A Devonshire Boy-Hero.

Cromwell Argus, Volume IV, Issue 177, 1 April 1873, Page 7

A Devonshire Boy-Hero.

A fltory comes from the Devonshire coast which really ought to be as good as a brandnew ironclad to all those who have ,been uneasy about the naval supremacy of Britannia. The hero of our tale is a little fellow, and the narrative itself is brief; but if, the First Lord can only keep the patent of such boys as Frederick Perriam in the possession of England we shall still behold the old flag safe enough—whether it' be carried bv timber or metal keels-and no “ Peter the Great” will make any great difference to ns. The boy we mention was out on Friday morning last, in his father’s dingy at Exmonth, doing such odd jobs as a fisher-lad might be sent upon—getting in lines or dropping them ; catching or preparing bait, setting crab-pots or perhaps night-hooks for conger. Presently the wind arose, and the boy began to think of going home. But he had taken little heed of his position recently, and now lie found that the increasing wind had driven his dingy far from the shore he had left in confidence in the early morning. He had “ lost his lee,” and was very rapidly drifting out into the open water, carried further and further into a wild sea, with a boat only meant for harbour work. From Exmouth, a north-easterly gale howls straight down along the face of the Devonshire coast, piling the breakers on sand and cliff-foot all the way past Teignmouth and the red rocks off St. Mary’s Church. A large ship caught in that bad bight, with Teignmonth bar half-awash, and the wind everso little too easterly, would be in a most sorry plight. But here was one poor little fisherhoy, going apparently to certain death, in a tiny bit of a boat, which in any timid or ignorant hands was as good as lost the moment it drove beyond the protection of Exmouth (Spit. Little Fred Perriam was quite sailor [ynongh, however, to understand his tremen‘ftd'.ns peril; and, being sea-born and sea-bred, ),c did the right thing as cleverly as any Admiral of the Blue could have counselled him. He managed to step his little mast and get the sail hoisted, and so he let the dingy run before the wind, avoiding the big waves that followed, and edging carefully away for the Dawlish side. Getting near to the shore, the next tiling was to look keenly for the slightest appearance of a break in the band of surf. If he could have found ever so little a bit of shelter, opening into smooth water, there was a hope for life ; but if, while looking for it, he came a single fathom too near the white waters, his fate was sealed. Keeping, far enough to windward to escape the broken belt, he coasted its deadly, dreadful fringe ! Ail, the way there was not a break! not a change !—a line of bayonets could not present a grimmer certainty of death ; while if he were carried on a mile past Dawlish';’Die tide and wind would have their will of him, and hurl him upon the awbil edge of Teignlacutli bar. Again our small hero acted like a captain of the fleet. Deftly dropping his sail and unshipping the mast, he threw out j Ins anchor, and let the little cockleshell conie j head to wind and sea, just outside the tier.el white breakers. If Dawlish folks could help a poor sailor-boy, lie knew they would ; and j sure enough they soon spied his plight. Ad ! miral Craigic— the same gallant officer, we; think, who sailed in the “saucy Arethusa” i in 1811, and afterwards set free over two I thousand slaves on the coast of Africa—was : there and caught sight of the lad. The good j °!d mariner at once realised the danger, and ! called attention to it; but, indeed, the coast-1 guards did not-need his warning, for their! gaze was already on the fisherboy and his I boat. Yet so terrible was that thundering! space of white water between the dingy and i the shore, that the boldest hand did not dare j tupush out from the beach. The chief officer j at the coastguard station would not risk his i men; the men themselves shook their | heads at the raging breakers with a g-. oan i Pnf sorrow for the boy ; the best they | paid do was to telegraph to Teignmouth tor the lifeboat, and to hope and pray that jne anchor might hold and the cockleshell Keep afloat until the life-boat were brought, wthe tide turned. When the flood made, the sea they knew would go down, and the shore become bare, and if the little lad was j not by that time become “flotsam and jet-1 Bam - or the li e-boat had not arrived, he j 'inght.thns be saved. Meantime Frederick I remain, riding in his dingy on the brink of : death, quite understood the position. Water- j baoios learn the sea-language early ; Jie took ! he same circumstances all in, and compre- ■ 'ended that nobody dared come out for him j ; n such a sea. He was, however, the best j judge of all about the point of waiting for the | wod-tsde, for he could see that the dingy! I' ( ; l ’ I ‘d Ail and sink before that time ; and, j , ng instant help, there was but one more I fiance. This was to “up anchor,” hoist! 'anvas upon her again, and steer for the! B ,' nro « through the best of that surf which was I 1 k f,)r tlie stoutest hand upon Daw-; ,s beach. The water-baby, nevertheless, j ' . his mind up, and “piped all hands” '• tace the immense risk. He must either I w 1,5 at anchor, or else run the gauntlet of I iiose mighty billows, which will surely smash , "3 frail m'aft, and roll him dead and battered i •"wig the wet stones if he makes the slightest i Jjs ake, or loses one single point of the game. ; (‘ eie 18 a moment’s lull ; lie gets the mastj e Pped, balcijj-.'-ard again, and waits for the I « pause ii,, ,-o wind, which seems to be I b> the ~;•(',akers not to let him escape. ; ■•fin comes another lull, and he gets his lug ! yl e ( bouts the anchor adrift with his ready I a 1 ‘ e ’ luyfi the dingy's head away from j «■ ■ Gunnel-down in the hissing water ! 1 s he frightened cock-boat, skimming for a ' niicnt parallel to the line of surf, as when ! ROrW| desperately ridden, vainly tries to

shirk the fence ;, and then, with a alienee which is more than any cry, the little lad jams the helm down, bears up ond-on for the nock of the great combing wave, and takes it on “the hang” with his sail well fnll. All right, ,so far ; the huge billow heaves him —hurls him—lowers him—launches him safe and straight into tlie seething hell of green and grey and white between two hills of water; and then,' while the under-tow drags at his keel and stops' Ufa way, the next billow, foaming in, shuts the wind from him, becalming his canvas. If he falls off a point, or catches the stroke of that sea before he gets another pud’ from the tempest, he is a drowned boy. The wind cheats the sea of his life ; fur at the supreme moment it freshened, it caught the sail, gave the cock-boat now impetus, lifted her forward just in time to take the roller handsomely—and the lad drives in as swift as a sea-gull on the crest of this second breaker, which drops him safe and sound within reach of a dozen strong anna. Those old salts who saw the boy perform this wonderful feat of seamanship say that.a finer spectacle of courage and self-reliance could not have been witnessed.—London Telegraph.