Between these
rocks and the heights on the eastern side, there was another little
retired creek, renowned in the village annals, for the adventures of Jack
Covering, a noted smuggler on this coast, some forty years ago, with the
locality of which the reader will erewhile become better acquainted. The
magnificence of the convulsed scenery, and yawning chasms around, the deep
intonation and ceaseless roar of the ocean, all combined to awaken in the
mind of the spectator, mingled sensations of admiration and awe.
The coast receded between the eastern point of the cove to that which
terminated the Bay of Torwich, embracing what may be almost termed a
champaign country, compared with the barren scenery I have described; and
displaying the uneven surface of the richly wooded Park of Dovedale, with
the ruins of two castles.
The village of Torwich which stood on a declivity, with an opening descent
to the shore, about half a mile from the entrance of the cove, had little
communication, from the nature of its site, with the neighbouring country,
except when the all-powerful attraction of a wreck existed.
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