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The day, had been thick cloud and, all too familiar, for locals, living on the coast. Here, we are not talking about decades but CENTURIES. . of them living with STORMS; the surf from the sea, unleashed fury, smashing against the rocks, the headlands.
The manacles. a notorious stretch of rocks The Manacles (Cornish: Meyn Eglos, meaning church stones)
(grid reference SW820205 ) treacherous rocks off the Lizard peninsula; Cornwall, extend about 1-nautical-mile (1.9 km) east and south-east of Manacle Point. The Manacle Bell helps warn ships of their proximity to the rocks during rough seas.
The Middle Manacles in the north, consist of Maen Chynoweth or Morah (Cornish: Morhogh, meaning dolphin), Chyronos, Maen Gerrick and the Gwinges, the eastern group, has Vase Rock and Pen Vin, the large group in the centre include the Minstrel Rock, Carn-dhu, Maen Voes (the Voices) and the Quants and Maen Land is in the south-west.
Ship wrecks, over a thousand lives, lost from more than one hundred ships, that have been wrecked on
The Manacles. The reef, lying on the eastern approach, to the port of ‘Falmouth’, is one reason, for the large number of wrecks central group where depths, are less, than 6 metres (20 ft) for an area of 300 by 200 metres (980 by 660 ft).
Joseph was a blacksmith. Heavy set, with the muscles to complement his stature. The land owners had a lot of time AND respect for him. He was never out of work. The ‘smithy’ was close to St Keverne.
A joining track between there, Porthallow AND the Lizard.
His father, owned a forge in Helston and Jo, had taken on, one of his workers, to help him, with some recent iron work, that was proving demanding on his time, to service, the requirements of one of his more arduous mine owners.
Iron rails, for horse drawn carts, to carry from the mine up a gradient that had been proving difficult especially in bad weather for the horses and carts to traverse. NOT that the ground itself was the problem, the incline had the water run down to the bottom to pool.
Today, Jo was near Nare Point and more than aware of the incoming storm. Two horses needed their shoes scraping and replacing. Cart horses, he loved the big bulk of these creatures. IF, he thought to himself I were reborn it would not be wrong to be as one of those magnificent beasts.
David and Thomas, the farm hands, had seen him and waved. “Best not to be hanging around, the storm coming in looks wrecking weather.” Ah yes. The wreckers, who used the storm, the poor visibility and the opportunity to take lanterns to make the captains of passing ships believe they were heading towards Falmouth?
IF and yes he did, have a partial taste for some Cognac, mostly as a gift for his father, where it came from was NOT being questioned, too busy hiding the evidence or putting it into other containers to hide it.
Nare point had a large cave. The inner of it had a passageway that led from the beach to the big house.
Smugglers landed and off loaded, on a fairly regular but irregular basis unloading and whilst they did so, sending a small gift up to the big house via the secret passage. A token payment would follow and someone from the house would go to escort the cargo to the main holding area, a cellar beneath the big house.
Above the beach area, were some hidden pathways, that took, those using them, to the beach OFF the main headland. NOT visible to anyone on the beach OR out to sea. Likewise wreckers could use them to exit the beach area with their horses and carts carrying whatever they took from the wrecking.
Tonight David and Thomas with four others were on the headland. The lamps, flickering lights, fixed to large solid oak post. No walking with them, they had no intention of spooking the Captain out at sea in the bay,
Word had reached them, of a slaver headed towards Bristol, that would put into port at Falmouth to unload and collect cargo. The Arabella, was, a privately owned vessel and, apart from all of the usual cargo such as sugar cane and spices, it, was carrying slaves.
Slaves in the Carolinas, fetched a decent price but no where near that given by those who bought them in Bristol For whoring and private pleasures, household servants, often servicing their masters as concubines, mistresses.
Tonight the Captain of the Arabella had been hyped by the storm, that had seemed like the devil himself was on his tail. Following him, up from the Carolinas into the Atlantic. The sea route, into New York, was one that had seen other vessels pass them vanish in the low ever thickening fog away from them.
Falmouth bay? Earlier, he had managed, to see enough, thanks to the twilight, to know where he was, which, gave him some reassurance, it would not be long before he could drop anchor, The wind had picked up and the prevailing wind was NOT in his favour.
Experienced riggers, up the masts, had been dispatched, to lower some of the sails thus decreasing resistance and hopefully some stability. The downside to that was losing some control IF he needed to suddenly make a sharp turn, avoid ?
