LOUISA LIFEBOAT CREW ON THE NIGHT OF 12/13TH JANUARY 1899
Years of service shown in brackets
Jack Crocombe - Coxswain (Captain) (1886 to 1926)
The Coxswain sat at the stern, steered the lifeboat and was in command. He was responsible for locating the casualty in the quickest time possible and plan the most effective assistance. He would give orders and make decisions. Whatever he said would be done without question.
George Richards – 2nd Coxswain (1886 to 1926)
The Second Coxswain worked in close co-operation with the coxswain. He would take over the steering when necessary, discuss any decisions that had to be made and would take command if the coxswain was incapacitated.
Richard Ridler – Bowman (1897 to 1912)
The Bowman was responsible for throwing the ropes when the lifeboat went along side a vessel or came into dock.
Richard Moore – Signalman (1890 to 1911)
The Signalman was responsible for all communications. If the casualty (ship in distress) was in sight off the shore he would send and receive messages using flags or lights. He let off the maroon to summon the crew under the command of the Coxswain and normally communicate with the lifeboat as long as she was visible. However, this night he was to take his chances with the crew afloat.
The remaining LOUISA lifeboat crew were:
Richard Burgess, Charles Crick, David Crocombe, William (Bill) Jarvis, Bertram Pennicott, Thomas (Tom) Pugsley, George Rawle, William (Billy) Richards, John Ridler, John Ward.
In addition a Mr E. J. Pedder, the Lynmouth Postmaster (at that time and a member of the Lynmouth lifeboat committee), also sailed in the lifeboat.
Lynmouth’s Vicar: Reverend A. R. Hockley was the local RNLI Hon. Secretary (1888-1902).
LOUISA was in service 1887 to 1906 saving many lives and 11 vessels including the Forrest Hall.
The Lynmouth lifeboat station was closed by the RNLI in 1944 after 75 years of service. The building was destroyed in the August 1952 floods, during which, all the lifeboat records were lost.
Research by Dave Reynolds of Great British Entertainment Ltd December 2017.
LOUISA LIFEBOAT CREW ON THE NIGHT OF 12/13TH JANUARY 1899
Years of service shown in brackets
Jack Crocombe - Coxswain (Captain) (1886 to 1926)
The Coxswain sat at the stern, steered the lifeboat and was in command. He was responsible for locating the casualty in the quickest time possible and plan the most effective assistance. He would give orders and make decisions. Whatever he said would be done without question.
George Richards – 2nd Coxswain (1886 to 1926)
The Second Coxswain worked in close co-operation with the coxswain. He would take over the steering when necessary, discuss any decisions that had to be made and would take command if the coxswain was incapacitated.
Richard Ridler – Bowman (1897 to 1912)
The Bowman was responsible for throwing the ropes when the lifeboat went along side a vessel or came into dock.
Richard Moore – Signalman (1890 to 1911)
The Signalman was responsible for all communications. If the casualty (ship in distress) was in sight off the shore he would send and receive messages using flags or lights. He let off the maroon to summon the crew under the command of the Coxswain and normally communicate with the lifeboat as long as she was visible. However, this night he was to take his chances with the crew afloat.
The remaining LOUISA lifeboat crew were:
Richard Burgess, Charles Crick, David Crocombe, William (Bill) Jarvis, Bertram Pennicott, Thomas (Tom) Pugsley, George Rawle, William (Billy) Richards, John Ridler, John Ward.
In addition a Mr E. J. Pedder, the Lynmouth Postmaster (at that time and a member of the Lynmouth lifeboat committee), also sailed in the lifeboat.
Lynmouth’s Vicar: Reverend A. R. Hockley was the local RNLI Hon. Secretary (1888-1902).
LOUISA was in service 1887 to 1906 saving many lives and 11 vessels including the Forrest Hall.
The Lynmouth lifeboat station was closed by the RNLI in 1944 after 75 years of service. The building was destroyed in the August 1952 floods, during which, all the lifeboat records were lost.
