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She had a half-grudging, half-ironic grin of appreciation for a fellow sportsman, the same grin with which she had looked up at her from the sea at Cadgwith. Nan liked daring. Though it was in her, and she knew that it was in her, to hate Gerda with a cold and deadly anger, the sportsman in her gave its tribute.
The first day they only got round the Lizard to Cadgwith, where they dived from steep rocks into deep blue water. Nan dived from a high rock with a swoop like a sea bird's, a pretty thing to watch. Barry was nearly as good; he too was physically proficient. The Bendishes were less competent; they were so much younger, as Barry said.
A portion of Cadgwith is in the parish of Grade, which is supposed to be a dedication to the Holy Creed; but here, as at Sancreed and St. Creed, Grampound, we may be safe in believing that there was a living personality behind the dedication, not a mere abstraction. Churches had definite founders in Celtic days, and there was a certain St. Credan who may be responsible for all these.
Then he heard nothing more. He went back to the station and made his report. He was so sure of his own ears that he took a lantern and went down to the beach. There he found nothing. He stumbled on towards Cadgwith along the unbroken beach. At times he covered his lantern and peered out to sea, but he saw nothing. At last something white caught his eye. It was half afloat amid the breakers.
Cadgwith is certainly a most picturesque and attractive little place, and if it does not share the luxuriant fertility of Coverack, it has the compensation of being nearer to the wonders of the Lizard. It is in the parish of Ruan Minor, and this is a dedication to a saint whose name we also find at Ruan Major, Ruan Lanihorne, and Polruan near Fowey. He also appears at Romansleigh in Devon.
When we pass Black Head we come at last in sight of the true Lizard, with the fine reach of Kennack Sands lying between; and for those who can appreciate a walk of surpassing beauty, the best thing to do is to take the path at the top of the cliffs, leading through Cadgwith to the Lizard Point.
It may be said that this walk from Coverack along the cliffs is not easy; it is rugged, undulating, tortuous, and Cornish miles sometimes seem very long. But it repays. When we reach Cadgwith we seem to be genuinely at the Lizard. We have come to a port of crabs and lobsters, and of painters.
But does the ordinary visitor care much about these questions of dedication and saint-lore? Probably not. South of Cadgwith are some of the grand caves and rock-freaks that have a more immediate appeal, and north of the hamlet some of the best serpentine is obtained.
How forty-seven people were saved; how the lifeboat from Cadgwith picked up some, floating insensible on the ebbing tide with lifebuoys tied securely round them; how some men proved themselves great, and some women greater; how a few proved themselves very contemptible indeed; how the quiet chief officer, Stoke, obeyed his captain's orders to take charge of the passengers; are not these things told by the newspapers?
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