By Mr. Robert H. Mahony, Honorary Secretary of the Ballycotton Station.

ON Friday, 7th February, 1936, a gale from the south-east sprang up on the south coast of Ireland, with a very heavy sea. The gale increased until, about midnight on Monday, the 10th, it was blowing a hurricane force never before experienced by the oldest in- habitant in Ballycotton. Huge waves were smashing over the pier and break- water. The harbour was a seething cauldron. At high water on the Monday evening, nothing could be seen of the breakwater or the pier.

During the Sunday and early on Monday the coxswain ran ropes from the life-boat, the Mary Stanford, a 51-feet Barnett cabin motor life-boat, to prevent her from striking the break- water. At midnight on the Monday, when the gale had risen to a hurricane, the coxswain's own motor boat was seen to have parted- her moorings, and was in danger of being carried out to sea. The coxswain and several other men attempted to launch a boat to her, but were nearly swamped. Stones, a ton in weight, were being torn from the quay and flung about like sugar lumps. I spent most of the night near the life-boathouse, watching the terrible destruction that the wind and waves were doing. Twice I was spun round and nearly flung on my face.

At three on the Tuesday morning I went to bed, but not to sleep. I was out again shortly after seven, and found that the coxswain and the other men had been up all night trying to secure his motor boat. They had succeeded in launching a boat, got a rope to the motor boat and secured her. It was at that moment, after this long night of anxiety, that the call for the life-boat came.

Telephone Lines Down.

The men were just back, at eight o'clock, when the Civic Guard at Ballycotton rang me up. A messenger had arrived (all telephone communica- tion except by the local lines had broken down twenty-four hours before) with a message that the Daunt Rock Lightship, with eight men on board, had broken from her moorings twelve miles away, and was drifting towards Ballycotton.

I gave the coxswain the message and he made no reply. I had seen the weather. Seas were breaking overthe life-boathouse, where the boarding boat was kept. I did not believe it possible for the coxswain even to get aboard the life-boat at her moorings.

I was afraid to order him out.

He left and went down to the harbour. I followed a little later. To my amazement the life-boat was already at the harbour mouth, dashing out between the piers. The coxswain had not waited for orders. His crew were already at the harbour. He had not fired the maroons, for he did not want to alarm the village. Without a word they had slipped away. As I watched the life-boat I thought every minute that she must turn back. At one moment a sea crashed on her; at the next she was standing on her heel.

But she went on. People watching her left the quay to go to the church to pray. I watched her till she was a mile off, at the lighthouse, where she met seas so mountainous that their spray, as we could see (and the light- house keeper verified it), was flying over the lantern 196 feet high. At the lighthouse the life-boat seemed to hesitate. She turned round. We thought she was coming back. Then to our horror the coxswain took her through the sound between the two islands. That way, as we knew, though it was much more dangerous than the open sea, he would save half a mile.

Tremendous Seas.

He took her through the sound, after consulting with his second- coxswain, and there, so he told me afterwards, the seas were tremendous.

The life-boat came off the top of one sea and dropped into the trough of the next with such a terrible thud that everyone thought the engines had gone through the bottom of the boat, but the motor mechanic reported : " All's well. After that she will go through anything." The coxswain now had the whole crew in the after cockpit. After each sea had filled it, he counted his men.

He drove the life-boat safely through the sound, and then had a run before the wind along the coast. When he was off Ballycroneen, about six miles from Ballycotton, the following seas got worse, and the coxswain decided to put out his drogue to steady the life- boat. He eased the engines to do it, and several seas struck him on the head, half stunning him. Then, as the drogue was being put out, an extra heavy curling sea came over the port quarter. It filled the cockpit. It knocked down every man on board.

When they had recovered they found that the drogue-ropes had fouled, but the drogue was drawing.

The life-boat ran on towards the shore, but in the spray and rain and sleet the shore was not visible and nothing of the lightship could be seen.

The coxswain then decided to make for the usual position of the lightship, and put the life-boat's head to sea. He went on for seven miles, until he came to what he thought her position had been, but owing to the erratic course he had taken, and in the rain and sleet, he could not be sure. There was still no sign of her, and he decided to run for Queenstown for information. He reached it at eleven in the morning after a trying time, for he had now no drogue to steady the life-boat in the breaking seas in the mouth of the harbour, and used his oil-sprays to calm the breakers a little.

At Queenstown he got the exact position of the lightship from the pilots; tried to telephone to me at Ballycotton, but found that the wires were still down; and put to sea again at once.

Just after midday he found the light- ship. She had got an anchor down and was a quarter of a mile south-west of the Daunt Rock and half a mile from the shore. H.M. Destroyer Tenedos and the s.s. Innisfallen were standing by her. When the life-boat arrived the Innisfallen left.

