A Yacht Voyage Round England Part 9

The people in this part of the country were at one time greatly addicted to smuggling, and many of their vessels were commanded by daring fellows, on whose heads a price had been set. Among the most desperate of these outlaws was Captain Wellard, who commanded the Happy-go-Lucky, carrying fourteen guns. For years he had carried on his trade with impunity, and it was said he had vowed that he would never be caught.

When, however, Samuel Pellew, a brother of Lord Exmouth, became collector of customs at Falmouth, he determined to put a stop to this illicit traffic. Wellard had the audacity to issue notices, promising a reward to any one who would kill the collector. Captain Pellew was not to be daunted, and sent out his cruisers in every direction to look for the smugglers. At length two of the king's vessels, early one morning, found the Happy-go-Lucky at anchor, not far from Saint Michael's Mount.

On seeing the royal cruisers, the outlaws cut their cables, and making sail, stood out to sea. Undaunted by the vastly superior odds against them, the daring smugglers stood to their guns, and fought with a bravery worthy of a better cause. For a whole hour--entertaining to the last the hope of escape--they maintained the unequal contest. They knew, indeed, that if taken alive, they would to a certainty be hanged.

At last Wellard fell, mortally wounded; but he held out as long as life lasted. His mate was then killed, and twelve of his crew wounded, when the survivors were compelled to surrender, and the smuggling craft was carried in triumph into Falmouth Harbour. Here the prisoners were shut up in Pendennis Castle; but their friends outside were not idle. A large body of armed smugglers soon collected, and breaking into the castle, rescued the imprisoned outlaws, and at the same time carried off some of the wounded who were lodged in the town. One man was too much hurt to be moved, so he was left behind, and eventually sent to London, tried, and--having been captured red-handed--was hanged. This happened only at the end of the last century.

We walked as far as the curious hollow in the earth called "The Devil's Frying-pan." It is like a vast crater, two acres in extent, two hundred feet deep, and converging to an orifice at the bottom, some sixty feet in diameter. Round the upper edge we observed furze, gorse, and a variety of gra.s.ses growing in great profusion, but below was the bare rock. Carefully creeping down, we noticed through the hole the shine of the water in the cavern beneath. We were wondering how this curious aperture could have been formed, when papa explained that the ground was once level, but that there had been a cavern below it, which was gradually increased by the roof crumbling away, and the _debris_ being washed out by the sea, until the rock became too thin to bear the superinc.u.mbent weight of earth, when the centre gave way, and sinking down, the surrounding earth followed, until it was formed into its present shape. The sea continually rushing in, again cleared out the cavern. As we were anxious to look up it, we hurried back to the boat, and the tide being suitable, we pulled in, and were able to look up through the hole down which we had before gazed.

We afterwards visited two other extraordinary caverns, known as "Dolor Hugo," and "Raven's Hugo," up one of which we pulled for a considerable distance. Grand and picturesque in the extreme were the cliffs above us, which in every variety of shape extend along the whole of the Lizard peninsula.

The curing establishment we found was much more extensive than we had expected it to be. It consists of a circular court, called a cellar, inside which the fish are piled up on the slabs running round the court.

First, a layer of salt is spread, then a layer of pilchards, and so on--layers of pilchards and salt alternating until a vast mound is raised. Below the slabs are gutters which convey the brine and oil oozing out of the fish into a large pit in the centre of the court.

Upwards of three hundredweight of salt are used for each hogshead.

After the pilchards have remained about a month, they are cleansed from the salt, and packed in hogsheads, each of which contains two thousand four hundred fish, weighing four hundred and seventy-six pounds.

Pilchards when thus cured are called "fair maids"--a corruption of _fumado_--the Spanish for smoked. Originally they were cured by smoking, but salt preserves them much better.

The fish are not always caught near the sh.o.r.e, for the school frequently keep out at sea, where the fishermen go in search of them. For this purpose two descriptions of boats are employed; the largest measures about thirty tons, the other is much smaller. The fishermen use a number of nets--about twenty in all--called a set, which are then joined together; each is about forty feet deep, and one hundred and seventy feet long. When united they form a wall three quarters of a mile in length, though sometimes they are much longer. The fish are not caught by being encircled, but by running their heads through the meshes, where they are held by the gills, which open in the water like the barbs of an arrow, and consequently cannot be withdrawn; their bodies being larger than the meshes, they thus remain hanging, unable to extricate themselves.

