Chapter XXI: Part 21

The owner of Bohelland was a man of some consideration and substance, "unhappy only in a younger son, who taking liberty from his father's bounty, with a crew of like condition, that wearied on land, they went roving to sea, and in a small vessel southward, took booty from all they could master, and so increasing force and wealth, ventured in a Turk's man in the Streights; but by mischance their own powder fired themselves, and our gallant, trusting to his skilful swimming, got on shore upon Rhodes with the best of his jewels about him; when, offering some to sale to a Jew, who knew them to be the Governor's of Algier, he was apprehended, and as a pirate sentenced to the gallies among other Christians, when miserable slavery made them all studious of freedom, and with wit and valour, took opportunity and means to murther some officers, got on board of an English ship, and came safe to London, where his misery and some skill made him servant to a surgeon and sudden preferment to the East Indies. There by this means he got money, with which, returning back, he designed himself for his native county, Cornwall. And in a small ship from London, sailing to the west, was cast away upon that coast. But his excellent skill in swimming and former fate to boot, brought him safe to shore, where, since his fifteen years' absence, his father's former fortunes much decayed, now retired him not far off to a country habitation, in debt and danger.

"His sister he finds married to a mercer, a meaner match than her birth promised. To her at first he appears a poor stranger, but in private reveals himself, and withall what jewels and gold he had concealed in a bow-case about him, and concluded that the next day he intended to appear to his parents, and to keep his disguise till she and her husband should meet, and make their common joy complete.

"Being come to his parents, his humble behaviour, suitable to his suit of clothes, melted the old couple to so much compassion as to give him covering from the cold season under their outward roof, and by degrees his travelling tales, told with passion to the aged people, made him their guest so long by the kitchen fire, that the husband took his leave and went to bed, and soon after, his true stories working compassion in the weaker vessel, she wept, and so did he; but, compassionate of her tears, he comforted her with a piece of gold, which gave assurance that he deserved a lodging, to which she brought him; and, being in bed, showed her his girdled wealth, which he said was sufficient to relieve her husband's wants, and to spare for himself, and being very weary, fell fast asleep.

"The wife, tempted with the golden bait of what she had, and eager of enjoying all, awakened her husband with this news, and her contrivance what to do; and though with horrid apprehensions he oft refused, yet her puling fondness (Eve's enchantments) moved him to consent, and rise to be master of all, and both of them to murder the man, which instantly they did, covering the corpse under the clothes till opportunity to convey it out of the way.

"The early morning hastens the sister to her father's house, when she, with signs of joy, enquires for a sailor that should lodge there the last night. The parents slightly denied to have seen such, until she told them that he was her brother, her lost brother. By that assured scar upon his arm, cut with a sword in his youth, she knew him, and were all resolved this morning to meet there and be merry.

"The father hastily runs up, finds the mark, and with horrid regret of this monstrous murder of his own son, with the same knife cuts his own throat.

"The wife went up to consult with him, when in a most strange manner beholding them both in blood, and aghast, with the instrument at hand, readily rips herself up, and perishes on the same spot.

"The daughter, doubting the delay of their absence, searches for them all, whom she found out too soon, and with the sad sight of this scene, and being overcome with horror and amaze of this deluge of destruction, she sank down and died; the fatal end of that family."

There are several points in this narrative that awaken mistrust. How is the story of the son's life known? He tells it to his sister, but she dies. Then we have an account of what went on in the house between the parents and the son, and the wife urging her husband to commit the murder. As both killed themselves on discovering what they had done, all this part must be painted in by guesswork.

That there is a substratum of fact cannot be doubted. The mysterious mutilation of the parish register for the year of the murder indicates a desire that the names might not be known.

Lillo turned the story into a tragedy, _The Fatal Curiosity_, 1736. According to him the name of the family was Wilmot. He took a slight liberty with the story, in that he made the returned sailor present himself to the girl he had loved fifteen years before, and not to his sister. But he laid the scene at Penryn.

FOOTNOTE:

[36] No such a vicar was in Gluvias or is known to have been in Cornwall in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.

