THE YEAR OF 1891 was one well remembered for the terrible storms that caused many lives to be lost in the Channel. The Romney Marsh coast was no exception. On March 9, 1891, in a severe gale the Coastguard, with local folk, were called to a wreck at Dengemarsh in the west bay. Using a rocket line, they rescued the crew of eight. Meanwhile, a more serious incident was taking place off No. 2 Coastguard Station (Lade); the schooner Hugh Barclay of Fleetwood was sighted in trouble at about seven o'clock in the morning. The coastguards, who at that time formed the crew of Littlestone lifeboat, Santa Magna, had been alerted but, with waves dropping on to the beach from a height of 20 feet (never in living memory had conditions been so bad), it took four attempts before they could launch.

Hardly had they gone any distance when a great wave hit them, turning the boat over. She righted immediately, but one man, Coastguard Bennett, was swept out. He was quickly pulled back into the boat by his shipmates but another tremendous wave hit the boat, this time washing out Coastguard William O'Ryan, who was rapidly swept from sight. The next sea to hit them overturned the boat, throwing everybody out. Fortunately, by this time, they were nearly back on shore in the entrance to the Romney Hoy and, with the aid of their cork lifejackets, most of the exhausted crew managed to scramble ashore. Two more of the crew, however, were drowned: 52-year-old Thomas Sullivan, who was chief boatman in charge of St Mary's Coastguard Station and who had joined the crew at the last moment, and Coastguard Samuel Hart.

On October 22, 1891, the coastguards again launched Santa Magna in a severe gale blowing from the west, to go to the aid of the Norwegian barque Jarlen of Moss, 1,025 tons, on passage between Pensacola and Rotterdam, carrying a cargo of pitch pine. Jarlen had run into the sandbank opposite No.

2 Coastguard Station (Lade), then was driven helplessly way down past Littlestone where she became fast in the sands. Heavy seas were breaking over her and her crew were in great danger.

The lifeboat managed to put to sea and the considerable skill of Coxswain Clifton and his crew resulted in Jarlen's crew of 15, together with the captain's wife, being brought to safety.

From October 22 every day saw high winds and rough seas and on the morning of November 11 hurricane force winds were lashing the south coast, causing damage inland as well as at sea.

At first light on this fateful day coastguards and local people were summoned from their beds by the rocket apparatus to a vessel in distress in the west bay. She was Marguerite Marie of Granville, thrown, literally, on to the beach at Dengemarsh. Owing to the rough seas it was some hours before all the crew were rescued, but for the rescuers there was no rest as a second ship, a Swedish brigantine, Domin, was in a more serious position. She was about 400 yards off shore, being battered on to her side, and was beginning to break up. A line was got aboard by rocket and two men hauled ashore before the seas moved the stricken vessel, the line parted and all the remaining crew of six were drowned.

Meanwhile that treacherous sandbank off Lade had claimed another victim, the Swedish brigantine Aeolus (God of the Winds) with a crew of eight. Attempts to launch Dungeness lifeboat RAOB proved impossible in the terrible conditions and although, after many failures, the coastguards ashore did manage to secure a line aboard Aeolus, it parted.

More attempts were made to launch the lifeboat, RAOB, and finally she got away, the boat making slow progress through the terrifying walls of water.

By the good seamanship of Coxswain James Lucas and the strenuous rowing of his crew RAOB finally reached Aeolus but the force of the wind made it impossible to bring her alongside.

She was blown past the wreck for about a mile, where she anchored hoping that Aeolus would drift down to her. And then a heavy sea caught the lifeboat and capsized her. Five of her crew were thrown out. As the boat righted three men were hauled back, but Coastguards Henry Reeves and Daniel Nicol were carried away by the violent seas and lost.

Realising that his crew were in no condition to go to the aid of Aeolus, Coxswain Lucas set course for the shore and it was only after tremendous effort that the short and weakened crew reached the beach. The remainder of the crew were Second Coxswain Charles Taylor and Coastguards Francis Crispin, Henry Mills, William Brede, Thomas Nibbs, John Williams, Michael O'Leary and Albert Freathy and another man named Sarachaga.

The thirteenth man was William Tart, a Fisherman of Dungeness.

Once care had been taken of these men, the general talk on the beach was of making another attempt to rescue the crew of Aeolus by taking the Littlestone lifeboat, Santa Magna. It seemed like sure death to do so and one man said, ' You must be mad, there's been quite enough drowned for one day.' But seeing men clinging to the rigging was just too much for the men on the beach. One man, Isaac Tart, took the initiative to form a crew. 'It's no use, lads,' he said. 'It may be sure death to go in Santa Magna, / dare say it is, but it shall never be said that Isaac Tart stood and watched sailors drowned without even trying to rescue them, so I'm going—now who will go with me'/' Seven coastguards stepped forward, together with Isaac's brother, Robin Tart, Charles Oilier and George Richardson, all fishermen of Dungeness, Alec Proctor, brother of Dr J. C.

Proctor of Lydd, and the curate of the coast, the Reverend C. A. W. Robins, a man very much respected by the fishing folk and coastguards alike.

The storm was increasing and on the mile walk in the driving rain along the beach to Littlestone boathouse, the furious winds nearly blew the men off their feet. News spread quickly and there was no lack of shore helpers. It took four attempts to launch before they got afloat and then there were many times when they seemed nearly lost; but they just kept pulling.

At last they were upon Aeolus and the sailors, who had clung to their totally wrecked vessel for ten hours and had almost given up hope, were plucked from the rigging. All safe aboard, the cry was then, 'Pull for the shore!' Having achieved the seemingly impossible, safety still had to be reached. They put all the energy they could muster into their rowing and, after a long time, the shore suddenly loomed up and the lifeboat was scraping on the beach.

The King of Sweden had a special medal struck and Lloyd's awarded a bronze medal for the courageous conduct of that day. Coxswain James George Lucas was awarded the RNLI's silver medal.

At the funeral service for Henry Reeves and Daniel Nicol it was said of them: 'They rest from their labours, and their works do follow them. They have gone down to the grave, but have left behind them in meek and lowly example, footprints on the sand of time'. These words could be equally aptly applied to all those people of the beach who took part in the 1891 rescues.

A footnote to 1891: Mrs Doris Tart, wife of ex-Coxswain Ben Tart, and Mrs Joan Bates, the last of the famous women launchers of Dungeness, were this year awarded the gold badge of the Institution. Doris, who had been a shore helper for 44 years, is the granddaughter of both Isaac Tart and Charles Oilier; Robin Tart was her great uncle. Ben, who retired as coxswain in 1974 and who was himself awarded the silver medal during his years of service, is the grandson of William Tart. Mrs Bates had been a shore helper for 37 years..