centuries of shipwrecks ... beware the coast of Cornwall

de bene esse: literally, of well-being, morally acceptable but subject to future validation or exception

Its shores are considered one of Britain's most idyllic holiday destinations.
But a new study of documents spanning centuries has revealed that Cornwall should also be remembered as Britain's most dangerous coastline, as it has claimed thousands of lives since records began in the 14th century.
The far-western county's shores, with its profusion of solid, shallow and sharp rock reefs lurking beneath the ocean surface has taken hundreds of ships over the years.
A combination of factors has ensured Cornwall's maritime infamy with its romantic backdrop of smugglers, wreckers and tales of spectre ships.

Clear day: The British ship Malta was shipwrecked at Botallack Head, St Just in Penwith, Cornwall, in October 1889. Although the vessel was destroyed, no lives were lost. A clear day can rapidly be overcome by a sheet of sea fog

Destroyed: The Busby cargo ship which sank in 1894 at Trevose Head, in Cornwall. The ship was steering too fine a course from Trevose Head in bad weather conditions, a court was told

Many sailors have been caught by its changeable weather, where a sunny, clear, still day with more than 10 miles of visibility can quickly change to  transform into fog with only 20 feet of ocean visibility.
While strong winds and strong tides would drive ships aground or into narrow estuaries and coves which for centuries were without any lighthouses, taking the lives of fishermen,  U-boat crews and the smugglers that Cornwall is so famous for.
One of the most notorious such reefs is the Runnel Stone just south of Land’s End. In the 43 years from 1880, thirty steamers were wrecked there.
In 1923 the 6,000-ton cargo ship SS City of Westminster was wrecked on it, slicing off the top of the stone. Fortunately the seventy-two crew were rescued by local lifeboats.
The crew of the German U-boat U-1209 was not as fortunate, wrecking on the nearby Wolf Rock in the winter of 1944.

Back: The Penzance Lifeboat returning from aiding the Jeune Hortense which was stranded at Long Rock in 1888, with St. Michael's Mount in the background

Sinking feeling: The Vert Prairal, a French trawler, is seen capsized near Porthcurno, Cornwall, in 1956. A man out looking for driftwood discovered the wreckage and called the coastguard. There were no survivors. The captain and most of the 17 crew were found drowned

Another contributing factor to the dangers of navigation through these waters is the fact that during a gale, wind and sea are forced through the bottleneck, only 21 miles wide, lying between the Isles of Scilly and the mainland.
This geography combined with such winds produce vicious tides and chaotic currents leading to overbearing waves.

The vast open Atlantic Ocean allows for excessive winds to push against the whole of the north Cornish coast, a menace further exacerbated by the small number of safe refuges for ships.
Until the mid 18th century, there were no lighthouses covering this stretch, the first being built in 1795, the Longships Lighthouse – appropriately situated just over a mile west of Land’s End.
Added to this already lethal mix was the fact that the cliffs and headlands are higher on the north coast, so inland lighting was more difficult to spot for
navigators to determine their position.

Enemy ship: Two men stand over a shipwrecked German U-boat blown ashore at Falmouth after the First World War. One of U-boat ribs can still be seen sticking out of the water off Pendennis Point at low tide

Combined with the inadequacies of navigational aids, including dangerously unreliable navigational charts, ships had to brave closer coastwards in order to gain a secure knowledge of their position.
It is often alleged that during these periods of low visibility, ships were purposefully deceived by people known as ‘wreckers’, who desired a ship be wrecked so that they could plunder the spoils thereby washed onto the land.
These wreckers would either extinguish the light of beacons, or, contrariwise, they would actually swing a lantern high on the shore so to trick crews into believing that the light was the light of another ship, thus letting the crew think that the shore was more distant than in fact it was.
Despite the folklore surrounding these wreckers, propagated by Daphne du Maurier’s iconic novel, ‘Jamaica Inn’, there are no recorded convictions of this crime, though charges were made for it.
One instance occurred in 1841 when two local men, Hall and Luke of St Levan, were charged with wrecking a large presumed-Belgian ship that had come ashore at the small cove of Porthgwarra.

