The wind blew from the west gaining strength with every gust. We struggled against its
apparent desire to dash our fragile craft against the jagged rocks growing ever closer. Every
sinew stretched to its utmost attempting to pull against the relentless incoming tide and
push of the wind but we were fighting a losing battle.
That afternoon had been so different. We enjoyed our meal on deck as our boat was rocked
by the gentle waves. We were wafted along in the warm zephyr breeze but then the skies
started to darken as this sweet wind collided with its cold easterly neighbour. Our earlier
pleasure was replaced with fear as we fought to beat our boat against the wind but to no
avail. We raced along driven by the developing storm so we lowered our sails and lashed
them to the masts to try and slow our passage through the waves that grew in tempo with
the rising wind. We lost all control. As the wind gained strength it brought with it rain
which lashed our bodies and soaked our clothes. Fingers became numb with cold and could
hardly grasp the ropes. Only the cresting waves with their white heads crashing against the
rocks relieved the greyness that surrounded us, grey sea joining grey sky seamlessly.
Did we imagine the speck of yellow to our left. No there it was again, a regular flicker of
colour against this monochrome world. The lighthouse. We only had to hold on a little
longer, work a little harder and we would clear the rocks and reach safe harbour. Lifted
spirits lent strength to our aching limbs as we pulled and pushed to turn our craft. We were
so near now, we were saved. We all let out a cheer and at that moment there was a
sickening tearing of wooden timbers. We were run aground on the very rocks we had tried
so hard to escape. How could this be? Then we saw another flickering yellow light a mile or
so down the coast. That was the true lighthouse. We had been tricked by a lantern on the
summit of the rocky nearby cliff. The wreckers were at work that night. Our poor little
boat didn’t stand a chance. Each wave pushed it harder against the unrelenting rock. Water
poured in, cargo poured out. It was every man for himself. Those that hadn’t already been
washed overboard tried to jump onto the rocks themselves, but even though they crossed
the gap they had little chance as the waves overpowered them and dragged them back into
the depths. A few of us waited for the highest waves. We jumped, slipping and sliding on
the greasy rocks we found hand and footholds and held on for dear life. As the waves slid
down we climbed up until eventually our shredded hands grabbed tufts of grass instead of
shards of stone. Exhausted we pulled ourselves up and over onto the top of the cliff. It
took some time to regain strength and breath but when we were able to eventually sit up
and view the scene all we saw was devastation. Splintered timbers bedecked the rocks, only
our figurehead gave any indication that a ship had passed this way.