The first time that Captain Webb took up the idea of swimming the Channel was after a [pg 264]“good try”—but failure—made by Johnson, to swim from Dover to Calais. Webb commenced by an excellent swim from Dover as far as the Varne Buoy, about mid-channel. On this occasion he remained four and a half hours in the water. His first public swim was from Blackwall Pier to Gravesend, a distance of twenty miles—mere child’s play to him. After considerable practice he made a trial trip from Dover to Ramsgate, remaining in the water nearly nine hours. He now publicly announced his intention of attempting to swim to Calais, and he received a considerable amount of encouragement as well as well-meant advice to make the attempt. A number of extraordinary precautions were recommended to him—one, however, being sensible enough: that being to cover his body with a coating of some kind of grease. On the Ramsgate swim he used cod-liver oil, and, on the first Channel attempt, porpoise oil.
The second attempt of Captain Webb to swim across the Channel took place on August 24th, 1875, and was crowned with success, after a display of unequalled courage and physical endurance. At four minutes to one o’clock on that day he dived from the steps at the head of the Admiralty Pier, Dover, and at forty-one minutes past ten a.m. next day he touched the sands of Calais, having remained in the water, without even touching a boat on his way, no less than twenty-one and three-quarter hours.
During the early part of the journey Captain Webb was particularly favoured by the weather. The sea was as calm as a mill-pond, and there was not a breath of wind. The lugger which accompanied him across the Channel had to be propelled a considerable distance by oars. The swimmer was accompanied by two small rowing-boats in immediate attendance upon himself, one containing his cousin, Mr. Ward, who supplied him occasionally with refreshments, and one of the referees, who had been appointed at Webb’s own request to see fair play; the other boat was used for the purpose of conveying messages to and from the lugger.
Everything went on favourably till nine p.m., when Captain Webb complained of being stung by a jelly-fish, and asked for a little brandy. He had previously been supplied with some cod-liver oil and hot coffee. The weather still continued perfect, and the intrepid swimmer proceeded at a good rate, taking a long, clean breast stroke, which drove him well through the water. Owing to the phosphorescent state of the sea, he was sometimes almost surrounded with a glow of light. At 10.30 he was visited by a steam-tug, which had put off from Dover for the purpose, and which, strange to say, left the man who had ploughed through the waves for over nine hours without even the encouragement of a parting cheer. At 11.45, however, a Dover boat, on its way to Calais, gave cheer after cheer to greet him, and one of the small boats burnt a red light, which cast a ruddy glow over the scene, and illuminated the water all around, the face of Captain Webb being lighted up by it, so that he was distinctly seen by all on board the Continental mail boat.
At two o’clock next morning Cape Grisnez light seemed close at hand, and Captain Webb was still bravely struggling on, although at this juncture the tide not merely impeded him, but was sweeping him farther and farther from the shore. He, however, showed signs of fatigue, and young Baker, a well-known diver, sat with a life-line round him by the side of the referee, in case of accident, as it was supposed by many that the long exposure to cold might cause Webb to become suddenly numbed and insensible, and so sink without a moment’s [pg 265]warning. But Webb is a man among ten thousand; the collapse from penetrating cold which the best swimmers usually experience after long exposure in the water seems unknown to him. By nine o’clock he was within a mile of the shore, a little to the westward of Calais, and at this juncture, young Baker, then only sixteen years of age, plunged in and kept the exhausted swimmer company, not, however, trying to aid him in any way except by encouragement.
CAPTAIN MATTHEW WEBB. (From a Photograph by Albert Fradelle.)
Unfortunately, however, two hours previously a strong breeze had risen, and the sea, which had hitherto been like a sheet of glass, was running high, with crested waves. Webb was evidently fearfully exhausted. The tide was running strongly away from the shore, and the swimmer was battling against double odds when he was least fit for it. Still, at 9.45 he had lessened the distance by one-half; he was only half a mile from the beach. Would he ever reach it?
Just as the now utterly exhausted swimmer was beginning bitterly to think that [pg 266]failure even at this point was possible, a steamboat put off from Calais, and her commander placed her in such a position that she acted as a kind of breakwater, for the sea was running so high that it nearly swamped the boats accompanying him. One last struggling exertion and he touched ground, so weak that he could not stand. A couple of men instantly went to his assistance, and he was able to walk slowly ashore. When the Calais boat left he was comfortably asleep, a medical man watching by his side.
“I can only say,” says Captain Webb, “that the moment when I touched the Calais sands, and felt the French soil beneath my feet, is one which I shall never forget, were I to live for a hundred years. I was terribly exhausted at the time, and during the last two or three hours I began to think that, after all, I should fail. On the following day, after I had had a good night’s rest, I did not feel very much the worse for what I had undergone. I had a peculiar sensation in my limbs, somewhat similar to that which is often felt after the first week of the cricket season; and it was a week before I could wear a shirt-collar, owing to a red raw rim at the back of my neck, caused by being obliged to keep my head back for so long a period; for, it must be remembered, I was in the water for very nearly twenty-two hours.”[67]