A Book of Cornwall

One means employed where the coast was well watched was for the kegs to be sunk. A whole "crop," as it was called, was attached to a rope, that was weighted with stones and fastened at both ends by an anchor. When a smuggling vessel saw no chance of landing its cargo, it sank it and fixed it with the anchors, and the bearings of the sunken "crop" were taken and communicated to the aiders and abettors on land, who waited their opportunity to fish it up.

But the revenue officers were well aware of this dodge, and one of their duties was to grope along the coast with hooks-"creeping" was the technical term-for such deposits. A crop that had been sunk in a hurry, and not in very deep water, was likely to suffer. The ropes chafed and broke, or a floating keg, or one washed ashore, was a certain betrayal of the presence of a crop not far off.

As a rule the contents of the sunken kegs suffered no deterioration from being under water for some time; but if submerged too long the spirits turned bad. Such deteriorated spirits were known amongst coastguardsmen as "stinkibus."

Every barrel of liquor as provided by the merchants at Roscoff and elsewhere was furnished with a pair of sling ropes ready for attachment to the cord in the event of sinking, and for carrying by the tub-men when safely worked on shore.

Very often when a rowboat, towing a line of kegs after it, was pursued, the smugglers were forced to let go the casks. Then the coastguard secured them, but found the magistrates loath to convict, because they could not swear that the kegs picked up were identical with those let go by the smugglers. Accordingly they were ordered, whenever such an event happened, to mark the line of kegs by casting to them a peculiarly painted buoy.

In order to have information relative to the smugglers, so as to be on the alert to "nab" them, the Government had paid spies in the foreign ports, and also in the English ports.

Woe betide a spy if he were caught! No mercy was shown him. There is here and there on the coast a pit, surrounded on all sides but one by the sea, that goes by the name of "Dead Man's Pool," in which tradition says that spies have been dropped.

Mr. Hawker, who has already been quoted, had as his man-of-all-work an ex-smuggler named Pentire, from whom he got many stories. One day Pentire asked Mr. Hawker: -

"Can you tell me the reason, sir, that no grass will ever grow on the grave of a man that's hanged unjustly?"

"Indeed! How came that about?"

"Why, you see, they got poor Will down to Bodmin, all among strangers; and there was bribery and false swearing, and so they agreed together and hanged poor Will. But his friends begged the body and brought the corpse home here to his own parish, and they turfed the grave, and they sowed the grass twenty times over, but 'twas all of no use, nothing would grow; he was hanged unjustly."

"Well, but, Pentire, what was he accused of? What had Will Pooly done?"

"Done, your honour? Oh, nothing at all-only killed an exciseman."

There are around the coast a great number of what are locally called Vougghas, or Fogous (Welsh Ogofau), caves that were artificially constructed for the stowing away of "run" goods.

There is one at Stoke Fleming, near Dartmouth. All along both south and north coasts they are fairly common. On Dartmoor there are also some, but these were for the preparation of spirits, most likely, and the stowing away of what was locally "burnt." They are now employed for turnip cellars.

At one of the wildest and most rugged points of a singularly wild and rugged coast, that of the north of Cornwall, are two tiny bays, Porth Cothan and Porth Mear, in the parishes of S. Merryn and S. Eval, at no great distance from Bedruthan, which has the credit of being the finest piece of cliff scenery on this coast. Here the cliffs tower up a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet above the sea; the raging surf foams over chains of islets formed by the waves, which burrow among the slaty, quartzose rocks, form caves, work further, insulate crags, and finally convert into islands these nodes of more durable rock. At Porth Cothan the cliffs fall away and form a lap of shore, into which flows a little stream, that loses itself in the shifting sands. A manor-house, a mill, a farmhouse or two are all the dwellings near Porth Cothan, and of highways there is none for many miles, the nearest being that from Wadebridge to S. Columb. About a mile up the glen that forms the channel through which the stream flows into Porth Cothan, is a tiny lateral combe, the steep sides covered with heather and dense clumps and patches of furze.

Rather more than half-way down the steep slope of the hill is a hole just large enough to admit of a man entering in a stooping posture. To be strictly accurate, the height is 3 ft. 6 in. and the width 3 ft. But once within, the cave is found to be loftier, and runs for 50 feet due west, the height varying from 7 ft. 6 in. to 8 ft. 6 in., and the width expanding to 8 ft. 3 in. Immediately within the entrance may be observed notches cut in the rock, into which a beam might be thrust to close the mouth of the cave, which was then filled in with earth and bramble bushes drawn over it, when it would require a very experienced eye to discover it. As it was, though the mouth was open, my guide was in fault and unable to find it, and it was by accident only that I lit upon it.

