THE CHAPTER XVII CAPE CORNWALL, BOTALLACK MINE HE antiquary and lover of wild, rocky coast scenery could not do better than make St. Just his headquarters for a day or two. The district abounds, as we have seen, with remnants of a past civilisation, and besides these, Cape Cornwall and the famed Botallack Mine are most easily visited from this place. Just a mile and a half almost due west from St. Just, Cape Cornwall is reached. This notable promontory rejoices in being the only "cape" in England. Other promontories might have been called capes, but they have not. It is one of the most prominent headlands on the western coast, and is roughly in contour exactly like St. Michael's Mount and many other of the other headlands around the Land's End district. But, unlike St. Michael's Mount, it is still connected with the land by a low isthmus. In formation it is not like Land's End, of columnar granite, but is of the slate formation which extends to Pendeen from here. Its summit is a huge, rounded hillock with steep declivities around. Dr. Borlase speaks of it as the promontory of Helenus, because it has been said that Helenus, the son of Priamus, who arrived here with Brute, "lieth buried there, except the sea have washed away his sepulchre." But the name is more probably derived from the old Cornish, Pen Hailen, the great head; or from Pen-hail-mên, the great stone head. On the top of the eminence there seems to have been a building, probably a beacon and watch tower, to give notice to the country around of any hostile approach. Cape Cornwall was one of those cliff castles severed from the mainland by trenches and walls, like the Logan Stone promontory, Land's End, and many others. The old rural simplicity and wild naturalness of this headland are being quite ruined by the extraordinarily strong and lofty walls being built there. Roads are being made as well, one to run all round the cape; and generally an atmosphere of artificiality is enveloping the spot, which to the lover of wild, rugged scenery is regrettable. A gentleman, Mr. Frank Oates, is building a very large house on the high land overlooking the cape, and has, I believe, bought the whole place. He was very successful at the Cape-not this one, which he left as a boy for the other—and has returned to his old birthplace to live. I searched for the remains of St. Helen's Oratory on the isthmus, and at last found a small roofless room of roughly hewn stones on the ground of which cabbages were growing. Two circular niches now alone remain to show any ancient structure, and as a high wall is being built around the field in which the remains of the oratory stand, they will soon retire altogether from public sight. Nearly a mile south-west of Cape Cornwall are the two fearfully dangerous rocks-the Brisons. These, as seen from Sennen, look like one. They rise some seventy feet above high-water mark and are also called the Sisters. Brison is the Cornish word for prison, and it is said that as such they were formerly used; but if people were ever sent there it seems a more appropriate name would have been Executioner's Islands, for surely nothing human could live there long. 66 A terrible wreck occurred on these deadly Brisons on January 11th, 1851. A brig, New Commercial, bound from Liverpool to Spain, struck between these rocks and soon went to pieces. Blight thus describes the scene: The crew, nine men, with one woman, the wife of the master, got on the ledge. They were discovered from the shore as soon as day broke, but it was then impossible to render them any assistance. In this wretched condition they remained until about nine o'clock, when a tremendous wave rose and carried them all off. Seven out of the ten at once sank. Of the remaining three, one, a mulatto, contrived to get on a portion of floating wreck, and after being buffeted about for some hours, he managed, with a remarkable coolness and presence of mind, by means of a plank, which he used as a paddle, and a piece of canvas, which served him as a sail, with the assistance of the strong tides, to keep clear of the boiling surf. Whilst this poor fellow was thus struggling for WRECKING ROCKS 173 life, being anxiously watched by a crowd of persons on the shore, the five fishermen belonging to Sennen determined, with their usual resolute and fearless spirit, to launch their boat through the breakers; in this they succeeded, and after encountering great risk, rescued the mulatto. 66 When the master and his wife were carried off the ledge, they were washed to the Little Brison. The master first got a footing and then assisted his wife, and for a time both were in comparative safety. Whilst the fishermen were engaged in saving the mulatto, the revenue cutter from Penzance was seen working round the Land's End, being ordered to the spot by the commander. A boat put off, but was soon compelled to return. The gale still continuing, nothing more could be done for the day; so the cutter hove to and the captain hoisted colours to encourage the poor sufferers, and to let them know they were not deserted. They were now to spend the night on the desolate rock, without food or shelter, exposed to all the fury of the wind and rain, On Sunday morning the wind abated a little, and several boats put off, but none could approach within one hundred yards of the rock. At last a boat was seen making towards the spot, manned by the coastguard. The commander, Captain Davis, now, at great personal risk, proceeded to throw a line by help of a rocket; the first which was fired carried the line to the rock, but it again fell into the sea; the second happily fell close to the man, who seized it and fastened it around the waist of his wife, who after much persuasion gave the fearful leap. But when drawn to the boat, life was almost extinct, and she died before she could be got on shore; the captain then tied the cord around himself, and was dragged greatly exhausted to the boat." Wrecks were, no doubt, very plentiful around the coast of Cornwall. As Borlase puts it: "Another inconvenience of our sea situation is, that the land shooting out sharp like a wedge into the Atlantic Ocean, ships oftentimes mistake one channel for another, or are drawn aside from their true course by the irregularity of the tides." But I fear the natives of Cornwall did not always consider it an inconvenience, but rather a godsend. Parson Troutbeck, of the Scilly Isles, made an addition to the Litany: "We pray thee, O Lord, not that wrecks should happen, but that if any wrecks shall happen, Thou wilt guide them into the Scilly Isles, for the benefit of the poor inhabitants." The same sort of feeling was prevalent in Cornwall, though doubtless not more so there than elsewhere in England. When the East Indiaman the John and Lily came ashore on Appledore bar, this was sung in the streets : "The John and Lily Came ashore To feed the hungry The story, too, of the Cornish rector, who was in his pulpit when news of a wreck was brought to the church, by someone crying at the church door "A wreck, a wreck," is well known; and even if not authentic, is valuable as showing the feeling abroad in old times. The parson hurriedly went on with his sermon, with difficulty restraining the people, and then, hustling off his robes, said as he descended the pulpit stairs, "My good friends, let us all start fair." As evidence that wrecking did take place in Cornwall, there is extant in John Knill's handwriting (he was a celebrated St. Ives man, who was born in 1733 and died in 1811 at the age of seventy-seven), the draft of a scheme for the suppression of wrecking for which he received the thanks of the Government. But probably Cornwall was only worse in this respect than other counties because it had more opportunities. In the Autobiography of a Cornish Rector it is said: "Uncle Mike Stevens' old lame mare with a great ship's lantern round her neck was driven on to the cliffs to entice Indiamen ashore and no doubt similar devices were resorted to not only in Cornwall. ; At the same time it must be said that when a wreck now occurs on the coast, the noble and fearless conduct of Cornishmen is not exceeded in any county of England. Nowhere do shipwrecked persons meet with greater kindness. Unfortunately, when a wreck does occur on this iron-bound coast, it is seldom that lives can be saved. No ship can hold together in a gale of wind if flung against these rocks. Many relics of vessels have been found, but so fragmentary that name, nation, and fate of crew are unknown. In one case a |