At one end of this wall of nets a boat is secured, and drifts with the tide. Here she remains until it is supposed that all the fish coming in that direction have either pa.s.sed by or been caught. The fishermen then begin hauling in the net. The operation of hauling in nearly a mile of net, perhaps full of fish, is no easy task, especially when there is a "loppy" sea and the night is dark. This is, however, the most easy way of catching pilchards, which can be pursued at nearly all times of the year, for the fish swim about in small schools away from the sh.o.r.e, from May until winter is well advanced, when the water becoming cool, they return westwards to a warmer climate in the depths of the Atlantic. The fishermen told us that the most propitious time for fishing is when there is a loppy sea during a thick fog at night, as the pilchards do not then perceive the nets in their way, and swimming against them, are caught. When the water is transparent, the fish, perceiving the luminous meshes, swim aside and escape. This appearance is called br.i.m.m.i.n.g. As it rarely occurs during twilight, the fishermen choose that time for shooting their nets, and wait until dawn before hauling them again into their boats.

We could learn nothing about the natural history of pilchards; the fishermen did not appear to trouble their heads on the matter. Some said that they went away to far off regions during February, March, and April, to deposit their sp.a.w.n; others, that they went in search of food; but where they went to, none of them could venture to suggest.

As we wished to get to Penzance before dark, should a breeze spring up, we returned on board. Sailing along very close to the coast, we came off Helston, situated on the inner side of a curious lagoon, separated from the sea by a narrow spit of sand. Occasionally, in rainy seasons, when the streams which run into the lagoon cause the water to rise to an inconvenient height, so as to flood the sh.o.r.es, a narrow channel is cut in the spit; and the water rushing through it at tremendous speed forms a broad and deep pa.s.sage, until the lake speedily sinks to its usual level.

The breeze now freshening, we ran across the bay past Marazion, until we sighted Mousehole, on the western side. Near it was a large cavern in the side of the cliff, from which the village is said by some to take its name. Mousehole, though a small place, contained some gallant men, who, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, defended it bravely, under Sir Francis G.o.dolphin, against an attack of four hundred Spaniards, who came in four galleys, and landing, did considerable damage to the neighbouring places. In its harbour we now saw a large fleet of boats, engaged in the pilchard and mackerel fishery. Not far off, on the summit of a cliff, we observed two batteries, with guns mounted, to keep any enemy who might venture near at bay.

Mackerel are caught much in the same manner as pilchards; but as they will not keep, and are not so suitable for pickling, they are sent off immediately to market.

All along this coast are caverns, which we much wished to explore. In this neighbourhood also, up a valley which extends from a pretty little place called Lamorna Cove, is a place where a large amount of the finest granite is quarried.

Tacking when off Mousehole, we stood directly for Penzance. Approaching the north sh.o.r.e, we had a fine view of Saint Michael's Mount, rising out of the blue water washing its base, crowned by its far-famed and ancient monastery.

Sailing on, we pa.s.sed the white lighthouse at the end of the pier, and dropped our anchor in the sheltered harbour, where, to our great delight, we found the Dolphin.

Uncle Tom, and Jack, and Oliver at once came on board, very thankful to find that we had escaped all dangers. Uncle Tom said that he was on the point of sailing to look for us. We had just time to see the outline of the tower, its domed hall rising in its midst, with pretty villas surrounded by woods beyond, before the fast-gathering darkness shut them out of our view, while the twinkling lights from the old town and a number of stone-vessels and other coasters and fishing-boats cast their glimmer on the surface of the water.

Penzance is a pretty and picturesque place, and is now an important fishing-town. It is also celebrated as being the birthplace of Sir Humphrey Davy. It has greatly improved since the last century, when it is said that the people refused to allow a mail coach road to be extended to their town, that they possessed but one carpet and one cart, and had not heard of silver forks; while the _Sherborne Mercury_ was the only newspaper which circulated among them. When a stranger approached, the boys in the town invariably armed themselves with stones to fling at him, shouting out, "Whar do you come from? Be off, now!" John Wesley did much to introduce the pure gospel among the inhabitants; and we saw several fine churches, in addition to a number of houses in which the floors were undoubtedly carpeted.