The coxswain spoke to the crew of the light-vessel. He found that they did not want to leave her, for they knew the danger it was to navigation that the lightship was out of position.

But they feared their anchor would not hold and they asked the life-boat to stand by. This she did. It was too bad to anchor, but she kept slowly steaming and drifting.

Attempts at a Tow.

About 3.30, when the gale had eased a little, the Tenedos anchored to wind- ward of the lightship, dropped down towards her and tried to float a grass line to her with a buoy attached, in order to get a wire cable to her and take her in tow. This failed. The life-boat then picked up the buoy and got close enough to the lightship to pass it to her. Her crew hauled on the line, but it parted before they could get the wire cable attached to it.

The Tenedos then got under way and came closer to the lightship. The life- boat again passed the grass line to her.

This time she got the towing-wire on board, but then the wire parted.

These attempts had taken nearly two hours, and the Tenedos, the life-boat and the lightship had been continually swept by heavy seas. It was now dark and impossible to attempt again to get the lightship in tow. As the Tenedos was going to stand by all night, the coxswain decided to make for Queenstown for more ropes and food. His crew were wet through and exhausted. They had had no food since the night before and had been up all that night trying to save their boats. The life-boat reached Queens- town at 9.30 p.m.

The Storm on Land.

If conditions were terrible at sea, they were bad on land. Two hours after the life-boat had put out I had gone by car to Cloyne, seven miles away (a difficult journey, for the road was blocked with fallen trees), hoping to be able to telephone from there, but the lines were down. I went on to Midleton, twelve and a half miles, and there found a message giving me the position of the lightship. Then I tried to reach Rochespoint, the entrance to Queenstown Harbour, in the hope of getting this information to the life-boat, but the fallen trees made it impossible.

Returning to Midleton, I telegraphed to the life-boat stations at Court- macsherry and Youghal, to tell them that the Ballycotton boat was out, and got through on the telephone to Queenstown. From there I learnt that the life-boat had been in and had put out again.

There was nothing more to do except wait, but at eleven that night, as there was no news, I went again to Cloyne. The telephone was working once more, and I was able to get through to Queenstown. I spoke to the coxswain. He told me the position, and I went back at once to Ballycotton and set out for Queenstown with spare drogue, drogue-rope, tripping- line and veering-lines, and changes of underclothing for the crew. It was twenty-three miles to Queenstown, and again a very difficult journey by night, dodging fallen trees. I arrived at Queenstown at three in the morning of Wednesday, the 12th, handed over the stores and returned to Ballycotton.

Standing By for 25 Hour*.

Some of the crew had managed to get a little sleep, but there were three of the crew in the life-boat all the time, ready if a call came. Early in the morning of the 12th the life-boat set out again. As soon as she reached the light- ship, H.M.S. Tenedos left, but the Isolda, the vessel of the Irish Lights, was expected from Dublin. The wind dropped a little during this, the second day. Fog set in. But the sea did not seem to go down. The life-boat stood by all day. When the wireless weather report was received at six in the evening the lightship again asked the life-boat to continue standing by. She stood by all night.

At daylight on the 13th, which was shortly after seven, the coxswain de- cided to make again for Queenstown, as his petrol was getting low. She reached Queenstown at nine on the morning of the 13th. She had then been standing by for twenty-five and a half hours. The seas had been break- ing continually over her crew, and they had had no food.

I had 160 gallons of petrol ready at Ballycotton, but it was impossible to get a motor lorry. I telephoned to Cork to send her eighty gallons, but the driver of the lorry injured his arm. A second driver had to be got. There was delay. As soon as the life-boat had the petrol on board she set out again. It was then four in the after- noon.

In Imminent Danger.

When the life-boat reached the light- vessel again, about dusk, she found that the Isolda had arrived. Her captain told the coxswain that he intended to stand by all night and in the morning would try to take the lightship in tow.

But the weather since four o'clock had been getting worse. At eight o'clock a big sea went over the lightship, carrying away the forward of the two red lights which are hoisted by a light- ship at bow and stern to show that she is out of position. At 9.30, with the wind and sea still increasing, the coxswain took the life-boat round the lightship's stern, with his searchlight playing on her. In its light he could see her crew, with their life-belts on, and the seas breaking over them, huddled at the stern. The wind, which had been south-east, had gone to south- south-east. The lightship was now, the coxswain estimated, not more than sixty yards from the Daunt Rock. He went to the Isolda and told her captain that the lightship was now in great danger. She was very near the rock.

She was to the south-west of it. The wind was shifting. If it went a bit west, she must strike the rock.

The Rescue.