Research by Dave Reynolds of Great British Entertainment Ltd December 2017.
Beyond the list of names -
All too often, we forget those many unnamed persons, who sacrificed much for the good of others.
They, who also braved the storms, were bruised, soaked and hungry, the unsung heroes that faded into the background,
but without whose help, lives would never be saved.
All too often, we forget those many unnamed persons, who sacrificed much for the good of others.
They, who also braved the storms, were bruised, soaked and hungry, the unsung heroes that faded into the background,
but without whose help, lives would never be saved.
Thomas Pugsley.
A fisherman of Porlock Weir, during the record breaking drought and heat wave of 1911, he put out in an open boat, the Nancy Lee, with two other men to assist a boat party that had set off earlier on Saturday afternoon from Porlock Weir in good weather. Heavy squalls had later swept the coast creating a terrifying situation and the rescue occurred some four miles off shore. A reminder that not all rescues were carried out by RNLI lifeboats but by other courageous men of the sea |
“It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare.
It is because we do not dare that they are difficult.”
It is because we do not dare that they are difficult.”
The above map shows Porlock Village as it would have been at the time of the Louisa rescue attempt.
The sharp left turn just below the old school is most likely where they had problems with the cottage - part of which was demolished in norder to allow the lifeboat to continue. The road from Porlock hill enters the image from lower left and passes the Inn. Porlock Weir road is upper left.
The sharp left turn just below the old school is most likely where they had problems with the cottage - part of which was demolished in norder to allow the lifeboat to continue. The road from Porlock hill enters the image from lower left and passes the Inn. Porlock Weir road is upper left.
Whatever you can do, or dream you can ... begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
Goethe
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.
Goethe
THE JOURNEY OVER PORLOCK HILL
by
Tom F. Bevan
(Late Honorary Secretary of the Lynmouth Branch)
It was on the night of Thursday, the 12th of January, 1899, and the following morning, that there took place one of the most extraordinary life-boat launches on record—the launch of the Lynmouth life-boat to the full-rigged ship Forest Hall, of Liverpool, a ship of 1,900 tons, with twelve men & five apprentices on board. (Please note, official records indicate total crew 15) In order to launch the boat her crew and launchers took her for thirteen miles over Exmoor, climbing from sea-level to a height of over 1,400 feet. They had to dig down banks ; they had to knock down gateposts, they had to break down walls—and all in the middle of a fierce gale on a January night by the light of lamps which were continually blowing out. It took them 10| hours, but in the end they accomplished what must at the beginning have seemed impossible.
Coxswain Jack Crocombe was in charge on that night, and thirteen other members of the crew helped him. They were George Richards, who joined the crew in 1882, became second coxswain in 1886, and coxswain in 1926, retiring in 1931 after forty-nine years of service in the life-boat; William (Billy) Richards, who later became second-coxswain and who in1899 was only sixteen years old, this being his first service ; Richard Ridler (bowman), George Rawle, John Ward, William Jarvis, Charles Crick, Benedict Pennicott, David Crocombe, John Ridler, Thomas Pugsley, Richard Burgess, Richard Moore (Signalman) and on that night only a Mr E J Pedder; the Lynmouth postmaster also sailed in Louisa.
Before Motor Life-boats
The story of the Lynmouth launch belongs to an epoch in life-boat history before the motor life-boat and the launching tractor had come, when, at the oars at sea, and at the drag-ropes on land, the service depended on the muscles of men—and on land, of women, too. It is a story, above all, of the courage and determination of the men of the life-boat service, who were undismayed and undaunted even by seemingly hopeless odds.
It was just about 7 p.m. at the height of a whole westerly gale and right on top of the spring tides, that a telegraph message was received from Porlock that a large vessel was flying distress signals in the bay,and that she was in imminent danger of running ashore. By those who are acquainted with the Bristol Channel, with its tides, the position will be realized at once, and no one understood it better than the Lynmouth life-boatmen.
