Text 1: The crossing to Lundy, by Michael Evans

An original contemporary online feature.

I joined a small sailing boat for a day trip from Ilfracombe to Lundy. I had imagined a quiet morning on the water, but the skipper handed me a waterproof jacket before we had even left the harbour. The sea was choppy and spray came over the bow, soaking my sleeves.

There were four of us aboard. The skipper showed me how to coil a rope and asked me to keep watch for other boats. I was nervous when the engine stopped beyond the harbour, but he raised the sail and the boat continued across the water. After a while I began to recognise the rhythm of the waves rather than brace for every bump.

Near the island, the wind dropped. We moved slowly and the skipper used the engine again to bring us alongside the landing steps. From the water I could see the cliffs and a narrow strip of beach below them. The crossing had taken longer than I expected, but I felt pleased that I had stayed out on deck.

On the return journey the sea was calmer. I helped gather the sail before we reached the harbour and was surprised that the same trip felt much shorter. I had been uneasy at the start, but I would happily go sailing again.

Text 2: A winter passage, by James Rooke

An original letter written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

In this letter, written in 1878, a sailor tells his sister about a passage from a small harbour to a nearby port.

My dear Anne, our vessel left the harbour before sunrise on Tuesday, carrying sacks of flour and a few passengers. A strong breeze filled the sails at once, and the mate ordered us to secure the barrels before they could roll across the deck.

By mid-morning a thick shower had reduced the land to a grey line. The passengers came below, where the motion made one little boy quite ill. I remained on deck with the crew, watching for the coast to appear again.

We made slower progress than the captain had hoped. When the wind weakened, the crew lowered a small boat and rowed ahead to check that the channel was clear. The captain altered our course, and we reached the port after dark, later than planned but without damage to the cargo.

The passengers were glad to step ashore, and I was weary from standing watch in the wet. Still, I was proud that everyone had worked together and that the flour had arrived safely. The captain says the next passage should be easier if the weather holds.