Thus it was, that a terrible scene of disaster and death, of which many were the agonized eye-witnesses, did more to urge forward the life-boat cause than had been effected by the report of many similar tragedies, which but few lookers on had seen occur. It was in the year 1789, a tremendous gale of wind was raging at Newcastle; thousands of the inhabitants were watching the wild sea as it foamed up at the entrance of the port, and they trembled as they saw vessel after vessel stagger on through the sweeping waves, running into the harbour for refuge. One ship, the _Adventurer_, missed the entrance of the port, and was driven on to the rocks; the seas rushed over her deck, and flew half-way up the masts; the crew took refuge in the rigging, and the wreck was so near to the pier, that the horrified and terror-stricken people thronging there, could hear the cries for help, and even see the growing shade of the death agony upon the faces of the men, as they became more and more exhausted and faint from exposure to the heavy seas; and then they saw one after another of the seamen torn from his hold and perish miserably; and this within call of these thousands of spectators, who were full of grief and sympathy, but were unable even to attempt a rescue. Brave men stood powerless, and as they were frantically appealed to, to try and save the drowning men, could only groan over the utter impossibility of rendering them any assistance! Yes! the daring, hardy, skilful sailors, wept with the weeping women, as they stood overwhelmed with helpless horror watching the most heart-rending scene. Strong boats were there, ready to be manned, boats that had successfully battled with many a rough sea, but they were _not life-boats_, and to go out into such a mad boil of raging waves in any other kind of boat than a life-boat, would have been certain death to all the crew, without affording the faintest possibility of help to the shipwrecked; and thus, without help, without hope, one after the other of the poor shipwrecked sailors, exhausted and faint, fell back into the wild waves and perished: the vessel was speedily torn to pieces, the crowd slowly and sorrowfully went home; soon the darkness of night shadowed the wild sea and the saddened town, but the day's work was not done--the tragedy was not without fruit, in more senses than one, "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church;" the sympathies of the people were now fully aroused; meetings were at once held at South Shields--a committee was formed--and premiums were offered for the best life-boat. William Wouldham, a painter, was one of the successful competitors; he presented a model embracing many excellent qualities; Henry Greathead, a boat-builder of South Shields, stood next on the list.