The wind had shifted a point north and was blowing harder thanever. The sea was sweeping right across the harbour and over the sea front. The sea-spray was like smoke. The tide was turning. It was obviously impossible to launch the boat from the beach in face of such a gale. Nor could any further message be got to or from Porlock, for after that one message the wires had been blown down. Those responsible at Lynmouth were faced with the alternative of attempting the almost super-human task of taking the boat to Porlock by land, or abandoning the ship, not knowing whether or not, unaided, she would survive the storm.
Horses Requisitioned
The decision was quickly made. Eighteen horses were requisitioned. Every available man and woman in the village set out to help the life-boat on a journey which entailed the ascent of the famous Countisbury Hill with its gradient of 1 in 4 up to the village of Countisbury, 1,400 feet up on the open moor; the descent of Porlock Hill, and finally the launch at 6 a.m. the following morning, after a night of as arduous and unexpected labour as life-boat-men have ever had to tackle.
During the whole journey the gale blew with unabated violence, accompanied by driving rain & snow. The men were soaked almost before they had started, and they were without food for the whole of the time.
*****************************
Here is the full story of that strange journey, told by ex-coxswain George S. Richards, at that time second-in-command of the life-boat :
We had a telegram from Mr. (Tom) Goddard, the Anchor Hotel, Porlock Weir, that there was a large ship drifting ashore, and sending up signals of distress for help. It was about 7 p.m. and just gone high water, blowing a gale from the west-north-west with a heavy sea running. The sea was making a clean break over the walls on the esplanade, and the roads were covered to a depth of three feet with water, so that it was impossible to launch the life-boat at Lynmouth.
Only Thing To Do
The coxswain and I talked it over and thought the only thing to do was to get the boat to Porlock, if possible. You should have then heard the opinions of the crowd. They said it would be impossible to get the boat there, but we had the sanction of the honorary secretary, the Rev. A. R. Hockley, to go and do the best we could.
We sent to Mr. Tom Jones for horses, at Lynton. He sent down eighteen in charge of Tom Willis, the driver. We had then to send away our signalman, Richard Moore, with a horse and cart and half a dozen men with pick-axes and shovels, to dig down the banks to make the road wide enough for the carriage to get through, as it was very narrow in places. In the cart we put all the flat wooden skids we had, because we knew we had a mile of road, known as Ashton Lane, where it would be impossible to get the carriage through.
We started from Lynmouth about 8 p.m having all the horses attached to the carriage. Our greatest trouble was lights, as we had only flares, called ducks, and oil lanthorns. At first the horses could not pull together but with the help of the men and the women we managed to get up Countisbury Hill. Here we had a bit of ill-luck. One of the wheels came off, as the lynch-pin had been loosened by the continual knocking against the bank. With the jacks, and willing helpers, we got the wheel on again, fitted a spare lynch-pin and continued on our journey.
Exposed Part of Exmoor
We were now at the top of Blue Ball, a very exposed part of Exmoor, 1,450 feet above sea-level. It was blowing a gale of wind and rain/snowing like mad. Here many of our helpers decided to turn back. We were left with about twenty, and pushed on. Our greatest difficulty now was keeping the lights lit. We got on all right until we caught up with Richard Moore, the signalman, and his men. They had dug down a wall on the Lynmouth side of Glenthorn White Gate, but Moore said we could not get the boat and carriage through Ashton Lane on the other side of the gate as it was only seven feet wide in places. Jack Crocombe, the coxswain, said we had come so far, and we were not going to turn back without having a good try for it. It was now that our biggest trouble began. We had first to take the boat off the carriage. While some of the men were doing this others were digging down the gate-posts to make it wide enough for the carriage to go through. We were going to send it over the moor to meet us again a mile farther on, where the road became wider, while we took the boat herself along the road on the skids.
