The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1875-01-30 00:00:00

WRECK AND RESCUE.

The Times of Tuesday published the following letter :

Sir,—ln the hope that good may come of it, will you
kindly allow me to describe in The Times a stirring
event which has just occurred at this little seaside
plaoe ? _

Early this morning the brigantine Wild Wave, of
Exeter, having mistaken her course in the haze, struck
upon Peverill Ledge, the outlying southern boundary
of Swanage Bay. It had oeen a tempestuous night,
and a southerly wind blew a heavy sea over the sunken
serrated reef, which stretches out about half a mile off
shore. My house is not very far from the spot, and at
about five o'clock, as I lay awake listening to the
furious gusts of wind and pelting rain, a loud
rushing noise suddenly brought me out of bed.
I recognized the sound of a life-saving rocket, and
before I could dress a second report convinced me that
I was not mistaken. A few minutes brought myself
and my son to the reef, there was but dark figure visible,
standing at the edge of the cliff. The fishermen and
good people of Swanage were all evidently slumberinc,
in their beds. The sea was a seething chaos of white
water, and a tremendous tidal race was running over
the ledge in the same direction as the wind. Soon,
through the mingled haze and darkness, we saw, at
some 250 yards distance, a large ship, lying on her
beam ends across the reef, tilted up by the sharp
edges and points of the rock, which every now and
then appeared like sharks' teeth, piercing through the
long sweeping waves. Her masts and rigging were
lying prone on the surface ot the sea, but from time to
time they were heaved upwards, as if by some inward
convulsive effort of the ship, and then fell back again
with a heavy " swash," while the foaming breakers
rushed over the vessel from stem to stern, sometimes,
indeed, hiding her completely from our sight. It was
a bad case—it seemed, indeed, impossible that any
living soul could be left on board.
Swanage has hitherto had no life-boat, but after
this morning's work we shall supply that want. Never-
theless, two slowly moving dark objects in the sea were
just discernible, and a few hurried words of explana-
tion from the solitary Coastguardsman, left in charge
of the rocket apparatus, informed us that the dark
objects where the two ordinary coastguard boats with
the rest of his own comrades on board, doing their
duty, as it seemed to me, with the prospect of almost
certain death. Both the rockets fired had been good
shots, the second even carried the line right across the
middle of the ship, betwixt her two masts, as she
was still standing upright, and the crew secured
it; but just at that moment, a tremendous sea
struck the ship, threw her on her beam ends, and as it
seems either the line was lost or else all hands had
been carried away, for no further sign was made. It
was found impossible for the boats to approach the
wreck, and it was providential that they made the
land again in safety. Another rocket was successfully
fired, but no signal came in return. All hope seemed
lost, and an anxious hour was passed in the darkness.
By this time Swanage had been roused up. A tele-
gram was sent to Poole for the tug steamer Royal
Albert and the lifeboat, and prompt replies were
received. At last the daylight dawned; every eye
was eagerly directed to the devoted ship, and sure
enough, contrary to all expectation, what appeared to
be five dark sodden bundles, rather than living crea-
tures, were seen, all clustered together, clinging to a
mass of tangled rigging, at the highest part of the
ship's hull.
It had now become doubtful how much longer the
wreck would hold together, but, at all events, the
peril could now be seen, and it was indeed perilous
work. Not a moment was lost in again manning the
Coastguard boats, and with nine men, and the gallant
chief officer, Mr. J. Lose on board, for the second
time they put to sea. By a special Providence, as if
with the daylight, the wind moderated and shifted a
point or two. Manfully the good seamen struggled
against the roaring tide race and the lashing waves.
Will they reach her? Can those boats live among the
breakers? were questions eagerly asked on all hands.
They can! they do! Soon we see a coil of rope thrown
from the largest boat and caught by one of the living
" bundles" on the ship's hull, and in a few minutes
(thanks be to Heaven!) all five—one a very small
one a poor little benumbed lad of ten or eleven (who
had been washed off once and caught again by the
" scruff " of the neck like a drowning dog)—were
safely stowed in the boat. The three ringing cheers
from all on shore were good to hear; and when on
reaching the land the joyful news, "All hands saved,"
passed through the assembled crowd, it is hard to say
who cheered and who wept tears of joy. Soon
after seven o'clock, after a voyage of seven miles, the
Poole life-boat gallantly manned, appeared, tearing
into the bay. Fortunately her services were no longer
needed, and before ten o'clock the Wild Wave, of
Exeter, was a thing of the past, utterly dissolved into
a tangled mass of spars and cordage, floating on the
surface of the water.

Now, Sir, I have written this account less to record
the excellent discipline, efficiency, and gallantry of the
Swanage Coastguard, than to call attention to the
urgent needs of this district and the adjacent coast.
It will scarcely be believed that along all the line of
the coast of Dorset and Hants, from Portland to
Hurst Castle, there is not a single lighthouse nor a
single harbour of refuge! How many a good ship
has been lost on this very reef, since the time
when King Alfred drove a Danish fleet to destruction
upon it, Heaven only knows. In any case this is the
second occurrence of a similar kind which I myself
though only at intervals resident here, have witnessed
during the last two years. A lighthouse either on
Peverill Ledge or Durlestone Head, and a breakwater
in Swanage Bay are of paramount necessity. Sin-
cerely do I trust that the want of them may never en-
tail upon you, Sir, the sad obligation of reporting the
loss of some great homeward-bound liner or crowded
emigrant ship, events otherwise only too likely to
happen some day or other on this picturesque but most
dangerous coast.—l am, Sir, your most obedient ser-
vant, J. C. ROBINSON.
St. Aldnelms, Swanage, Dorset, Jan. 23.