Years before this a transport, with a number of troops on board, was wrecked just outside the Needles, in Scratchells Bay. Being high-water, she drove close in under the cliffs, and thus the sailors and crew were able to escape; and the next morning the cliff appeared as though covered with lady-birds, footprints of the poor
fellows who had been endeavouring to make their way up the precipitous sides.
Further round is a large cavern, in which it is said a Lord Holmes—a very convivial noble and Governor of Yarmouth Castle—used to hold his revels with his boon companions. But were I to book all the stories we heard, I should fill my journal with them.
When we were a short distance outside the Needles, a superb steam frigate passed us with topsails and top-gallant sails set, steering down channel. Papa looked at her with a seaman’s eye. “Well—well, though she is not as beautiful as an old frigate, she looks like a fine sea-boat, and as well able to go round the world as any craft afloat, and to hold her own against all foes.”
Just at sunset, a light wind blowing, we took the bearings of the Needles and Hurst lights, and stood for Swanage Bay, on the Dorsetshire coast.