Severn Cliffs, Sedbury Park.
(p. [40].)
Across some considerable portion of the river a quarter of a mile or so above Beachley, on the Gloucestershire side, a rocky ledge of limestone called “The Lyde” projects at low tide, causing a backwater of which the steady roar can be heard at a long distance.[[18]] Cormorants on the rock, and conger-eels below it, were regular inhabitants or visitors—the former presumably attracted by the latter, which served to some degree also as food to the fishermen, although pronounced to be “slobbery-like.”
The muddy colour of the Severn was not in itself picturesque—at least I have never heard the point mentioned with admiration; but to me, born as I was by this noblest of our rivers, it seemed to convey a comfortable idea of homeliness and strength. Sometimes, however, in the early morning or in certain conditions of light, the deep rosy colouring was almost as if the whole width of water had been changed to blood; then the effect was very splendid, and as wonderful still as it must have been in days long gone by to Queen Boadicea:—
“Still rolls thy crimson flood in glory on
As when of old its deep ensanguined dye
Told to the warrior Queen her falling throne,
Her people’s death, the foemen’s victory.”
But, independently of other considerations, a bend in the river was of great local service. It formed a bay of about perhaps three-quarters of a mile across, bounded to the west by our own and the Beachley cliffs, and further protected, or endangered, on the southern side by a low range of rocks running out into the river. With the rising tide the import shipping to Gloucester, which in those days was extensive, put in here to be searched by the Custom House officials. At that time (excepting tugs) it was entirely composed of sailing vessels mostly laden with corn, wine, and timber, and the mixed fleet moving about in the bay with colours flying was a very lively sight. In due time they passed on—the three-masters, ships, and barques, or the graceful chasse-marées, taking the lead; brigs and schooners following, and sloops and—if weather permitted—Severn trows bringing up the rear. These, however, as they differed very little in formation from canal barges, required tolerably fair or at least quiet weather to allow them to proceed in safety. The procession of shipping came along almost beneath our cliffs, the deep channel being on that side, and perhaps it was as well that they were no nearer, or the nautical remarks might have been more often audible to the young people than was desirable!
A special convenience to ourselves was a little creek under the cliffs, called in those parts a “pill” (presumably from the Welsh pwll or pool), which allowed of coals being run in a sloop across from Bristol and carted up to the house by a shorter road than that from Chepstow.