ancient buttresses and towers of the wall which once environed it are still to be seen; while on the western shore the old Water-gate, from which the merchants embarked, still exists. In the old Domesday Book it is described as an important burgh. Southampton grew in importance at the time of the Crusades, when thousands of troops and crusaders and mailed knights embarked thence, or, weather-bound, remained encamped in the place. It soon became a great port of call for Flemish and other merchant-traders.[pg 226]Southampton has great natural advantages for communication with the sea. The town is situated on a swelling point of land, bounded by the confluences of the rivers Test and Itchen, and communicating with the Solent and English Channel by the fine arm of the sea known as Southampton Water, surrounded by charming scenery, and navigable for the largest steamers. At its mouth is Calshot Castle, a coastguard station at the water’s edge, while half-way between that point and the town are the picturesque ruins of Netley Abbey. It has a tidal dock covering sixteen acres, and several graving and other docks. Consequently, it is the point of departure for the fine vessels of the Peninsular and Oriental line, the Royal Mail (West Indies and Central America), the North German Lloyds’, Hamburgh, and Havre steamships for New York, and the Union Line for African ports, besides an infinity of smaller steamships and steamboats for Havre, the Channel Islands, and the Isle of Wight. Its inhabitants consider it the Liverpool of the South; and even if this is rather an exaggerated view of the case, it has undoubtedly grown to be one of the principal ports of the kingdom. It ranks fifth in the list.56And now for the story of a steamboat which attempted to run away from Southampton on her own account. This strange circumstance occurred some few years ago, and might well have been attended with disastrous results. The steam-tugBelmontwas towing out to sea theWalton Hood, a passenger vessel bound for Australia, and after taking her down to the Channel, the sails were set on the ship, and theBelmontproceeded to cast her off, previous to returning to Southampton. In doing so, by some unexplained cause the ship collided with the tug, striking her with a violent crash, which knocked over her mast and funnel, and threw her upon her side. The shock also had the effect of increasing the activity of the crew, who, one and all, leaped on board theWalton Hood, leaving their steamer in charge of a dog and two cats. The steam of theBelmontwas up, and after a succession of plunges and croakings she righted, and cleared the ship. Tearing away her bulwarks, she took a sweep round and made a bolt for the land. Her fate now appeared inevitable, whilst her strange manœuvres made her look like an insane vessel, rushing wildly from some pursuer. Her mast and funnel hung over the side, her bulwarks were smashed, and the long tiller was dashing wildly to and fro; the dog on board was barking, howling, and yelling fiercely, rendering the scene both ludicrous and serious. Something evidently had to be done to save her. The captain and crew, having recovered their composure, obtained a boat from the ship and started in pursuit.“Pull away, my boys; give it her!”was the quick command.“Aye, aye, sir!”was the ready response,[pg 227]and the tough oars bent to the stalwart efforts of the oarsmen. The boat sped onward in the chase, but ere this the steam-tug had on her own account altered her coarse, and by some cause or other came round, and made again for the point whence she had started. Having described a complete circle, she again started off on a voyageen zigzag, and then made direct for Calshot lighthouse. Here the men on the look-out descried her position, and having launched and manned their own boat, also started in pursuit. The race now became truly exciting, the course of the steam-tug being utterly uncertain and irresponsible, according as her helm shifted to and fro at the sport of the waters of the Channel. By this time, however, she had run some distance, and at length her speed gradually diminished, her steam giving out, when her paddles stopped from sheer exhaustion. The crew from the lighthouse were the first to board her, and her own crew coming up about twenty minutes after, she was at length got into working order, and brought safely into dock. It appears that the crew had some justification for leaving her, the vessel leaking seriously, and being in imminent peril of going down.From Southampton Water to the beautiful Isle of Wight is a natural transition. To fully describe its coasts and fishing-villages and watering-places, and other points of interest, would occupy a large volume. Cowes and Ryde, with their regattas and generally festive look; Osborne, with its royal residence; Shanklin and Blackgang“Chines”; Ventnor and Niton; Alum Bay and“the Needles,”will be familiar to the larger number of our readers. Inseparably connected with the gay little island must ever be remembered an event which cast a gloom not merely over the households of hundreds of direct sufferers, but over the length and breadth of the entire land. Need it be said that we refer to the terrible loss of that fine training-ship theEurydice, with its living freight of three hundred young and promising sailor lads, in sight of land and home, and just as they were nearing, after long foreign service, the haven of their hopes.“For there came down a squall, and the snow swept the waveLike a white winding-sheet for the brave man’s lone grave;And with scarce time to glance a farewell at the sky,The three hundred went down without e’en a cry.”On the morning of March 25th, 1878, the country awoke to one of the most painful and unlooked-for catastrophes that have befallen the navy during the present century—that of theCaptainhardly excepted, for certain doubts had always been felt as to how the bulky ironclad would behave in a heavy gale.“One of the finest corvettes of her class that ever floated,”said a competent authority,“commanded by a captain and officered by men of the highest professional experience, and with a crew young, but sufficiently trained, and numerous enough in nautical parlance to have‘torn her to pieces’, capsizes, with the loss of every soul on board her but two. Such a calamity, taken in all its bearings and with such a loss of life, is unparalleled in the modern history of the navy. It is true that about forty years ago a man-of-war schooner (thePincher), very much over-masted, was, off the‘Owers,’not very far from the same spot, capsized in a heavy squall, and all her hands were lost, although she was in company with a corvette at the time. But theEurydicewas not over-masted, and she went down in broad daylight and in smooth[pg 228]water. Yet where is the officer or the man—let him be the best seaman in the world—who can say,‘Such would not have been theEurydice’sfate had I commanded her?’The fact is, the disaster, truly lamentable as it is, might have happened to any seaman. With a fair wind, smooth water, and within a short distance of her anchorage, running along too close under the high land of the Isle of Wight to notice the hurricane-like squall rushing down upon her in time to prepare for it, the ship was literally forced under water, the accumulating weight of which eventually capsized her beyond recovery. Adverse comments have been made on the ports being open; but with a fair wind, smooth water, and Spithead close by, what danger could possibly be apparent, to cause them to be closed after a sea-voyage so nearly ended? Had theEurydicemet with the same squall at sea she would have weathered it.”57H.M.S. “EURYDICE” ON HER BEAM-ENDS JUST AFTER THE SQUALL.H.M.S.“EURYDICE”ON HER BEAM-ENDS JUST AFTER THE SQUALL.The court-martial which assembled on the 27th of August, 1878, on board theDuke of Wellingtonflagship, under the presidency of Admiral Fanshawe, C.B., Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, reported that the ship had foundered from pressure of wind upon her sails during a sudden and exceptionally dense snowstorm, which overtook her when its approach was partially hidden by the proximity of the ship to high land.“Some of the upper half-ports on the main-deck were open at the time, which materially conduced[pg 229]to the catastrophe; but the court considers that the upper half-ports having been open was justifiable and usual under the state of the wind and weather up to the time of the actual occurrence of the storm.”The finding of the court-martial mentioned the fact that the captain was frequently on deck during the afternoon; and attributed blame to no one on board. It considered the ship, which had had ten years’ sea service, to have been thoroughly stable. A large number of other authorities, however, thought very differently—that she was top-heavy, and that she was undoubtedly carrying too much sail.After exactly twenty-three weeks from the day of her foundering theEurydicewas, on Sunday, the 1st of September, safely towed into Portsmouth harbour.“As an example of perseverance and determination to succeed, the recovery of the ship is unique. The elements, which throughout the operations may truly be said to have fought against the efforts to float her being successful, made a final attempt to render those endeavours abortive on the Thursday night and Friday morning, with such effect that the Admiralty deemed it inexpedient that further attempts should be made, and had even gone to the extent of ordering her to be taken to pieces where she lay. Rear-Admiral Foley, and those who had so ably and perseveringly worked with him, were, however, reluctant to abandon the attempt to recover the ship, and he pledged himself that he would undertake to bring her into harbour. This pledge was redeemed.”58The divers throughout the operations could work only at slack tides and in very fine weather, the under-currents on the Isle of Wight coast being exceptionally strong.TheEurydicelay at first in seven fathoms and a half (forty-five feet) of water, and to this must be added eight or nine feet of mud into which the wreck was embedded. Strong wire ropes were attached to the inner sides of the ports; the other ends of the ropes were made fast to the four floating hulls placed over and across theEurydice, and when everything was ready and the tide at its lowest ebb, the process of pinning down was commenced—that is, the ropes were hauled“taut,”and made fast to the lifting vessels, so that as the tide gradually rose to its highest point the whole mass of lighters with the sunken vessel lifted as well. Then it was that the steam-tugs took up their positions, and towed the ill-fated craft towards shallower water, till she was left on a bank under the Culver cliff, with one side and her upper deck above the water at low tide. Even yet the efforts to float her were interfered with. Frequently all would be ready for lifting, when the sea would roughen, and everything have to be abandoned, the lighters returning to Portsmouth. It was raised partially in August, 1878, after four months’ continuous labour. After lying for a few days under the Culver cliff, theEurydicewas again sufficiently lifted to clear the bottom, and towed together with the lifting vessels to St. Helen’s Sands. When lifted finally, and towed to Portsmouth by theGrinder, she had two tugs on her port side and one on her starboard, with their steam-pumps working, and constantly pumping her hold.Brighton—“London by the Sea-side”as it is often styled—is to many one of the most fascinating of the English watering-places. It is both popular and fashionable, the resort[pg 230]alike of the masses and of the“upper ten.”Its position on the sea is charming, while at an easy distance are any number of pleasant sea-coast and inland resorts. It has sprung up from a little fishing-village to a town of at least 120,000 souls. One feature of the place is the solidity and elegance of its public and private buildings, while its streets are the best kept in the whole kingdom. It extends, with its suburbs Kemp Town and Cliftonville, forfour milesalong the coast, and is in great part defended by a sea-wall. The celebrated chain-pier is 1,130 feet in length; while its Aquarium, already described in the proper place, is the finest in the world.The climate of Brighton is temperate and mild both summer and winter, in the latter season resembling that of Naples; and to these facts is doubtless due its great success as a resort for the invalid, debilitated, or fagged-out business man. Capital bathing, boating, and yachting, are all at the command of the visitor; there are no finer promenades anywhere; while riding or driving on the Downs, or to the neighbouring rural retreats (among them that most beautiful of England’s ancestral homes, Arundel), is a treat open to all whose circumstances are moderately easy. In the whirl and din of fashionable life there one is apt to forget its practical connection with the sea, but it possesses a perfect fleet of mackerel and herring boats, and several lifeboats, belonging to the Lifeboat Institution, the Humane Society, and the town.BRIGHTON.BRIGHTON.In the year 1833, at New Stoke, near Arundel, the remains of an ancient boat were discovered in the bed of what was formerly a creek running into the river Arun. It had been constructed of half the trunk of an oak tree, hollowed out as the Indians of North-west America do to-day. It was thirty-five feet four inches in length, by four feet six inches. In 1822, a still larger oak boat was found in the bed of the river Rother, near Maltham, Kent, which was sixty-three feet by fifteen feet, half decked, caulked with moss, and had carried at least one mast.These discoveries sink into insignificance with that made in 1880 on the farm of Gokstad, not far from Sandefjord, a favourite watering-place of the Norwegians. A hill or mound, which tradition pointed out as the burial-place of some mighty king or chief, was found to contain the entire hull of an old ship of the Viking days. It is of course a very venerable relic, being probably more than 1,000 years old. The Gokstad vessel, built entirely of oak, is seventy-five feet long between stem and stern, and sixteen feet broad amidships; and appears to be of a low build, drawing only five feet. The deals were riveted together by iron nails; and the ribs, of which there are twenty, are connected with the deals at the top by rivets, but at the bottom with ties. Amidships, in the bottom of the ship, is a heavy beam, both ends of which are fashioned in the shape of a fish’s tail. This beam served as a support for the mast, of which there is still a piece standing in its place; while the upper part, which had been cut off, was found in the vessel. The mast appears to have been about twenty-two feet long. Remains of two or three small boats were found; some pieces inside the ship, and some pieces close to it. In the fore part of the vessel a large copper kettle and water-cask were also found, with remains of sails and ropes, and some large oars. She had been built for sixteen oars. A hundred wooden shields had been once placed in a row under the gunwale of the ship, corresponding to the number of the crew, the centre pieces of iron, or bosses, still remaining. The arrangement of the shields is the same as that in the famous Bayeux tapestry, on which[pg 231]are represented (among other things) the ships of William the Conqueror. The old vessel had been used as the last resting-place of a great Viking. It was their custom so to bury their chiefs. The ship was usually placed with its stem towards the sea, so that when Odin, the Jove of the northern mythology, should call the gallant chief, he could set sail straight off land for Valhalla, the heaven of his hopes.Newhaven, a little farther to the east, has a fair tidal harbour and some local commerce, but its chief feature is the very rapidly-increasing passenger traffic between it and Dieppe, for Paris or London, and the traveller who has not tried that route can be recommended to do so. The boats, some of them of steel and containing all modern improvements, are among the finest in the Channel service, making the trip to Dieppe usually in five or five-and-a-half hours. The trip through Normandy and the valley of the Seine is varied and interesting, and preferable to that from Calais or Boulogne. Near Newhaven is the once flourishing town of Seaford, though it is now little better than a picturesque fishing-village, in the bay of which mackerel are sometimes taken in prodigious quantities, and which affords shelter and anchorage for large vessels during the prevalence of strong easterly winds.Still farther east, and at the extreme southern point of Sussex, stands the bold promontory Beachy Head, the scene of many a shipwreck in days gone by. It would be a most difficult feat to scale this great chalk cliff; and yet the slope of brokendébris, mingled with scanty grass and samphire, steep though it be, does not look impracticable, nor indeed is it up to a certain point. The writer and his brother once managed to get within a very respectable distance of the top, but then the rocky stones commenced rolling down, bringing both climbers with them. After many an ineffectual attempt to secure a hold by clinging to the samphire, and intervals of momentary rest, neither was very sorry to reach the stony beach, albeit considerably bruised, battered, and torn. There they found the sea had cut off their retreat towards Eastbourne, and before they could reach the shore they had to wade through the fast-rising tide round one or two projecting corners of the cliff.In the month of November, 1821, a dreadful storm visited Beachy Head, during which a French vessel was driven ashore and wrecked. All on board were swept into the sea, and only four escaped the general destruction, by climbing to the top of a heap of rocks which had fallen, at different times, from the overhanging cliffs. Their perilous situation can easily be conceived; the tide was encroaching upon them step by step, and it was certain destruction to attempt to gain the land. The night was extremely dark, and the thunder and lightning rendered it still more awful. The poor men, finding that they would either be swallowed up by the rising tide or dashed to pieces against the rocks, determined to deliver themselves up to the mercy of the waves, with the forlorn hope of being cast on some place of safety. At this time one of the men saw, during some flashes of lightning, a plant growing amongst the stones on which they stood, which he knew was samphire, and which he also happened to know never grew where it could be entirely covered with water. He at once acquainted his fellow-sufferers with this fact, and persuaded them to remain where they were till morning, being convinced that the height of the tide would not be quite equal to that of the place on which they stood. The[pg 232]event proved the correctness of his information and the value of his knowledge, for when daylight broke the poor fellows were seen, and rescued from their dangerous situation.DISCOVERING THE SAMPHIRE ON THE ROCK.DISCOVERING THE SAMPHIRE ON THE ROCK.No part of the south coast formerly required more vigilant guarding than that for many miles on either side of Beachy Head. The coastguardsman had his hands full then; his lot is better now.