MARY KELYNACK

The Kelynack family has been one of fishermen and seamen at Newlyn and its neighbourhood for many generations.

Philip Kelynack was the first to fly to the rescue of John Wesley when pursued by a mob while preaching on the Green between Newlyn and Penzance 12th July, 1747. He was a remarkably powerful man, and was known by the name of Old Bunger. His son Charles was the first to engage the Mount's Bay boatmen to take part in the Irish Sea fishing in 1720.

Mary, the subject of this notice, was the daughter of Nicholas Tresize and the wife of William Kelynack. She was born at Tolcarne, in Madron, 1766.

In 1851 was the Great Exhibition in London, and the tidings of opening of a Crystal Palace and the wonders that it contained reached to the extremity of Cornwall. Said Mary Kelynack, "I'll go and see'n too, I reckon!" and away she trudged.

The _Illustrated London News_ for October 26th, 1851, gives the following account of her:--

"On Tuesday, September 24th, among the visitors of the Mansion House was Mary Callinack, eighty-four years of age, who had travelled on foot from Penzance, carrying a basket on her head, with the object of visiting the Exhibition and of paying her respects personally to the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress. As soon as the ordinary business was finished the aged woman entered the justice-room, when the Lord Mayor, addressing her, said, 'Well, I understand, Mrs. Callinack, you have come to see me?'

"She replied, 'Yes, God bless you. I never was in such a place before as this. I have come up asking for a small sum of money, I am, sir.'

"The Lord Mayor: 'Where do you come from?'

"Mrs. C.: 'From the Land's End.'

"The Lord Mayor: 'From what part?'

"Mrs. C.: 'Penzance.'

"She then stated that she left Penzance five weeks ago, and had been the whole of that time walking to the metropolis.

"The Lord Mayor: 'What induced you to come to London?'

"Mrs. C.: 'I had a little matter to attend to as well as to see the Exhibition. I was there yesterday, and mean to go again to-morrow.'

"The Lord Mayor: 'What do you think of it?'

"Mrs. C.: 'I think it very good.'"

She then said that all her money was spent but 5-1/2d. After a little further conversation, which caused considerable merriment, the Lord Mayor made her a present of a sovereign, telling her to take care of it, there being a good many thieves in London. The poor creature, on receiving the gift, burst into tears and said, "Now I will be able to get back."

She was afterwards received by the Lady Mayoress, with whom she remained some time, and having partaken of tea in the housekeeper's room, which she said she preferred to the choicest wine in the kingdom (which latter beverage she had not tasted for sixty years), she returned thanks for the hospitality she had received and left the Mansion House.

Her next visit was to the Exhibition.

She was also presented to the Queen and to Prince Albert, and there is mention of this presentation in Sir Theodore Martin's _Life of the Prince Consort_ (1876), II, p. 405.

In the notice in the _Illustrated London News_ it is said: "Our portrait of the Cornish fish-wife has been sketched from life at her abode, Homer Place, Crawford Street, Mary-le-bone. She was born in the parish of Paul, by Penzance, on Christmas Day, 1766, so that she has nearly completed her eighty-fifth year. To visit the present Exhibition, she walked the entire distance from Penzance, nearly three hundred miles; she having 'registered a vow' before she left home, that she would not accept assistance in any shape, except as regarded her finances. She possesses her faculties unimpaired; is very cheerful, has a considerable amount of humour in her composition; and is withal a woman of strong common sense, and frequently makes remarks that are very shrewd, when her great age and defective education are taken into account. She is fully aware that she has made herself somewhat famous; and among other things which she contemplates, is her return to Cornwall, to end her days in 'Paul parish,' where she wishes to be interred by the side of old Dolly Pentreath, who was also a native of Paul, and died at the age of 102 years."

Mary Kelynack died in Dock Lane, Penzance, 5th December, 1855, and was buried in S. Mary's churchyard.

Messrs. Routledge published the story of her walk to London and back in one of _Aunt Mavor's Storybooks_, with illustrations.

