Image: Grace Darling, oil on canvas by Thomas Brooks, reproduced with permission from RNLI Grace Darling Museum
On 7 September, 1838, Grace Darling and her father, William, a lighthouse keeper on the coast of Northumberland, saved the lives of nine survivors from the wrecked steamship, the Forfarshire. You can still see their boat in the museum in Bamburgh. Grace was born on 24 November, 1815, so next Wednesday is her birthday.
This is a tribute not only to Grace and her father but also to today’s men and women of the RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution) who form the lifeboat crews in ports around the coast of Britain and Ireland. They are volunteers who work in their normal jobs but answer distress calls from boats in trouble day or night the whole year round.
Northumberland is in the north of England, and it was there and also in the lowlands of Scotland that the medieval ballads were sung. The conversation between Grace and her father before they set out is typical of the dialogues which appear in many of these old poems.
Come in, my friend,
Come in,
And quickly close the door.
It’s a rough and stormy night outside,
So draw up close to the fire.
The wind and the rain shake the window pane,
And an icy draught howls by the door.
So while the chimney moans with the wailing gale,
Put on another log or two,
And let the flames climb higher.
Now listen.
Off the coast of Northumberland
There shone the Longstone Light,
But in spite of the light that brightly shone
A ship struck the rocks by the islands there
And split in two one night.
The rain and the gales blew down from the north,
And the sun had gone down in the sea.
It was just such a night as this, my friend,
When home is the place to be.
The keeper of the Longstone Light
He turned to his daughter then.
‘My eyes are old and I cannot see
So far into the foam
But can you see a ship out there,
So far away from home?’
‘Father, there’s a ship out there
But she’ll sail away no more.
The wind and the waves are breaking her
So far out from the shore.’
‘My eyes are old and I cannot see
So far into the foam
But can you see some men out there,
So far away from home?’
‘On the ship there’s not a soul
Not a soul from stern to bow,
Nor on the bridge or on the deck.
Not a soul can I see now.’
‘Then look at the sea and the raging foam.
Search every inch of the sea.
For maybe one has launched a boat
And is waiting for you and me.’
‘Out in the sea beside the ship
There’s none that I can see
There is no boat upon the waves
No boat is on the sea.’
‘Then look now hard at the rocks beyond
At the rocks far out in the sea.
For maybe one has reached the rocks
And is waiting for you and me.’
‘Out on the rocks beside the ship
There are nine that I can see.
They are on the rocks at the end of the bay
That are pounded by the sea.’
They put on coats and fastened them tight,
But scarcely did they talk,
And then they closed the lighthouse door,
As if going for a Sunday walk.
They made for their boat that was lying safe
In the lee of a rock on the shore,
Just the two of them and their little boat,
For them it was one trip more.
And not a word did the father say
For there was work to be done,
But he thought to himself along the way,
‘Now Grace here is the only one
Can manage the boat in a sea like this,
Now Grace here is the only one
That can help me bring them home.’
They said not a word but quietly did
The job that had to be done.
They pulled the boat across the sand
And pushed her into the sea,
And they took their places on the boards
With an oar in either hand.
The gale blew from the north that night
And the rain lashed at their backs,
Wave after wave broke by their boat,
As they rowed far out in the bay.
But the father looked at the freezing spray
As he saw Grace bend to the stroke,
And said to himself as he pulled back the oar,
‘Among the rocks in a wooden boat
Among the rocks and the foam,
This is no place for you, my girl.
Though you pull on the oar like the bravest man,
I’ll be glad to see you home.’
And so they rowed out into the sea
Away from the firm, sure land.
They calmly rowed towards the rocks
With their mind on the job in hand.
‘Steady now, Grace, for the rocks we face
Will rip us apart for fun.
Steady the bow and ride the wave
Then down in the trough in that moment of calm
Row for the rock and make her firm.’
They made for the rock and William jumped
To care for the shivering men,
And Grace kept the boat away from the rocks,
She rode the waves away from the rocks
Among the running foam.
She knew that one false pull on the oar
Just one false touch on either side,
And they would never see home.
‘Just five can we take, just five of you,
But we’ll be back again.’
So they took them in and the boat settled down
Much lower in the sea,
But they rowed her home, they calmly rowed
Till they reached the sandy shore.
Then they turned around and pointed her bow
To the open sea once more.
They gathered then the other four
That waited on the rock.
And glad they were to turn their back
On the wind and the sinking wreck,
And to make for home on the shore.
When all of the nine were safe,
Were safe on the shivering sand,
They pulled the boat out from the waves.
They pulled her up the windswept beach
To a place that the sea could never reach,
However rough and however wild
Its white waves hammered the shore.
And they made all fast,
And they let her rest,
For her job had been well done,
In the lee of a rock on the soft sandy beach,
For they needed her no more.
And then they went up hand in hand
To the house where the light was bright
And the last to go in the little room
With their sodden salt clothes
On their skin that froze,
With blisters on their calloused hands,
Were Grace and her father, the keeper
Of the Longstone Light.
And the London papers sent their men
To tell the world of the news.
From London in comfort up they came
To look for heroism and fame,
And the man and the girl
Could not understand
Why they were known throughout the land.
And the men in gloves and silk neckties
So polite and elegant in the wind,
Smiled and shook their blistered hands.
And then they stared at the rocks so far
As they walked down to the shore,
And they turned and said to the London men,
‘We did our job, no more.’