Quieter Horses Chosen
We chose the quieter horses for hauling the boat. The remainder we sent with the carriage in charge of Tom Willis and R. Moore. Our horses were in charge of W. Vellacott. With men carrying lights we started to haul the boat along the road. It was a very difficult job. We could only drag the boat a little way and then had to stop while the skids behind were picked up, carried forward, and laid down again in front of her. They were placed about six feet apart. We worked in turns at carrying the skids forward, and the road was so narrow that we had a job to pass between the boat and the wall. We managed to get through in the end, and found the carriage waiting for us. 'We soon got the boat on the carriage again and once more startedfor County Gate. Here we had to knock down one of the gate-posts, and went on all right until we reached the top of Porlock Hill, having gone over Hawkcombe Head, 1,400 feet above the sea.
To go down the hill we had to use all the men and dragropes, put the drag and safety chains on the wheels and lash the boat to her carriage, as this was one of the heaviest loads known to have gone down Porlock Hill, but old Tom said if we were able to keep the boat from slipping off her carriage he would be able to get around the corners, very dangerous though they were.
Down Came The Walls
To everyone's surprise we managed to get down without any trouble, until we reached the bottom of the hill. Here we came to the old cottages and found there was not width for the carriage to go through, so down came the walls. We did not half get choked off by the old lady of the house. She wanted to know what right we had bringing a thing like that at this time of night, knocking down people's walls and waking them up. When we told her that it was a life-boat she was very surprised, as she had never seen one in her life before. We told her that there was a ship in distress off Porlock Weir and we were going to try and rescue the men, so that put things all right with her, and she came along with us.
We got on all right until we met Tom Pollard and some men from Porlock Weir who had come to warn us that we could not get along the main road, as the sea had washed down the sea-wall and washed the road away. The only way to get to the Weir was up the higher road.
Large Laburnum Tree
As we were not going to be beaten after coming so far, off we set up the higher road and got along fairly well until we came to the Lane Head, and there we found a large laburnum tree with big branches across the road, too low for the boat to pass. But we could not stop for that. We had a saw and cut it down. We arrived at the beach without any more trouble and launched the boat right away, not even waiting for anything to eat.
Mr. E. J. Pedder, a member of the Lynmouth life-boat committee and Lloyd's agent, went with us in the boat. It was then about six in the morning. We were all drenched to the skin with rain, but that made no difference, as we were soon drenched with sea-water, for it was still blowing very hard. 'On reaching the ship, about 7.30, we found she was the Forest Hall, belonging to Liverpool, bound from Bristol to Liverpool (light), being towed by a tug which had parted her rope the night before. The ship was disabled owing to her rudder-head being carried away, and she had drifted with both her anchors down all night until she got near the shore of Porlock.
We advised the captain to hang on until daylight to see if we could get a tug-boat, and just after it became light we saw one coming. It turned out to be the same one which had towed her down—J. Joliffe, of Liverpool. We got a rope from the tug to the ship and with the help of some of the life-boat crew who went on board the ship the captain got her anchors up. Then we all started for Barry on the Welsh coast.
No Rudder
As there was no rudder, we could not manage to steer the ship and we were very near the Hash Sands. The captain then decided to get another tug-boat to help him to steer the ship. She was called the Sarah Joliffe. It was still blowing very hard when we reached Barry, which was about six in the evening of Friday, the 13th. We were nearly exhausted, as we had had nothing to eat since the day before.
The men at Barry Docks very kindly took charge of the life-boat and sent us to an hotel, where we were cared for by the Shipwrecked Mariners Society with dry clothes and food. We got back to Lynmouth the following day, the Saturday. A steamer gave us a tow for part of the way. The carriage went back by road.
To complete ex-coxswain George Richard's story it needs only to be added that the thirteen members of the crew received awards of £5 each, the launcher.s awards amounted to £27 5s. 6d. The total cost of the service, including these awards, the hire of horses and masons' bill for repairs, was £118 17s. 9d. Towards this the owners of the Forest Hall contributed £75. Mr. R. H. Fry, a native of Lynmouth, presented each of the crew with a watch, the coxswain and second-coxswain with gold chains.
Apprentices on board merchant ships.
Ships of over 800 tons could carry the maximum number of apprentices, which was six. Their ages could range from as young as 12 to 17 years when first indentured. The majority of deep-sea vessels carried apprentices as legislation made it obligatory for ship owners to do so.