Next morning we put off in our two boats to visit Saint Michael's Mount, on which we landed on a stone pier, with a few houses near it. As we gazed upwards at the pile of buildings which crowns the summit of the mount, we expected to find much interest in exploring its ancient halls and pa.s.sages. We were somewhat disappointed when, having made our way up to the top, we found that it had been so greatly renovated as to be deprived of much of its antique look. But it is a grand old pile--the tower, which rises in the centre, and is the most ancient portion, having been built in the fifteenth century. Although used as a monastery, it was strongly fortified; and guns round the walls still remain, notwithstanding that they would be of little use in the present day. We saw, just above the edge of a cliff, a curious and ancient cross, richly carved. The monks' refectory was, after the Reformation, turned into a banqueting hall; and the cornice which runs round it represents hunting scenes of boars, stags, wolves, and bulls. Obtaining a light, we descended by a flight of stairs, through a small door in the side of the wall, down to a low, dark vault, in which it was said the bones of a man were discovered when the vault was found, some years ago.

Whether he had been shut up there by the monks, or had been a prisoner of war, it was difficult to determine. The vault was evidently used for the purpose of concealing the treasure of the monastery.

We afterwards climbed up by a narrow spiral staircase to the top of the tower, from whence we had a fine view over the whole of the bay and the surrounding sh.o.r.es. On the summit are the remnants of a lantern which was formerly used as a beacon for the benefit of mariners entering the bay. This monastic castle, for such it should be called, has frequently been besieged. On the last occasion it was held by Sir Francis Ba.s.sett, for Charles the First, when it was besieged by the Parliamentary forces; but he was at last compelled to capitulate, though as a reward for his bravery he and his followers were allowed to retire to the Scilly Islands. Altogether, we agreed that it was one of the most interesting spots we had hitherto visited during our voyage.

As we were anxious to see the Land's End, and could not approach the point in the yachts without risk, we determined to visit the famous promontory by land. Engaging a carriage, we set off, making a circuit to see several curiosities on our way. First we stopped at a cave, apparently part of a fortification. Near it are two upright granite rocks, fifty yards apart, said to form the head and foot-stones of a Cornish giant.

"He must have been a tall fellow!" exclaimed Oliver, as he paced the distance between the two stones. The site is called the Giant's Grave; and a countryman who met us declared that "Once upon a time, two giants fought here,--for I don't know how many days,--until one had his skull knocked in by a club formed out of an enormous oak."

Another legend a.s.signs the name of "The Pipers" to them, because not far off is a circle of nineteen stones, said to be the petrified bodies of a number of damsels who spent the Sabbath in dancing instead of going to church. These stones were therefore called the Dancing Stones, or the "Merry Maidens." Some time ago a farmer, to whom the field on which they stand belongs, wishing to get rid of them, commenced operations by harnessing a yoke of oxen to one of the damsels; but he was warned to desist, in consequence of one of the animals falling down dead. Since then they have remained unmolested, except by the hammers of amateur geologists.

Farther on we reached a fine headland called Castle Treryn, an ancient entrenchment having occupied the whole area. On the summit stands the famous Logan rocking-stone, which is said to weigh eighty tons. Putting our shoulders under it, by some exertion we made it rock or move. Once upon a time a Lieutenant Goldsmith of the Royal Navy--a nephew of the author of the _Vicar of Wakefield_--happening to land here, took it into his head to try to dislodge the stone; and, somewhat to his dismay, probably, he succeeded in doing so completely. Over it fell, but did not go rattling down the cliffs, as I had heard a.s.serted, for it would then have inevitably been broken to pieces. Still, as the stone was on the ground, and could no longer rock, the people in the neighbourhood were highly incensed against the lieutenant, especially as visitors were not likely to come as heretofore to the spot. They accordingly memorialised the Admiralty, complaining of what had happened, and Lieutenant Goldsmith was ordered to replace it. He thereupon erected over it some vast shears, and by means of tackles ingeniously contrived, lifted back the stone on to the pivot on which it had before rested.

He, however, found it impossible to poise it as nicely as before, and consequently it is necessary to exert more strength to make it move than was required before it had been tumbled over. To make some amends to the people, the gallant lieutenant replaced another stone of a similar character which had fallen from its position.