“Amongst the most agreeable objects that enliven the shores of our island,”writes theSaturday Review,“are the groups of cottages occupied by the coastguard. Picturesque one can scarcely call them, for the architecture is simple to baldness, and suggestive of Government contracts kept down by close competition, and yet they have generally the picturesqueness of comfortable contrast with surroundings that are often bleak and inhospitable. Dating from the days when our coasts were regularly picketed, and a blockade was methodically established against the enterprise of the free-traders, we come upon them in every variety of situation. Now they are arranged bastion-wise on a commanding eminence, in the suburb of some seaport or watering place, in a snug, compact, little square, with a tall flagstaff in the centre. Again we stumble on them unexpectedly, sheltered in the recess of some‘gap’or‘chine’where a little stream comes trickling down to the sands through the deep cleft that time seems to have worn[pg 233]in the chalk cliffs. Most frequently they are perched on the crest of the line of sand-hills, with a broad look-out in all directions over‘promontory, cape, and bay.’And often they form a conspicuous landmark on some flat stretch of grass-grown sand, where the slow-shelving shore is intersected by a labyrinth of changing channels, and where mud-banks submerged by the rising tides are a perfect paradise for the clamorous sea-fowl. But whatever the situation, the general effect is almost invariably the same. They are substantial and watertight; suggestive of cheery shelter in bright interiors when the wind is howling through the shrouds of the flagstaff, driving the sand and gravel in flying scud along the beach, and churning and grinding the pebbles in the surf with dull, monotonous roar. There are low flat roofs with projecting eaves, and small, strongly-secured casements, and the gleam of their spotless whitewash catches any sunlight that may be going. In the neatly-palisaded little gardens that stretch before the door, a hard and not-unsuccessful struggle is always going on with the unfriendly elements, while the shell-strewn walks are invariably kept in the most perfect order. As you approach them of a warm summer afternoon you are conscious of the briny breeze just tainted with a faint amphibious smell of tar. It may not be so balmy or romantic as the resinous odours that breathe from the pine-woods of Bayonne or Arcachon, under the fiercer rays of the sun of Gascony; but it is decidedly wholesome, and rather savoury than otherwise. The promiscuous use of pitch[pg 234]and tar gratifies the nautical affections of the inmates. Everything is paid, caulked, and seamed, from the keels of the white-painted boats that are hauled up bottom upwards, to the felt-covered shingles over the out-houses, and the frames of the cottage windows, and the palings of the enclosure. Everything, even to the concealed refuse-heaps, is trim and ship-shape, showing the presence of an easy discipline and the predominance of habits of tidiness and order.”Then theReviewgoes on to describe the exciting and perilous post of the coastguard when import duties were excessive, and lucky smugglers made rapid fortunes.“The sympathies of the whole adjacent country were against them. Half the country people were employed from time to time in running illicit cargoes, and made a very good thing of it. Those were the days of hard drinking, and farmers almost openly encouraged a trade that dropped kegs of cheap hollands and runlets of pure French brandy at their very doors. As for the women, of course—to say nothing of their romantic sympathies with daring law-breakers—they were all in favour of the men who filled and sweetened the cheering tea-cup, that would otherwise have been altogether beyond their means. Even gentlemen holding His Majesty’s commission of the peace were said to connive at the‘fair trade’for a consideration, and to express no surprise at the production of mysterious casks that had been concealed in out-of-the-way corners of their premises. There were certain depôts, in dry caverns, in remote homesteads or sequestered barns, the secret of which was religiously preserved, although it was the common property of highly questionable characters. There were codes of signals which could be clearly read by all but the preventive men, and which gave notice of danger or of a favourable opportunity, as the case might be. The officer in charge of the station had his faculties preternaturally sharpened, and could scent something wrong in the most natural incidents. The wreaths of smoke rising from a heap of burning weeds might convey a warning to some expected vessel. A fishing-boat putting out to sea, engaged apparently in its lawful business, might really be bound on a similar errand. Then it was the business of the day-watch to scan carefully each craft that appeared off the coast, and his natural vigilance was stimulated by the prize-money that might fall to his share. Then the nocturnal promenade was no mere formality. The thicker the night the more likely that something might be going on under cover of the fog; and the ear of the look-out was always bent to distinguish, amidst the murmur of the waves, the sound of suppressed voices, or the plash of muffled oars. Nor was the walk by any means free from personal danger, and indeed it was seldom taken in solitude; for, even apart from the inveterate animosity existing between the smugglers and the preventive men, those were days when deeds of violence were common, and the life of a man was of little account compared to the safety of a cargo that might be worth hundreds or thousands of pounds. If he chanced to fall over the cliff by accident, everything might be satisfactorily settled before he was replaced; for when a smuggling lugger stood in for the coast there were plenty of ready hands to help to discharge her cargo; and unless the men of the nearest preventive station got assistance from elsewhere, there was little left for them but to look on helplessly. Boats from the nearest fishing hamlets swarmed in about the smuggler; strings of horses, in charge of people armed to the teeth, made their way to the coast from the inland farms.[pg 235]The contraband goods, in kegs and bags of convenient size for easy landing, were transferred from the ship to the boat, from the boat to the beach, from the beach to the pack-saddle, with incredible celerity; and when the mounted caravans set themselves in motion, those who had assisted at the landing hastened to vanish as they had come. On these occasions the smugglers scored a trick in the game, and the coastguard had nothing for it but to wait their turn of revenge with redoubled vigilance. More frequently, however, they succeeded in spoiling sport, for it paid the smuggler amply to run one cargo in three. The Government people would keep such a sharp look-out that, oftener than not, the friends of the free-traders could only help them by signalling danger, and the richly-freighted lugger had to put up her helm in despair, perhaps with one of the revenue cutters in hot pursuit; or, what was better still, the enemy was surprised in the very act of unlading, and a valuable capture was effected. Of course a successful exploit of this kind was by no means all pleasure and pride. The smugglers with their friends, disguised by blackened faces, were sure to show fight if they had any chance. As they were busy in the bay, and the unloading was going briskly forward, their sentinels would give the signal of alarm, and the long galleys of the coastguard would be seen pulling fast inshore, and stealing like wolves on their prey from round the nearest headland. The attacking force would make free play with its muskets and carbines, if it came within reach, and the attacked had to consider that their enemies on the water had probably allies on the land in the shape of excise officers backed up by soldiers. So the next act in the drama was asauve qui peut, conducted with more or less order, and covered with a lavish use of cutlasses and firearms. Very possibly the victors had to count the dead, and pick up the wounded; and thus the romance and excitement of those days were spiced with a very sensible element of danger.”CHAPTER XXII.Sketches of our South Coasts(concluded).Eastbourne and its Quiet Charms—Hastings—Its Fishermen—The Battle of Hastings—Loss of theGrosser Kurfürst—The Collision—The Catastrophe—Dover—The Castle—Shakespeare’s Cliff—“O’er the Downs so free”—St. Margaret’s Bay—Kingsdown—Deal—A Deed of Daring—Ramsgate and Margate—The Floating Light on the Goodwin Sands—Ballantyne’s Voluntary Imprisonment—His Experiences—The Craft—The Light—One Thousand Wild Ducks caught—A Signal from the“South Sand Head”—The Answer—Life on Board.The coast north-east from Beachy Head is rugged and interesting till Eastbourne is reached, one of the quietest and prettiest of the south-coast watering-places, and one which has been very greatly improved of late by the lavish expenditure of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, the principal landowner in the neighbourhood. Some of the promenades are planted with treesà la boulevard. The bathing and boating are both excellent; while in the neighbourhood are the ruins of Pevensey, an old Norman castle, and Hurstmonceaux, a red-brick castle of the mediæval period, ivy-and creeper-covered, and embowered in trees. It is the delight of artists, who annually besiege it in great numbers. Eastbourne has some hundred fishermen[pg 236]engaged in the herring and mackerel fisheries. They have a benefit association or club, into which they pay a monthly subscription, and when their nets are damaged or lost a part of the money needed to repair or replace them is found. There is also a lifeboat, which has done excellent work.And next in sequence comes historical Hastings, which extends for near a mile along the sea at the present time, or, if we include the fashionable town of St. Leonard’s-on-Sea, its sea front must be reckoned at nearly three miles. Many readers will be familiar with the charming glen or vale in which it is situated, and which opens to the sea on the south. Hastings is otherwise sheltered by high hills and cliffs, and has a warm, even, and yet bracing climate; for salubrity it will rank with any of the popular sea-side resorts. It has a steady population of about 35,000, of whom 700 are fishermen and boatmen. In one week the herring catch has been worth £5,000. A boat fitted for the herring or mackerel season is worth £350, and for trawling £200. The mackerel season commences in April and continues till the latter end of July, while the trawling commences and ends two or two and a half months later. The herring season commences in September and ends in the latter part of November. There is a church at Hastings, under the eastern cliffs, for the special accommodation of fishermen.The famous battle of Hastings was foughtA.D.1066, Oct. 14. The alarm sounded, both parties immediately prepared for action; but the English spent the night previous to it in riot and jollity, whilst the Normans were occupied in the duties of religion. On the morning the Duke called together his principal officers, and ordered the signal of battle to be given. Then the whole army, moving at once, and singing the hymn or song of Roland, advanced in order and with alacrity towards the English.Harold had seized the advantage of a rising ground, and, having secured his flanks with trenches, resolved to stand upon the defensive, and to avoid an engagement with the cavalry, in which he was inferior. The Kentish men were placed in the van, a post of honour which they always claimed as their due. The Londoners guarded the standard; and the King himself, accompanied by his two valiant brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, dismounting from his horse, placed himself at the head of his infantry, and expressed his resolution to conquer or to die. The first attack of the Normans was desperate, but was received with equal valour by the English, and the former began to retreat, when William hastened to their support with a select band. His presence restored the courage of his followers, and the English in their turn were obliged to retire. They rallied again, however, assisted by the advantage of the ground, and William, in order to gain the victory, had recourse to a stratagem, which, had it failed, would have resulted in his total ruin. He commanded his troops to allure the enemy from their position by the appearance of flight. The English followed with precipitation; the Normans faced upon them in the plain, and drove them back with considerable slaughter. The artifice was a second time repeated, with the same success; yet a great body of the English still maintained themselves in firm array, and seemed determined to dispute the victory. While they were galled by the Norman archers behind, they were attacked by the heavy-armed infantry in front; and Harold himself was slain by an arrow as he combated with great bravery at the head of his men. The English, discouraged by the fall of their prince, fled on all sides. The[pg 238]memory of the eventful fight is kept green by the name of Hastings, and Battle Abbey, in its immediate neighbourhood.THE LAST OF THE GROSSER KURFÜRST.THE LAST OF THEGROSSER KURFÜRST.Sadly must all readers look back upon the morning of Friday, May the 31st, 1878, when theGrosser Kurfürstwent down off Sandgate, so near to land that the people on shore felt certain that the commander would be able to beach her before she had time to sink, unhappily an entirely erroneous supposition. Very shortly before this ever-to-be-lamented catastrophe occurred, the German squadron, in command of Admiral Von Batsch, was sailing with a light easterly wind blowing down Channel with all the pomp and pardonable display of a force so numerically small yet so grandly powerful. The sea was perfectly smooth, the weather fine, and there seemed no more reason for anticipating the impending danger than if they had been lying at anchor in the sunlit harbour of Bremen.The squadron consisted of three vessels, sailing in two columns—theKönig Wilhelm, carrying the admiral’s flag, and thePreussenforming the port division, theGrosser Kurfürstforming the starboard, and less than two ships’ lengths apart from the admiral; indeed, it is said that scarcely one length intervened.“In this formation the German squadron came across two sailing vessels hauled to the wind,”says the writer of the article from which we quote,“on the port tack, and consequently standing right across the bows of both divisions. TheGrosser Kurfürsthad first to give way, which she did at the proper time and strictly in accordance with the rule of the road, porting her helm and passing under the stern of the first of these two sailing ships. But theKönig Wilhelm, which it must be borne in mind was close to theGrosser Kurfürstat this time, and steering a course parallel to her, endeavoured at first to cross the bows of the sailing vessel, but finding she had no room for this manœuvre, rapidly changed her plan, and, putting her helm hard a-port, also stood under the stern of the sailing vessel. In the meanwhile theGrosser Kurfürsthad resumed her original course, and thus was lying right across the bows of theKönig Wilhelm, as she came under the stern of the sailing barque almost at right angles to the original course.... The captain of theGrosser Kurfürst, Graf Von Montz, seeing the terrible proximity of theKönig Wilhelm, immediately put his vessel at full speed, hoping to cross her bows, but the space would not allow it. He then gave the order to port his helm, hoping to lay his ship parallel to the course of theKönig Wilhelm, but unfortunately for this also there was neither time nor space.”All might have gone well up to this point, however, as it appears theKönig Wilhelmwas in charge of an“able and experienced officer;”he had given the order to port the helm to steer clear of the sailing vessel, and then ordered the helm to be“immediately steadied,”intending to range up alongside theGrosser Kurfürst; but the helmsman had become bewildered, and instead of steadying put the helm still more port. TheKönig Wilhelmwas put at full speed astern, and the fatal crash could not be avoided. All now was confusion on both vessels.TheKönig Wilhelmcarried away everything from the point where she struck theGrosser Kurfürstto the stern,“ripping off the armour plating like the skin of an orange.”The bowsprit of theKönig Wilhelmfouled the rigging of the ill-starred ship and brought down the mizzen top-gallant-mast on the quarter-deck, and the quarter boats were swept away“like strips of paper.”[pg 239]The doomed iron-clad went down in seven minutes; on board there was scarcely time left the officers and crew to think much less to act with effect. The boats that had not been smashed could hardly be got into the water; the hammocks had been stowed in some unusual place, so that it was useless to attempt to get at them, and thus a very perfect means of escape was cut off from the 280 poor fellows that were drowned.THE “KÖNIG WILHELM” ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.THE“KÖNIG WILHELM”ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.The experience of the first lieutenant when the vessel was going down under the very eyes of a number of people on shore is interesting in the extreme. He felt himself sucked in, and describes a sensation of enormous pressure on his ribs, as if the water were forcing him down. Then he came across another column of water, which as promptly vomited him up to the surface again, when he caught hold of a spar, and saved his life. A dreadful fate befell some thirty unfortunate sailors, who, in spite of the commands and entreaties of the boatswain, who was standing on the forecastle, threw themselves over the bows, and endeavoured to swim away. But the sinking ship was too fast for them, and they were caught in the netting which is stretched under the jibboom, and, thus entangled, were carried down with the ship. The disabledKönig Wilhelmwas almost immediately towed into Portsmouth for repairs.59Dover is by no means so generally known as many less interesting places on the south coast, for the larger number of those who depart for or arrive from the Continent usually pass it by. It has been often incidentally mentioned in these pages, but no description of its special attractions has yet been given.It is situated not far from the South Foreland, in the extreme south-east corner of Kent, on the narrowest part of the British Channel, and only some twenty miles from the opposite coast of France. Hence it is the port for steamers crossing to Calais on the Continental service, a trip usually made in about one hour and three-quarters. If the reader should cross on the now-famousCalais-Douvres, the luxurious and easy-riding twin vessel, he will hardly require the advice relative to themal de mercontained in a previous chapter. Dover, though comparatively little used as a watering-place, possesses excellent accommodation for visitors—bathing-machines, and all the usual paraphernalia of such places. Its grand hotel,“The Lord Warden,”is second to none in England, and has sheltered scores of crowned heads and coroneted aristocrats, as well as the less distinguished, though perhaps equally worthy, Jones, Brown, Smith, and Robinson.On the eastern side of the town stands that elevated and noble fortress the Castle, of which some description has already been given. A short distance from it the chalk cliff rises 370 feet above the sea, and hard by stands a beautiful piece of brass ordnance, 24 feet in length, which bears the name of“Queen Elizabeth’s Pocket Pistol,”and was presented to her Majesty by the States of Holland. It is said to carry a 12-lb. ball to a distance of seven miles. It is curiously adorned with a variety of devices, typifying the blessings of peace and the horrors of war. On its breech is the following motto in Dutch, which, freely translated, signifies:—“O’er hill and dale I throw my ball,Breaker my name of mound and wall.”To the westward of the town rises the majestic headland named after our immortal[pg 240]bard. Shakespeare’s cliff rears its lofty headat the present timeto an altitude of 350 feet, but in the great dramatist’s day its summit was much higher, as indicated by the enormous boulders and heaps ofdébrisat its base, the result of frequent landslips and falls. Shakespeare well describes this grand precipice:—“Come on, sir; here’s the place: stand still. How fearfulAnd dizzy ’tis, to cast one’s eyes so low!The crows and choughs that wing the midway airShow scarce so gross as beetles: half way downHangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade!Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:The fishermen that walk upon the beachAppear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy,Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more,Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sightTopple down headlong.”DOVER.DOVER.From the heights about Dover the views are magnificent. Seaward is the beautiful bay, the Straits and the Downs, with its ever-changing fleets, the ships of all nations.[pg 241]Stretching one’s vision a little farther are seen the lofty white cliffs of the French coast; Cape Grisnez, near Calais (which itself lies on low land, and is therefore undiscernible), and the heights of Boulogne.The antiquity of Dover is undeniable. Julius Cæsar here made his first descent on Britain, in August,B.C.55. Picts and Scots, Danes and Normans, successively attacked it; while at the period of the Conquest, 1066, the town suffered fearfully, the whole place being reduced to ashes except twenty-nine houses. But when it became one of the Cinque Ports it soon rose in importance, and Dover men largely helped that brilliant attack on Philip IV.’s fleet, by which France lost 240 vessels. That enraged monarch retaliated on Dover by burning the larger part of the town; but before the year 1296 the British navy had not merely swept the enemy from the Channel, but had made several reprisals on the coast of France. At the period of the Armada, Dover, with the other Cinque Ports, fitted out, at a cost of £43,000, six large ships for the Queen’s service, which were the means of decoying the greatGalleasof Spain on a shoal, afterwards engaging and burning her.Riding or walking over the Downs some interesting places may be seen on or near the coast. At St. Margaret’s Bay, seven miles north from Dover—to the merits of the[pg 242]lobsters of which the present writer can testify, having both caught and eaten them—there is a pretty little fishing-village, with“Fisherman’s Inn”embowered in trees, at the base of lofty cliffs. Here the preliminary borings for the possible Channel Tunnel of the future were made. Farther on is Kingsdown, a fishing village and lifeboat station, the men and boat of which have done specially good service in saving life. Visible from thence is Walmer Castle and quaint old Deal, so often mentioned in these pages in connection with lifeboat work on the Goodwin Sands, themselves also plainly in sight. Riding at anchor in Deal Roads, or outward bound, or on the homeward tack, are seen ships, great and little, flying the colours of every maritime nation under the sun. The trip from Dover to Deal and back can be made by any tolerable pedestrian in a day, allowing time for visits to all the points just named. That part of the trip from Dover to St. Margaret’s Bay can be made over the Downs only, but thence to Deal the coast can be easily followed.Coming nearer home, the writer must record a case of“derring-do,”which will prove—if after what these pages have recorded of the men of Deal and Walmer and Kingsdown, of Ramsgate and Margate, further proof were needed—that the men of the North and South Foreland are not degenerate descendants of their forefathers, who sailed and fought and died with Blake and Nelson. It occurred in Deal on a Sunday morning in bleak December. A whole gale was blowing from the south-west and vessels in the comparatively sheltered Downs were riding to both anchors. As the various congregations were leaving their respective places of worship umbrellas were blown inside out, and children were taken off their feet or clung frightened to their parents’ limbs, the wind and spray along Deal beach being blinding. Let the“Chaplain”(nom de plumeof the excellent clergyman who superintends the Missions to Seamen) tell the tale.“Just then,”he writes,“in answer to the boom of the distant gun, the bell rang to man the lifeboat, and the Deal boatmen gallantly answered to the summons. A rush was made for the life-belts and for the coxswain’s house. The coxswain, Robert Wilds, has for fifteen years held the yoke-lines through the surf on the sands, and knows the powers of the boat to save. Fourteen men besides the coxswain were the crew, and with a mighty rush they launched the good boat down the steep beach to the rescue. There were three vessels on the Goodwins. The crew of one took to their boats, and not being in the worst part of the sands got safe round the North Foreland to Margate. Another schooner, supposed to be a Dane, disappeared, and was lost with all hands. The third, a German barque, theLeda, with a crew of seventeen‘all told,’was stuck fast in the worst part of the sands—viz., the South Spit, on which even on a fine day the writer has encountered a dangerous and peculiar boil or tumble of seas. The barque’s main and mizen masts by this time were gone, and the crew were clinging to the weather bulwarks, while sheets of solid water made a clean breach over them—so much so that from cold and long exposure the captain was almost exhausted. The Deal life-boat, theVan Kook, fetched a little to windward of the devoted barque, and dropping anchor, veered down on her. One cable being too short, another was bent on to it, and closer and closer came the lifeboat. If the cable parted and the lifeboat struck the ship with full force, not a man would probably have survived to tell the tale; or if they got to leeward of the barque the crew of the wreck would have been lost, as the lifeboat could not again have worked‘to weather’to drop down as before. No friendly steam-tug was at hand to help the lifeboat to windward in case of failure in this their first attempt, and both[pg 243]the crew in distress and their rescuers were well aware of the stake at issue, and that this was the last chance. But the lifeboat crew said,‘We’re bound to save them,’and with all the coolness of the race, yet‘daring all that men dare do,’they concentrated their energies on getting close enough to the wreck to throw their line, and yet to keep far enough off to ensure the boat’s safety. They were now beaten and hustled by the tremendous seas breaking into and over them, and no other boat could have lived a moment in the cauldron of waters seething and raging around them. Notwithstanding the self-emptying power of the wondrous boat, the seas broke into her in such quick succession that she was and remained full up to her thwarts while alongside the vessel, and as each cataract came on board the coxswain sang out,‘Look out, men!’and they grasped the thwarts and held on with both hands, breathless, for dear life. One sea hurled the lifeboat against the ship, and stove in her fore air-box, so that the safety of all made it necessary to sheer off. Another sea prostrated two men under her thwarts. The lifeboat’s throw-line was at last got on board the barque, and communication being established the crew were drawn on board the lifeboat through the raging waves by ones or twos, as the seas permitted. Thus saved from the jaws of death, so astonished were the rescued crew at the submerged condition of the lifeboat and the awful turmoil of water around them that some of them wished to get back to their perishing vessel; but the coxswain and crew knew the powers of their gallant boat.‘Up foresail and cut the cable,’and with its goodly freight of thirty-four souls the lifeboat, hurled like a feather, sometimes dead before the wind, and next moment‘taken aback,’plunged into the surf for home. One of the rescued crew had twice before been saved by the same boat (theVan Kook), and encouraged his comrades with a recital of his previous deliverances. Some rum, which was brought for the use of the lifeboat crew, was generously given by them and all used by the perishing men of the barque. And so at last, sodden through and through, exhausted, but gloriously successful, they landed the staggering and grateful Germans on the Deal beach, where, despite the storm, crowds met them with wondering and thankful hearts.”Among nearly all classes who dwell near and love the sea the same heroic spirit prevails. Only in 1879 Lord Dunmore, with John M‘Rae, Ewen M‘Leod, and Norman Macdonald, put out to sea in a furious Atlantic gale, in the noble Scottish peer’sundeckedcutter, theDauntless, when no other boat would venture out at all, and saved the lives of several men, women, and children from the yachtAstarte, wrecked on a small island-rock between Harris and the North Uist coast (west coast of Scotland). The noble hero of this gallant band is a Murray of the ducal tree of Atholl, sharing the savage motto,“Forth fortune, and fill the fetters.”The spirit of daring adventure which spurred his forefathers to feats of reckless foray and ruthless feud has, in a milder age, developed into the performance of deeds of valour for the benefit of suffering humanity.Sad to say, occasionally, there is another story to be told. In February, 1880, some strapping fishermen refused to make up the complement of the Blackpool lifeboat—some of her own men being away fishing off North Wales, and others at Fleetwood—and remained leafing on the beach while they let the coxswain take in two joiners and a stonemason, and then start two short of the complement. Nevertheless four persons were saved from the wreck of theBessie Jones, under circumstances most honourable to the rescuers. On their return, being obliged to run over the bank with a[pg 244]tremendous sea running, they had the narrowest escape from being capsized; one man was washed out of the boat, but was recovered, and most of the loose tackle was swept overboard and irretrievably lost.RAMSGATE.RAMSGATE.Popular Ramsgate, with its fashionably select annexe St. Lawrence-on-Sea, is so well known by all, that no lengthened description is required here, for its actual and practical connection with the sea, in the noble work done by its lifeboatsmen, has already been detailed. Ramsgate has a fine harbour and piers, from which the“husbands’ boat”is often, more especially on Saturdays, watched and longed for by hundreds of wives and daughters.Margate had, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, fifteen boats and other vessels, ranging from one to eighteen tons, there being four of the latter. It had 108 inhabited houses. It now has a floating population of 50,000 to 70,000 people, the permanent residents being about 15,000 in number. There are several pilots, and a large number of luggers employed in fishing and in seeking for casualties; it owns a certain number of coasting vessels; while a large number of coasters and French fishing-boats come in during the winter months and fishing season for refuge, repairs, and provisions. Margate has a Seaman’s Room and Observatory, and Ramsgate a Seaman’s Infirmary. The local agents[pg 245]of the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society have their hands full in winter, and generally at other seasons in stormy weather.THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.Who that has visited Ramsgate or Margate, has not, some time or other in his or her life, nourished an all-absorbing curiosity to peep into the interior and solve the mysteries of those distant beacons, the“Floating Light Ships.”Those who have seen them either lying peacefully on the tranquil bosom of the sunlit ocean, or trembling and shaken in Neptune’s angry moods, still valiant and isolated, nobly doing their duty, must often have wished to get a closer view. That natural curiosity can be gratified at last; the curtain has been raised, so that we may peep into the mysteries of the flame-coloured sphinxes, by a writer60who went into voluntary imprisonment for one week on the Gulf Stream Light Vessel, one of three floating lights which mark the Goodwin Sands.“That curious, almost ridiculous-looking craft,”writes Mr. Ballantyne,“was among the aristocracy of shipping. Its important office stamped it with nobility. It lay there, conspicuous in its royal colour, from day to day and year to year, to mark the fair-way between Old England and the outlying shoals, distinguished in daylight by a huge ball at its mast-head, and at night by a magnificent lantern, with argand lamps and concave reflectors, which shot rays like lightning far and wide over the watery waste, while in thick weather, when neither ball nor light could be discerned, a sonorous gong gave its deep-toned warning to the approaching mariner, and let him know his position amidst the surrounding dangers.”Here the writer bestows well-deserved praise upon the services,“disinterested and universal,”of this lonely craft, and afterwards tells you what would meet the eye, if, leaning against the stern, you gazed along the deck forward.“It was an interesting kingdom in detail. Leaving out of view all that which was behind him, and which, of course, he could not see, we may remark that just before him stood the binnacle and compass, and the cabin skylight. On his right and left the territory of the quarter deck was seriously circumscribed and the promenade much interfered with by the ship’s boats, which, like their parent, were painted red, and which did not hang at the davits, but, like young lobsters of the kangaroo type, found shelter within their mother when not at sea on their own account. Near to them were two signal carronades. Beyond the skylight rose the bright brass funnel of the cabin chimney, and the winch by means of which the lantern was hoisted. Then came another skylight and the companion hatch about the centre of the deck. Just beyond this stood the most important part of the vessel—the lantern-house. This was a circular wooden structure about six feet in diameter, with a door and small windows.“Inside was the lantern—the beautiful piece of mechanism for which the light-ship, its crew and appurtenances, were maintained. Right through the centre of this house rose the thick, unyielding mast of the vessel. The lantern, which was just a little less than its house, surrounded the mast and travelled upon it.”Immediately at sundown the order“Up lights”was given, regular as the sun itself. The lantern was connected with the rod and pinion, by means of which with the clock-work beneath, the light was made to revolve and“flash”once every third of a minute. The glass of the lantern is frequently broken, not by wind and wave, but by the sea-birds, which dash violently against it. In a single night, nine panes of[pg 246]a light-house were shattered from this cause. On one occasion one thousand wild ducks were caught by the crew of a light-ship. It is necessary to defend with trellis-work the lights most exposed.The cabin of the Floating Light was marvellously neat and clean. Everything was put away in its proper place, not only as the result of order and discipline, but on account of the extreme smallness of the cabin. The author of the work from which we quote depicts a scene on board during a night of storms when a wreck and unexpected rescue took place:—“A little before midnight, while I was rolling uneasily in my‘bunk,’contending with sleep and sea-sickness, and moralising on the madness of those who choose‘the sea’for a profession, I was roused—and sickness instantly cured—by the watch on deck suddenly shouting down the hatchway to the mate,‘South Sand Head light is firing, sir, and sending up rockets.’The mate sprang from his‘bunk,’and was on the cabin-floor before the sentence was well finished. I followed suit, and pulled on coat, nether garments, and shoes, as if my life depended on my own speed. There was unusual need for clothing, for the night was bitterly cold. On gaining the deck, we found the two men on duty actively at work—the one loading the lee gun, the other adjusting a rocket to its stick. A few hurried questions from the mate elicited all that it was needful to know.“The flash of the gun from the‘South Sand Head’light-ship, about six miles off, had been distinctly seen a third time, and a third rocket went up, indicating that a vessel had struck upon the fatal Goodwin Sands. The report of the gun could not be heard, owing to the gale carrying the sound to leeward, but the bright line of the rocket was distinctly visible. At the same moment the glaring light of a burning tar-barrel was observed. It was the signal of the vessel in distress, just on the southern tail of the sands.“By this time the gun was charged, and the rocket in position.“One of the crew dived down the companion-hatch, and in another moment returned with a red-hot poker, which the mate had thrust into the cabin fire at the first alarm. He applied it in quick succession to the gun and rocket. A blinding flash and deafening crash were followed by the whiz of the rocket as it sprang with a magnificent curve far away into the surrounding darkness.“This was their answer to the South Sand Head light, which, having fired three guns and sent up three rockets to attract the attention of theGull, then ceased firing. It was also their first note of warning to the look-out on the pier of Ramsgate Harbour. Of the three light-ships that guarded the sands, theGulllay nearest to Ramsgate; hence, which ever of the other two happened to send up signals, theGullhad to reply, and thenceforward to continue repeating them until the attention of the Ramsgate look-out should be gained, and a reply given.“The steam tugAid, which always attends upon, and takes in tow, the Ramsgate life-boat, soon hove in sight, going to the rescue, thus showing the great value of steam in such matters. Having learnt the direction of the wreck from the mate of the light-ship, they proceeded on their course.”The life of the crew of every light-ship is pretty much the same on Sunday. At dawn the lantern is lowered and cleaned and prepared for the next night’s work. At 8 a.m. all hands must be on the alert, the hammocks stowed, and breakfast served. At 10.30 the men[pg 247]assemble for prayers, and the captain or mate performs divine service. After sunset the men meet again for prayers. With the exception of the services, the routine on week days is the same as on Sunday. The captain and mate take turn and turn—a month on board and a month on shore; the men do duty for two months on board for one on shore; and, monotonous as their life may seem to the uninitiated, it is doubtful whether there is not a beneficial moral activity in existence on a floating light that tends to elevate the character of both officers and men.