(From a study by V C Burton on 19th C merchant marine.)
Ships of over 800 tons could carry the maximum number of apprentices, which was six. Their ages could range from as young as 12 to 17 years when first indentured. The majority of deep-sea vessels carried apprentices as legislation made it obligatory for ship owners to do so.
(From a study by V C Burton on 19th C merchant marine.)
The steam ship which gave assistance to Louisa's return voyage on 14th January 1899, was the 1726 tons Schooner Rigged SS LESBURY of London. Built in 1891 she ran onto rocks in the River Plate while bound for Las Palmos on 20th November 1902.
Pilot error was blamed at the court of inquiry. She was abandoned by her crew of 23.
The Blue Ball Inn on Countisbury Hill.
A welcome shelter for the villagers after four hours of misery climbing the exposed face of Countisbury Hill in the worst of weather.
In January 1899, the innkeeper was Robert Smith, aged over seventy it is likely he was not in the best of health. He died later that year. His daughter, Mary Ann Smith aged about 42, probably did most of the work. A couple of years after the Louisa incident she married Edwin Squire, some twenty years her junior, who became the new innkeeper.
On the night of the great storm the Blue Ball Inn played a positive role in maintaining the spirits of those who were to continue and a welcome respite for those who would return to Lynmouth.
A welcome shelter for the villagers after four hours of misery climbing the exposed face of Countisbury Hill in the worst of weather.
In January 1899, the innkeeper was Robert Smith, aged over seventy it is likely he was not in the best of health. He died later that year. His daughter, Mary Ann Smith aged about 42, probably did most of the work. A couple of years after the Louisa incident she married Edwin Squire, some twenty years her junior, who became the new innkeeper.
On the night of the great storm the Blue Ball Inn played a positive role in maintaining the spirits of those who were to continue and a welcome respite for those who would return to Lynmouth.
The view that would have met the rescuers as they neared the summit of Countisbury.
About the road from Lynmouth to Porlock
According to the tithe map of 1841, the road towards Porlock from Lynmouth was called Sanctuary Lane after it passed the Blue Ball Inn, the road being a mere track in places. Transport was easier and more accessible by sea and boats between the towns. The area was and still is quite remote which is why there is little written about it.
There was no practical transport west of Porlock in the 18th century. In 1794, the poet Robert Southey wrote that such a route was considered "the end of the world". In 1812, the local community was fined for not maintaining a good road, so builders were employed to construct a suitable route. The road suitably opened in 1843 with a stagecoach travelling successfully from Lynton to Porlock .
Shortly after the road opened, a local landowner, Mr Blaithwate, completed a toll road further west at a more relaxed gradient of 1 in 14 (7%). As horse-pulled traffic could cope with Porlock Hill, the toll road was not initially successful but became popular owing to the increased use of the motor car.It wasn't until1900 that a motor car managed to climb Porlock hill.
Six horses pulled the coaches on the hills, four when crossing the moor. Horses were changed at the tops of the hills, there being stables at Culbone and The Blue Ball.
The photograph below gives some idea of the road state, its narrowness and unprotected drop to the sea .
According to the tithe map of 1841, the road towards Porlock from Lynmouth was called Sanctuary Lane after it passed the Blue Ball Inn, the road being a mere track in places. Transport was easier and more accessible by sea and boats between the towns. The area was and still is quite remote which is why there is little written about it.
There was no practical transport west of Porlock in the 18th century. In 1794, the poet Robert Southey wrote that such a route was considered "the end of the world". In 1812, the local community was fined for not maintaining a good road, so builders were employed to construct a suitable route. The road suitably opened in 1843 with a stagecoach travelling successfully from Lynton to Porlock .
Shortly after the road opened, a local landowner, Mr Blaithwate, completed a toll road further west at a more relaxed gradient of 1 in 14 (7%). As horse-pulled traffic could cope with Porlock Hill, the toll road was not initially successful but became popular owing to the increased use of the motor car.It wasn't until1900 that a motor car managed to climb Porlock hill.
