Captain Webb the first man to swim the English Channel.August 24th 1875. In 21 Hours 45 Minutes.

Captains Webb's Medal. Silver 34mm.EF. Red and Black Ribbon. 

 Webb was Born 19th Jan.1848.Died July 24th 1883.  Ref. Eimer 1696.

I paid £20 in 1973.

From THE CROSSING. Kathy Watson.2000.

A Captain Webb medal was quickly struck by W Holmes of Islington, north London and sold to swimming clubs to use as prizes. Holmes called it the ' Captain Webb's Channel Medal' . One side showed Webb alongside the lugger with the cliffs of Dover in the background while the other depicted a wreath of oak and laurel, and it was finished off with a clasp and a red, white and blue ribbon. 

TOO MUCH SEA 119

made by one of his friends, he was so overwrought with the on of waiting that 'he relaxed in his attention to discipline and itted an indiscretion, unusual to him'. He does not reveal the exact nature of this indiscretion but, in the light of Watson's memoirs London pleasures, the fact that Webb was a sailor and Dover a rt, drunkenness and a visit to a prostitute is a reasonable guess. The morning of Tuesday 24 August broke gloriously.

 The barometer signalled calm weather, the sky was overcast but not threatening, there was no wind and the sea was 65 degrees and as smooth as green glass. That day Toms had good news; it was his considered opinion that Webb should start that day around one o'clock. It would be about two hours after high tide and Webb could pick up the stream of water speeding into the Straits of Dover from the Atlantic, which would drive him east up the Channel. 

After that, there would be almost an hour of fairly slack water when he could make good progress. Then, a stream powered by the north sea would sweep him south-west. Toms thought this Z-shaped route would make the best use of the Channel's tides; he reckoned Webb would be able to do it in 14 hours. On the other hand, the captain of the Castalia passenger boat, thought to be the man most knowledgeable about Channel conditions in England, said he thought 20 hours was nearer the mark. The truth was, nobody really knew — and Webb was about to find out. Webb ate a large indigestible breakfast of eggs, bacon and claret and then went down to the harbour. Gathered to accompany him.

In the water, Webb was struggling. Gloom descended on the whole company. It was nearly three in the morning, Webb was three miles from France and the tide was turning against him. And the observers on the boat were seriously concerned about his physical condition. His stroke was visibly slowing and he seemed drowsy. The tiredness of a long-distance swimmer is a terrible thing to witness. It's not the sweaty, muscle-throbbing windedness of, say, a 100m sprinter. The exhaustion is total — glazed eyes; weak, sloppy swimming; stroke control gone. The skin turns a weird grey colour.

134 THE CROSSING 

round Webb, otherwise the wind would drag it away from him. Toms climbed to the top of the cabin and kept shouting: 'He'll do it,' but Webb was barely keeping afloat. Surely though the shore seemed nearer? There were the bathing huts on the beach. They were definitely getting nearer. Two hundred yards to go. There was non-stop cheering from the boats. A huge crowd was gathering on the beach. A hundred yards to go. The men on the mail boat were playing 'Rule Britannia' . George Toms was crying, tears pouring down his face. The water felt shallower. Nearly there. The rowers pushed their oars into the water; they were touching the bottom. Nearly there. And, then, finally solid ground. He was there. He had done it. Exhausted, delirious, his face encrusted with salt, one eye blind from the waves, his body rigid and greasy like a lump of cold wax, Webb stood, stumbled and fell, lifeless, into the waiting arms of his friends. 

Taken From  1990 Swimming Year Book Page 189.

Prizes were presented by Robert Watson at Webb's.