Southampton: its Antiquity—Extensive Commerce—Great Port for Leading Steamship Lines—Vagaries of a Runaway Steamer—The Isle of Wight—Terrible Loss of theEurydice—Finding of the Court-martial—Raising Her from the Bottom—“London by the Seaside”—Newhaven and Seaford—Beachy Head—An Attempt to Scale it—A Wreck there—Knowledge Useful on an Emergency—Saved by Samphire—The Coast-guard: Past and Present—Their Comparatively Pleasant Lot To-day—The Coast-guard in the Smuggler Days—Sympathies of the Country against them.

Southampton, one of the most important towns in the South of England, is a place of great antiquity, having been in existence prior to the Conquest, while many Roman remains are to be found in its neighbourhood. What schoolboy is not familiar with the story of King Canute and his courtiers, who flattered their royal master that even the winds and waves would do his bidding? The Danish monarch was made of too stern material to believe such nonsense; and to convince his fawning courtiers that he did not possess attributes which belong to the Creator alone, he is said to have seated himself by the seaside, and in a loud voice commanded the waves to stay. But the fleecy billows obeyed him not, and in due course reached the feet of the king and his obsequious court. The spot upon which this memorable circumstance occurred is still pointed out in the neighbourhood of Southampton.

Nearly surrounding the town remains of the ancient buttresses and towers of the wall which once environed it are still to be seen; while on the western shore the old Water-gate, from which the merchants embarked, still exists. In the old Domesday Book it is described as an important burgh. Southampton grew in importance at the time of the Crusades, when thousands of troops and crusaders and mailed knights embarked thence, or, weather-bound, remained encamped in the place. It soon became a great port of call for Flemish and other merchant-traders.

Southampton has great natural advantages for communication with the sea. The town is situated on a swelling point of land, bounded by the confluences of the rivers Test and Itchen, and communicating with the Solent and English Channel by the fine arm of the sea known as Southampton Water, surrounded by charming scenery, and navigable for the largest steamers. At its mouth is Calshot Castle, a coastguard station at the water’s edge, while half-way between that point and the town are the picturesque ruins of Netley Abbey. It has a tidal dock covering sixteen acres, and several graving and other docks. Consequently, it is the point of departure for the fine vessels of the Peninsular and Oriental line, the Royal Mail (West Indies and Central America), the North German Lloyds’, Hamburgh, and Havre steamships for New York, and the Union Line for African ports, besides an infinity of smaller steamships and steamboats for Havre, the Channel Islands, and the Isle of Wight. Its inhabitants consider it the Liverpool of the South; and even if this is rather an exaggerated view of the case, it has undoubtedly grown to be one of the principal ports of the kingdom. It ranks fifth in the list.56

And now for the story of a steamboat which attempted to run away from Southampton on her own account. This strange circumstance occurred some few years ago, and might well have been attended with disastrous results. The steam-tugBelmontwas towing out to sea theWalton Hood, a passenger vessel bound for Australia, and after taking her down to the Channel, the sails were set on the ship, and theBelmontproceeded to cast her off, previous to returning to Southampton. In doing so, by some unexplained cause the ship collided with the tug, striking her with a violent crash, which knocked over her mast and funnel, and threw her upon her side. The shock also had the effect of increasing the activity of the crew, who, one and all, leaped on board theWalton Hood, leaving their steamer in charge of a dog and two cats. The steam of theBelmontwas up, and after a succession of plunges and croakings she righted, and cleared the ship. Tearing away her bulwarks, she took a sweep round and made a bolt for the land. Her fate now appeared inevitable, whilst her strange manœuvres made her look like an insane vessel, rushing wildly from some pursuer. Her mast and funnel hung over the side, her bulwarks were smashed, and the long tiller was dashing wildly to and fro; the dog on board was barking, howling, and yelling fiercely, rendering the scene both ludicrous and serious. Something evidently had to be done to save her. The captain and crew, having recovered their composure, obtained a boat from the ship and started in pursuit.“Pull away, my boys; give it her!”was the quick command.“Aye, aye, sir!”was the ready response,[pg 227]and the tough oars bent to the stalwart efforts of the oarsmen. The boat sped onward in the chase, but ere this the steam-tug had on her own account altered her coarse, and by some cause or other came round, and made again for the point whence she had started. Having described a complete circle, she again started off on a voyageen zigzag, and then made direct for Calshot lighthouse. Here the men on the look-out descried her position, and having launched and manned their own boat, also started in pursuit. The race now became truly exciting, the course of the steam-tug being utterly uncertain and irresponsible, according as her helm shifted to and fro at the sport of the waters of the Channel. By this time, however, she had run some distance, and at length her speed gradually diminished, her steam giving out, when her paddles stopped from sheer exhaustion. The crew from the lighthouse were the first to board her, and her own crew coming up about twenty minutes after, she was at length got into working order, and brought safely into dock. It appears that the crew had some justification for leaving her, the vessel leaking seriously, and being in imminent peril of going down.

From Southampton Water to the beautiful Isle of Wight is a natural transition. To fully describe its coasts and fishing-villages and watering-places, and other points of interest, would occupy a large volume. Cowes and Ryde, with their regattas and generally festive look; Osborne, with its royal residence; Shanklin and Blackgang“Chines”; Ventnor and Niton; Alum Bay and“the Needles,”will be familiar to the larger number of our readers. Inseparably connected with the gay little island must ever be remembered an event which cast a gloom not merely over the households of hundreds of direct sufferers, but over the length and breadth of the entire land. Need it be said that we refer to the terrible loss of that fine training-ship theEurydice, with its living freight of three hundred young and promising sailor lads, in sight of land and home, and just as they were nearing, after long foreign service, the haven of their hopes.

“For there came down a squall, and the snow swept the waveLike a white winding-sheet for the brave man’s lone grave;And with scarce time to glance a farewell at the sky,The three hundred went down without e’en a cry.”

“For there came down a squall, and the snow swept the wave

Like a white winding-sheet for the brave man’s lone grave;

And with scarce time to glance a farewell at the sky,

The three hundred went down without e’en a cry.”

On the morning of March 25th, 1878, the country awoke to one of the most painful and unlooked-for catastrophes that have befallen the navy during the present century—that of theCaptainhardly excepted, for certain doubts had always been felt as to how the bulky ironclad would behave in a heavy gale.“One of the finest corvettes of her class that ever floated,”said a competent authority,“commanded by a captain and officered by men of the highest professional experience, and with a crew young, but sufficiently trained, and numerous enough in nautical parlance to have‘torn her to pieces’, capsizes, with the loss of every soul on board her but two. Such a calamity, taken in all its bearings and with such a loss of life, is unparalleled in the modern history of the navy. It is true that about forty years ago a man-of-war schooner (thePincher), very much over-masted, was, off the‘Owers,’not very far from the same spot, capsized in a heavy squall, and all her hands were lost, although she was in company with a corvette at the time. But theEurydicewas not over-masted, and she went down in broad daylight and in smooth[pg 228]water. Yet where is the officer or the man—let him be the best seaman in the world—who can say,‘Such would not have been theEurydice’sfate had I commanded her?’The fact is, the disaster, truly lamentable as it is, might have happened to any seaman. With a fair wind, smooth water, and within a short distance of her anchorage, running along too close under the high land of the Isle of Wight to notice the hurricane-like squall rushing down upon her in time to prepare for it, the ship was literally forced under water, the accumulating weight of which eventually capsized her beyond recovery. Adverse comments have been made on the ports being open; but with a fair wind, smooth water, and Spithead close by, what danger could possibly be apparent, to cause them to be closed after a sea-voyage so nearly ended? Had theEurydicemet with the same squall at sea she would have weathered it.”57

H.M.S. “EURYDICE” ON HER BEAM-ENDS JUST AFTER THE SQUALL.H.M.S.“EURYDICE”ON HER BEAM-ENDS JUST AFTER THE SQUALL.

H.M.S.“EURYDICE”ON HER BEAM-ENDS JUST AFTER THE SQUALL.

The court-martial which assembled on the 27th of August, 1878, on board theDuke of Wellingtonflagship, under the presidency of Admiral Fanshawe, C.B., Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, reported that the ship had foundered from pressure of wind upon her sails during a sudden and exceptionally dense snowstorm, which overtook her when its approach was partially hidden by the proximity of the ship to high land.“Some of the upper half-ports on the main-deck were open at the time, which materially conduced[pg 229]to the catastrophe; but the court considers that the upper half-ports having been open was justifiable and usual under the state of the wind and weather up to the time of the actual occurrence of the storm.”The finding of the court-martial mentioned the fact that the captain was frequently on deck during the afternoon; and attributed blame to no one on board. It considered the ship, which had had ten years’ sea service, to have been thoroughly stable. A large number of other authorities, however, thought very differently—that she was top-heavy, and that she was undoubtedly carrying too much sail.

After exactly twenty-three weeks from the day of her foundering theEurydicewas, on Sunday, the 1st of September, safely towed into Portsmouth harbour.“As an example of perseverance and determination to succeed, the recovery of the ship is unique. The elements, which throughout the operations may truly be said to have fought against the efforts to float her being successful, made a final attempt to render those endeavours abortive on the Thursday night and Friday morning, with such effect that the Admiralty deemed it inexpedient that further attempts should be made, and had even gone to the extent of ordering her to be taken to pieces where she lay. Rear-Admiral Foley, and those who had so ably and perseveringly worked with him, were, however, reluctant to abandon the attempt to recover the ship, and he pledged himself that he would undertake to bring her into harbour. This pledge was redeemed.”58The divers throughout the operations could work only at slack tides and in very fine weather, the under-currents on the Isle of Wight coast being exceptionally strong.

TheEurydicelay at first in seven fathoms and a half (forty-five feet) of water, and to this must be added eight or nine feet of mud into which the wreck was embedded. Strong wire ropes were attached to the inner sides of the ports; the other ends of the ropes were made fast to the four floating hulls placed over and across theEurydice, and when everything was ready and the tide at its lowest ebb, the process of pinning down was commenced—that is, the ropes were hauled“taut,”and made fast to the lifting vessels, so that as the tide gradually rose to its highest point the whole mass of lighters with the sunken vessel lifted as well. Then it was that the steam-tugs took up their positions, and towed the ill-fated craft towards shallower water, till she was left on a bank under the Culver cliff, with one side and her upper deck above the water at low tide. Even yet the efforts to float her were interfered with. Frequently all would be ready for lifting, when the sea would roughen, and everything have to be abandoned, the lighters returning to Portsmouth. It was raised partially in August, 1878, after four months’ continuous labour. After lying for a few days under the Culver cliff, theEurydicewas again sufficiently lifted to clear the bottom, and towed together with the lifting vessels to St. Helen’s Sands. When lifted finally, and towed to Portsmouth by theGrinder, she had two tugs on her port side and one on her starboard, with their steam-pumps working, and constantly pumping her hold.

Brighton—“London by the Sea-side”as it is often styled—is to many one of the most fascinating of the English watering-places. It is both popular and fashionable, the resort[pg 230]alike of the masses and of the“upper ten.”Its position on the sea is charming, while at an easy distance are any number of pleasant sea-coast and inland resorts. It has sprung up from a little fishing-village to a town of at least 120,000 souls. One feature of the place is the solidity and elegance of its public and private buildings, while its streets are the best kept in the whole kingdom. It extends, with its suburbs Kemp Town and Cliftonville, forfour milesalong the coast, and is in great part defended by a sea-wall. The celebrated chain-pier is 1,130 feet in length; while its Aquarium, already described in the proper place, is the finest in the world.

The climate of Brighton is temperate and mild both summer and winter, in the latter season resembling that of Naples; and to these facts is doubtless due its great success as a resort for the invalid, debilitated, or fagged-out business man. Capital bathing, boating, and yachting, are all at the command of the visitor; there are no finer promenades anywhere; while riding or driving on the Downs, or to the neighbouring rural retreats (among them that most beautiful of England’s ancestral homes, Arundel), is a treat open to all whose circumstances are moderately easy. In the whirl and din of fashionable life there one is apt to forget its practical connection with the sea, but it possesses a perfect fleet of mackerel and herring boats, and several lifeboats, belonging to the Lifeboat Institution, the Humane Society, and the town.

BRIGHTON.BRIGHTON.

BRIGHTON.

In the year 1833, at New Stoke, near Arundel, the remains of an ancient boat were discovered in the bed of what was formerly a creek running into the river Arun. It had been constructed of half the trunk of an oak tree, hollowed out as the Indians of North-west America do to-day. It was thirty-five feet four inches in length, by four feet six inches. In 1822, a still larger oak boat was found in the bed of the river Rother, near Maltham, Kent, which was sixty-three feet by fifteen feet, half decked, caulked with moss, and had carried at least one mast.

These discoveries sink into insignificance with that made in 1880 on the farm of Gokstad, not far from Sandefjord, a favourite watering-place of the Norwegians. A hill or mound, which tradition pointed out as the burial-place of some mighty king or chief, was found to contain the entire hull of an old ship of the Viking days. It is of course a very venerable relic, being probably more than 1,000 years old. The Gokstad vessel, built entirely of oak, is seventy-five feet long between stem and stern, and sixteen feet broad amidships; and appears to be of a low build, drawing only five feet. The deals were riveted together by iron nails; and the ribs, of which there are twenty, are connected with the deals at the top by rivets, but at the bottom with ties. Amidships, in the bottom of the ship, is a heavy beam, both ends of which are fashioned in the shape of a fish’s tail. This beam served as a support for the mast, of which there is still a piece standing in its place; while the upper part, which had been cut off, was found in the vessel. The mast appears to have been about twenty-two feet long. Remains of two or three small boats were found; some pieces inside the ship, and some pieces close to it. In the fore part of the vessel a large copper kettle and water-cask were also found, with remains of sails and ropes, and some large oars. She had been built for sixteen oars. A hundred wooden shields had been once placed in a row under the gunwale of the ship, corresponding to the number of the crew, the centre pieces of iron, or bosses, still remaining. The arrangement of the shields is the same as that in the famous Bayeux tapestry, on which[pg 231]are represented (among other things) the ships of William the Conqueror. The old vessel had been used as the last resting-place of a great Viking. It was their custom so to bury their chiefs. The ship was usually placed with its stem towards the sea, so that when Odin, the Jove of the northern mythology, should call the gallant chief, he could set sail straight off land for Valhalla, the heaven of his hopes.

