In place of a "Focus" report on a life-boat station we are publishing the following contribution sent to us by a crewman of the Jersey life-boat, who wishes to remain anonymous. The article was received after "Focus on St. Helier" appeared in the December, 1965, issue of THE LIFE-BOAT.

"THE SEA SHALL NOT HAVE THEM" THE greatest Englishman of our times—Sir Winston Churchill—once said of a Life-boat— "It drives on with a courage which is stronger than the storm, it drives on with a mercy which does not quail in the presence of death, it drives on as a proof, a symbol, a testimony, that man is created in the image of God, and that valour and virtue have not perished in the British race." We of this Island of Jersey are very proud of the long period of service which began as far back as the year 1884, when the first life-boat station was established at St. Helier with the life-boat Victoria and May, followed immediately by the Sarah Bronshaft.

Just like all stations around the storm wracked coastline of the British Isles, we have our pride in achievements and service, past and present.

Just like the men of other Stations, we have memories and some awards of recognition of deeds carried out in the great sea tradition of the proud service to which we all belong.

We send our greetings and our salutations to all men of all stations, wherever they are, who stand ready—by day or night—in fair weather or foul, in storm or tempest, to do what must be done for those in peril on the sea.

In recording some of our memories we know that these memories will be equalled and understood so clearly wherever there are men of the Life-boat Service.

ROCKS AND CURRENTS We remember many stormy nights and furious gales, and rescues often deep among the rocks and reefs with which our dangerous coastline is girt, made even more hazardous by the great scend and sweep of the rise and fall of the tides of the Channel Isles.

It would indeed be hard to find waters more rock-bound or currents stronger than those of the Norman Archipelago.

It has so happened that in recent years we have had three coxswains, in direct line of succession, decorated for valour beyond the bounds of their normal duty.

We remember the day and the night I3th/i4th September, 1949, when, after many weary hours at sea in a heavy south-south-west gale, in the pitch darkness of the night, with an exhausted crew, Coxswain Thomas King put his reserve single-engined life-boat Hearts of Oak, to an unbroken line of rocks in the "Bane du Violets" and like a hunter at a hedge hurdled his life-boat on the back of a rearing, roaring, breaking sea right over the reef, to save human life in the Maurice Georges. For this fantastic rescue—this ultimate gamble with destiny—so resolutely carried out against all the odds, Thomas King gained the life-boat V.C., the gold medal and for his whole crew the bronze medals and vellums of thanks of the Institution.

We remember also the night of the 2yth September, 1951, when Coxswain Edward Larbalestier drove Elizabeth Rippon deep among the rocks to the eastward of the Demi-des Pas to rescue the men of Santa Maria. For this splendid piece of seamanship, carried out in adverse weather conditions, and for his masterly judgment of the circumstances in which he had to make the rescue, the coxswain received the silver medal and vellum of thanks. He received the award proudly but accepted it on behalf of his whole crew.

RECEIVED DUTCH AWARDS We have our memories of the night of i4th November, 1950, when Coxswain Silver Le Riche was compelled to drive Elizabeth Rippon on to rock to the lee of the wrecked Hanna lying on the Sword Rock of the dreaded 1'Etacq Reef, to rescue all hands.

We remember the long two hours when Elizabeth Rippon lay at the mercy of the breaching seas and the danger of the rolling Hanna, grinding to her destruction abeam of Elizabeth Rippon. Almost immediately after this service Coxswain Silver Le Riche was awarded the Dutch Legion of Honour for his most resolute rescue of human life from the pinnace of a Dutch destroyer.

We have our recollections of a great hurricane which struck our island in October, 1964, with a wind force of 109 miles per hour and with what were undoubtedly the worst seas within living memory. Elizabeth Rippon with acting Coxswain Eric Grandin was called upon to put to sea that night in what proved to be a fruitless search for life on Maricelia, and from dawn the next day Coxswain Edward Larbalestier searched the day long for possible survivors, sweeping the whole storm-wracked coastline and reaching far to the southward towards the French coast. In those mountainous seas and hurricane force wind the men who served that day and night found how truly wonderful a life-boat is.

Supremely on that day Elizabeth Rippon was indeed tested and found true and strong, faithful and enduring. Letters of commendation were awarded to each member of the crews who served that day and night.