At 7 feet from the entrance a lateral gallery branches off to the right, extending at present but 17 feet, and of that a portion of the roof has fallen in. This gallery was much lower than the main one, not being higher than 3 feet, but probably in a portion now choked it rose, at all events in places, to a greater height. This side gallery never served for the storage of smuggled goods. It was a passage that originally was carried as far as the little cluster of cottages at Trevethan, whence, so it is said, another passage communicated with the sands of Porth Mear. The opening of the underground way is said to have been in a well at Trevethan. But the whole is now choked up. The tunnel was not carried in a straight line. It branched out of the trunk at an acute angle, and was carried in a sweep through the rocks with holes at intervals for the admission of light and air. The total length must have been nearly 3500 feet. The passage can in places be just traced by the falling in of the ground above, but it cannot be pursued within. At the beginning of this century this smugglers' cave was in use.

There is still living an old woman who can give information relative to the use of this cave.

"Well, Genefer, did you ever see smugglers who employed the Vouggha?"

Vouggha, as already stated, is the old Cornish word for cave.

"Well, no, sir. I can't say that; but my father did. He minded well the time when the Vouggha was filled wi' casks of spirits right chuck-full."

"But how were they got there?"

"That was easy enough. The boats ran their loads into Porth Cothan, or, if the preventive men were on the watch, into Porth Mear, which is hidden by the Island of Trescore, drawn like a screen in front. They then rolled the kegs, or carried 'em, to the mouth of the Vouggha or to Trevemedar, it did not matter which, and they rolled 'em into the big cave, and then stopped the mouth up. They could go and get a keg whenever they liked by the little passage that has its mouth in the garden."

"Did the preventive men never find out this place?"

"Never, sir, never. How could they? Who'd be that wicked as to tell them? and they wasn't clever enough to find it themselves. Besides, it would take a deal of cleverness to find the mouth of the Vouggha when closed with clats of turf and drawn over with brambles; and that in the garden could be covered in five minutes-easy." After a pause the old woman said, "Ah! it's a pity I be so old and feeble, or I could show you another as I knows of, and, I reckon, no one else. But my father he had the secret. Oh, dear! oh, dear! what is the world coming to-for education and all kinds o' wickedness? Sure, there's no smuggling now, and poor folks ha'n't got the means o' bettering themselves like proper Christians."

There are other of these smugglers' resorts extant in Cornwall, usually built up underground-one such at Marsland, in Morwenstow; another at Helliger, near Penzance. The Penrose cave is, however, cut out of the solid rock, and the pickmarks are distinctly traceable throughout. At the end, someone has cut his initials in the rock, with the date 1747.

CHAPTER XVIII

PENZANCE

Penzance, the Holy Headland-Madron-A disciple of S. Piran-Madron Well-The Feast-Climate-The Irish Colonisation-Penwith-S. Breage-Tregonning Hill-Pencaer-Movements of S. Breage-Cross of coagulated blood-Frescoes-Former extent of Breage-Sithney-Germoe Church and Chair-Germoe's story-Pengersick Castle-The Millatons-The Giant's throw-Godolphin Hall-Skewis and Henry Rogers-Clowance-The Irish invaders-Gwinear-Ludgvan-The flower farms-S. Hilary-S. Michael's Mount-Submerged forest-Castel-an-Dinas-Chysauster huts-The "Rounds" – Newlyn-The Breton Newlyna.

Penzance, the most western market town in Cornwall, is of comparatively modern growth. Formerly it was but a fishing village, occupying a promontory now distinguished as the quay, where stood a chapel dedicated to S. Anthony. The name signifies the Holy Head, or Headland, and there was probably a chapel on the projecting finger of land long before the time of S. Anthony of Padua (1231), whose cult was fostered by the Franciscan Order. It is not improbable that on this headland there may have been a camp, in which case the dedication is merely a misconception of An-Dinas. The town arms are S. John the Baptist's head on a charger, also through misconception, the Holy Head being supposed to be his.

On the east side of the town near the shore was Lis-Cadock, or the Court of Cadock. At one time the entrenchments were very distinct, but they have now disappeared. This Cadock is probably Cado, Duke of Cornwall, cousin of King Arthur, and famous as a warrior in Geoffrey of Monmouth's lying history. The termination oc is a diminutive.

Penzance is in the parish of Madron, the founder of which, S. Maternus, as he is called in Latin, is the Irish Medrhan, a disciple of S. Kieran, or Piran. His brother Odran was closely attached to S. Senan. Madron and Odran were but lads of from ten to fourteen when they first visited S. Piran to ask his advice about going a pilgrimage. He very sensibly recommended them to go to school first, and he retained them with himself, instructing them in letters. The Irish have no tradition that he was buried in the Emerald Isle, so that in all probability he laid his bones in Cornwall.

