Coxswain William Watts Williams, of St. David's, who died on the 7th Jan- uary, 1963, had served as coxswain of the St. David's life-boat for 19 years.

During this period the St. David's life- boat was launched on service 60 times and rescued 85 lives. He was awarded the silver medal for gallantry for the service to the tanker World Concord on the 27th November, 1954, in which the St. David's life-boat rescued 35 lives, and was awarded the bronze medal for a wartime service on the 25th-26th April, 1943, when the life-boat rescued a man from a tank landing craft.

Mr. T. Mervyn Jones, chairman of the Wales Gas Board writes: 'You never enjoy the world aright, 'til the sea itself floweth in your veins, 'til you are clothed with the heavens and crowned with the stars'. How fitting these words of Traherne to describe the life, as the belief, of Captain Watts- Williams of St. David's, whose passing we now mourn.

He first went to sea in a small coaster from his home port - the tiny, lovely harbour of Forth Clais. He sailed the Seven Seas in craft of all kinds. A proud 'Cape Homer' for he had been round under sail, 'Skipper' - as all St. David's residents and visitors of the last 30 years will remember him - retired home only to become the most notable cox- swain of the so notable St. David's life-boat. He was coxswain for the epic rescue in the appalling gale of Novem- ber 1954 of the 35 seamen from the severed stern of the tanker World Concord, a rescue that called for 36 runs of his life-boat under the still thrashing propellers of the tanker. It earned for him the silver medal of the Royal National Life-boat Institution, and a distinction of which he was no less proud, the immediate signal from nearby H.M.S. Illustrious: 'Congratu- lations on your superb seamanship'.

When age compelled his retirement as coxswain in the summer, with added zeal he kept his boat at St. Justinian and the trips to, from and around Ramsey. For some of us he will forever be a part of the exhilarating vista of Ramsey Sound and the islands. One of our fondest memories will be that evening last September when, with Richie and Mr. Cox, we joined him, casting off from St. Justinian down the Sound across a calm Porthlysgi, still sun-drenched, but with a slight northerly that beckoned summer's end, making, as we now know, his last ever mooring in the same Forth Clais from which, as a lad, he had first sailed on life's chosen journey.

Talk with the Queen The tang of the sea was about him, all he loved and did. His face and form was clean, clear, fresh. He looked good - how right the Institution was in featuring as a Welsh coxswain his pic- ture, the fine Joseph Conrad imperial beard had appeared, 'snapped' in the stern of his boat as he crossed the Ramsey Sound. He had a natural dignity that was near regal. Her Majesty, outside the Cathedral in August 1955 stayed talking to Skipper long beyond the programme time, and was heard to comment how much he had reminded her of her grandfather King George V.

A man above all others to be with in a storm - on or off the sea. He would take command, no effort, no dispute.

His was the discipline of the dedicated.

For the sea he had all the true sailor's respect; whatever the urgings of visitors, or his own need, he would never leave St. Justinian unless the portents of the Ynyscantwr were right. Like all the truly brave, he had a reverent respect for life, and no less a deep, if hidden, tenderness, that won the abiding con- fidence of little children. In the host of friends and admirers - what a varied mixture they were - could be found many 'sweethearts' who so rightly and perfectly properly loved this so good- looking sailor.

No less was he the ideal companion in the joyous frivolities of life. He was a zestful, boyish Puck to the end of his days. 'Skip' was the first to be invited to any party at, or from, the hospitable 'Farmers'. He enjoyed his life and wished all around him to do so to. He made no claim to be free of faults. He was so singularly free of the greatest of all - to be conscious of none. The pom- pous, the bogus, the real fool, he just passed by in disdain. The genuine, however, fallen or foolish, found in him a sterling friend.

His home was his joy and pride. The gracious, gentle lady, the chosen com- panion of his days, was called, and always revered, as 'Mother'. His daugh- ters and their families grew up as part of his. We prize yet more contemporary St. David's pictures for his so proper father's delight and pride in the painter.

We mourn with them, for we are but human. But no less may they, comforted by knowing all they were and meant to him, join us all in thanks for a life bravely, joyfully lived.

'Glad did I live and gladly die ...

'Here he lies where he longs to be, Home is the sailor, home from the sea'..