Six horses pulled the coaches on the hills, four when crossing the moor. Horses were changed at the tops of the hills, there being stables at Culbone and The Blue Ball.
The photograph below gives some idea of the road state, its narrowness and unprotected drop to the sea .
Horses that lived and died that day. Use of horses.. |
More about the isolation of Lynton and Lynmouth in the early to mid 19th century. Transport and roads Lynton. |
|
The Blue Ball Inn, now much extended from early days, Wind Hill, or Castle Hill, important battle site between Saxons and Danes, St John's church at Countisbury, and the valley path to Lynmouth. Taken in winter and a reminder of what the villagers of Lynmouth endured that January night in 1899 when they set out to save strangers in peril on the sea..
The Darkness.
Most of us will struggle to cross our own living room in the dark. The brave souls of Lynmouth were faced with driving sleet or rain on a moonless night. Underfoot was mud and stones. Horses hooves, heavy wheels, a road edge that dropped to the sea. How they saw in the darkness to take down walls, fix harness, tie knots or any of the countless jobs that would have been awkward enough in daylight. They wouldn't have been far off blind that night of the twelfth. The flickering lamps hardly illuminated themselves, those that didn't run out of fuel or were extinguished by the gale. We read the story and wonder . . . but we will never realise just how incredibly and painfully hard it was. |
(Published in 1917 and made available by the generosity of Gutenberg, John Presland describes the difficulties of the Lynmouth to Porlock Road, difficulties still evident some 18 years after the Louisa's journey)
LYNTON AND LYNMOUTH A PAGEANT OF CLIFF & MOORLAND BY JOHN PRESLAND
For a good walker the road that lies between Lynmouth and Porlock is an adventure worth taking, though it gives a taste of the steep and shadeless roads which lead up and down these moors, pitilessly sun-scorched in summer, and pitilessly bleak and windswept in winter, when the rain and sleet comes stinging and driving in your face, and yet somehow, at all times of the year, worth adventuring for the splendid, open, untamed beauty they show you.
If you take carriage (in which case you will walk the greater part of the way!), you will start from Lynmouth, and ascend the steep hill that leads right up the cliff to Countisbury Foreland—I should have said the steepest two miles of carriage road in England, had I not also climbed Porlock Hill, twelve miles northward. The surface of the road is loose, and scoured by winter rains, and on a windy day the dust comes swirling down it like a miniature sandstorm. I have, indeed, seen even a car obliged to draw up to let the blinding red swirl go by; and from Lynton, on the opposite side of the valley, the whole headland has been blurred and obliterated by the dust, as if it were a fog.
If you are not driving, you may go up the East Lyn Valley, past the Watersmeet, till you strike the path for Brendon, a more sheltered way on a hot morning, but steep also, for the hills are not to be avoided, and you have somehow to climb 1,300 feet from the sea to Countisbury. Countisbury itself is a tiny, bare, white-washed hamlet, with a small bare white inn with the sign of the Blue Ball; it stands on the borders of Devon and Somerset, and hence some have supposed the name to mean the "county's boundary"—but this, I think, is a case of false analogy, and the Celtic origin of the "camp on the headland" is far more likely.
LYNTON AND LYNMOUTH A PAGEANT OF CLIFF & MOORLAND BY JOHN PRESLAND
For a good walker the road that lies between Lynmouth and Porlock is an adventure worth taking, though it gives a taste of the steep and shadeless roads which lead up and down these moors, pitilessly sun-scorched in summer, and pitilessly bleak and windswept in winter, when the rain and sleet comes stinging and driving in your face, and yet somehow, at all times of the year, worth adventuring for the splendid, open, untamed beauty they show you.