We pa.s.sed numerous very small cottages built with enormous stones. They have diminutive windows, which will not open--this style of architecture being necessary to resist cold and the fierce gales which blow across the narrow peninsula. As we proceeded, trees grew scarcer and scarcer.

At last we came to a tavern with a sign-board, on the east side of which was painted "The last refreshment house in England;" and on the other, facing the Atlantic, "The first refreshment house in England."

Among the many pretty coves we saw was one called Vellan Dreath, or the Mill in the Sand; but not a vestige of the mill remains. Once upon a time it was inhabited by a bold miller and his stout son. One morning, as he was looking seawards, just as he was about to turn on the water to move his mill, he observed above the sea-mists the masts of a tall ship.

What object she had in coming so near the coast he could not divine; but it was as well to be cautious, lest she should prove an enemy.

Going down to the edge of the water, he listened, when he heard the sound of oars, indicating the approach of a boat, and voices which sounded strange to his ears. Calling to his son, he summoned him back into the mill, the door of which he closed. A hole formed for lifting the latch enabled him to look out, when he saw a party of Spaniards with long guns coming towards the mill. On this, running the muzzle of his piece through the hole, he ordered the enemy to keep off; but as they-- regardless of his warning--still came on, he fired, and knocked one of them over. After he had fired, the Dons retired to a distance; but it was pretty evident that they intended to attack the mill. On this, being certain that the small garrison could not hold out, and seeing the enemy again approaching, he set fire to a rick of furze, and while the wind blew the smoke in the faces of the Spaniards, he and his son, each taking a sack of flour on their shoulders, issued out through a back door and made their way up the hill. They had got some distance up the steep ascent before they were discovered by the Spaniards, who then began firing at them. The gallant millers made their escape, but the old man received a wound of which he ultimately died. The son declared that his sack, from the number of bullets in it, was far heavier than when he set out.

Near it is Sennen Cove, where there is a fishing-village and a Coastguard station. Some way off the sh.o.r.e, rising from amid the foaming waves, is a high rock, denominated "The Irish Lady," from the peculiarity of its form, which is that of a female figure, with a long robe, advancing into the sea. We were told that many years ago an Irish vessel was driven on the rocks; but that one female alone was seen clinging to the wreck until the waves washed her away, and that it is her figure which now appears still surrounded by the foaming billows.

"I wonder she hasn't got tired of standing out there all by herself!"

exclaimed d.i.c.k.

Another rock in the same neighbourhood, far out in the sea, is called "The Armed Knight." It is a magnificent pile, two hundred feet in height. The summit, from the point we saw it, a.s.sumes the profile of a man's head, while the regular way in which the blocks of granite join each other has much the appearance of armour. As d.i.c.k observed, he must have been related to the giant whose grave we had visited.

Later in the day we reached what we were a.s.sured was the Land's End, although other rocks appeared to project as far westward into the ocean.

It was a grand scene. In all directions were headlands, crowned by what appeared to be ruined castles and towers, rocks scattered around, piled up into a variety of fantastic shapes; while afar off we could distinguish the faint outline of the Scilly Islands. Imagination might picture them as some fairy land, likely at any moment to vanish, though we had little doubt that they would remain to let us pay them a visit.

A few hundred yards off is a headland called "Doctor Johnson's Head,"

because the rocks at the extremity present somewhat the appearance of a human face with ma.s.sive features, like those of the great lexicographer.

The point is surmounted by an oval boulder, which is so easily poised on one point that it rocks far more easily than the better known Logan Rock.

Land's End itself consists of a ma.s.s of granite which extends in a lofty ridge far into the sea, the summit crowned by rocks which have the appearance of some vast castle. Indeed, so curiously-shaped are the rocks in this neighbourhood, that they have generally an artificial appearance.

Many years ago, a party of officers had come to Land's End on a visit of inspection. Two of them proposed riding down the slope towards the extreme point, which has perpendicular precipices on both sides. A third officer--Captain, afterwards General, Arbuthnot--dismounted, and led his horse after his companions, considering that the place was too dangerous to ride down. After enjoying the view for some time, the party proposed returning, when Captain Arbuthnot, believing that there would be no danger in riding up, mounted to follow his companions.

