The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1898-11-09

RS<A flying nature. The
EGS~ far-reaching rays
Of the More Light have revealed many
a grim sea tragedy, meagre account
of which has perhaps reached the out
side world in the form OF q newspaper
paragraph, hastily scanned and quick
ly forgotten by oil but the small circle
Of mourners Immediately concerned.
Even the families so suddenly be-
reaved are seldom acquainted with the
full details OF such disasters. The
Thames estuary by night, alive with
huge craft hurrying hither and thither
to the weird accompaniment of shrek
ing foghorns and moaning sirens,
bears an evil name even among those
who are best acquainted with its
treacherous mud-banks and crowded
channels. A glance at the wreck-chart
will prove that this sinister reputation
is by no means unfounded. The Sec
tion delineating the shores of Shep-
pey Isle is covered with amsltitude Of
black dots, each dot representing a
shipwreok, and each shipwreck probab-
ly the loss of several human lives. Yet,
in spite of this gruesome official rec
ord, how little is known OF the ghastly
details which have forever lost their
identity behind tiny black mark rep
resenting the SUN total of each disas-
teri
On the wreck-chart of the year 1889,
one of these marks appears at spot
situated some three miles below the
More Lightship, and four from the
shores of Sheppey, The melancholy
history of that particular dot has for
many years been known only to the
fishing population Of Leigh; but hav-
ing obtained full particulars of the
tragedy from one of the chief actors,
the writer is now in a position to re-
late the story to the reading public
for the first time.
On the evening of the 4th of Octo-
Der, 1889, George and Alfred Cot
grove were engaged in trawling for
soles near the spot already described.
Daylight was fading rapidly, and the
black clouds overhead, moving swiftly
before strong southwesterly wind,
indicated to the practiced eyes of the
fishermen the prospect of dark night
md "dirty weather." But their craft
-one of the famous Leigh "bawleys"
had weathered many a fierce gale
before, and her navigators-hereditary
sailors, as all the Leigh fishermen are
were conscious of no presentiment
of danger as darkness fell; and No.
416, catching the foam-crested waves
on her weather bow, drove the spray
aft in binding showers. Sailing close
to the wind, with topsail slowed and
two reefs in her mainsail, the sturdy
little craft made light of the gathering
storm; and having taken those pre-
cautions which are the second nature
of every born sailor, the brothers had
no foreboding of the appalling disaster
which came SO suddenly upon them.
1t was at 7 p. m. that the wind,
veering suddenly round from south
west to northeast, struck the boat and
heeled her over to such an extent that
the water rushed into the open hatch
ways. The squall was so unexpected,
and the change Of wind so sudden and
complete, that the boat was flung on
her beam-ends before single
step could be taken to avert the
steering, while Alfred was engaged
with some tackle on the weather-deck.
George Cotgrove had only time to
cry out, ooh dear, Aft" before a
wave, breaking aboard the swapping
craft, swept him into the dark waters
astern.
With that last despairing cry still
ringing in his ears, Alfred made a
frantic effort to lower the mainsail,
calling loudly to his brother at the
same time. But George Cotgrove had
now passed beyond human aid, and
the weather-beaten "bawley" was
sinking rapidly. The tiny boat which
hung astern had gone down, and just |
before the larger craft made her final
plunge beneath the seething waves,
Alfred Cotgrove realized that his only
hope lay in the direction of the top
mast. Acting on the inspiration of the
moment, he made superhuman effort
to reach the summit of the mast be-
fore the "bawley" sunk. Not sec
ond too soon his fingers clutched the
few inches of iron forming a tiny
stair for the flag which decorates
the masthead ON "regatta day" and
festive occasions. No. 416 sank at the
same moment. The tide had just
commenced to flow, and some fifteen
feet of the topmast remained above
water.
Cotgrove was now safe for