A selection of paintings, drawings & jottings
The Wreck Of The President
Page 12
At last, very gradually, the blackness turned to grey. The two were so cold, tired and weak that they could barely move at all, much less climb down to the sand. But there it was – the beach. The tide was almost out and their chance had come. They fumbled for footholds and slowly began to descend. At the bottom they turned to look out to sea and there they saw the wreck of the President.
Now that it was low tide a number of large broken hull sections stuck out of the water at different angles. There was wreckage everywhere, on the beach, lapping back and forth at the water’s edge and bobbing about in the waves further out.
William Smith and John Harshfield stood and looked about them. At the beach, at the rocks and at the water. There were many dead bodies but no survivors.
They were alone in the cold quiet of a February morning. There were no houses anywhere in sight. Although the waves still thundered against the rocks further out, it seemed almost silent compared to the din of the previous fourteen hours. The cries of seagulls were increasing as more arrived to inspect what had washed up – best not to look.
Wearily they turned, almost in a dream, and started to make their way along the beach toward a place where it appeared they might climb up. It was a long walk leaning on each other as they went, and, as they neared the end two men came down to meet them.
These two had seen the wreckage in the water and the bodies on the beach. They saw the two survivors hobbling toward them so they climbed down to the sand. But they had no intention of offering help. In the hope that Smith and Harshfield had saved some valuable possessions from the ship, they attacked them.
The Surat Merchant was lost also, but the Persia Merchant commanded by Captain Bowers had arrived in England two days before on the 9th February.
Even as they beat the defenceless men to the ground there was a shout from further along the beach. The attackers turned and saw a gentleman on horseback riding quickly toward them, they ran off. William Smith and John Harshfield were safe at last..
The Cornish coast had seen so many shipwrecks that the people who lived in those parts were quite accustomed to the occasional harvest of valuables turning up on their doorstep – provided they were quick enough.
In a neighbouring village the news of the wreck arrived while the locals were all in church, but not for long! As one they dashed out and headed for the beach leaving the shocked Priest alone and wondering whether to continue.