Newhaven, a little farther to the east, has a fair tidal harbour and some local commerce, but its chief feature is the very rapidly-increasing passenger traffic between it and Dieppe, for Paris or London, and the traveller who has not tried that route can be recommended to do so. The boats, some of them of steel and containing all modern improvements, are among the finest in the Channel service, making the trip to Dieppe usually in five or five-and-a-half hours. The trip through Normandy and the valley of the Seine is varied and interesting, and preferable to that from Calais or Boulogne. Near Newhaven is the once flourishing town of Seaford, though it is now little better than a picturesque fishing-village, in the bay of which mackerel are sometimes taken in prodigious quantities, and which affords shelter and anchorage for large vessels during the prevalence of strong easterly winds.

Still farther east, and at the extreme southern point of Sussex, stands the bold promontory Beachy Head, the scene of many a shipwreck in days gone by. It would be a most difficult feat to scale this great chalk cliff; and yet the slope of brokendébris, mingled with scanty grass and samphire, steep though it be, does not look impracticable, nor indeed is it up to a certain point. The writer and his brother once managed to get within a very respectable distance of the top, but then the rocky stones commenced rolling down, bringing both climbers with them. After many an ineffectual attempt to secure a hold by clinging to the samphire, and intervals of momentary rest, neither was very sorry to reach the stony beach, albeit considerably bruised, battered, and torn. There they found the sea had cut off their retreat towards Eastbourne, and before they could reach the shore they had to wade through the fast-rising tide round one or two projecting corners of the cliff.

In the month of November, 1821, a dreadful storm visited Beachy Head, during which a French vessel was driven ashore and wrecked. All on board were swept into the sea, and only four escaped the general destruction, by climbing to the top of a heap of rocks which had fallen, at different times, from the overhanging cliffs. Their perilous situation can easily be conceived; the tide was encroaching upon them step by step, and it was certain destruction to attempt to gain the land. The night was extremely dark, and the thunder and lightning rendered it still more awful. The poor men, finding that they would either be swallowed up by the rising tide or dashed to pieces against the rocks, determined to deliver themselves up to the mercy of the waves, with the forlorn hope of being cast on some place of safety. At this time one of the men saw, during some flashes of lightning, a plant growing amongst the stones on which they stood, which he knew was samphire, and which he also happened to know never grew where it could be entirely covered with water. He at once acquainted his fellow-sufferers with this fact, and persuaded them to remain where they were till morning, being convinced that the height of the tide would not be quite equal to that of the place on which they stood. The[pg 232]event proved the correctness of his information and the value of his knowledge, for when daylight broke the poor fellows were seen, and rescued from their dangerous situation.

DISCOVERING THE SAMPHIRE ON THE ROCK.DISCOVERING THE SAMPHIRE ON THE ROCK.

DISCOVERING THE SAMPHIRE ON THE ROCK.

No part of the south coast formerly required more vigilant guarding than that for many miles on either side of Beachy Head. The coastguardsman had his hands full then; his lot is better now.“Amongst the most agreeable objects that enliven the shores of our island,”writes theSaturday Review,“are the groups of cottages occupied by the coastguard. Picturesque one can scarcely call them, for the architecture is simple to baldness, and suggestive of Government contracts kept down by close competition, and yet they have generally the picturesqueness of comfortable contrast with surroundings that are often bleak and inhospitable. Dating from the days when our coasts were regularly picketed, and a blockade was methodically established against the enterprise of the free-traders, we come upon them in every variety of situation. Now they are arranged bastion-wise on a commanding eminence, in the suburb of some seaport or watering place, in a snug, compact, little square, with a tall flagstaff in the centre. Again we stumble on them unexpectedly, sheltered in the recess of some‘gap’or‘chine’where a little stream comes trickling down to the sands through the deep cleft that time seems to have worn[pg 233]in the chalk cliffs. Most frequently they are perched on the crest of the line of sand-hills, with a broad look-out in all directions over‘promontory, cape, and bay.’And often they form a conspicuous landmark on some flat stretch of grass-grown sand, where the slow-shelving shore is intersected by a labyrinth of changing channels, and where mud-banks submerged by the rising tides are a perfect paradise for the clamorous sea-fowl. But whatever the situation, the general effect is almost invariably the same. They are substantial and watertight; suggestive of cheery shelter in bright interiors when the wind is howling through the shrouds of the flagstaff, driving the sand and gravel in flying scud along the beach, and churning and grinding the pebbles in the surf with dull, monotonous roar. There are low flat roofs with projecting eaves, and small, strongly-secured casements, and the gleam of their spotless whitewash catches any sunlight that may be going. In the neatly-palisaded little gardens that stretch before the door, a hard and not-unsuccessful struggle is always going on with the unfriendly elements, while the shell-strewn walks are invariably kept in the most perfect order. As you approach them of a warm summer afternoon you are conscious of the briny breeze just tainted with a faint amphibious smell of tar. It may not be so balmy or romantic as the resinous odours that breathe from the pine-woods of Bayonne or Arcachon, under the fiercer rays of the sun of Gascony; but it is decidedly wholesome, and rather savoury than otherwise. The promiscuous use of pitch[pg 234]and tar gratifies the nautical affections of the inmates. Everything is paid, caulked, and seamed, from the keels of the white-painted boats that are hauled up bottom upwards, to the felt-covered shingles over the out-houses, and the frames of the cottage windows, and the palings of the enclosure. Everything, even to the concealed refuse-heaps, is trim and ship-shape, showing the presence of an easy discipline and the predominance of habits of tidiness and order.”

Then theReviewgoes on to describe the exciting and perilous post of the coastguard when import duties were excessive, and lucky smugglers made rapid fortunes.“The sympathies of the whole adjacent country were against them. Half the country people were employed from time to time in running illicit cargoes, and made a very good thing of it. Those were the days of hard drinking, and farmers almost openly encouraged a trade that dropped kegs of cheap hollands and runlets of pure French brandy at their very doors. As for the women, of course—to say nothing of their romantic sympathies with daring law-breakers—they were all in favour of the men who filled and sweetened the cheering tea-cup, that would otherwise have been altogether beyond their means. Even gentlemen holding His Majesty’s commission of the peace were said to connive at the‘fair trade’for a consideration, and to express no surprise at the production of mysterious casks that had been concealed in out-of-the-way corners of their premises. There were certain depôts, in dry caverns, in remote homesteads or sequestered barns, the secret of which was religiously preserved, although it was the common property of highly questionable characters. There were codes of signals which could be clearly read by all but the preventive men, and which gave notice of danger or of a favourable opportunity, as the case might be. The officer in charge of the station had his faculties preternaturally sharpened, and could scent something wrong in the most natural incidents. The wreaths of smoke rising from a heap of burning weeds might convey a warning to some expected vessel. A fishing-boat putting out to sea, engaged apparently in its lawful business, might really be bound on a similar errand. Then it was the business of the day-watch to scan carefully each craft that appeared off the coast, and his natural vigilance was stimulated by the prize-money that might fall to his share. Then the nocturnal promenade was no mere formality. The thicker the night the more likely that something might be going on under cover of the fog; and the ear of the look-out was always bent to distinguish, amidst the murmur of the waves, the sound of suppressed voices, or the plash of muffled oars. Nor was the walk by any means free from personal danger, and indeed it was seldom taken in solitude; for, even apart from the inveterate animosity existing between the smugglers and the preventive men, those were days when deeds of violence were common, and the life of a man was of little account compared to the safety of a cargo that might be worth hundreds or thousands of pounds. If he chanced to fall over the cliff by accident, everything might be satisfactorily settled before he was replaced; for when a smuggling lugger stood in for the coast there were plenty of ready hands to help to discharge her cargo; and unless the men of the nearest preventive station got assistance from elsewhere, there was little left for them but to look on helplessly. Boats from the nearest fishing hamlets swarmed in about the smuggler; strings of horses, in charge of people armed to the teeth, made their way to the coast from the inland farms.[pg 235]The contraband goods, in kegs and bags of convenient size for easy landing, were transferred from the ship to the boat, from the boat to the beach, from the beach to the pack-saddle, with incredible celerity; and when the mounted caravans set themselves in motion, those who had assisted at the landing hastened to vanish as they had come. On these occasions the smugglers scored a trick in the game, and the coastguard had nothing for it but to wait their turn of revenge with redoubled vigilance. More frequently, however, they succeeded in spoiling sport, for it paid the smuggler amply to run one cargo in three. The Government people would keep such a sharp look-out that, oftener than not, the friends of the free-traders could only help them by signalling danger, and the richly-freighted lugger had to put up her helm in despair, perhaps with one of the revenue cutters in hot pursuit; or, what was better still, the enemy was surprised in the very act of unlading, and a valuable capture was effected. Of course a successful exploit of this kind was by no means all pleasure and pride. The smugglers with their friends, disguised by blackened faces, were sure to show fight if they had any chance. As they were busy in the bay, and the unloading was going briskly forward, their sentinels would give the signal of alarm, and the long galleys of the coastguard would be seen pulling fast inshore, and stealing like wolves on their prey from round the nearest headland. The attacking force would make free play with its muskets and carbines, if it came within reach, and the attacked had to consider that their enemies on the water had probably allies on the land in the shape of excise officers backed up by soldiers. So the next act in the drama was asauve qui peut, conducted with more or less order, and covered with a lavish use of cutlasses and firearms. Very possibly the victors had to count the dead, and pick up the wounded; and thus the romance and excitement of those days were spiced with a very sensible element of danger.”

