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Rees, Jack - 19/08/1908
Description
Started South Foreland 5.55 am. Grease: Russian Tallow. Food: Meat sandwiches, milk biscuits, and hot meat essence. Fell ill and touched support boat, ending attempt
MISFORTUNE FOR JACK REES. ABANDONS HIS CHANNEL SWIM. [By OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.] DOVER, Wednesday. If ever the spirit of Captain' Webb hovers over the English Channel it must be its burden to witness the monotonous failure of the flower of Britain's manhood to emulate an historic and hitherto unparalleled feat. Prior to this day England and Scotland had deputed their strongest swimmers to make several attempts to plough their way across the treacherous sheet of water which separates England from France, but the sum total of them all has been failure. Jack Rees, enjoying the unbounded faith of Llanelly, was chosen by that town as the first representative of Wales to make the effort, and as one who knows something of Tinopolis, its people, and their patriotism, I can appreciate the sadness of heart with whioh the news of their champion's defeat by the Channel will be received by them. The day had just dawned when the dead silence of the night which had brooded over the smart steam yacht Sea Wolf was broken by movements on deck. Punctually at four o'clock Jack Rees, accompanied by his Llanelly friends, Messrs. D. E. James. J. S. Davies, and Edwin Rees (brother), came on board, and the hero of the moment reported himself in perfect fettle. Before five o'clock the yacht steamed round to the South Foreland, and Rees was rowed ashore to a sheltered cover beneath the shadows of the lighthouse. There he stripped and was well covered with a thick covering of Russian tallow. He adjusted a borrowed and ill-fitting pair of goggles, and after wading a few yards he struck out for the nearest point on the French Coast. A stiff north-east wind was blowing, and the sea was lumpy, and Rees, swimming on his right side, had to suffer the incessant flopping of chopping waves on the left side of his face. He kept as near as he convemiently could to the right side of the yacht so as to secure all possible protection, but it was so little as to be infinitesimal. He had covered a mile in the most promising style when he facetiously inquired in his own language, "B'le mae Ffrainc yma.?" ("Where is France here?"). From that point to the end of the swim all conversation that passed between Rees and his friends was in good Carmarthenshire Welsh, and the English friends on board had to resign themselves to a state of curiosity and wonderment as to what was being said in this strange language. It was the first Channel swim ever attempted in Welsh, and the only pity is that I have not a more glowing tale to tell. I ought to have said, so as to be in chronological order, that Rees entered the water at five minutes to six, and at ten minutes past seven he signalled for refreshment, with which he was promptly supplied. He was swimming splendidly, and looked like keeping it up all day. Grease having found its way to the goggles Rees complained that he could not see ahead, and a combined mask and goggles was substituted. He seemed more at ease in this, and for some time swam steadily on and on, without taking his eyes off the undulating French Coast - so near and yet so far. He maintained his powerful right-arm stroke almost continuously, and was carried by the tide to the left towards the South Goodwins Lightship, which is three and a half miles distant from the shore. He had now been in the water two hours, and his pace, according to the skipper and pilot of the yacht, was quite up to the average of the other swimmers. "GOOD OLD WALES." In the next moment the attention of all aboard was diverted from the swimmer to a big battleship breaking across the horizon and pointing her nose to our starboard side. From a mere spectre she swiftly developed into a huge monster, and she was steered until she was well within hailing distance. Officers and men assembled on the fore deck, and to the evident great delight of Jack Rees they applauded and cheered as only British Jack Tars can do. "What's his name?" they shouted in chorus. "Rees, of Llanelly," replied the skipper in a voice that shivered our timbers. "Good old Wales", was the enthusiastic response of some hundreds of voices, and just as the echoes of this were dying away a shrill voice carried the still more encouraging message: "Good old Sospan Fach." The small boat in which James, his attendant, had carried to him the nourishment, was kept within reach of the swimmer, and there was a deep gasp of disappointment and chagrin when he was seen to stretch out his hand and touch the boat - that touch was fatal. It was all over. HELPED INTO THE BOAT. Rees, still suffering from pain, was quickly helped into the boat, and in another minute he was assisted to climb up the ladder and to step on board the yacht. He was able to stand without the aid of his friends. Recovering himself he called for his clothes and began to chat with his comrades."How do you feel now, Jack?" I asked him. "I feel bad," he replied. "Don't you think you would have recovered if you kept afloat?" "No; I am not right yet - that last dose settled me. I swallowed some salt water with it. Oh dear, I'm sorry I didn't do better, but I did my best. The flapping of the waves hurt me terribly, and the goggles worried me. I am not used to them." "Well, now, what do you think of the Channel?" "It's a big job, and no man can do it without having had a reasonable amount of practice in these waters, which are much colder and altogether different to what I have been used to at home. I am not sorry for myself, because I have done my best; but I think it a greqat pity that more Welshmen don't go in for long-distance swimming, so that Wales might have a chance of doing the trick". "Do you think you'll try again?" "No, I don't think so. It costs so much money, and I can't afford it. A man ought to be down here for three months and practice daily to get himself thoroughly fit for the task. Mind you, I am not complaining. I only say what I think is an essential to a successful attempt. I confidently counted upon sticking it for eight or nine hours, and making a good show at least; but that sickness settled me. Never mind, I wanted to have a go at the Channel, and I've had it." Weekly Mail 22nd August 1908