TOOK SURVIVOR FROM MASTHEAD Of course many are the services, some equally hazardous, for which there has not been actual award.

Particularly do we recollect a certain night of heavy weather in a snow storm when the Irish ship Killuren, trapped between Les Vaudins, Les Fours and Sillette reefs, drove to her destruction on to the Sillette reef.

We remember how Coxswain Silver Le Riche drove Elizabeth Rippon many times to the wreck to pick up survivors and how in one last most resolute dash he took the last survivor from off the masthead. That man only jumped six feet that night, so high were the seas that were breaching the wreck which lay with only fo'castle and stern above the sea. Immediately afterwards Elizabeth Rippon was driven from the wreck deeply awash by the storm with five apparently drowned survivors again under water in the flooded stern cabin.

We recall the long struggle to revive those men, the search for the dead and the tragedy of working two hours on a sixth survivor and his death before the life-boat could be allowed to return to base.

Many are the memories, some grim, some happy, some bitter, some inspiring! THE TAMELESS SEA A life-boatman must indeed know the sea for he faces it often as the most cruel enemy. The great Canadian writer Norman Ducan, in "Fruits of Toil," wrote of the sea thus (and we loosely quote his words)— "For aeons of time man has passed over the seas and of all man's effort, courage, devotion, toil, sorrow and travail, the sea shows no trace! Every prow that has ever cleft the seas has passed on and the sea has closed and rolled on, implacable, cruel, remorseless! Even the wilderness of the land, savage and remote though it may be, yields finally to the strength of man. But the sea is tameless as it was in the beginning it is now, mighty, savage, infinitely treacherous and hateful, yielding only what is wrested from it. The tiller of soil sows in peace and in good season he gathers harvest, for the earth rejoices to serve him.

The deep is not thus subdued—the toiler of the sea is born to conflict, ceaseless and deadly." But life-boatmen have their great return in the gratitude of those who, by their efforts, are saved from the sea. Rich or poor, of any race or colour, creed or calling, all are equal when danger comes, and in their succour life-boatmen have a true award. Many are the forms in which this gratitude may be shown.

The Isle of Chausey is a French possession, due south of the Channel Islands and equidistant from the Cotenlin peninsular and the coast of Brittany. This little island, measuring a mile and a half in length, is inhabited mainly by fisherfolk. There is a Roman Catholic priest whose parish includes this isle.

Roman Catholic Fathers have but few possessions, and very little money.

Their parishioners help them of their bounty. The good Father of Chausey has but poor people in his parish. He is indeed rich in his good works, but poor in worldly goods. He has a boat in which he travels between the mainland and Chausey, and sometimes he journeys to our shores. He journeyed once to us one late summer evening, but because the occulting light of the Corbiere had been changed he mistook the Demi-des-Pas Light for the Corbiere, and thus found himself stranded among the many rocks and reefs which are as numerous as the trees of the forest close to our south eastern seabord.

In the waning light, in worsening weather conditions, with a confused sea, he was seen to be in a most perilous position. The Elizabeth Rippon with Second Coxswain F. Crenelle in charge went to his aid, and after searching in the darkness along this rock strewn coast, found the good Father and towed him clear and to the harbour of St. Helier.

LEFT CIGARS In safe haven the coxswain asked wonderingly of the good Father why he had not made himself aware of recent changes in the navigational light system, which had been well publicised in the Channel Isles and in all the northern ports and harbours of France.

The good Father smiled benignly and said. 'Look you my son at the name of my boat!" And the name of his boat is Avec Dieu (With God). "You see my son, I go as my boat, with God!" The coxswain then asked the good Father if he did not think that the Almighty might expect us to aid ourselves a little by our own efforts and preparedness on land and sea and in the air. The good Father, benign and wise, smilingly turned to all the crew who were gathered around him and said, "Bless you all my sons! Thank you for what you have done." Two days later Avec Dieu was gone from St. Helier. On the stern of Elizabeth Rippon was left a small open box with just eight cigars. This great Christian gentleman, who had but little himself and most certainly nothing to give, had found the means somehow to leave just a gift and then had slipped his moorings and silently squared away for the Isle of Chausey leaving behind happy memories.

Crewman, Elizabeth Rippon 1966..