CHAPTER XXII.Sketches of our South Coasts(concluded).Eastbourne and its Quiet Charms—Hastings—Its Fishermen—The Battle of Hastings—Loss of theGrosser Kurfürst—The Collision—The Catastrophe—Dover—The Castle—Shakespeare’s Cliff—“O’er the Downs so free”—St. Margaret’s Bay—Kingsdown—Deal—A Deed of Daring—Ramsgate and Margate—The Floating Light on the Goodwin Sands—Ballantyne’s Voluntary Imprisonment—His Experiences—The Craft—The Light—One Thousand Wild Ducks caught—A Signal from the“South Sand Head”—The Answer—Life on Board.The coast north-east from Beachy Head is rugged and interesting till Eastbourne is reached, one of the quietest and prettiest of the south-coast watering-places, and one which has been very greatly improved of late by the lavish expenditure of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, the principal landowner in the neighbourhood. Some of the promenades are planted with treesà la boulevard. The bathing and boating are both excellent; while in the neighbourhood are the ruins of Pevensey, an old Norman castle, and Hurstmonceaux, a red-brick castle of the mediæval period, ivy-and creeper-covered, and embowered in trees. It is the delight of artists, who annually besiege it in great numbers. Eastbourne has some hundred fishermen[pg 236]engaged in the herring and mackerel fisheries. They have a benefit association or club, into which they pay a monthly subscription, and when their nets are damaged or lost a part of the money needed to repair or replace them is found. There is also a lifeboat, which has done excellent work.And next in sequence comes historical Hastings, which extends for near a mile along the sea at the present time, or, if we include the fashionable town of St. Leonard’s-on-Sea, its sea front must be reckoned at nearly three miles. Many readers will be familiar with the charming glen or vale in which it is situated, and which opens to the sea on the south. Hastings is otherwise sheltered by high hills and cliffs, and has a warm, even, and yet bracing climate; for salubrity it will rank with any of the popular sea-side resorts. It has a steady population of about 35,000, of whom 700 are fishermen and boatmen. In one week the herring catch has been worth £5,000. A boat fitted for the herring or mackerel season is worth £350, and for trawling £200. The mackerel season commences in April and continues till the latter end of July, while the trawling commences and ends two or two and a half months later. The herring season commences in September and ends in the latter part of November. There is a church at Hastings, under the eastern cliffs, for the special accommodation of fishermen.The famous battle of Hastings was foughtA.D.1066, Oct. 14. The alarm sounded, both parties immediately prepared for action; but the English spent the night previous to it in riot and jollity, whilst the Normans were occupied in the duties of religion. On the morning the Duke called together his principal officers, and ordered the signal of battle to be given. Then the whole army, moving at once, and singing the hymn or song of Roland, advanced in order and with alacrity towards the English.Harold had seized the advantage of a rising ground, and, having secured his flanks with trenches, resolved to stand upon the defensive, and to avoid an engagement with the cavalry, in which he was inferior. The Kentish men were placed in the van, a post of honour which they always claimed as their due. The Londoners guarded the standard; and the King himself, accompanied by his two valiant brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, dismounting from his horse, placed himself at the head of his infantry, and expressed his resolution to conquer or to die. The first attack of the Normans was desperate, but was received with equal valour by the English, and the former began to retreat, when William hastened to their support with a select band. His presence restored the courage of his followers, and the English in their turn were obliged to retire. They rallied again, however, assisted by the advantage of the ground, and William, in order to gain the victory, had recourse to a stratagem, which, had it failed, would have resulted in his total ruin. He commanded his troops to allure the enemy from their position by the appearance of flight. The English followed with precipitation; the Normans faced upon them in the plain, and drove them back with considerable slaughter. The artifice was a second time repeated, with the same success; yet a great body of the English still maintained themselves in firm array, and seemed determined to dispute the victory. While they were galled by the Norman archers behind, they were attacked by the heavy-armed infantry in front; and Harold himself was slain by an arrow as he combated with great bravery at the head of his men. The English, discouraged by the fall of their prince, fled on all sides. The[pg 238]memory of the eventful fight is kept green by the name of Hastings, and Battle Abbey, in its immediate neighbourhood.THE LAST OF THE GROSSER KURFÜRST.THE LAST OF THEGROSSER KURFÜRST.Sadly must all readers look back upon the morning of Friday, May the 31st, 1878, when theGrosser Kurfürstwent down off Sandgate, so near to land that the people on shore felt certain that the commander would be able to beach her before she had time to sink, unhappily an entirely erroneous supposition. Very shortly before this ever-to-be-lamented catastrophe occurred, the German squadron, in command of Admiral Von Batsch, was sailing with a light easterly wind blowing down Channel with all the pomp and pardonable display of a force so numerically small yet so grandly powerful. The sea was perfectly smooth, the weather fine, and there seemed no more reason for anticipating the impending danger than if they had been lying at anchor in the sunlit harbour of Bremen.The squadron consisted of three vessels, sailing in two columns—theKönig Wilhelm, carrying the admiral’s flag, and thePreussenforming the port division, theGrosser Kurfürstforming the starboard, and less than two ships’ lengths apart from the admiral; indeed, it is said that scarcely one length intervened.“In this formation the German squadron came across two sailing vessels hauled to the wind,”says the writer of the article from which we quote,“on the port tack, and consequently standing right across the bows of both divisions. TheGrosser Kurfürsthad first to give way, which she did at the proper time and strictly in accordance with the rule of the road, porting her helm and passing under the stern of the first of these two sailing ships. But theKönig Wilhelm, which it must be borne in mind was close to theGrosser Kurfürstat this time, and steering a course parallel to her, endeavoured at first to cross the bows of the sailing vessel, but finding she had no room for this manœuvre, rapidly changed her plan, and, putting her helm hard a-port, also stood under the stern of the sailing vessel. In the meanwhile theGrosser Kurfürsthad resumed her original course, and thus was lying right across the bows of theKönig Wilhelm, as she came under the stern of the sailing barque almost at right angles to the original course.... The captain of theGrosser Kurfürst, Graf Von Montz, seeing the terrible proximity of theKönig Wilhelm, immediately put his vessel at full speed, hoping to cross her bows, but the space would not allow it. He then gave the order to port his helm, hoping to lay his ship parallel to the course of theKönig Wilhelm, but unfortunately for this also there was neither time nor space.”All might have gone well up to this point, however, as it appears theKönig Wilhelmwas in charge of an“able and experienced officer;”he had given the order to port the helm to steer clear of the sailing vessel, and then ordered the helm to be“immediately steadied,”intending to range up alongside theGrosser Kurfürst; but the helmsman had become bewildered, and instead of steadying put the helm still more port. TheKönig Wilhelmwas put at full speed astern, and the fatal crash could not be avoided. All now was confusion on both vessels.TheKönig Wilhelmcarried away everything from the point where she struck theGrosser Kurfürstto the stern,“ripping off the armour plating like the skin of an orange.”The bowsprit of theKönig Wilhelmfouled the rigging of the ill-starred ship and brought down the mizzen top-gallant-mast on the quarter-deck, and the quarter boats were swept away“like strips of paper.”[pg 239]The doomed iron-clad went down in seven minutes; on board there was scarcely time left the officers and crew to think much less to act with effect. The boats that had not been smashed could hardly be got into the water; the hammocks had been stowed in some unusual place, so that it was useless to attempt to get at them, and thus a very perfect means of escape was cut off from the 280 poor fellows that were drowned.THE “KÖNIG WILHELM” ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.THE“KÖNIG WILHELM”ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.The experience of the first lieutenant when the vessel was going down under the very eyes of a number of people on shore is interesting in the extreme. He felt himself sucked in, and describes a sensation of enormous pressure on his ribs, as if the water were forcing him down. Then he came across another column of water, which as promptly vomited him up to the surface again, when he caught hold of a spar, and saved his life. A dreadful fate befell some thirty unfortunate sailors, who, in spite of the commands and entreaties of the boatswain, who was standing on the forecastle, threw themselves over the bows, and endeavoured to swim away. But the sinking ship was too fast for them, and they were caught in the netting which is stretched under the jibboom, and, thus entangled, were carried down with the ship. The disabledKönig Wilhelmwas almost immediately towed into Portsmouth for repairs.59Dover is by no means so generally known as many less interesting places on the south coast, for the larger number of those who depart for or arrive from the Continent usually pass it by. It has been often incidentally mentioned in these pages, but no description of its special attractions has yet been given.It is situated not far from the South Foreland, in the extreme south-east corner of Kent, on the narrowest part of the British Channel, and only some twenty miles from the opposite coast of France. Hence it is the port for steamers crossing to Calais on the Continental service, a trip usually made in about one hour and three-quarters. If the reader should cross on the now-famousCalais-Douvres, the luxurious and easy-riding twin vessel, he will hardly require the advice relative to themal de mercontained in a previous chapter. Dover, though comparatively little used as a watering-place, possesses excellent accommodation for visitors—bathing-machines, and all the usual paraphernalia of such places. Its grand hotel,“The Lord Warden,”is second to none in England, and has sheltered scores of crowned heads and coroneted aristocrats, as well as the less distinguished, though perhaps equally worthy, Jones, Brown, Smith, and Robinson.On the eastern side of the town stands that elevated and noble fortress the Castle, of which some description has already been given. A short distance from it the chalk cliff rises 370 feet above the sea, and hard by stands a beautiful piece of brass ordnance, 24 feet in length, which bears the name of“Queen Elizabeth’s Pocket Pistol,”and was presented to her Majesty by the States of Holland. It is said to carry a 12-lb. ball to a distance of seven miles. It is curiously adorned with a variety of devices, typifying the blessings of peace and the horrors of war. On its breech is the following motto in Dutch, which, freely translated, signifies:—“O’er hill and dale I throw my ball,Breaker my name of mound and wall.”To the westward of the town rises the majestic headland named after our immortal[pg 240]bard. Shakespeare’s cliff rears its lofty headat the present timeto an altitude of 350 feet, but in the great dramatist’s day its summit was much higher, as indicated by the enormous boulders and heaps ofdébrisat its base, the result of frequent landslips and falls. Shakespeare well describes this grand precipice:—“Come on, sir; here’s the place: stand still. How fearfulAnd dizzy ’tis, to cast one’s eyes so low!The crows and choughs that wing the midway airShow scarce so gross as beetles: half way downHangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade!Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:The fishermen that walk upon the beachAppear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy,Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more,Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sightTopple down headlong.”DOVER.DOVER.From the heights about Dover the views are magnificent. Seaward is the beautiful bay, the Straits and the Downs, with its ever-changing fleets, the ships of all nations.[pg 241]Stretching one’s vision a little farther are seen the lofty white cliffs of the French coast; Cape Grisnez, near Calais (which itself lies on low land, and is therefore undiscernible), and the heights of Boulogne.The antiquity of Dover is undeniable. Julius Cæsar here made his first descent on Britain, in August,B.C.55. Picts and Scots, Danes and Normans, successively attacked it; while at the period of the Conquest, 1066, the town suffered fearfully, the whole place being reduced to ashes except twenty-nine houses. But when it became one of the Cinque Ports it soon rose in importance, and Dover men largely helped that brilliant attack on Philip IV.’s fleet, by which France lost 240 vessels. That enraged monarch retaliated on Dover by burning the larger part of the town; but before the year 1296 the British navy had not merely swept the enemy from the Channel, but had made several reprisals on the coast of France. At the period of the Armada, Dover, with the other Cinque Ports, fitted out, at a cost of £43,000, six large ships for the Queen’s service, which were the means of decoying the greatGalleasof Spain on a shoal, afterwards engaging and burning her.Riding or walking over the Downs some interesting places may be seen on or near the coast. At St. Margaret’s Bay, seven miles north from Dover—to the merits of the[pg 242]lobsters of which the present writer can testify, having both caught and eaten them—there is a pretty little fishing-village, with“Fisherman’s Inn”embowered in trees, at the base of lofty cliffs. Here the preliminary borings for the possible Channel Tunnel of the future were made. Farther on is Kingsdown, a fishing village and lifeboat station, the men and boat of which have done specially good service in saving life. Visible from thence is Walmer Castle and quaint old Deal, so often mentioned in these pages in connection with lifeboat work on the Goodwin Sands, themselves also plainly in sight. Riding at anchor in Deal Roads, or outward bound, or on the homeward tack, are seen ships, great and little, flying the colours of every maritime nation under the sun. The trip from Dover to Deal and back can be made by any tolerable pedestrian in a day, allowing time for visits to all the points just named. That part of the trip from Dover to St. Margaret’s Bay can be made over the Downs only, but thence to Deal the coast can be easily followed.Coming nearer home, the writer must record a case of“derring-do,”which will prove—if after what these pages have recorded of the men of Deal and Walmer and Kingsdown, of Ramsgate and Margate, further proof were needed—that the men of the North and South Foreland are not degenerate descendants of their forefathers, who sailed and fought and died with Blake and Nelson. It occurred in Deal on a Sunday morning in bleak December. A whole gale was blowing from the south-west and vessels in the comparatively sheltered Downs were riding to both anchors. As the various congregations were leaving their respective places of worship umbrellas were blown inside out, and children were taken off their feet or clung frightened to their parents’ limbs, the wind and spray along Deal beach being blinding. Let the“Chaplain”(nom de plumeof the excellent clergyman who superintends the Missions to Seamen) tell the tale.“Just then,”he writes,“in answer to the boom of the distant gun, the bell rang to man the lifeboat, and the Deal boatmen gallantly answered to the summons. A rush was made for the life-belts and for the coxswain’s house. The coxswain, Robert Wilds, has for fifteen years held the yoke-lines through the surf on the sands, and knows the powers of the boat to save. Fourteen men besides the coxswain were the crew, and with a mighty rush they launched the good boat down the steep beach to the rescue. There were three vessels on the Goodwins. The crew of one took to their boats, and not being in the worst part of the sands got safe round the North Foreland to Margate. Another schooner, supposed to be a Dane, disappeared, and was lost with all hands. The third, a German barque, theLeda, with a crew of seventeen‘all told,’was stuck fast in the worst part of the sands—viz., the South Spit, on which even on a fine day the writer has encountered a dangerous and peculiar boil or tumble of seas. The barque’s main and mizen masts by this time were gone, and the crew were clinging to the weather bulwarks, while sheets of solid water made a clean breach over them—so much so that from cold and long exposure the captain was almost exhausted. The Deal life-boat, theVan Kook, fetched a little to windward of the devoted barque, and dropping anchor, veered down on her. One cable being too short, another was bent on to it, and closer and closer came the lifeboat. If the cable parted and the lifeboat struck the ship with full force, not a man would probably have survived to tell the tale; or if they got to leeward of the barque the crew of the wreck would have been lost, as the lifeboat could not again have worked‘to weather’to drop down as before. No friendly steam-tug was at hand to help the lifeboat to windward in case of failure in this their first attempt, and both[pg 243]the crew in distress and their rescuers were well aware of the stake at issue, and that this was the last chance. But the lifeboat crew said,‘We’re bound to save them,’and with all the coolness of the race, yet‘daring all that men dare do,’they concentrated their energies on getting close enough to the wreck to throw their line, and yet to keep far enough off to ensure the boat’s safety. They were now beaten and hustled by the tremendous seas breaking into and over them, and no other boat could have lived a moment in the cauldron of waters seething and raging around them. Notwithstanding the self-emptying power of the wondrous boat, the seas broke into her in such quick succession that she was and remained full up to her thwarts while alongside the vessel, and as each cataract came on board the coxswain sang out,‘Look out, men!’and they grasped the thwarts and held on with both hands, breathless, for dear life. One sea hurled the lifeboat against the ship, and stove in her fore air-box, so that the safety of all made it necessary to sheer off. Another sea prostrated two men under her thwarts. The lifeboat’s throw-line was at last got on board the barque, and communication being established the crew were drawn on board the lifeboat through the raging waves by ones or twos, as the seas permitted. Thus saved from the jaws of death, so astonished were the rescued crew at the submerged condition of the lifeboat and the awful turmoil of water around them that some of them wished to get back to their perishing vessel; but the coxswain and crew knew the powers of their gallant boat.‘Up foresail and cut the cable,’and with its goodly freight of thirty-four souls the lifeboat, hurled like a feather, sometimes dead before the wind, and next moment‘taken aback,’plunged into the surf for home. One of the rescued crew had twice before been saved by the same boat (theVan Kook), and encouraged his comrades with a recital of his previous deliverances. Some rum, which was brought for the use of the lifeboat crew, was generously given by them and all used by the perishing men of the barque. And so at last, sodden through and through, exhausted, but gloriously successful, they landed the staggering and grateful Germans on the Deal beach, where, despite the storm, crowds met them with wondering and thankful hearts.”Among nearly all classes who dwell near and love the sea the same heroic spirit prevails. Only in 1879 Lord Dunmore, with John M‘Rae, Ewen M‘Leod, and Norman Macdonald, put out to sea in a furious Atlantic gale, in the noble Scottish peer’sundeckedcutter, theDauntless, when no other boat would venture out at all, and saved the lives of several men, women, and children from the yachtAstarte, wrecked on a small island-rock between Harris and the North Uist coast (west coast of Scotland). The noble hero of this gallant band is a Murray of the ducal tree of Atholl, sharing the savage motto,“Forth fortune, and fill the fetters.”The spirit of daring adventure which spurred his forefathers to feats of reckless foray and ruthless feud has, in a milder age, developed into the performance of deeds of valour for the benefit of suffering humanity.Sad to say, occasionally, there is another story to be told. In February, 1880, some strapping fishermen refused to make up the complement of the Blackpool lifeboat—some of her own men being away fishing off North Wales, and others at Fleetwood—and remained leafing on the beach while they let the coxswain take in two joiners and a stonemason, and then start two short of the complement. Nevertheless four persons were saved from the wreck of theBessie Jones, under circumstances most honourable to the rescuers. On their return, being obliged to run over the bank with a[pg 244]tremendous sea running, they had the narrowest escape from being capsized; one man was washed out of the boat, but was recovered, and most of the loose tackle was swept overboard and irretrievably lost.RAMSGATE.RAMSGATE.Popular Ramsgate, with its fashionably select annexe St. Lawrence-on-Sea, is so well known by all, that no lengthened description is required here, for its actual and practical connection with the sea, in the noble work done by its lifeboatsmen, has already been detailed. Ramsgate has a fine harbour and piers, from which the“husbands’ boat”is often, more especially on Saturdays, watched and longed for by hundreds of wives and daughters.Margate had, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, fifteen boats and other vessels, ranging from one to eighteen tons, there being four of the latter. It had 108 inhabited houses. It now has a floating population of 50,000 to 70,000 people, the permanent residents being about 15,000 in number. There are several pilots, and a large number of luggers employed in fishing and in seeking for casualties; it owns a certain number of coasting vessels; while a large number of coasters and French fishing-boats come in during the winter months and fishing season for refuge, repairs, and provisions. Margate has a Seaman’s Room and Observatory, and Ramsgate a Seaman’s Infirmary. The local agents[pg 245]of the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society have their hands full in winter, and generally at other seasons in stormy weather.THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.Who that has visited Ramsgate or Margate, has not, some time or other in his or her life, nourished an all-absorbing curiosity to peep into the interior and solve the mysteries of those distant beacons, the“Floating Light Ships.”Those who have seen them either lying peacefully on the tranquil bosom of the sunlit ocean, or trembling and shaken in Neptune’s angry moods, still valiant and isolated, nobly doing their duty, must often have wished to get a closer view. That natural curiosity can be gratified at last; the curtain has been raised, so that we may peep into the mysteries of the flame-coloured sphinxes, by a writer60who went into voluntary imprisonment for one week on the Gulf Stream Light Vessel, one of three floating lights which mark the Goodwin Sands.“That curious, almost ridiculous-looking craft,”writes Mr. Ballantyne,“was among the aristocracy of shipping. Its important office stamped it with nobility. It lay there, conspicuous in its royal colour, from day to day and year to year, to mark the fair-way between Old England and the outlying shoals, distinguished in daylight by a huge ball at its mast-head, and at night by a magnificent lantern, with argand lamps and concave reflectors, which shot rays like lightning far and wide over the watery waste, while in thick weather, when neither ball nor light could be discerned, a sonorous gong gave its deep-toned warning to the approaching mariner, and let him know his position amidst the surrounding dangers.”Here the writer bestows well-deserved praise upon the services,“disinterested and universal,”of this lonely craft, and afterwards tells you what would meet the eye, if, leaning against the stern, you gazed along the deck forward.“It was an interesting kingdom in detail. Leaving out of view all that which was behind him, and which, of course, he could not see, we may remark that just before him stood the binnacle and compass, and the cabin skylight. On his right and left the territory of the quarter deck was seriously circumscribed and the promenade much interfered with by the ship’s boats, which, like their parent, were painted red, and which did not hang at the davits, but, like young lobsters of the kangaroo type, found shelter within their mother when not at sea on their own account. Near to them were two signal carronades. Beyond the skylight rose the bright brass funnel of the cabin chimney, and the winch by means of which the lantern was hoisted. Then came another skylight and the companion hatch about the centre of the deck. Just beyond this stood the most important part of the vessel—the lantern-house. This was a circular wooden structure about six feet in diameter, with a door and small windows.“Inside was the lantern—the beautiful piece of mechanism for which the light-ship, its crew and appurtenances, were maintained. Right through the centre of this house rose the thick, unyielding mast of the vessel. The lantern, which was just a little less than its house, surrounded the mast and travelled upon it.”Immediately at sundown the order“Up lights”was given, regular as the sun itself. The lantern was connected with the rod and pinion, by means of which with the clock-work beneath, the light was made to revolve and“flash”once every third of a minute. The glass of the lantern is frequently broken, not by wind and wave, but by the sea-birds, which dash violently against it. In a single night, nine panes of[pg 246]a light-house were shattered from this cause. On one occasion one thousand wild ducks were caught by the crew of a light-ship. It is necessary to defend with trellis-work the lights most exposed.The cabin of the Floating Light was marvellously neat and clean. Everything was put away in its proper place, not only as the result of order and discipline, but on account of the extreme smallness of the cabin. The author of the work from which we quote depicts a scene on board during a night of storms when a wreck and unexpected rescue took place:—“A little before midnight, while I was rolling uneasily in my‘bunk,’contending with sleep and sea-sickness, and moralising on the madness of those who choose‘the sea’for a profession, I was roused—and sickness instantly cured—by the watch on deck suddenly shouting down the hatchway to the mate,‘South Sand Head light is firing, sir, and sending up rockets.’The mate sprang from his‘bunk,’and was on the cabin-floor before the sentence was well finished. I followed suit, and pulled on coat, nether garments, and shoes, as if my life depended on my own speed. There was unusual need for clothing, for the night was bitterly cold. On gaining the deck, we found the two men on duty actively at work—the one loading the lee gun, the other adjusting a rocket to its stick. A few hurried questions from the mate elicited all that it was needful to know.“The flash of the gun from the‘South Sand Head’light-ship, about six miles off, had been distinctly seen a third time, and a third rocket went up, indicating that a vessel had struck upon the fatal Goodwin Sands. The report of the gun could not be heard, owing to the gale carrying the sound to leeward, but the bright line of the rocket was distinctly visible. At the same moment the glaring light of a burning tar-barrel was observed. It was the signal of the vessel in distress, just on the southern tail of the sands.“By this time the gun was charged, and the rocket in position.“One of the crew dived down the companion-hatch, and in another moment returned with a red-hot poker, which the mate had thrust into the cabin fire at the first alarm. He applied it in quick succession to the gun and rocket. A blinding flash and deafening crash were followed by the whiz of the rocket as it sprang with a magnificent curve far away into the surrounding darkness.“This was their answer to the South Sand Head light, which, having fired three guns and sent up three rockets to attract the attention of theGull, then ceased firing. It was also their first note of warning to the look-out on the pier of Ramsgate Harbour. Of the three light-ships that guarded the sands, theGulllay nearest to Ramsgate; hence, which ever of the other two happened to send up signals, theGullhad to reply, and thenceforward to continue repeating them until the attention of the Ramsgate look-out should be gained, and a reply given.“The steam tugAid, which always attends upon, and takes in tow, the Ramsgate life-boat, soon hove in sight, going to the rescue, thus showing the great value of steam in such matters. Having learnt the direction of the wreck from the mate of the light-ship, they proceeded on their course.”The life of the crew of every light-ship is pretty much the same on Sunday. At dawn the lantern is lowered and cleaned and prepared for the next night’s work. At 8 a.m. all hands must be on the alert, the hammocks stowed, and breakfast served. At 10.30 the men[pg 247]assemble for prayers, and the captain or mate performs divine service. After sunset the men meet again for prayers. With the exception of the services, the routine on week days is the same as on Sunday. The captain and mate take turn and turn—a month on board and a month on shore; the men do duty for two months on board for one on shore; and, monotonous as their life may seem to the uninitiated, it is doubtful whether there is not a beneficial moral activity in existence on a floating light that tends to elevate the character of both officers and men.

