THE LIFE-BOAT FLEET Motor Life-boats, 120 :: Pulling & Sailing Life-boats, 56 LIVES RESCUED from the foundation of the Institution in 1824 to September 30th, 1933 .... 63,450 A Remarkable Life-boat Launch.

By Mr. TOM F. BEVAN, Honorary Secretary of the Lynmouth Branch, and EX-COXSWAIN G. S. RICHARDS.

IT was on the night of Thursday, 12th January, 1899, and the following morning, that there took place one of the most extraordinary life-boat launches on record—the launch of the Lynmouth life-boat to the full-rigged ship Forest Hall, of Liverpool, a ship of 1,900 tons, with fifteen men on board.

In order to launch the boat her crew and launchers took her for thirteen miles, over Exmoor, climbing from sea- level to a height of over 1,400 feet! They had to dig down banks ; they had to knock down gate-posts; they had to break down walls—and all in the middle of a fierce gale on a January night by the light of lamps which were continually blowing out. It took them 1Q| hours, but in the end they accom- plished what must at the beginning have seemed impossible.

A short account of this remarkable feat appeared in The Life-boat at the time, and there have been articles in the Press, but no complete account has yet been published. It is now thirty-four years since the event.

Coxswain John Crocombe, who was in charge on that night, died last May.

Of the twelve other members of the crew, only three are alive—Mr. G. S.

Richards, who joined the crew in 1882, became second-coxswain in 1886, and coxswain in 1926, retiring in 1931 after forty-nine years of service in the life- boat; Mr. R. Burgess, who joined the crew in 1887 and retired in 1931 ; and Mr. W. Richards, who joined the crew in 1899 and is now second-coxswain.

He was only sixteen years old at the time, and this was his first service.

The other nine members of the crew were, R. Ridlen (bowman), G. Rawle, J. Ward, W. Jarvis, Charles Crick, B. Pennicott, David Crocombe, John Ridler and T. Pugsley.

It is right that the full story of the launch should be written while it can still be told by those who took part in it. It belongs to an epoch in life-boat history which is now almost closed, before the motor life-boat and the launching tractor had come, when, at the oars at sea, and at the drag-ropes on land, the service depended on the muscles of men—and on land, of women, too. The whole story, above all, is an outstanding example of the courage and determination of the life- boat service, undismayed and un- daunted even by seemingly hopeless odds.

It was just about 7 P.M., at the height of a whole westerly gale and right on top of the spring tides, that a telegraph message was received from Porlock that a large vessel was flying distress signals in the bay and that she was in imminent danger of running ashore.

By those who are acquainted with the Bristol Channel, with its tides, the position will be realized at once, and no one understood it better than the Lynmouth life-boatmen.

IMPOSSIBLE TO LAUNCH.

The wind had shifted a point north and was blowing harder than ever.

The sea was sweeping right across the harbour and over the sea front. The sea-spray was like smoke. The tide was turning. It was obviously im- possible to launch the boat from the beach in face of such a gale. Nor could any further message be got to or from Porlock, for after that one message the wires had been blown down. Those responsible at Lynmouth were faced with the alternative of attempting the almost superhuman task of taking the boat to Porlock by land, or abandoning the ship, not knowing whether or not, unaided, she would survive the storm. The decision was quickly made. Horses were requisitioned. Every available man and woman in the village set out to help the life-boat on a journey which entailed the ascent of the famous Countisbury Hill with its gradient of 1 in 4 up to the village of Countisbury, 1,000 feet up on the open moor; the descent of Porlock Hill, so well known to the motoring public of to-day, and finally the launch at 6 A.M. the follow- ing morning, after a night of as ar- duous and unexpected labours as life-boatmen have ever had to tackle.

During the whole journey the gale blew with unabated violence, accom- panied by driving rain. The men were soaked almost before they had started, and they were without food for the whole of the time.

Here is the full story of that strange journey, told by ex-Coxswain G. S.

Richards, at that time second-in- command of the life-boat.

The Second Coxswain's Story.

We had a telegram from Mr. Goddard, the Anchor Hotel, Porlock Weir, that there was a large ship drifting ashore, and sending up signals of distress for help. It was about 7 P.M. and just gone high water, blowing a gale from the west-north-west with a heavy sea running. The sea was making a clean break over the walls on the esplanade, and the roads were covered to a depth of 3 feet with water, so that it was impossible to launch the life-boat at Lynmouth.

The coxswain and I talked it- over and thought the only thing to do was to get the boat to Porlock, if possible.

You should have then heard the opinions of the crowd. They said it would be impossible to get the boat there, but we had the sanction of the honorary secretary, the Rev. A. R.

Hockley, to go and do the best we could.

We sent to Mr. T. Jones for horses, at Lynton. He sent down sixteen to twenty in charge of Tom Willis, the driver. We had then to send away our signalman, R. Moore, with a horse and cart and half a dozen men with pickaxes and shovels, to dig down the banks to make the road wide enough for the carriage to get through, as it was very narrow in places. In the cart we put all the flat wooden skids we had, because we knew we had a mile of road, known as Ashton Lane, where it would be impossible to get the carriage through.

A WHEEL COMES OFF.

We started from Lynmouth about 8 P.M., having all the horses attached to the carriage. Our greatest trouble was lights, as we had only flares, called ducks, and oil lanthorns. At first the horses could not pull together, but with the help of the men and the women we managed to get up Countisbury Hill. Here we had a bit of ill-luck.

