A CORNISH WRECK IN 1861.

Lyttelton Times, Volume XVII, Issue 977, 22 March 1862, Page 3

A CORNISH WRECK IN 1861.

A correspondent of the ' Times,' an eye-witness, forwards to that journal a very spirited description of a scene on the Cornish coast on the 7th of October. His object is to draw attention to the gallantry of our modern " wreckers," one of whom has lost his life:—

, No heavier surf rolls upon Great Britain, cor is there a more inhospitable shore than that from Hartland westwards. The day before yesterday I was standing at sunset on the break-water of Bude. The waves were dashing heavily on the' rocks. A noble lifeboat had just been successfully exercising her powers against the upright walls of water. The crowd that had watched her were dispersing when a small schooner and a sloop in the offing showed signs of approach. The danger signal was hoisted. The wind off shore made entrance in such a sea impossible. "By Heaven," said the harbour-master, " the sloop is coining in. In an hour Captain Brown' will be drowned." Inside the breakers lay the Hobbler's boat, unable to approach. In creeps the sloop till her sails shake in the wind. She now drives slowly to the northwards. The sun is down. We just see her riseon the surf, then heel over, then fall on her broadside under the opposite cliff. Roller after roller tumbled in heavily; now she rises, and then dashes down into the foam. We, who have watched with pri'tlcrthe lifeboat, felt a sore aching as we saw the little 60-ton sloop doomed. The two sturdy fellows who for an honest but painful livelihood unceasingly navigate these rude seas in their ricketty craft seem to deserve another fate.

The lifeboat cannot approach the reef. " A rocket might save them !" It is a mile round the bay to the opposite cliff. Away run the crowd. Hoyle, chief boatman of Preventives, is not yet out of the life-boat, of which he is captain. He jumps ashore. 1A carfc is soon at the station house; the rocket and their apparatus are put in ; the crowd follow as you of London might follow a fire eugine. We reached the cliff. It is now dark. From the surf, in the recoil of the wave beneath the cliff, here some 70 feet high, Brown cheerily answers, " Ay, ay," and is then submerged under the next breaker. Will she hold an hour as she crunches against the rocks ? We lie down or strain over the ricketty edge. '* Keep back," say the knowing ones, " lest the cliff give way." Awaj r flies the rocket, lighting up the caldron below. The captain and his mates are clinging to the mast-head. " Have you the line ?" is shouted. Cheerily but yet more faint, " Ay, ay," reaches our straining ears. The block is fixed. The hawser is hauled out; a few more anxious moments and Hoyle and his chief mate Daingher cry again, "Stand back," and Brown ia lifted over the cliff. We feel, for we cannot see, the dripping, battered,' cheery little fellow, who, after shaking himself like an old Newfoundland, rushes to the cliff edge, to help in hauling up his mate, " Joe of Clovelly."

The excited crowd gives heart-choking hurrahs, and retires inland. Scarce one hour from the illfated entry of the sloop has completed all. In the morning, at daylight, most of us return •to see washing away by the incoming tide the shivered timbers of the luckless sloop. Brown, the industrious and ruined seaman, is there too, and takes a look at his hard earned savings; his life only spared; he must begin all again. So might have ended my tale of a Cornish wreck in'6l.

But, " One is taken 'and another left." To the skill and the alacrity of Hoyle, Daingher, and their men, acting in obedience to the excellent instructions of the Board of Trade, the result was due. : But Daingher is out all night, no doubt on duty; in the morning he is not seen, and at noon his body is found at the haven mouth. Returning home he fell over the cliff. Whether lie had a family I know not. The man appeared to be an intrepid, sterling seaman. He dies unseen in this remote spot, but at his post. , , -: , ■■■-. ■■■'..■ -