The captain said that in the heavy sea it was impossible for the Isolda to do anything. The coxswain asked if he should try to take the crew off. He was told to carry on. He took the life- boat round the lightship again. The seas were going right over her. She was plunging tremendously on her cable, rolling from 30 to 40 degrees, burying her starboard bow in the water and throwing her stern all over the place. She was fitted with rolling chocks, which projected over two feet from her sides, and as she rolled these threshed the water.

To anchor to windward and drop down to her was impossible, owing to her cable. The only thing was to get astern and make quick runs in on her port side, calling on her crew to jump for the life-boat as they could. The coxswain went within hailing distance and told the lightship's crew what he intended to do. He must run in at full speed, check for a second, then go full speed astern. In that second, the men must jump. He knew the dangers.

The lightship was only 98 feet long.

If he ran too far, the life-boat would go over her cable and be capsized. As he came alongside, the lightship, with her chocks threshing the water as she plunged and rolled, might crash over right on top of the life-boat.

The coxswain went ahead of the lightship, pumped out oil to calm the seas a little (but the tide was running strongly and the effect of the oil did not last long), went astern of her and then drove full speed alongside. One man jumped, and the life-boat went astern. A second time she raced in, but no one jumped ; a third time, and five men jumped; a fourth time—the lightship sheered violently and her counter crashed on top of the life-boat, smashing the rails and damaging the fender and deck. No one was hurt, but the man working the searchlight sprang clear only just in time. The life-boat went in a fifth time. Again no one jumped.

Two Men Injured.

There were still two men on board the light-vessel. They were clinging to the rails. They seemed unable to jump. The coxswain sent some of his crew forward, at the risk of being swept overboard, with orders to seize the two men as the life-boat came alongside. Then he raced in for the sixth time. The men were seized and dragged in. As the coxswain said, it was no time for " By your leave." One of the men had his face knocked against either the fluke of the anchor or a stanchion and badly cut. The other man's legs were hurt. The motor mechanic was able, with iodine and bandages, to give first aid to the man whose face was cut. Shortly after the rescue one of the men of the light - vessel (the long strain on them had been tremendous) became hysterical, and two men had to hold him down to prevent anyone from being hurt or knocked overboard.

Three Hours' Sleep in 63 Hours.

The life-boat, after reporting to the Isolda, made for Queenstown, where she arrived at eleven on the night of 13th February, and the two injured men were taken to hospital. The life-boat remained at Queenstown for the night, returning next morning to Ballycotton, where she arrived at 12.45 P.M. She had then been away from her station for 76J hours.

She had been out on service for 63 hours. She had actually been at sea for 49 hours. During the first and third days the weather was bitterly cold, and the rain and sleet almost continuous, and during the whole time the life-boat was taking heavy seas on board.

All her crew came back suffering from colds and salt-water burns, and the coxswain from a poisoned arm. All were completely exhausted. In the 63 hours from the time when they left Ballycotton until the time when they brought the rescued men into Queens- town, they had had only three hours' sleep.

The Rewards.

Such is the account, as told by the honorary secretary of the station, and confirmed by the district inspector, of one of the most exhausting and cou- rageous rescues in the history of the life-boat service. The Institution has made the following awards : To COXSWAIN PATRICK SLINEY, the gold medal, which is given only for conspicuous gallantry, and a copy of the vote of the medal, inscribed on vellum and framed ; To SECOND COXSWAIN JOHN L.

WALSH and to MOTOR MECHANIC THOMAS SLINEY, the silver medal and a copy of the vote of the medal in- scribed on vellum and framed ; To each of the four members of the crew, MICHAEL C. WALSH, THOMAS F.

WALSH, JOHN S. SLINEY and WILLIAM SLINEY, the bronze medal and a copy of the vote of the medal inscribed on vellum and framed ; To MR. R. H. MAHONY, honorary secretary of the station, an inscribed binocular glass.

Letters of thanks were also sent to a number of people who had given their help in various ways.

The awards of money for a service of this length, on the ordinary scale, are £9 8s. 6d. for each man. An extra £10 was given, making £19 8s. 6d. for each man. The total awards amounted to £133 7s.

The Public's Gratitude.

A donation of £60 was received from the Irish Lights Commissioners in gratitude for the service. An anony- mous donation of £50 was sent to the Institution in admiration of the Ballycotton crew. Sixteen children from a Derbyshire school sent 4s. 6d.

after reading of " a wonderful work of rescue off the Irish Coast," and half a crown was put in a collecting box on the life-boat day in Greater London with " That's for Ballycotton ! " The coxswain of the life-boat and the honorary secretary of the station received between them four telegrams and 117 letters of congratulation.

They came from Ireland, England, Scotland, Wales, the United States, Canada and Hong Kong..