Original subtitles

My name is Sarah.

My mother was a Sarah, too, and my grandmother and great-grandmother

before.

She was the first Sarah, my great-grandmother. And from what they

tell me, we all looked much like each other.

One day, and it was a long time ago now, my great-grandmother and me, me only a

child and she walking with a stick, walked together here along this very

path.

And suddenly she stopped.

You were named after me, she said, and I was named after a lifeboat.

I remember even now how puzzled I was.

A lifeboat?

I'd heard of boats being called after people, but never people after boats.

But now, I know why.

It was the night of the great storm, at the turn of the century, in a January,

on a Friday.

Waves climbed the rocks as if they were trying to escape from the sea. The wind

came howling and driving from the west, and that's the worst for us.

Nothing to stop it between here and America, the old men still say.

It was that night that the first Sarah was to be born.

Looks like we've been through a right night tonight, eh?

Yeah.

Are you all right?

Good as I shall be, I expect.

When do you reckon, missus?

Soon, maybe.

Perhaps not till tomorrow, though, my handsome.

How about a nice cup of tea?

Don't mind if I do.

The storm had kept most people in their homes that night.

But Jack Williams was walking on the cliffs.

He was a fisherman by trade, and the lifeboat coxswain by inclination, or by

volunteerment, as they used to say. The sort of man with strength about him. To

him, the sea was his living, and it was to be respected at all times. Bloody

hell.

Danger. was never far away.

There's a boat in trouble about a mile off the point.

Joshua, Simon, you get the rest of the crew.

Charlie, you better come with me.

It's pretty rough out there, I can tell you.

We'll get you, Jack. Go on, let's go.

Where's your ship, Jack?

John! There's a ship in trouble!

Come on, we need lifeboats!

Nowadays, when there's trouble at sea, all they do is pick up a phone or

there's a siren or something.

But not then.

Not in those days.

That night, as so many times before, the lifeboat crew gathered on the beach

around the Sarah.

What do you think?

No way, Jack.

I've got to do something.

Can't just leave them there, can we?

Don't see how, Captain Judd. What are you doing here? What about your missus?

She'm all right.

All right.

By now, the wind had shifted a point or two to the north.

The gale was blowing harder now, directly across the mouth of the bay,

even to try a launch they knew would be suicide.

This is what we're going to do.

Here's we.

Here's the wind.

Here's the ship.

That's the old track across the moor.

And here is Paul V.

Little old Paul V, round the port, right away.

And that's where we're going to go.

We'll launch from Paulveen.

The whole idea was quite mad.

You couldn't launch from our beach, that was for sure. And it was true, too, that

Paulveen would be sheltered. But between here and there were the high moors that

sheltered it. And there was the cocks and calmly proposing, we'll launch from

Paulveen. Right, I want as many horses as you can muster and as many men.

Okay? Go on, kick it, you jackass!

was 25 foot long, and it weighed nearly two tons, and it took more than

20 men to lift it just clear of the ground.

But somehow or other, it was going to have to be heaved up rock-strewn slopes

to a height of 1,300 feet, and then across well-nigh 15 miles of uninhabited

wild moorland.

The men of my village, the first Sarah's father among them, were to set out with

the lifeboat Sarah on a cart.

God willing, the distressed vessel would still be afloat. There'd be no more

flares. No one voiced their innermost thoughts that all this effort might yet

be in vain.

There was no man who could who didn't help that night.

Getting the boat up the narrow streets and around the corners was difficult.

But they all knew that this would be the easy part.

The first part of the hill went well.

But then the cart got bogged down in soft ground.

Try as they might, the combined strength of horse and man couldn't move it.

In the end, there was no alternative.

The lead horses were uncoupled, and slowly, painfully, the procession

was back down.

A difficult maneuver at the best of times, but made doubly so by such

conditions.

It was lashing with rain.

And the cart itself, although strong, had never been built for such a journey.

Back.

Back.

Back. Back.

Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back.

Back. Back. Back.

Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back. Back.

When they reached level ground again, they found one of the cart wheels was

cracking under the strain.

It had to be changed for one of the forward wheels that was taking less of

the weight.

Ready?