CAPTAIN WILLIAM ROGERS

Captain William Rogers, son of Captain Rogers, who died in November, 1790, was born at Falmouth, 29th September, 1783. He married Susan, daughter of Captain John Harris, of S. Mawes. In 1807, Rogers was master, in temporary command of the _Windsor Castle_, a packet-boat from Falmouth to Barbados. She mounted six long 4-pounders and two 9-pounder carronades, with a complement of twenty-eight men and boys.

On October 1st, 1807, as the packet was on her passage to Barbados with the mails, a privateer schooner was seen approaching under all sail.

As it seemed quite impossible to escape, Captain Rogers resolved on making a stout resistance, though the odds against him were great. In fact, the privateer mounted six long 6-pounders and one long 18-pounder, with a complement of ninety-two men.

At noon the schooner got within gunshot, hoisted French colours, and opened fire, which was immediately returned from the chase-guns of the _Windsor Castle_. This was continued till the privateer, whose name was _Le Jeune Richard_, came near, when she hailed the packet in very opprobrious terms, and desired her to strike her colours. On meeting with a prompt refusal, the schooner ran alongside, grappled the packet, and attempted to board. But the crew of the _Windsor Castle_ made so stout a resistance with their pikes that the French were obliged to abandon the attempt with the loss of ten killed and wounded. The privateer, finding she had a hard nut to crack, lost heart, and sought to cut away the grapplings and get clear; but the packet's mainyard, being locked in the schooner's rigging, held her fast.

Captain Rogers evinced great judgment and zeal in ordering some of his men to shift the sails as circumstances required, or to cut them away in the event of the privateer succeeding in the conflict.

At about 3 p.m. one of the packet's guns, a 1-pounder carronade, loaded with double grape, canister and a hundred musket balls, was brought to bear on the deck of the privateer, and was discharged at the moment when a fresh boarding party was collected for a second attempt. The result was a frightful slaughter, and as the French reeled under this discharge, Captain Rogers, followed by the men of his little crew, leaped upon the deck of the schooner, and notwithstanding the apparently overwhelming odds against him, succeeded in driving the privateer's men from their quarters, and ultimately in capturing the vessel.

Of the crew of the _Windsor Castle_ three had been killed and two severely wounded; but of that of _Le Jeune Richard_ there were twenty-one dead upon the deck, and thirty-three were wounded.

From the very superior number of the privateer's crew still remaining--thirty-eight men--whereas Captain Rogers had only fifteen available, great precautions had to be taken in securing the prisoners. They were accordingly ordered up from below, one by one, and each put in irons. Any attempt at a rescue being thus effectually guarded against, the packet proceeded, with her prize, to the port of her destination, which fortunately for the former was not far distant.

This achievement reflected the highest honour upon every officer, man, and boy that was on board the _Windsor Castle_, but especially on Captain Rogers. Had he stayed to calculate the chances that were against him, the probability is that the privateer would have ultimately succeeded in capturing the packet, whose light carronades could have offered very little resistance at the usual distance at which vessels engage; and where any small crew, without such a _coup de main_--indeed, without such a leader--could never have brought the combat to a favourable issue.

For his intrepid conduct Rogers received the thanks of H.M. Postmaster-General; promotion to the rank of captain, with command of another packet, 100 guineas besides his share of the prize (although no prize allowance was usual); the freedom of the City of London; and an illuminated address, with a sword of honour, from the inhabitants of Tortola.

In London, a gentleman named Dixon, unacquainted with Rogers, sought and obtained his friendship, and then commissioned Samuel Drummond to make a picture of the action, in which the hero's full-length portrait should appear. Whilst the painting was in progress, one day Rogers ran up against a man in the street so closely resembling the officer he had shot, that he held him by the button and begged as a favour that he would allow a distinguished artist to paint his portrait. The gentleman was not a little surprised, but when Rogers informed him who he was and why he desired to have him painted, he readily consented. He was conducted to the studio, and there stood as portrait-model for the French swordsman by whom Rogers had been so nearly cut down. When completed, the painting was retained by Mr. Dixon, but it was engraved in mezzotint by Ward.

The painting in course of time passed to the first owner's grandson, Mr. James Dixon, whose daughter at his decease in 1896 became possessed of it, and presented it to the nation, and it is now in the Painted Hall at Greenwich Hospital.