Eastbourne and its Quiet Charms—Hastings—Its Fishermen—The Battle of Hastings—Loss of theGrosser Kurfürst—The Collision—The Catastrophe—Dover—The Castle—Shakespeare’s Cliff—“O’er the Downs so free”—St. Margaret’s Bay—Kingsdown—Deal—A Deed of Daring—Ramsgate and Margate—The Floating Light on the Goodwin Sands—Ballantyne’s Voluntary Imprisonment—His Experiences—The Craft—The Light—One Thousand Wild Ducks caught—A Signal from the“South Sand Head”—The Answer—Life on Board.

The coast north-east from Beachy Head is rugged and interesting till Eastbourne is reached, one of the quietest and prettiest of the south-coast watering-places, and one which has been very greatly improved of late by the lavish expenditure of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, the principal landowner in the neighbourhood. Some of the promenades are planted with treesà la boulevard. The bathing and boating are both excellent; while in the neighbourhood are the ruins of Pevensey, an old Norman castle, and Hurstmonceaux, a red-brick castle of the mediæval period, ivy-and creeper-covered, and embowered in trees. It is the delight of artists, who annually besiege it in great numbers. Eastbourne has some hundred fishermen[pg 236]engaged in the herring and mackerel fisheries. They have a benefit association or club, into which they pay a monthly subscription, and when their nets are damaged or lost a part of the money needed to repair or replace them is found. There is also a lifeboat, which has done excellent work.

And next in sequence comes historical Hastings, which extends for near a mile along the sea at the present time, or, if we include the fashionable town of St. Leonard’s-on-Sea, its sea front must be reckoned at nearly three miles. Many readers will be familiar with the charming glen or vale in which it is situated, and which opens to the sea on the south. Hastings is otherwise sheltered by high hills and cliffs, and has a warm, even, and yet bracing climate; for salubrity it will rank with any of the popular sea-side resorts. It has a steady population of about 35,000, of whom 700 are fishermen and boatmen. In one week the herring catch has been worth £5,000. A boat fitted for the herring or mackerel season is worth £350, and for trawling £200. The mackerel season commences in April and continues till the latter end of July, while the trawling commences and ends two or two and a half months later. The herring season commences in September and ends in the latter part of November. There is a church at Hastings, under the eastern cliffs, for the special accommodation of fishermen.

The famous battle of Hastings was foughtA.D.1066, Oct. 14. The alarm sounded, both parties immediately prepared for action; but the English spent the night previous to it in riot and jollity, whilst the Normans were occupied in the duties of religion. On the morning the Duke called together his principal officers, and ordered the signal of battle to be given. Then the whole army, moving at once, and singing the hymn or song of Roland, advanced in order and with alacrity towards the English.

Harold had seized the advantage of a rising ground, and, having secured his flanks with trenches, resolved to stand upon the defensive, and to avoid an engagement with the cavalry, in which he was inferior. The Kentish men were placed in the van, a post of honour which they always claimed as their due. The Londoners guarded the standard; and the King himself, accompanied by his two valiant brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, dismounting from his horse, placed himself at the head of his infantry, and expressed his resolution to conquer or to die. The first attack of the Normans was desperate, but was received with equal valour by the English, and the former began to retreat, when William hastened to their support with a select band. His presence restored the courage of his followers, and the English in their turn were obliged to retire. They rallied again, however, assisted by the advantage of the ground, and William, in order to gain the victory, had recourse to a stratagem, which, had it failed, would have resulted in his total ruin. He commanded his troops to allure the enemy from their position by the appearance of flight. The English followed with precipitation; the Normans faced upon them in the plain, and drove them back with considerable slaughter. The artifice was a second time repeated, with the same success; yet a great body of the English still maintained themselves in firm array, and seemed determined to dispute the victory. While they were galled by the Norman archers behind, they were attacked by the heavy-armed infantry in front; and Harold himself was slain by an arrow as he combated with great bravery at the head of his men. The English, discouraged by the fall of their prince, fled on all sides. The[pg 238]memory of the eventful fight is kept green by the name of Hastings, and Battle Abbey, in its immediate neighbourhood.

THE LAST OF THE GROSSER KURFÜRST.THE LAST OF THEGROSSER KURFÜRST.

THE LAST OF THEGROSSER KURFÜRST.

Sadly must all readers look back upon the morning of Friday, May the 31st, 1878, when theGrosser Kurfürstwent down off Sandgate, so near to land that the people on shore felt certain that the commander would be able to beach her before she had time to sink, unhappily an entirely erroneous supposition. Very shortly before this ever-to-be-lamented catastrophe occurred, the German squadron, in command of Admiral Von Batsch, was sailing with a light easterly wind blowing down Channel with all the pomp and pardonable display of a force so numerically small yet so grandly powerful. The sea was perfectly smooth, the weather fine, and there seemed no more reason for anticipating the impending danger than if they had been lying at anchor in the sunlit harbour of Bremen.

The squadron consisted of three vessels, sailing in two columns—theKönig Wilhelm, carrying the admiral’s flag, and thePreussenforming the port division, theGrosser Kurfürstforming the starboard, and less than two ships’ lengths apart from the admiral; indeed, it is said that scarcely one length intervened.

“In this formation the German squadron came across two sailing vessels hauled to the wind,”says the writer of the article from which we quote,“on the port tack, and consequently standing right across the bows of both divisions. TheGrosser Kurfürsthad first to give way, which she did at the proper time and strictly in accordance with the rule of the road, porting her helm and passing under the stern of the first of these two sailing ships. But theKönig Wilhelm, which it must be borne in mind was close to theGrosser Kurfürstat this time, and steering a course parallel to her, endeavoured at first to cross the bows of the sailing vessel, but finding she had no room for this manœuvre, rapidly changed her plan, and, putting her helm hard a-port, also stood under the stern of the sailing vessel. In the meanwhile theGrosser Kurfürsthad resumed her original course, and thus was lying right across the bows of theKönig Wilhelm, as she came under the stern of the sailing barque almost at right angles to the original course.... The captain of theGrosser Kurfürst, Graf Von Montz, seeing the terrible proximity of theKönig Wilhelm, immediately put his vessel at full speed, hoping to cross her bows, but the space would not allow it. He then gave the order to port his helm, hoping to lay his ship parallel to the course of theKönig Wilhelm, but unfortunately for this also there was neither time nor space.”All might have gone well up to this point, however, as it appears theKönig Wilhelmwas in charge of an“able and experienced officer;”he had given the order to port the helm to steer clear of the sailing vessel, and then ordered the helm to be“immediately steadied,”intending to range up alongside theGrosser Kurfürst; but the helmsman had become bewildered, and instead of steadying put the helm still more port. TheKönig Wilhelmwas put at full speed astern, and the fatal crash could not be avoided. All now was confusion on both vessels.

TheKönig Wilhelmcarried away everything from the point where she struck theGrosser Kurfürstto the stern,“ripping off the armour plating like the skin of an orange.”The bowsprit of theKönig Wilhelmfouled the rigging of the ill-starred ship and brought down the mizzen top-gallant-mast on the quarter-deck, and the quarter boats were swept away“like strips of paper.”

The doomed iron-clad went down in seven minutes; on board there was scarcely time left the officers and crew to think much less to act with effect. The boats that had not been smashed could hardly be got into the water; the hammocks had been stowed in some unusual place, so that it was useless to attempt to get at them, and thus a very perfect means of escape was cut off from the 280 poor fellows that were drowned.

THE “KÖNIG WILHELM” ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.THE“KÖNIG WILHELM”ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.

THE“KÖNIG WILHELM”ENTERING PORTSMOUTH HARBOUR AFTER THE COLLISION.

The experience of the first lieutenant when the vessel was going down under the very eyes of a number of people on shore is interesting in the extreme. He felt himself sucked in, and describes a sensation of enormous pressure on his ribs, as if the water were forcing him down. Then he came across another column of water, which as promptly vomited him up to the surface again, when he caught hold of a spar, and saved his life. A dreadful fate befell some thirty unfortunate sailors, who, in spite of the commands and entreaties of the boatswain, who was standing on the forecastle, threw themselves over the bows, and endeavoured to swim away. But the sinking ship was too fast for them, and they were caught in the netting which is stretched under the jibboom, and, thus entangled, were carried down with the ship. The disabledKönig Wilhelmwas almost immediately towed into Portsmouth for repairs.59

Dover is by no means so generally known as many less interesting places on the south coast, for the larger number of those who depart for or arrive from the Continent usually pass it by. It has been often incidentally mentioned in these pages, but no description of its special attractions has yet been given.

It is situated not far from the South Foreland, in the extreme south-east corner of Kent, on the narrowest part of the British Channel, and only some twenty miles from the opposite coast of France. Hence it is the port for steamers crossing to Calais on the Continental service, a trip usually made in about one hour and three-quarters. If the reader should cross on the now-famousCalais-Douvres, the luxurious and easy-riding twin vessel, he will hardly require the advice relative to themal de mercontained in a previous chapter. Dover, though comparatively little used as a watering-place, possesses excellent accommodation for visitors—bathing-machines, and all the usual paraphernalia of such places. Its grand hotel,“The Lord Warden,”is second to none in England, and has sheltered scores of crowned heads and coroneted aristocrats, as well as the less distinguished, though perhaps equally worthy, Jones, Brown, Smith, and Robinson.

On the eastern side of the town stands that elevated and noble fortress the Castle, of which some description has already been given. A short distance from it the chalk cliff rises 370 feet above the sea, and hard by stands a beautiful piece of brass ordnance, 24 feet in length, which bears the name of“Queen Elizabeth’s Pocket Pistol,”and was presented to her Majesty by the States of Holland. It is said to carry a 12-lb. ball to a distance of seven miles. It is curiously adorned with a variety of devices, typifying the blessings of peace and the horrors of war. On its breech is the following motto in Dutch, which, freely translated, signifies:—

“O’er hill and dale I throw my ball,Breaker my name of mound and wall.”

“O’er hill and dale I throw my ball,

Breaker my name of mound and wall.”

To the westward of the town rises the majestic headland named after our immortal[pg 240]bard. Shakespeare’s cliff rears its lofty headat the present timeto an altitude of 350 feet, but in the great dramatist’s day its summit was much higher, as indicated by the enormous boulders and heaps ofdébrisat its base, the result of frequent landslips and falls. Shakespeare well describes this grand precipice:—

“Come on, sir; here’s the place: stand still. How fearfulAnd dizzy ’tis, to cast one’s eyes so low!The crows and choughs that wing the midway airShow scarce so gross as beetles: half way downHangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade!Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:The fishermen that walk upon the beachAppear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy,Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more,Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sightTopple down headlong.”