Rescue mission: The Hansy, wrecked off the Lizard peninsula in Cornwall in 1911. Three men onboard were saved by a lifeboat while the remainder of the crew were taken off by rocket apparatus

Another recorded accusation in 1680 involved the lighthouse keeper of St Agnes in the Isles of Scilly who not only failed to light the lighthouse until a Virginian trading vessel had wrecked, but who thereafter also personally looted the ship’s cargo.
This resulted in his sacking, and the subsequent barring of any Cornishman from employment at the lighthouse.
Another crucial reason explaining the mass of shipwrecks in Cornwall is the huge number of ships active there. From the Bronze Age if not earlier, Cornwall has been trading tin and copper, the constituents of bronze, to the wider world.
Added to this is the fact that Cornwall is located in a convenient resting place for sailors and traders journeying between the north and south of our upper hemisphere.
Even Vikings roamed these Cornish seas, bequeathing their name to the Longships Lighthouse. But one very noteworthy cause of such shipping multitudes was the prevalence of smuggling in Cornwall.

Treacherous waters: The Andola, a three-masted sailing ship, was wrecked on the Manacles, a set of treacherous rocks off The Lizard peninsula in Cornwall, in 1895 when it struck a thin slate outcrop aptly named Shark´s Fin. A lifeboat managed to save all 28 crew members on board

Smugglers themselves, and most Cornish folk, preferred the term ‘Free Trader’ to ‘Smuggler’. The forceful imposition of duty on imported goods, which significantly raised the price of goods for locals, was considered simply unjust.
Even the great economic philosopher Adam Smith defined a smuggler as, ‘a person who, though no doubt highly blameable for violating the laws of his country, is frequently incapable of violating those of natural justice and who would have been in every respect an excellent citizen had not the laws of his country made that a crime which Nature never meant to be so.’
One of the most famous of the smuggling gangs was the Killigrew family. They were so successful at smuggling and piracy that they paid for the development of the harbour and town of Falmouth, now still considered one of the finest harbours in the world.
The Killigrews even funded the Falmouth Customs House, thus controlling their ‘free trade’ without, unsurprisingly, much interference from the
Crown.
Not all ships were traders of course; one of the worst disasters there was the HMS Franchise which, in 1811, struck a transport ship during a gale resulting in the loss of 269 lives.

Another victim: The Cromdale was wrecked off the Lizard Peninsula in 1913 on a journey from Chile to the UK. The Lizard's coast is particularly hazardous to shipping and the seaways around the peninsula is known as the 'Graveyard of Ships'

Rocky: The sharp rocky outcrops around the coast, especially the north coast, have caused many deaths since records began in the 14th Century. The Pendeen foghorn to the right still operates when the fog comes

Another tragedy off Falmouth befell the Andola, a 2093-ton full-rigged steel ship. It was wrecked on another infamous reef known menacingly as ‘The
Manacles’.
Though this name may conjure up images of some legendary kraken, its name most probably derives from the Cornish, ‘maen eglos’ meaning church rocks – there is the nearby church of St Keverne which serves as a landmark to sailors. Over one hundred ships have wrecked here with almost a thousand lives lost to it.
The Andola struck the northern limit of the Manacles, known as ‘Shark’s Fin Rock’ just before 8 o’clock on the night of the 31st January 1895, so finishing off a horrific four months of ill fortune.

Keeping sailors safe: The Longships Lighthouse off Land’s End, near the dreaded Runnel Stone and Wolf Rock

Wrecking point: The buoy above the lethal Runnel Stone reef, south of Land's End (in the background)

Young vessel: The Umbre was just ten-months-old when she wrecked off Boscaswell, Cornwall, in 1899. The British screw steamer was torn apart by the sea over the years but some fragments of the vessel remain deeply embedded in the surrounding seabed

The Andola was built in Liverpool only two years prior to its fall. After departing the Barry Docks on the 7th September 1893 under the command of Captain Passmore, she set sail for Santa Rosalia, Mexico, bearing a cargo of coke (solid processed coal fuel).
The cargo was destined for the copper mines of Rue de Balio, California, perhaps mined by ‘cousin Jacks’: the name for emigrated Cornish miners.
Incidentally, that nickname may have been rhyming slang for cognac presumably due to the common smuggling of the brandy by Cornishmen.
After discharging her cargo in California, the Andola set sail for Seattle where she was towed to Elliot Bay, there loading 2000 tons of grain, and then a further 100 tons at Tacoma before heading to Falmouth in the August of 1894.
The Atlantic journey proved disastrous, taking two months longer than scheduled.