Captain Rogers died at Holyhead January 11, 1825. His and his wife's portraits were preserved by her relatives, and eventually given to the only surviving daughter or her descendants.

In Johns and Nicolas's _Calendar of Victory_, 1855, is an account of this sea-fight; also in the _European Magazine_ of 1808, with a portrait of the gallant captain. Also in James's _Naval History of Great Britain_ (1820), Vol. IV.

Rogers's own account, condensed, is to be found in a paper by Rev. W. Jago, "The Heroes of the Old Falmouth Packet Service," in the _Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall_, XIII, 1895-8.

JOHN BURTON, OF FALMOUTH

Joseph Burton, of Stockport, Lancashire, came, for what reason is unknown, to Cornwall in 1830, and set up a china and glass shop at Bodmin; and married at Launceston a Miss Clemo.

Old Joseph was a sturdy Radical and Nonconformist. He was a vigorous and loud supporter of the Ballot Society, the Liberation Society, and the United Kingdom Alliance. He was also a vehement and "intemperate" teetotaler. He died at Bodmin 19th July, 1876. John was one of a whole string of children, and as the "cloam" shop did not bring in a large profit, and John was one among many, he had to go into life very inefficiently equipped with education. But he had inherited from his father a masterful spirit, and had his own independent views, and it was soon a case between them of flint and steel, and sparks flew out.

John and his brother Joe were sent round the country hawking pots and glass.

"I well remember the 24th December, 1853," said John Burton. "Myself and brother Joe (who afterwards became a well-known auctioneer) rose at five o'clock in the morning, fed the horse, and made a start at 5.45 a.m. with a wagon-load of goods. The morning was dark, and when we came to Callywith turnpike gate it was closed. We knocked Henry Mark, the toll-keeper, up to let us through. He looked out of the window and at first refused to let us pass until daylight. We firmly told him that we would certainly unhang the gate and pass through without paying the toll. This fetched the old man down, with his long coat, knitted night-cap, with horn lantern in his hand. He opened the gate and told us, 'You Burtons ought to be poisoned for breaking a man's rest.' A lot we cared for his curses. Fairly on the road, we were as happy as sandboys. Having delivered the goods, and fairly on the way home, we stopped at the Jamaica Inn, where the old mail-coaches used to change their horses, to feed our horse, not forgetting ourselves. After giving old Dapper his feed of oats, we went into the inn kitchen, where we ordered a hot meal. The landlady asked, 'What would you like?' She suggested a hot squab pie, which she took out of a huge kitchen range well loaded with burning turf, the odour of which increased our appetite considerably. We polished off the pie and pocketed the crust to eat on the moors when homeward bound."

The Jamaica Inn is in the midst of the Bodmin Moors. In the time of the mail-coaches from London by Exeter to Falmouth it was a house of great repute. But when the trains ran, and coaches were given up, it fell from its high estate, was converted into a temperance house, was far from clean, harboured innumerable fleas, and did little business. Of late it has entirely recovered its credit. It stands nine hundred feet above the sea. There are now there at Bolventor a church and a school. A bleak, wind-swept moor all about it. Dozmare Pool, haunted by Tregeagle, is near by--and in June the meadows around are a sheet of gold from the buttercups. But to return to John Burton's reminiscences.

"When the landlady came in and saw that we had finished the pie, she looked with amazement towards us.

"'Why, drat you boys, whativer have 'ee done with the pie?'

"'Why, ate'n, missus. Do'y think us called the horse in to help us, or what?'

"'No,' she smartly replied, 'I should 'a thawt you had the Bodmunt Murlicha (Militia) here to help 'ee out. I never seed such gluttons in my life.'

"When we asked what we had got to pay, she said, 'Sixpunce for the crist, threepunce for the suitt, ninepunce for the gibblets, and eightpunce for apples, onions, spice, currants and sugar, and fourpunce for baking 'un; two dishes of tay, tuppunce; that'll be two and eightpunce altogether, boys.'

"'All right, missus, here's the posh.'

"She asked us out of bravado if we could eat any more. We said, 'Yes, we could do with some Christmas cake.'

