Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1871-11-16
A THRILLING ADVENTURES.

A THRILLING ADVENTURE.
1t was clear, ba1my day in June
when 1, Richard Dawson, midshipman,
at home in Cornwall after two years
cruise, looked up three of my old school
mates for row along the coast in a
yawl hired of a waterman, and well
freighted with all that was needed to
make the day merry one.
Away we went, four of the most light
hearted lads living. Bob Trelawny
stroke, myself with a pair of sculls,
Tom Davies in the bow-rowing ran
dom and Billy Finch, our little cock
swain, saucily hugging himself on the
dwarfsh stature which exempted him
from any greater share in our labors.
? With many a quib at each others
expense, our laughter waking up the
echoes of the curiously veined cliffs
towering above US, we glided along the
picturesque coast; sometimes passing
3 beneath huge blocks of granite, which
seemed to need but a touch to topple
them down upon our frail craft some
times catching glimpses of tiny coves,
whose beauty no foreign scenery 1 have
ever visited exceeded. Into one of
these our coxswain steered us when we
began to show symptoms of fatigue,
skillfully taking US through the narrow
inlet between the rocks that concealed
it from casual observers.
Perhaps the dark hours that followed
helped to imprint on my memory the
peaceful beauty of that spot, for 1 can
conjure up-even now that years have
passed over my head-every detail of
the fair picture the high banks hem
ming in the mimic bay, covered to their
submits with heather and the endless
variety of ferns that flourish in the rich
alluVial soil; the trees crowning the
heights, the signing of the soft breeze
that stirred their branches, and the mu-
sical cadence of falling water as innum-
erable little rivulets bounded from rock
to rock in glistening cascades, or like
silver serpents threaded their way to-
ward the murmuring sea. The scene
was so lovely that even the mercurial
spirit of our coxswain was impressed
by it, and he stopped in the midst
of one of his favorite ditties to ex-
claim,
"By Jove, it's sublimel''
In "reminiscences of our happy school
days, and song after song from the
Mario of our company, the time quick
ly passed away, till the deepening sha-
dows warned US that we must depart.
Our diminished stores were replaced
in the yawl, and, bending to our work,
we soon emerged from the peaceful cove
into the broader expanse of st. Mich
aers bay.
While we were lingering in the cove,
the breeze had freshened, so that our
little boat danced merrily over the
swelling waves, the bounding motion
adding fresh impetus to the mirth
which was exuberant enough at start
ing.
We had traversed about half our
homeward way when Tom Davies pro-
posed a row into one of the gloomy
looking caverns frequently to be seen
on the Cornish coast. Every one agree
ing to the proposal, the boat was backed
for a few yards, the head pointed to-
ward the nearest opening, and half a
dozen strokes sent us into the yawning
cavity.
As we darted under the narrow arch,
we perceived that at its highest the
cavern rose but few feet above our
heads, while, to our great consterna-
ton, we found ourselves irresistibly car
ried much further than we had intend
ed penetrating into this abode of
strange echoes.
AS another wave came up, impelling
US still onward in spite of our most
vigorous efforts to prevent it, we looked
toward each other anxiously, and
our coxswain's voice sounded hollow
and unusually subdued as he ex-
claimed:
Il say, you fellows, this won't do at
any price. Stern all p
This, to our increasing uneasiness, we
found it impossible to accomplish. We
had but backed few yards when, with
a whirl and rush against which we
could make no head, another wave
rolled in, and we clung desperately to
the side of the cavern to prevent our
boat being dashed to pieces on some
hidden boulder.
Though alive to the danger of the
position, and bitterly regretting our
foolishness in making the venture with
SO rough a sea running, we did not fully
comprehend our difficulties until ne
looked toward the mouth of the cavern.
To our horror we perceived that it was
growing less and less. AS the next
wave came dashing in, its crest reached
70 Wltnln couple of feet of the crown
oI Une rugged arch above US. The tide |
was SUI! rising, and the dreadful reality
torceo lUSeh upon US, that in a short |
ume we shouIo De closed in from light |
buried alive in the cavernl
With indescribable sensations a
watched each wave rise higher and
higher, and the faint light grow dim
mer; while to increase the horror of our
situation, our boat was dashed to and
fro with such fearful violence that we
knew not how long we might hope to
prevent its being broken up.
Chnging with our bleeding fingers to
the projecting rocks, we sat with our
faces turned in despair toward the
opening, and the "God help US l'' that
burst from Trelawney's lips sounded
like words of doom to all.
Higher and higher crept the insatiate