Dangerous route: St Michael’s Mount overlooking Mount’s Bay, the bed of many shipwrecks through the ages, including the Heneda in 1753, the schooner Hopewell in 1858 and the 111-ton wooden brigantine Jeune Hortense in 1888

Cemented in history: The Socoa ran aground at Cadgwith, Cornwall, on July 31, 1906, while en route to San Francisco. The three-mast ship was carrying a cargo of cement to rebuild the earthquake shattered city and 50,000 barrels of it had to be jettisoned before The Socoa could be re-floated. Divers can still see the cement on the seabed in the right conditions

Gale after gale halted the Andola’s progress through the ocean. During one gale a monstrous wave ripped through the vessel smashing the onboard dinghy.
Four seamen emerged to clear the damage when another wave struck them over, injuring three and snatching the fourth overboard to meet his death by drowning. When the ship finally arrived in Falmouth, tugs rushed to provide food and fresh water.
But that same day the ship owners ordered her to set sail almost immediately for Hull to discharge.
The Andola and crew left only two days later as instructed, but fierce winds met them again, twisting their route. A snowstorm then smote them in the evening, reducing their visibility to near blindness, a blindness that led them to the Manacles.
The Shark’s Fin Rock crushed the hull. In chaos the mizzen sail was doused with paraffin and set alight to act as a distress signal. An apprentice was ordered to fetch flares, which seemingly failed to light.
He was then sent below to fetch ‘bomb rockets’ in their stead.

Poor visibility: The waters surrounding Botallack in Cornwall are risky for sailors as a clear day can rapidly be overcome by a sheet of sea fog

Unlucky: The four-mast steel sailing ship, The Andromeda, was swept on to rocks off Killigerran Head, near Portscatho, Falmouth, during a strong southwesterly gale in 1915. Later that year The Andromeda was auctioned and broken up where she lay. Today her remains lie near the large rocks at the bottom of Killygerran Head

Unfortunately in the rush the apprentice had carried the flares to the rocket locker which, when opened, received the delayed sparks from a flare.
In panic, the apprentice ran back to deck, which then suddenly exploded as a rocket shot through it, embedding a large piece of metal into the poor boy throwing him unconscious.
The rest of the rockets continued to attack the ship and crew, but luckily were so loud that they could be heard in Falmouth town which led to the
deployment of the lifeboat. The crew, though mostly drained and injured, were taken safely to port.
Cousin Jack cognac was highly taxed, and consequently highly smuggled – as was tobacco, especially during the reign of James I who loathed the narcotic hence raising its duty. But the most smuggled, or freely traded, item was tea.

Changeable: Unusual cross currents create unpredictable seas on the north Cornish coast that even the most experienced of sailors can be caught out by

Blown to pieces: The Alacrity pictured wrecked off Portheras, Cornwall, in 1963. It was later blown up by the military resulting in sharp fragments left covering the seabed. They have since been removed

This was commonly stored in locations that the traders would happily endorse as a haunted spot, so to repel would-be thieves. Cornwall was a land of much superstition, even endorsing stories of ghost ships, such as ‘The Spectre Ship of Porthcurno’.
It is said that at Porthcurno Cove – incidentally a theoretically convenient inlet for smuggling – when nightfall breaks, a spectre ship can be seen coming in to shore. It is black, squarerigged and sometimes, apparently, followed by a small boat.
Once it hits the shore, it proceeds to glide ethereally inland to Bodelan, where a Saint Levan is said to have lived. Anyone who catches sight of the ship is thereby infected with bad fortune.
The real bad fortune, however, occurred at sea. With the help of modern navigational tools, sturdier ships, and the heroism and dedication of organisations such as the coastguard and the lifeboat service – the RNLI lifeboat service is a charity – there are far fewer souls lost at sea today.
But the Cornish coast remains a force against which we can never be fully safeguarded.

Lifesaver: After a high number of shipping tragedies, Pendeen Lighthouse was built in 1900 to warn ships of the treacherous coast that it overlooks

In the midst of the storm: The Liberty was wrecked during a northwesterly gale off Pendeen, Cornwall, in 1963. The liberty was severely damaged and after a fire broke out on board she was demolished for scrap, though parts of her wreck are still visible at low tide