On the evening of 11 September 2014, the St Agnes lifeboat sped towards granite cliffs. It was the calmest night of the year – but, inside a flooded cave, a hidden drama was unfolding

Helmsman Gavin Forehead, with Crew Members Richard Llewellyn and Gavin Purcell, had launched at 9.30pm to reports of a man falling from the cliffs at Wheal Coates, a rugged stretch of Cornish coastline just north of Chapel Porth. His precise location – and the extent of his injuries – were unknown.

While walking along the clifftop with a friend, the man had fallen through a fissure in the rock and plunged 9m into a cave that had been filled with water by the high spring tide. Despite breaking his ankle, he had managed to swim to a small beach at the back of the 40m-long tunnel.

All this was unknown to the lifeboat volunteers now arriving at the scene. ‘We searched up and down the cliffline and put up white parachute flares to try and locate him,’ says Helm Gavin. ‘I cut the engine and shouted out.’ But there was no reply. Had the walker sustained a head injury? Was he unconscious in the sea? The volunteers feared the worst.

Suddenly, they spotted the faintest reflection of torchlight on the water. ‘It was lucky it lined up, because the cave’s so narrow at the opening – you could have gone right past and missed it,’ explains Richard. ‘He must have been able to see us searching up and down, but we couldn’t hear him.’

Helmsman Gavin now had to weigh up whether to take his boat and crew into the cave. If the sea had been any rougher, it would have been too risky. But tonight, there was a chance.

Gavin carefully steered the lifeboat into the cave, and as they rounded a corner they heard the desperate cries from the injured man. The swell, made bigger by the mouth of the cave, nudged the lifeboat further in, wedging it at the narrowest point and forcing the crew to duck away from the roof.

Spotting his chance, the other Gavin on the lifeboat – Crew Member Gavin Purcell – jumped overboard. He whipped through the gap and swam the remaining 20m to the casualty.

‘I was determined to get in there, because once you see the torchlight and hear someone calling out like that you just think, “We’re going to get you”,’ recalls the crew member. ‘The guy was sitting with his jumper over his head, soaked to the bone and shivering. He’d tried to climb out and then fell back on his injured ankle. That’s a desperate, lonely place to be for 45 minutes, not knowing if help is coming.’

Meanwhile, the remaining volunteers on the lifeboat had reversed back outside. Richard radioed Falmouth Coastguard and updated the waiting cliff rescue team. Helm Gavin grew concerned about the crew member and casualty still in the cave: they had a radio, but they were so deep under the cliffs that they couldn’t make contact. He decided to try and take the lifeboat back in.

‘The surge must have dropped back ever so slightly, because we were able to sneak through under a ledge,’ says Richard, who jumped into the water inside the cave. Together with Gavin Purcell he carried the relieved man to the safety of the lifeboat.

Heading back towards St Agnes, the crew reassured the casualty, watchful for signs of a head injury or hypothermia. As warmth returned to the casualty’s limbs the pain intensified, but within 10 minutes they were ashore. The waiting ambulance crew took the man away to hospital, where – during a long and difficult stay – doctors saved his badly injured foot.

He later thanked his rescuers on Facebook, saying: ‘The training, commitment and dedication of these gentlemen will never, ever be forgotten by me or my family. Without them, and the unseen heroes behind the scenes, I might not have been able to tell my story. From a casual walk after work ... to a nightmare. I’m a very lucky guy.’

‘We put in a lot of training, and that pat on the back makes you realise why we all do it,’ concludes Gavin Forehead. ‘On any other night we couldn’t have got in there – the cave is west facing and St Agnes Head picks up more tidal swell than anywhere else. I’m just glad we managed it. Job well done!’

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In a class of her own: the lifeboat behind the rescue

Helmsman Gavin Forehead, who earned a Silver Medal for Gallantry in 2005 for another difficult cave rescue, knows more than most the capabilities of this powerful little craft.

‘The D class really is an exceptional piece of kit in confined spaces. It’s amazing that for a boat of its size it’s almost as manoeuvrable as a jet ski. And being fully inflatable, you can squash it into spaces a rigid craft just wouldn’t fit. Blue Peter IV is reaching the end of her 10-year service at St Agnes, so we’ve started a local appeal to fund her replacement. The hypalon outer starts to weaken, and with a rescue like this one you need to have complete faith that the material’s at its absolute best.’

If you’d like to help fund a new lifesaving craft, visit RNLI.org/StAgnesAppeal.