If you take carriage (in which case you will walk the greater part of the way!), you will start from Lynmouth, and ascend the steep hill that leads right up the cliff to Countisbury Foreland—I should have said the steepest two miles of carriage road in England, had I not also climbed Porlock Hill, twelve miles northward. The surface of the road is loose, and scoured by winter rains, and on a windy day the dust comes swirling down it like a miniature sandstorm. I have, indeed, seen even a car obliged to draw up to let the blinding red swirl go by; and from Lynton, on the opposite side of the valley, the whole headland has been blurred and obliterated by the dust, as if it were a fog.
If you are not driving, you may go up the East Lyn Valley, past the Watersmeet, till you strike the path for Brendon, a more sheltered way on a hot morning, but steep also, for the hills are not to be avoided, and you have somehow to climb 1,300 feet from the sea to Countisbury. Countisbury itself is a tiny, bare, white-washed hamlet, with a small bare white inn with the sign of the Blue Ball; it stands on the borders of Devon and Somerset, and hence some have supposed the name to mean the "county's boundary"—but this, I think, is a case of false analogy, and the Celtic origin of the "camp on the headland" is far more likely.
Weather forcasting in the late 19th Century, although remaining subject to human error, was advanced by the synoptic system of using several weather stations connected by telegraphy. This allowed an interpretation to be made of weather changes over a large area. In hindsight we might question the wisdom to tow the Forrest Hall into the Bristol Channel in such a storm. Bravery? Foolhardiness? Under orders? We'll never know. However, the rocky coast of Devon is a graveyard to many a sailing ship caught out by its changeable weather.
12th January 1899 is reported as experiencing a severe gale.
12th January 1899 is reported as experiencing a severe gale.
Thursday 12th January
Actual weather was only slightly at variance with the forecast. The Bristol Channel experienced a westerly gale, squally with heavy rain showers.
Forecasting for Friday the 13th (there’s an omen) was hampered by lack of timely reports from westerly stations. The guess was, that the gale would moderate on Saturday 14th followed by a fall in temperature.
Temperature from the 10th onwards was a high of 10 degrees C and a low of 2 degrees C. Taking the speed of only a moderate gale at 30 mph the wind chill on Countisbury hill would reduce this to at least minus 6 degrees. Painfully cold in the driving rain.
Actual weather was only slightly at variance with the forecast. The Bristol Channel experienced a westerly gale, squally with heavy rain showers.
Forecasting for Friday the 13th (there’s an omen) was hampered by lack of timely reports from westerly stations. The guess was, that the gale would moderate on Saturday 14th followed by a fall in temperature.
Temperature from the 10th onwards was a high of 10 degrees C and a low of 2 degrees C. Taking the speed of only a moderate gale at 30 mph the wind chill on Countisbury hill would reduce this to at least minus 6 degrees. Painfully cold in the driving rain.
Even in such cold weather, labouring as they did, they sweat, a sweat that cools rapidly should they rest for even a few moments, chilling the body to the bone. Wet clothes lose heat far quicker than dry, wind increases evaporation, It's a one way ticket to hypothermia unless you keep working. For that, you need energy, (thousands of calories)
Much of the clothing of the time was inadequate for such a venture - but they never gave up.
Much of the clothing of the time was inadequate for such a venture - but they never gave up.
Nature and effect of a gale
Over the range of winds classed as gales, wind speeds can vary from 34 to 57 mph.
Wave heights.
In an open sea this can result in wave heights of 14 to 30 feet high
(4 to 7 metres)
The painting is by James Hamilton and titled After a Gale - Wreckers
Tidal Flow.
Prior to her distress call it would appear that the Forrest Hall was being towed against a rising tidal flow as well as a gale-force wind.
Tidal flow can reach 3 to 5 knots on spring tides.
Over the range of winds classed as gales, wind speeds can vary from 34 to 57 mph.
Wave heights.
In an open sea this can result in wave heights of 14 to 30 feet high
(4 to 7 metres)
The painting is by James Hamilton and titled After a Gale - Wreckers
Tidal Flow.
Prior to her distress call it would appear that the Forrest Hall was being towed against a rising tidal flow as well as a gale-force wind.
Tidal flow can reach 3 to 5 knots on spring tides.