A scrawny lad, was sat within the crows nest, looking out and at times yelling. what was barely audible even to those in the rigging. Below Captain Ross was no longer relying on any visual reports.
He could use, sounding. The dropping, of ropes with weights attached to judge depth, checked against his charts but the wind, the squall, was increasing to more than a alarming level; reading such a chart with a dirty glass, oil lamp, swaying; the shadows, low light?
On deck the crew, were more than aware, of the loss of visibility, from all around them.
The waves, increasing in height, were now rising and, slamming onto the aft deck, almost sweeping some of the crew overboard.
Securing themselves, where they could, that, restricted movement and sometimes, they had no choice BUT to move, slow; painfully slow against the spray slamming into them.
The adrenalin rush, was nothing new to a lot of them, but the lack of sleep, for the last 15 hours was taking its toll. Some Rum had been given to them to help them. A slight alcoholic haze not so much but their responses were hyped, over reactions to simple tasks?
Captain Ross was no tyrant. He treated the crew, as the master, with little leeway, to any, who did not follow discipline. The bringing of the slaves on deck to wash them down had been for some Captains a problem but not his lot.
They got a token, from the sales of them and thus, had to make sure, they were in a fit condition, fed, clean; to make the maximum sale price. HIS personal slave girl, had NO name.
The slaves, were NEVER given names! There was no intention of forming anything other than satisfying his carnal urges, having her prepare his food and drink, washing his clothing.
He did treat her well. There was a fierceness to her that had had him picking her out of the others.
Fit, able and a more than healthy capable female. Even after his urges had been repeatedly sated she was still his only slave on this voyage and that had been a LONG voyage.
Sold by her own people, she had accepted, that being with him, was far better than being cooped up with the others and that, included male and females chained below deck,. side by side, over 30 of them.
There had been over 100 but, stops in the Americas, had seen over 50 unloaded.
The storm was not worrying her. Somehow his presence had given her some belief that it would be like the others and soon over. The weather earlier had also been sunny with the warmth enjoyed until of course the dark clouds, the increase in the wind and the rising swell of the waves.
IT was a rule that ALL slaves wore chains. NOT even her was allowed to be free of them unless of course taken by him to sate his carnal urges and not always IF he decided he wanted the sensation of the chains against his skin which appeared to heighten his lust.
The dakness, the thick fog and barely able to see anything, Ross had taken his eyeglass on deck to scan around the ship. Lights, he was looking for the tell tale lights of Falmouth. The ‘sounding’, had been, discontinued. Then he saw the flickering of lights.
The turning of the vessel, now headed towards them, was slow, laborious. We, have to remember, that he had reduced a lot of the rigging, the sails furled, tied up. The creaking of the masts.. the swell, the spray slammed across the ships deck..
The slave girl, he had taken most of her chains off her. He, did not, want her, swept overboard and, ending up in the water, where the chains, would see her dragged under. No chains or little at all in this storm re her escaping and that was a fallacy.
The sound, of cracking timber, was something ALL Captains dread. The one that is distinct; ripping the timbers, shredding and the roar of the storm howling in your ears? He felt the dragging of those timbers across those rocks,
Like a razor on skin, slicing into the ship, a rising, a falling amidst the shoving, the swell, the cursing and mayhem unfolding around them. YET the wreck was the least of their fears.. Wreckers? If it were them then NO ONE would survive.
They waited, at the edge of the waves, for those swimming free to head for the safety of the shore, driven in by the wind, their will power against all odds to survive; to live. BUT the wreckers, would wade into the water, grab at them dragging their heads up and knives flashing, slit their throats,
NO survivors, no witnesses. The water filled with the sounds of screams, blood and all around them; death.
Many jumping ship, many climbing the mast thinking that would save them but even that would not as the winds picked up, the flush of water giving them no grip.. their torn battered beaten bodies,, falling sliding,, slithering off the deck well what remained of it.. into the waves..
For her? Fear but a mix of terror and yet her flight responses kicking in. Natural, free flowing and with no idea of the outcome she found herself in the water. a BLESSING? it was NOT icy cold, the current, was towards the shore, the rocks which helped her, to finaly land against the rocks..
Her body strength, had been built up based on chains that had weighted her.
The fury, the rage when she had been in chains resigned to his taking her .to recovering, to stumble, in chains?
NOW free of them, her strength, had been surprising her, as she found herself, against the rock face, some distance from the wreckers.. out of sight? Resting catching her breath her body rocking gently beneath the inrush of water.
To be continued..
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