There was a famous well at Madron, but it has lost its repute of late years, and has fallen into ruin.

Children were formerly taken to the well on the first three Sunday mornings in May to be dipped in the water, that they might be cured of the rickets, or any other disorder with which they were troubled. They were plunged thrice into the water by the parent or nurse, who stood facing the east, and then they were clothed and laid on S. Madron's bed; should they go to sleep after the immersion, or should the water in the well bubble, it was considered a good omen. Strict silence was observed during the performance. At the present time the people go in crowds to the well on the first Sunday in May, when the Wesleyans hold a service there and a sermon is preached; after which the people throw two pins or pebbles in, or lay small crosses made of pieces of rush-pith united by a pin in the middle, in the water and draw auguries therefrom.

Miss Couch in her book on the Cornish holy wells says: -

"About thirty years ago I visited it, and it was then in a ruined state. There was nothing of the shapely and sculptured form of many of our eastern wells about it. It was merely an oblong space enclosed by rough old walling, in which were, in the south-west corner, a dilapidated well, with an inlet and outlet for water, a raised row of stones in front of this, and the remains of stone benches."

A plan exists drawn by Mr. Blight before the well was as ruined as at present. It is a crying scandal that it should be allowed to remain unrestored. The altar-stone remains with a square depression in the middle to receive the portable altar placed there on such occasions as the chapel was used for mass.

Penzance, on the glorious Mount's Bay, enjoys a warm and balmy climate, and scarlet geraniums scramble up the house-fronts, camellias bloom in the open air, and greenhouse rhododendrons flourish unprotected from frosts that never fall.

It is a relaxing place, and the visitor, till he is acclimatised, feels limp and lifeless. For this reason many now resort to St. Ives, on the north coast, which is open to the Atlantic breezes straight from Labrador, and Penzance is declining in favour.

But it is a pleasant, it is a most pleasant town, well furnished with all that can make a winter sojourn delightful; it has in addition to libraries and concert-halls and clubs, that may be found in any seaside place, an unrivalled neighbourhood, and with the warm climate it enjoys a winter may be spent delightfully in making excursions to the many surrounding objects of interest.

In my next chapter (#landsend) I shall treat of the Land's End district, and in this I shall attempt to give some idea of what is to be seen to the east.

As already intimated, the whole of this part of Cornwall was occupied at the end of the fifth and the first years of the sixth century by the Irish from the south, mainly from Ossory. An invasion from Munster into that kingdom had led to the cutting of the throats of most of the royal family and its subjugation under the invaders, who maintained their sovereignty there from 470, when the invasion took place, to the death of Scanlan, the descendant of the invader, in 642. It was probably in consequence of this invasion that a large number of Ossorians crossed over to Cornwall and established themselves in Penwith-the Welsh spell it Pengwaeth, the bloody headland; the name tells a story of resistance and butchery. Unhappily we have the most scanty references to this occupation; records we have none.

But a single legend remains that treats of it at some length; and with regard to the legends of the other settlers we have the meagre extracts made by Leland, the antiquary of Henry VIII., whose heart, so it is said, broke at the dispersion of the monastic libraries, and the destruction of historical records of supreme value. As far as we know, the great body of settlers all landed at Hayle. One large contingent, with S. Breaca at its head, made at the outstart a rush for Tregonning Hill, and established itself in the strong stone fort of Pencaer, or Caer Conan, on the summit.

Tregonning Hill is not very high, it rises not six hundred feet above the sea; but from the sea and from the country round it looks bold and lofty, because standing alone, or almost so, having but the inferior Godolphin Hill near it.

The fortress consists of at least two concentric rings of stone and earth. The interior has been disturbed by miners searching for tin, and the wall has also been ruined by them, but especially by roadmakers, who have quite recently destroyed nearly all one side.

Here the Irish remained till they were able to move further. S. Breaca went on to Talmeneth (the end of the mountain), where she established herself and erected a chapel.

Another of her chapels was further down the hill at Chynoweth, and a tradition of its existence remains there. Finally she went to Penbro. The church was, however, at a later period moved from that place to where it now stands. The local legend is that she saw the good people building this church, and she promised to throw all her bracelets and rings into the bell-metal if they would call it after her name.

She was a favourite disciple of S. Bridget, and this latter saint commissioned her to visit the great institution of the White House, near S. David's Head in Wales-to obtain thence rules by which her community might be directed. She was, it appears, the sister of S. Brendan the navigator, and it was in his sister's arms that the saint died. Brendan was a disciple of S. Erc, or Erth, on the Hayle river, and as Erc was one of the party, it is probable that Brendan made one as well.

Erc had been much trusted by S. Patrick, who appointed him as judge in all cases brought to him for decision, regarding him as a man of inviolable integrity and great calmness of judgment.