A sort of The British border guards prevented close contact with dozens of men and women who were waiting late on a red double-decker bus marked with the “Private” sign on Thursday morning on the periphery of Dover Dock-but everyone’s face Tired clearly.
It is not clear whether the latest arrivals departed from France. They were picked up by border troops’ speedboats and a lifeboat at 5 am. 27 people drowned Do the same crossing on Wednesday.
Boat crossing usually takes about 10 hours or more, so their departure may be too late for them to understand The biggest loss of life in the strait Since the beginning of recording such border crossings in 2014, although the news usually spreads quickly through WhatsApp.
A 30-minute drive around the coast from Dover, it is believed that at least seven inflatable boats used this week are being loaded into the back of a truck at Dungeness RNLI station.
When they began to reach a power station and the house of the late filmmaker Derek Jarman along the tiled coast, a photographer present recounted what they had witnessed the unfolding of chaotic human suffering for several hours.
“We saw men, women, children, and a disabled girl who seemed to be about 10 or 12 years old. Everyone was so traumatized and cold that their families were separated from each other,” he said.
“There is a woman who seems to have two teenage sons, but her body temperature is so low that she is fainting. There is a young daughter, she must be under two years old, without shoes. It was so messy that she was once Sitting alone on the rock. I gave her my coat because they had almost no blankets or other emergency supplies.”
He added that for a long time, about six men and women who are considered to be far-right activists have been shooting with their mobile phones. A barrel-chested man swaggered through the people sitting on the ground and photographed their faces.
But among the wider local community and tourists in this wind-blown natural beauty area, as news of the loss of life continues to spread, a feeling of compassion is evident. Ian Fraser, a fisherman, drew a fishing line in the rough channel and told how he used to see other groups coming ashore.
“This is one of the nearest intersections, so it will obviously happen. You sometimes hear people say bad things about them, but I think you have to realize that anyone crossing must be desperate,” he said. “I feel sorry for the people at RNLI. They are volunteers and are dealing with and seeing things they shouldn’t see.”
Like everyone else, he doubted whether this tragedy would change anything, and guests who enjoyed local seafood at the nearby Britannia Inn bar and restaurant expressed this view.
“It does seem to involve a lot of money. You read that someone pays thousands of pounds, so there are obviously economic factors behind the smuggling, which needs to be targeted,” said Martyn Styles, a retired teacher from Deal.
“We also seem to have paid a lot of fees to the French authorities, but it is still going on,” he added.
Across the table, his wife Diana and their friend Jeanne Carter said that their fear and surprise were intertwined, and it took so long for such a large-scale tragedy to happen. The three told them that when a small boat carrying people passed by, they were hanging out with their sailing club.
Inland, retiree Ray Biggs was waiting for his wife to come out of the slaughterhouse on New Romney Avenue, showing a harsher and hostile attitude, raising the question of whether death would cause sympathy Shrug.
“If you ask me, we have enough people here to receive benefits and no more people come. I have seen them with my own eyes…about 20 people landed and then just sat there waiting for the police,” he said.
In contrast, Bradley Johnson and Mark Wormsley hope that this tragedy will bring about positive changes. Both in thought and in action, they are only a few people. After visiting the local skate park and stopping to talk, both of them admitted that they had not heard of the loss of life in the English Channel, and made a face when they mentioned their children.
“Look, I work in a local bar here, and actually rarely show up,” Walmsley said. “People just want to continue their lives, and I think they know the people on the boat do the same.”
