e.
I found some lines by the poet Wharton, describing the battle:

"O'er Cornwall's cliffs the tempest roared;
High the screaming sea-mew soared;
On Tintagel's topmost tower
Darksome fell the sleety shower,
When Arthur ranged his red-cross ranks
On conscious Camlan's crimson banks,
By Modred's faithless guile decreed
Beneath a Saxon spear to bleed."

Once upon a time the Cornish men were noted for being heartless
wreckers. There is a story current of a wicked man, who, having tied up
a donkey by the leg, fastened a lantern round its neck and drove it
along the summit of the cliffs; the halting movement of the creature,
resembling the plunging of a ship, being calculated to tempt vessels to
their destruction, from the belief that there was ample sea room.
Happily, at the present time the Cornish men are as prompt to save as
they were in their savage days to lure hapless barques on shore. This
part of the coast is indeed a fearful one for any unfortunate ship
driven upon it, though, by means of the rocket apparatus and the
lifeboats, the crew have a better chance of escape than formerly.

Soon after leaving Tintagel we came in sight of the higher light, which
beamed forth from Lundy Island, revolving every two minutes. We stood
on across Bude Bay, steering for Hartland Point, at the southern side of
Barnstaple Bay. The wind heading us, we stood off the shore until we
caught sight of the lower fixed light on Lundy Island, where, from the
distance we were from it, papa calculated that the next tack would carry
us into the bay.

I always enjoy sailing at night when finding our way by the lights, with
the chart spread out on the cabin table. The lighthouse of Lundy
Island--which is at the very entrance of the Bristol Channel--is a great
blessing to mariners; while the island itself, which runs north and
south, and is long and narrow, affords shelter in a westerly gale to the
storm-tossed vessels bound along the coasts.

I was quite sorry when papa ordered me to turn in; but I was on deck
again before daybreak, and found that we were standing towards the two
bright fixed lights at the entrance of Bideford Harbour, while we could
still see the lights of Lundy Island astern; so that we knew where we
were as well as we should have done in broad daylight. By keeping the
two lights in one, we knew that we were standing for the passage over
the bar into the harbour.

It was just daylight as we entered