Scarcely, however, was he in his saddle, than his horse, a spirited animal, became restive, and began to kick and plunge, inclining to the precipice on the right side. In vain its rider tried to show the animal her danger; to his horror, he found that her feet were close to the precipice. He had just time to throw himself off, and clear his feet from the stirrups, when over she went down the cliff, and was dashed to pieces, leaving him on the slippery sward close to the edge of the precipice. The spot where the accident occurred is still shown.

Two miles off Land's End, on a ma.s.s of rocks which rise some seventy feet above the surface at low water, stands the Longships Lighthouse, the summit of which is fifty-six feet above the rock. The tower is divided into three stories. In the lower is kept provisions, with water and coal; the second is a cooking-room and oil-store: while the third is a sleeping-room. The lantern consists of a brilliant catoptric fixed light, produced by nineteen Argand lamps. It was built in 1793 by a Mr Smith. Before the granite blocks of which it is composed were brought to the rock, they were hewn out and put together at Sennen Cove. The stones are dovetailed one into the other, and are secured by oak trennels strongly cemented. Often, when a storm is raging, the waves beat completely over the structure; indeed, when any wind is blowing, it is surrounded by ma.s.ses of foam. Four men belong to the lighthouse, three always remain in it, and one goes on leave every twenty-eight days, when the weather permits; but this, during the winter season, is very often impossible; and sometimes for weeks together the man on sh.o.r.e cannot get off.

During a storm, some years ago, so furious were the waves, that the lantern was broken in, and the keepers fully believed that the whole structure would be washed away. We heard of an inspector who had visited the rock during fine weather, and who had begun to find great fault with the large stock of provisions kept in the storehouse. Before the cutter which brought him could return, a heavy gale sprang up, and he himself was kept a prisoner for nine weeks, after which the lighthouse-keepers heard no more complaints as to the quant.i.ty of food kept in store.

The bright light, which burst forth from the top of the white tower, warned us to beat a retreat.

Not far from Land's End we found another inn, which looked much out of place in that wild region. d.i.c.k declared that it should be called "The firster and laster inn in England," it having been built some time after the one we had previously pa.s.sed. As it was too late to return to Penzance that evening, we took advantage of it, and put up there for the night, that we might visit some mines and other interesting spots in the neighbourhood.

The first thing in the morning we set off to visit the Botallack mine, the machinery of which we could see perched among crags that looked almost inaccessible. We had not time to go into the mine, which is carried far under the ocean. In some places there is not more than six or eight feet between the roof of the galleries and the water. Once the sea broke into it; but the hole was plugged and the water pumped out.

On another occasion, a party of miners discovered a magnificent piece of ore little more than three feet below the ocean. The treasure tempted them to risk their lives to obtain it. They cut it out, and successfully filled up the hole. It is said that so terrific is the noise during heavy weather, when the waves dash in on the sh.o.r.e, and roll the pebbles backwards and forwards, that even the bold miners are compelled to rush out, unable to endure the uproar. The scene was most extraordinary. Vast pumps appeared amid the cliffs, unceasingly drawing up water, which rushed in a red torrent into the sea. Steam and smoke were spitting out in all directions; and men, women, and boys were employed in sorting the ore as the kibble brought it to the surface.

This was only one of many similar mines along the coast. Having satisfied our curiosity, we drove back to Penzance; and at once repaired on board the yachts, as papa and Uncle Tom were unwilling to lose more of the fine weather.

Without a moment's delay, the anchors were got up, and we made sail out of Mount's Bay.

CHAPTER SIX.

A SHIPWRECK.

On pa.s.sing Rundlestone, a hidden rock upwards of a mile from the southern sh.o.r.e of the Land's End peninsula, we came in sight of the Wolf Rock, about ten miles off the coast. It was one of the greatest dangers in the English Channel, for the beacon placed on it was not visible at night or during thick weather. Attempts were made to fix bells on the rock, which might be rung by the waves dashing against them; but the first gale quickly carried away the well-intentioned contrivance.

Now, however, a lighthouse has been erected of great strength and ma.s.siveness, to endure the fierce battering it must encounter from the angry billows. The wind shifting against us, we had a good view of the Wolf Rock, and afterwards of the Longships Lighthouse, the white tower of which, rising above its black base, can be seen afar off.