Whilst the wheel was being changed, the coxswain had found another route with

firmer ground, longer but less steep than the first, but with one wheel

slightly damaged already, the risk of hitting rocks and boulders had to be

reduced to a minimum.

Men were sent ahead to clear a way.

Climb was bad, but the moor was worse.

They were nearly halfway across when the rim of the damaged cartwheel began to

crumble.

That's it.

It's not going to go any further on that wheel.

We'll have to take the boat off.

Put your shoulders to it now.

Two-six.

Lift.

The men already ached. from top to toe, and although the worst of the wind and

rain had died away, the bitter cold struck deep into their bodies despite

their labors, and I remember the first Sarah telling me how they became

quieter, almost silent as their spirits faded.

Without the cart, they all knew their chances of reaching Paul Veen.

let alone reaching it in time, were very small indeed.

Well, that's it then, Jack, isn't it? We ain't giving up now.

If we don't do it, nobody will.

When we start, we'll be there.

We'll have to find another cart.

We'll send a couple of lads back to Morland's farm. Maybe he's got something

that'll work.

George, Jim, go back to Morland's farm, see if he's got something that'll work

for you.

Back in the village, there was better news.

Moana, it's a child.

Tom had become a father.

It's a maid.

Mother and daughter were doing well.

And good news travels fast.

Tom, I've got you right now.

You've got a girl.

A girl? You've got a girl. I've got a girl!

Tom's got a girl! Hey, boys!

Tom's got a girl! I've got a baby girl!

Tom's got a girl!

So you've got a daughter, then? A little girl, yeah. Oh, lovely.

And she will be lovely, provided she is as handsome as her father.

Let's of course call her after the boat and call her Sarah now.

That's as good as they would take it.

Right, boys.

A cheer for Tom and daughter Sarah.

Hear me? Hear me!

Right, come on. We're not going to waste any more time.

We won't wait for the car.

Let's pull up our hands.

In two, six. Hear me!

Two, six. Hear me! Filled with renewed spirit, the men set to work with a will.

I don't think anyone would have believed that a stone wall that had stood there

as long as that one had could have been moved aside in such a short time.

As things turned out, that hedge was the last big obstacle on the moor.

Once it was demolished, they heaved the Sarah through.

They took her in short, sharp slides through the mud, fearful of her keel.

The replacement wheels weren't perfect, but they were a big improvement on the

old ones.

They'd certainly take the Sarah's weight and would, with luck, last the few

remaining miles of the journey.

as they undoubtedly were, reloading the Sarah seemed easier.

Perhaps because they knew that the end of that terrifying journey was now

really within reach.

By dawn the next day, men and boat looked down on Polveen Bay.

Although the skies had cleared, the wind was as high as

ever. And outside the cove, the spray was still being stripped from the tops

of the waves.

They'd taken 12 hours to reach this point.

12 hours that must have seemed a lifetime.

No food in all that time. No respite from the wind.

But now, all was downhill.

Downhill to the beach.

There could never have been a stranger cavalcade, a lifeboat and a cart and a

band of wild brave men coming out of the moors and wending their way to the sea.

They

said

afterwards that going down was damn near as bad as going up.

way down, the first major accident.

It

could

have been much worse.

Charlie was lucky.

That's if you can call breaking your arm lucky.

He

wouldn't

go back.

Having come so far, he was determined to stay with them till they reached the

sea.

off of it.

Hold it, hold it, hold it. Steady now.

Let it come, let it come.

Let it come. Hold it.

Let it come.

Hold it, hold it. Let it come. Easy, easy.

A whole buffeting night behind them.

And now, at last, the challenge that had been with them all the way.

The sea itself.

of that morning, after an historic journey, the lifeboat Sarah was

finally launched.

In her time, she was to come alongside a full-rigged merchantman with 15 men

aboard, and with a line, take her to safe harbor.

Exhausted but jubilant, the men were to return home to their loved ones across

a calmer sea.

This story was based on a real event.

On the night of January the 12th, 1899, the men of Linmouth in North Devon took

their lifeboat Louisa over the roof of Exmoor to go to the aid of a sailing

ship in distress.

It was one of the most extraordinary lifeboat launches in history.

This film is dedicated not only to those men, but also to their successors, the

lifeboat men of Britain, all of whom are prepared to do similarly brave deeds

whenever they're called upon to do so.