Every year, hundreds of ships were lost at sea and thousands of sailors forfeited their lives.
Not all ships were seaworthy, fully crewed or with safely stowed cargo. Greed of the owners played its part in their downfall.
It was commonplace for the 19th century.
Not all ships were seaworthy, fully crewed or with safely stowed cargo. Greed of the owners played its part in their downfall.
It was commonplace for the 19th century.
Effect of cold water exposure - winter in the Bristol Channel.
Bristol Channel water temperature in January is about 8 degrees C.
This is sufficient to effect dexterity within 5 to 10 minutes, fingers are the first to fail, making it difficult to tie knots, grip a rope or in some cases even hold on to the side of a boat.
Progressively, arms and legs fail to respond.
Unconsciousness may occur within the hour and death within 3 hours.
Good protective clothing prolongs survival and a lifejacket is essential.
Rough seas will make breathing difficult due to spray.
Any effort to swim makes matters worse due to blood going to extremities and cooling the essential body core quicker.
Bristol Channel water temperature in January is about 8 degrees C.
This is sufficient to effect dexterity within 5 to 10 minutes, fingers are the first to fail, making it difficult to tie knots, grip a rope or in some cases even hold on to the side of a boat.
Progressively, arms and legs fail to respond.
Unconsciousness may occur within the hour and death within 3 hours.
Good protective clothing prolongs survival and a lifejacket is essential.
Rough seas will make breathing difficult due to spray.
Any effort to swim makes matters worse due to blood going to extremities and cooling the essential body core quicker.
State of tide on the night
It was a new moon on January 12th which resulted in a Spring tide. (Spring tides have the greatest difference between high and low tide) The Bristol channel has the second highest tidal range in the world. An on-shore wind makes it worse, as does low atmospheric pressure, which on the night was experiencing a deep depression.
The fact that waves were breaking over and into the Lynmouth street is testament to the presence of high tide at the time lifeboat crew were called upon.
Tidal State at time of call
It was the deep dark of a new moon and a spring tide.
Extrapolating data from Cardiff, where high tide was at 7.32 pm with a height of 35 feet (10.7m)
Lynmouth’s high tide was 53 minutes earlier at 6.39 pm with height about 30 feet (~ 9 metres).
The call for help came about 7 pm, not far off highest water.
They began the climb of Countisbury Hill about 8 pm
Reports say that they launched from Porlock about 6 am, coinciding with the next high tide at about 6.15 am.
It was a new moon on January 12th which resulted in a Spring tide. (Spring tides have the greatest difference between high and low tide) The Bristol channel has the second highest tidal range in the world. An on-shore wind makes it worse, as does low atmospheric pressure, which on the night was experiencing a deep depression.
The fact that waves were breaking over and into the Lynmouth street is testament to the presence of high tide at the time lifeboat crew were called upon.
Tidal State at time of call
It was the deep dark of a new moon and a spring tide.
Extrapolating data from Cardiff, where high tide was at 7.32 pm with a height of 35 feet (10.7m)
Lynmouth’s high tide was 53 minutes earlier at 6.39 pm with height about 30 feet (~ 9 metres).
The call for help came about 7 pm, not far off highest water.
They began the climb of Countisbury Hill about 8 pm
Reports say that they launched from Porlock about 6 am, coinciding with the next high tide at about 6.15 am.
Martinhoe Pier -
only a few miles away from Lynmouth, on 12th January 1899,
the pier was severely damaged by this storm.
The pier was never repaired.
only a few miles away from Lynmouth, on 12th January 1899,
the pier was severely damaged by this storm.
The pier was never repaired.
Find out about other places across the country, -- storm damage that night.
Life or death decisions at sea.
Sensing the fear, horror and ultimate acceptance of loss at sea. From the Liverpool Mercury in January 1899
The report below is on an image, to enlarge just click on the text.
Sensing the fear, horror and ultimate acceptance of loss at sea. From the Liverpool Mercury in January 1899
The report below is on an image, to enlarge just click on the text.