“Come on, sir; here’s the place: stand still. How fearful

And dizzy ’tis, to cast one’s eyes so low!

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air

Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down

Hangs one that gathers samphire—dreadful trade!

Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:

The fishermen that walk upon the beach

Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,

Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy,

Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge,

That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,

Cannot be heard so high. I’ll look no more,

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight

Topple down headlong.”

DOVER.DOVER.

DOVER.

From the heights about Dover the views are magnificent. Seaward is the beautiful bay, the Straits and the Downs, with its ever-changing fleets, the ships of all nations.[pg 241]Stretching one’s vision a little farther are seen the lofty white cliffs of the French coast; Cape Grisnez, near Calais (which itself lies on low land, and is therefore undiscernible), and the heights of Boulogne.

The antiquity of Dover is undeniable. Julius Cæsar here made his first descent on Britain, in August,B.C.55. Picts and Scots, Danes and Normans, successively attacked it; while at the period of the Conquest, 1066, the town suffered fearfully, the whole place being reduced to ashes except twenty-nine houses. But when it became one of the Cinque Ports it soon rose in importance, and Dover men largely helped that brilliant attack on Philip IV.’s fleet, by which France lost 240 vessels. That enraged monarch retaliated on Dover by burning the larger part of the town; but before the year 1296 the British navy had not merely swept the enemy from the Channel, but had made several reprisals on the coast of France. At the period of the Armada, Dover, with the other Cinque Ports, fitted out, at a cost of £43,000, six large ships for the Queen’s service, which were the means of decoying the greatGalleasof Spain on a shoal, afterwards engaging and burning her.

Riding or walking over the Downs some interesting places may be seen on or near the coast. At St. Margaret’s Bay, seven miles north from Dover—to the merits of the[pg 242]lobsters of which the present writer can testify, having both caught and eaten them—there is a pretty little fishing-village, with“Fisherman’s Inn”embowered in trees, at the base of lofty cliffs. Here the preliminary borings for the possible Channel Tunnel of the future were made. Farther on is Kingsdown, a fishing village and lifeboat station, the men and boat of which have done specially good service in saving life. Visible from thence is Walmer Castle and quaint old Deal, so often mentioned in these pages in connection with lifeboat work on the Goodwin Sands, themselves also plainly in sight. Riding at anchor in Deal Roads, or outward bound, or on the homeward tack, are seen ships, great and little, flying the colours of every maritime nation under the sun. The trip from Dover to Deal and back can be made by any tolerable pedestrian in a day, allowing time for visits to all the points just named. That part of the trip from Dover to St. Margaret’s Bay can be made over the Downs only, but thence to Deal the coast can be easily followed.

Coming nearer home, the writer must record a case of“derring-do,”which will prove—if after what these pages have recorded of the men of Deal and Walmer and Kingsdown, of Ramsgate and Margate, further proof were needed—that the men of the North and South Foreland are not degenerate descendants of their forefathers, who sailed and fought and died with Blake and Nelson. It occurred in Deal on a Sunday morning in bleak December. A whole gale was blowing from the south-west and vessels in the comparatively sheltered Downs were riding to both anchors. As the various congregations were leaving their respective places of worship umbrellas were blown inside out, and children were taken off their feet or clung frightened to their parents’ limbs, the wind and spray along Deal beach being blinding. Let the“Chaplain”(nom de plumeof the excellent clergyman who superintends the Missions to Seamen) tell the tale.“Just then,”he writes,“in answer to the boom of the distant gun, the bell rang to man the lifeboat, and the Deal boatmen gallantly answered to the summons. A rush was made for the life-belts and for the coxswain’s house. The coxswain, Robert Wilds, has for fifteen years held the yoke-lines through the surf on the sands, and knows the powers of the boat to save. Fourteen men besides the coxswain were the crew, and with a mighty rush they launched the good boat down the steep beach to the rescue. There were three vessels on the Goodwins. The crew of one took to their boats, and not being in the worst part of the sands got safe round the North Foreland to Margate. Another schooner, supposed to be a Dane, disappeared, and was lost with all hands. The third, a German barque, theLeda, with a crew of seventeen‘all told,’was stuck fast in the worst part of the sands—viz., the South Spit, on which even on a fine day the writer has encountered a dangerous and peculiar boil or tumble of seas. The barque’s main and mizen masts by this time were gone, and the crew were clinging to the weather bulwarks, while sheets of solid water made a clean breach over them—so much so that from cold and long exposure the captain was almost exhausted. The Deal life-boat, theVan Kook, fetched a little to windward of the devoted barque, and dropping anchor, veered down on her. One cable being too short, another was bent on to it, and closer and closer came the lifeboat. If the cable parted and the lifeboat struck the ship with full force, not a man would probably have survived to tell the tale; or if they got to leeward of the barque the crew of the wreck would have been lost, as the lifeboat could not again have worked‘to weather’to drop down as before. No friendly steam-tug was at hand to help the lifeboat to windward in case of failure in this their first attempt, and both[pg 243]the crew in distress and their rescuers were well aware of the stake at issue, and that this was the last chance. But the lifeboat crew said,‘We’re bound to save them,’and with all the coolness of the race, yet‘daring all that men dare do,’they concentrated their energies on getting close enough to the wreck to throw their line, and yet to keep far enough off to ensure the boat’s safety. They were now beaten and hustled by the tremendous seas breaking into and over them, and no other boat could have lived a moment in the cauldron of waters seething and raging around them. Notwithstanding the self-emptying power of the wondrous boat, the seas broke into her in such quick succession that she was and remained full up to her thwarts while alongside the vessel, and as each cataract came on board the coxswain sang out,‘Look out, men!’and they grasped the thwarts and held on with both hands, breathless, for dear life. One sea hurled the lifeboat against the ship, and stove in her fore air-box, so that the safety of all made it necessary to sheer off. Another sea prostrated two men under her thwarts. The lifeboat’s throw-line was at last got on board the barque, and communication being established the crew were drawn on board the lifeboat through the raging waves by ones or twos, as the seas permitted. Thus saved from the jaws of death, so astonished were the rescued crew at the submerged condition of the lifeboat and the awful turmoil of water around them that some of them wished to get back to their perishing vessel; but the coxswain and crew knew the powers of their gallant boat.‘Up foresail and cut the cable,’and with its goodly freight of thirty-four souls the lifeboat, hurled like a feather, sometimes dead before the wind, and next moment‘taken aback,’plunged into the surf for home. One of the rescued crew had twice before been saved by the same boat (theVan Kook), and encouraged his comrades with a recital of his previous deliverances. Some rum, which was brought for the use of the lifeboat crew, was generously given by them and all used by the perishing men of the barque. And so at last, sodden through and through, exhausted, but gloriously successful, they landed the staggering and grateful Germans on the Deal beach, where, despite the storm, crowds met them with wondering and thankful hearts.”

Among nearly all classes who dwell near and love the sea the same heroic spirit prevails. Only in 1879 Lord Dunmore, with John M‘Rae, Ewen M‘Leod, and Norman Macdonald, put out to sea in a furious Atlantic gale, in the noble Scottish peer’sundeckedcutter, theDauntless, when no other boat would venture out at all, and saved the lives of several men, women, and children from the yachtAstarte, wrecked on a small island-rock between Harris and the North Uist coast (west coast of Scotland). The noble hero of this gallant band is a Murray of the ducal tree of Atholl, sharing the savage motto,“Forth fortune, and fill the fetters.”The spirit of daring adventure which spurred his forefathers to feats of reckless foray and ruthless feud has, in a milder age, developed into the performance of deeds of valour for the benefit of suffering humanity.

Sad to say, occasionally, there is another story to be told. In February, 1880, some strapping fishermen refused to make up the complement of the Blackpool lifeboat—some of her own men being away fishing off North Wales, and others at Fleetwood—and remained leafing on the beach while they let the coxswain take in two joiners and a stonemason, and then start two short of the complement. Nevertheless four persons were saved from the wreck of theBessie Jones, under circumstances most honourable to the rescuers. On their return, being obliged to run over the bank with a[pg 244]tremendous sea running, they had the narrowest escape from being capsized; one man was washed out of the boat, but was recovered, and most of the loose tackle was swept overboard and irretrievably lost.

RAMSGATE.RAMSGATE.

RAMSGATE.

Popular Ramsgate, with its fashionably select annexe St. Lawrence-on-Sea, is so well known by all, that no lengthened description is required here, for its actual and practical connection with the sea, in the noble work done by its lifeboatsmen, has already been detailed. Ramsgate has a fine harbour and piers, from which the“husbands’ boat”is often, more especially on Saturdays, watched and longed for by hundreds of wives and daughters.

Margate had, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, fifteen boats and other vessels, ranging from one to eighteen tons, there being four of the latter. It had 108 inhabited houses. It now has a floating population of 50,000 to 70,000 people, the permanent residents being about 15,000 in number. There are several pilots, and a large number of luggers employed in fishing and in seeking for casualties; it owns a certain number of coasting vessels; while a large number of coasters and French fishing-boats come in during the winter months and fishing season for refuge, repairs, and provisions. Margate has a Seaman’s Room and Observatory, and Ramsgate a Seaman’s Infirmary. The local agents[pg 245]of the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society have their hands full in winter, and generally at other seasons in stormy weather.

THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.

THE GULF STREAM LIGHT VESSEL ON THE GOODWIN SANDS.

Who that has visited Ramsgate or Margate, has not, some time or other in his or her life, nourished an all-absorbing curiosity to peep into the interior and solve the mysteries of those distant beacons, the“Floating Light Ships.”Those who have seen them either lying peacefully on the tranquil bosom of the sunlit ocean, or trembling and shaken in Neptune’s angry moods, still valiant and isolated, nobly doing their duty, must often have wished to get a closer view. That natural curiosity can be gratified at last; the curtain has been raised, so that we may peep into the mysteries of the flame-coloured sphinxes, by a writer60who went into voluntary imprisonment for one week on the Gulf Stream Light Vessel, one of three floating lights which mark the Goodwin Sands.

“That curious, almost ridiculous-looking craft,”writes Mr. Ballantyne,“was among the aristocracy of shipping. Its important office stamped it with nobility. It lay there, conspicuous in its royal colour, from day to day and year to year, to mark the fair-way between Old England and the outlying shoals, distinguished in daylight by a huge ball at its mast-head, and at night by a magnificent lantern, with argand lamps and concave reflectors, which shot rays like lightning far and wide over the watery waste, while in thick weather, when neither ball nor light could be discerned, a sonorous gong gave its deep-toned warning to the approaching mariner, and let him know his position amidst the surrounding dangers.”

Here the writer bestows well-deserved praise upon the services,“disinterested and universal,”of this lonely craft, and afterwards tells you what would meet the eye, if, leaning against the stern, you gazed along the deck forward.

“It was an interesting kingdom in detail. Leaving out of view all that which was behind him, and which, of course, he could not see, we may remark that just before him stood the binnacle and compass, and the cabin skylight. On his right and left the territory of the quarter deck was seriously circumscribed and the promenade much interfered with by the ship’s boats, which, like their parent, were painted red, and which did not hang at the davits, but, like young lobsters of the kangaroo type, found shelter within their mother when not at sea on their own account. Near to them were two signal carronades. Beyond the skylight rose the bright brass funnel of the cabin chimney, and the winch by means of which the lantern was hoisted. Then came another skylight and the companion hatch about the centre of the deck. Just beyond this stood the most important part of the vessel—the lantern-house. This was a circular wooden structure about six feet in diameter, with a door and small windows.

“Inside was the lantern—the beautiful piece of mechanism for which the light-ship, its crew and appurtenances, were maintained. Right through the centre of this house rose the thick, unyielding mast of the vessel. The lantern, which was just a little less than its house, surrounded the mast and travelled upon it.”Immediately at sundown the order“Up lights”was given, regular as the sun itself. The lantern was connected with the rod and pinion, by means of which with the clock-work beneath, the light was made to revolve and“flash”once every third of a minute. The glass of the lantern is frequently broken, not by wind and wave, but by the sea-birds, which dash violently against it. In a single night, nine panes of[pg 246]a light-house were shattered from this cause. On one occasion one thousand wild ducks were caught by the crew of a light-ship. It is necessary to defend with trellis-work the lights most exposed.

The cabin of the Floating Light was marvellously neat and clean. Everything was put away in its proper place, not only as the result of order and discipline, but on account of the extreme smallness of the cabin. The author of the work from which we quote depicts a scene on board during a night of storms when a wreck and unexpected rescue took place:—“A little before midnight, while I was rolling uneasily in my‘bunk,’contending with sleep and sea-sickness, and moralising on the madness of those who choose‘the sea’for a profession, I was roused—and sickness instantly cured—by the watch on deck suddenly shouting down the hatchway to the mate,‘South Sand Head light is firing, sir, and sending up rockets.’The mate sprang from his‘bunk,’and was on the cabin-floor before the sentence was well finished. I followed suit, and pulled on coat, nether garments, and shoes, as if my life depended on my own speed. There was unusual need for clothing, for the night was bitterly cold. On gaining the deck, we found the two men on duty actively at work—the one loading the lee gun, the other adjusting a rocket to its stick. A few hurried questions from the mate elicited all that it was needful to know.

“The flash of the gun from the‘South Sand Head’light-ship, about six miles off, had been distinctly seen a third time, and a third rocket went up, indicating that a vessel had struck upon the fatal Goodwin Sands. The report of the gun could not be heard, owing to the gale carrying the sound to leeward, but the bright line of the rocket was distinctly visible. At the same moment the glaring light of a burning tar-barrel was observed. It was the signal of the vessel in distress, just on the southern tail of the sands.

“By this time the gun was charged, and the rocket in position.

“One of the crew dived down the companion-hatch, and in another moment returned with a red-hot poker, which the mate had thrust into the cabin fire at the first alarm. He applied it in quick succession to the gun and rocket. A blinding flash and deafening crash were followed by the whiz of the rocket as it sprang with a magnificent curve far away into the surrounding darkness.

“This was their answer to the South Sand Head light, which, having fired three guns and sent up three rockets to attract the attention of theGull, then ceased firing. It was also their first note of warning to the look-out on the pier of Ramsgate Harbour. Of the three light-ships that guarded the sands, theGulllay nearest to Ramsgate; hence, which ever of the other two happened to send up signals, theGullhad to reply, and thenceforward to continue repeating them until the attention of the Ramsgate look-out should be gained, and a reply given.

“The steam tugAid, which always attends upon, and takes in tow, the Ramsgate life-boat, soon hove in sight, going to the rescue, thus showing the great value of steam in such matters. Having learnt the direction of the wreck from the mate of the light-ship, they proceeded on their course.”

The life of the crew of every light-ship is pretty much the same on Sunday. At dawn the lantern is lowered and cleaned and prepared for the next night’s work. At 8 a.m. all hands must be on the alert, the hammocks stowed, and breakfast served. At 10.30 the men[pg 247]assemble for prayers, and the captain or mate performs divine service. After sunset the men meet again for prayers. With the exception of the services, the routine on week days is the same as on Sunday. The captain and mate take turn and turn—a month on board and a month on shore; the men do duty for two months on board for one on shore; and, monotonous as their life may seem to the uninitiated, it is doubtful whether there is not a beneficial moral activity in existence on a floating light that tends to elevate the character of both officers and men.

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