The Blackpool Herald. — 1883-01-12 (Blackpool, Lancashire, England)

TRUE TALE OF THE SEA.  Looking across the river Ribble from Lytham, the tapering spire of the little church at the " Banks " rises from a flat level plain, a conspicous object in the landscape for miles around. This village is composed of a few straggling cottages, inhabited by a semi-fishing and agricultural population. In one of these humble dwellings there lived some twenty years ago a fisherman and his wife, a hale and hearty couple, the parents of as fine a family as could be found in a day's march. Two of these brothers followed the occupation of their forefathers, that of catching shrimps and fish on the neighbouring sand banks so common to the estuary of the Ribble. One of these brothers was grown up to the age of 25, while the other was considerably junior in years. Early one fine spring morning, when nature clothed the smiling earth with her flowery mantle, the two brothers unmoored a little craft that lay at anchor in the pool below "Crossens," and proceeded to hoist the tiny sail to the breeze. The tide was on the turn, and the boat slowly drifted to the scene of their daily toil. The events which took place that day on board has never been fully divulged, and probably never will be until that great day when the sea shall give up its dead. It is supposed that circumstances of an unpleaasant nature took place between the two brothers, which resulted in the return of the boat MilillB one of the crew. On casting anchor in the old pool many anxious enquiries were made from the young fisherman, as to what had become of his younger brother. With a faltering tongue he replied, "Our was pulling up the anchor and fell head foremost into the water, and I never saw him after." There was sorrow and wailing that night under the roof of the old fisherman's cot. The poor old mother was nigh heartbroken. The body was afterwards washed up by the tide, and buried in the quiet church-yard at "Banks." As years rolled on the occurrence had almost faded from the minds of the simple villagers. The brother of the drowned man continued to follow his occupation. He I was often heard talking to himself when asleep ; ' and when journeying to Southport to dispose of his fish he became more and more addicted to intemperate habits. Often when he was returning home in a semi-drunken state he would sit alone on the road-side, talking to some imaginary being. The neighbours began to whisper— " There is something on his mind." Strange rumours got afloat concerning the death of his brother. The man became silent and taciturn in his manner, and seldom sought company. Things went on for several years in this way, until he was struck down with fever. Carefully and tenderly did his aged mother watch over the sick-bed of her dying son. During a fit of unconsciousness he was heard to mutter about the shrieks of his murdered brother. Turning to his mother, in a fit of agony he cried out, "0, mother, do forgive me. I threw our overboard and drowned him ; look at him, mother, how he is clinging to the board at the bed foot. I saw him rise from the water and clinging to the side of the boat crying for mercy. 'hurled him away, and never shall I forget the look of horror he gave me when sinking for the last time. It has haunted me ever since. I hear his death shriek now. 0, Mdther do forgive me." The poor mother fled with horror from the bedside, and went down the stairs crying and sobbing. The neighbours rushed in, alarmed at the noise. The mother exclaimed, "My son has confessed to drowning his brother." On going up into the sick room, the neighbours found his spit it had fled for ever ; the murderer had gone to his long account. Beneath a low grassy mound in the church yard at Banks, these two brothers rest in one grave. The villagers often cast a glance at the humble resting place, and relate the story to their children. May they rest in peace.  1883