CHAPTER XXI.

A PLUCKY CAPTAIN.

Lizard Point in Cornwall, the most southerly headland in England, is a piece of rocky land, which "has caused more vivid and varied emotions than any other on our coasts. The emigrant leaving, as he often thinks, his native land for ever; the soldier bound for distant battlefields, and the sailor for far-distant foreign ports, have each and all strained their eyes for a last parting glimpse of an isle they loved so much, and yet might never see again. And when the lighthouses' flash could no longer be discerned, how sadly did one and all turn into their berths to think--ay, 'perchance to dream'--of the happy past and the doubtful future.

"How different are the emotions of the homeward bound--the emigrant with his gathered gold, the bronzed veteran who has come out of the fiercest conflict unscathed, and the sailor who has safely passed the ordeal of fearful climes. The first glimpse of that strangely named rocky point is the signal for heartiest huzzas and congratulation."

There is, unfortunately, another side to this pleasant picture. Not unfrequently vessels become enveloped in the fogs, which prevail off this dangerous coast, and go crashing on to the rocks, there to become total wrecks. On the 4th of March 1893 an incident of this kind occurred. While the steamship _Gustav Bitter_ of Newcastle-on-Tyne was proceeding from London to the Manchester Ship Canal with a general cargo, she stranded during a dense fog on the Callidges Rocks, off the Lizard Point. The engines were immediately reversed in the hope of getting her off, but she stuck fast. The captain gave the order for the long-boat to be lowered, and he got into her with seven men. As he was about to secure the boat's painter the rope was suddenly cut, and the strain being thus taken off, caused the captain to tumble into the sea, and he was compelled to swim to the boat to save his life. The second mate jumped from the deck of the doomed vessel, and tried to reach the boat, but unhappily he failed in the attempt, and was drowned.

News had already reached the shore that a ship was in danger, and the Polpear lifeboat was promptly manned and launched. When she reached the vessel the fog had lifted, and it was found that her bow was under water, and four men were clinging to the rigging. Great difficulty was experienced in getting near the vessel, as the seas were breaking completely over her and over the lifeboat. The lifeboatmen, however, succeeded in getting their grapnel on board, and the boat was brought up alongside. Three of the crew, watching their opportunity, left the rigging and went hand over hand along the grappling line from the steamer to the lifeboat. The fourth man, who is said to have been disabled by rheumatism, was unable to move from the rigging. His case was indeed desperate, for it was impossible to take the boat to the side of the ship on which he was lashed, on account of the shallowness of the water. To add to the difficulty of the situation, one of the men who had been rescued was in a very exhausted condition, and it was feared that he would not live much longer. After a little delay the boatmen decided, as there was no immediate danger of the vessel breaking up, that they would make for the shore, land the three men, and then return for the sufferer. The grapnel was accordingly freed from the rigging, and they pulled for the shore with all speed where the poor fellows were landed and well cared for. The lifeboat then proceeded on her return journey to the steamer.

Meanwhile another lifeboat had put off from the shore. On her way to the scene of action she fell in with the long-boat in which the captain and seven men had left the wreck. The little vessel was nearly half full of water and in great danger of being swamped, so her occupants were taken on board the lifeboat. They then told their rescuers that they had left four of their companions on board the steamer. Though the men were greatly exhausted with the hard pull of three miles which they had already performed, they gave a hearty shout and again bent their backs to the oars, and the remaining distance of a mile to the wreck was soon covered.

They of course were surprised to see only one man in the rigging instead of the four they had expected to find. The reason of his being where he was having been explained by the captain, several lifeboatmen volunteered for the dangerous task of rescuing the unfortunate man. The coxswain, however, thought it best to accept the offer of the captain, who was well acquainted with the ship, and had already proved himself a good swimmer. Two grapnels were thrown into the rigging of the steamer, and the captain swung himself on board by means of one of the lines. He reached the rigging, took the man out, and fastened a running line to his waist. Then he made a signal, and the poor fellow was hauled on board the lifeboat.

The captain was now compelled to take to the rigging again to avoid being washed overboard by the heavy seas, which were breaking over the ship. Twice he attempted to get off, but he was driven back each time. Watching his opportunity he tried again, and without either lifebelt or line plunged into the sea and swam to the boat. The work of rescue being then accomplished, the boat returned to the shore.

The silver medal of the Institution, accompanied by a copy of the vote inscribed on vellum, was awarded to Captain David Graham Ball, the master of the vessel, in recognition of his gallant conduct.