One of the wheels came off, as the linch- pin had been loosened by the continual knocking against the bank. With the jacks, and willing helpers, we got the wheel on again, fitted a spare linchpin and continued on our journey. We were now at the top of Blue Ball, a very exposed part of Exmoor, 1,000 feet above sea-level. It was blowing a gale of wind and raining like mad.

Here many of our helpers decided to turn back. We were left with about twenty, and pushed on. Our greatest difficulty now was keeping the lights lit.

We got on all right until we caught up with Moore, the signalman, and his men. They had dug down a wall on the Lynmouth side of Glenthorn White Gate, but Moore said we could not get the boat and carriage through Ashton Lane on the other side of the gate as it was only seven feet wide in places.

Jack Crocombe, the coxswain, said we had come so far, and we were not going to turn back without having a good try for it. It was now that our biggest trouble began. We had first to take the boat off the carriage. While some of the men were doing this others were digging down the gate-posts to make it wide enough for the carriage to go through. We were going to send it over the moor to meet us again a mile farther on, where the road became wider, while we took the boat herself along the road on the skids.

BOAT AND CARRIAGE GO DIFFERENT WAYS.

We chose the quieter horses for hauling the boat. The remainder we sent with the carriage in charge of Tom Willis and R. Moore. Our horses were in charge of W. Vellacott.

With men carrying lights we started to haul the boat along the road.

It was a very difficult job. We could only drag the boat a little way and then had to stop while the skids behind were picked up, carried for- ward, and laid down again in front of her. They were placed about six feet apart. We worked in turns at carrying the skids forward, and the road was so narrow that we had a job to pass between the boat and the wall.

We managed to get through in the end, and found the carriage waiting for us.

We soon got the boat on the carriage again and once more started for County Gate. Here we had to knock down one of the gate-posts, and went on all right until we reached the top of Porlock Hill, having gone over Hawkcombe Head, 1,400 feet above the sea. To go down the hill we had to use all the men and drag-ropes, put the drag and safety chains on the wheels and lash the boat to her carriage, as this was one of the heaviest loads known to have gone down Porlock Hill, but old Tom said if we were able to keep the boat from slipping off her carriage he would be able to get around the corners, very dangerous though they were.

To everyone's surprise we managed to get down without any trouble, until we reached the bottom of the hill.

Here we came to the old cottages and found there was not width for the carriage to'go through, so down came the walls. We did not half get choked off by the old lady of the house. She wanted to know what right we'had bringing a thing like that at this time of night, knocking down people's walls and waking them up.

When we told her that it was a life- boat she was very surprised, as she had never seen one in her life before. We told her that there was a ship in distress off Porlock Weir and we were going to try and rescue the men, so that put things all right with her, and she came along with us.

THE ROAD WASHED AWAY.

We got on all right until we met N.

Polland and some men from Porlock Weir who had come to warn us that we could not get along the main road, as the sea had washed down the sea-wall and washed the road away. The only way to get to the Weir was up the higher road. As we were not going to be beaten after coming so far, off we set up the higher road and got along fairly well until we came to the Lane Head, and there we found a large laburnum tree with big branches across the road, too low for the boat to pass. But we could not stop for that.

We had a saw and cut it down.

We arrived at the beach without any more trouble and launched the boat right away, not even waiting for any- thing to eat. The late Mr. E. J. Pedder, a member of the Lynmouth life-boat committee and Lloyd's agent, went with us in the boat. It was then about six in the morning. We were all drenched to the skin with rain, but that made no difference, as we were soon drenched with sea-water, for it was still blowing very hard.

On reaching the ship, about 7.30, we found she was the Forest Hall, belong- ing to Liverpool, bound from Bristol to Liverpool (light), being towed by a tug which had parted her rope the night before. The ship was disabled owing to her rudder-head being carried away, and she had drifted with both her anchors down all night until she got near the shore of Porlock.

THE RESCUE.

We advised the captain to hang on until daylight to see if we could get a tug-boat, and just after it became light we saw one coming. It turned out to be the same one which had towed her down—J. Joliffe, of Liverpool. We got a rope from the tug to the ship and with the help of some of the life-boat crew who went on board the ship the captain got her anchors up. Then we all started for Barry on the Welsh coast. As there was no rudder, we could not manage to steer the ship, and we were very near the Nash Sands.

The captain then decided to get another tug-boat to help him to steer the ship.

She was called the Sarah Joliffe. It was still blowing very hard when we reached Barry, which was about six in the evening of Friday, the 13th.

We were nearly exhausted, as we had had nothing to eat since the day before. The men at Barry Docks very kindly took charge of the life-boat and sent us to an hotel, where we were cared for by the Shipwrecked Mariners Society with dry clothes and food. We got back to Lynmouth the following day, the Saturday. A steamer gave us a tow for part of the way. The carriage went back by road.

To complete ex-Coxswain Richards's story it needs only to be added that the thirteen members of the crew received awards of £5 each, and the launchers awards amounting to £27 5s. Qd. The total cost of the service, including these awards, the hire of horses and " mason's bill for repairs," was £118 17s. Qd.

Towards this the owners of the Forest Hall contributed £75.

The late Mr. R. H. Fry, a native of Lynmouth, presented each of the crew with a watch, and the coxswain and second-coxswain also with gold chains..