The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker, M.A.Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
General
The Vicar of Morwenstow: Being a Life of Robert Stephen Hawker, M.A.
Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
Hawker, Robert Stephen, 1803?-1875
my cassock, he sobbed with a piteous cry: “Oh, mon père, mon père!”
Gradually he revived; and when he had fully come to himself with the
help of cordials and food, we gathered from him the mournful tale of
his vessel and her wreck. He was a Jersey man by birth, and had been
shipped at Malta, on the homeward voyage of the vessel from the port
of Odessa with corn.
Mr. Hawker wrote this account for a periodical, without giving the name
of the place, or signing the article. This explains a few trifling
deviations from fact. He goes on to relate how he took Le Daine into his
house. This was not strictly true. Le Daine was found by another
gentleman, and taken by him into his father’s house in Morwenstow
parish, where he was carefully and kindly nursed till his recovery. Mr.
Hawker continues his narrative thus:—
I returned to the scene of death and danger, where my man awaited
me. He had found, in addition to the two corpses, another dead body,
jammed under a rock. By this time a crowd of people had arrived from
the land, and at my request they began to search anxiously for the
dead. It was indeed a terrible scene. The vessel, a brig of five
hundred tons, had struck, as we afterwards found, at three o’clock
that morning; and, by the time the wreck was discovered, she had
been shattered into broken pieces by the fury of the sea. The rocks
and water bristled with fragments of mast and spar and rent timbers;
the cordage lay about in tangled masses. The rollers tumbled in
volumes of corn, the wheaten cargo; and amidst it all the bodies of
the helpless dead—that a few brief hours before had walked the deck,
the stalwart masters of their ship—turned their disfigured faces
towards the sky, pleading for sepulture. We made a temporary bier of
the broken planks, and laid thereon the corpses, decently arranged.
As the vicar, I led the way, and my people followed with ready zeal
as bearers; and in sad procession we carried our dead up the steep
cliff, by a difficult path, to await, in a room at my vicarage which
I allotted them, the inquest. The ship and her cargo were, as to any
tangible value, utterly lost.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account