"She politely told us that she shouldn't cut the Christmas cake until the next day. 'But you can have some zeedy biscays, if you like.'

"'All right.' And in she brought them, which we also polished off. Afterwards she demanded fourpence for them.

"'All right, missus, the fourpunce charged for baking the pie will pay for the biscuits, so us'll cry quits,' which joke the old woman swallowed with a good laugh."

John Burton proceeds to describe the Christmas merry-making at the inn that night. Jamaica Inn had not then become a temperance hotel. The moormen and farmers came in, the great fire glowed like a furnace. The wind sobbed without, and piped in at the casement--"the souls on the wind," as it was said, the spirits of unbaptized babes wailing at the windowpane, seeing the fire within, and condemned to wander on the cold blast without.

To the red fire, and to the plentiful libations, songs were sung, among others that very favourite ballad of the "Highwayman"--

I went to London both blythe and gay,
My time I squandered in dice and play,
Until my funds they fell full low,
And on the highway I was forced to go.

Then after an account of how he robbed Lord Mansfield and Lady Golding, of Portman Square--

I shut the door, bade all good night,
And rambled to my heart's delight.

After a career of riot and robbery, the Highwayman at length falls into the toils of Sir John Fielding, who was the first magistrate to take sharp and decisive measures against these pests of society. Then the ballad ends:--

When I am dead, borne to my grave,
A gallant funeral may I have;
Six highwaymen to carry me,
With good broadswords and sweet liberty.

Six blooming maidens to bear my pall;
Give them white gloves and pink ribbons all;
And when I'm dead they'll say the truth,
I was a wild and a wicked youth.

One of the local characters who was present on that Christmas Eve was Billy Peppermint. As he was overcome with drink, the young Burtons conveyed him from the Jamaica Inn about ten miles, and then turned him out of their conveyance, and propped him up against the railings of a house in Bodmin, as he was quite unable to sustain himself.

That night the carol singers were making their round, and as they came near they piped forth: "When shepherds watched their flocks by night, all seated on the ground, an angel of the Lord appeared, and----"

Whereon Billy roared forth--

When I am dead they'll say the truth,
I was a wild and a wicked youth,

and rolled over and fell prostrate on the ground.

In 1857 an event occurred which altered the direction of John Burton's activities.

He had been sent along with one of his father's hawkers named Paul Mewton with a crate of china on his head to S. Columb. On their way they called at Porth, and there Paul complained that he was not well, whereupon a Mr. Stephens, with whom they were doing business, produced a case of spirits and gave first Paul and then John Burton each a glass of very strong grog. Paul could stand it, but not so John, and as he was carrying his basket of "cloam" over a stile he lost his balance, and away went the crate and all its contents, which were shivered to atoms.

This was too much for Mr. Joseph Burton, a rigid teetotaler, and he had words with his son on the immorality of touching fermented liquor, and above all on the consequences of a loss of many shillings' worth of china.

The stile is still to be seen. On one side is inscribed, "Burton's Stile, 1857"; on the other is a carving of a gin-bottle, a water-jug, and a glass, with the legend beneath, "The Fall of Man."

This was the beginning of a series of altercations between John and his father, which led at last to John abandoning his parent, and in 1862 he set up in Falmouth on his own account with thirty shillings in his pocket. As Burton was wont to say of the world into which he had entered on his own account--

'Tis a very good world for to live in,
To lend, or to spend, or to give in;
But to beg or to borrow, or get a man's own,
'Tis the very worst world that ever was known.

For some time he earned a living by hawking crockery about in Falmouth. Then, some sailors coming into the harbour brought with them some alligators. Burton spent his money on buying them, and then started out in quest of various herbalists, and disposed of the reptiles to them. A stuffed alligator hanging up in a shop was an object imposing on the imagination of patients.

In 1865 a number of Roman coins were found at Pennance Farm, in S. Budock, and Burton bought these, and then became an antiquary. At this time numerous vessels put in at Falmouth, and the sailors had brought with them parrots, apes, and all sorts of curiosities from foreign parts, and were prepared to sell them for very small sums. Burton bought as far as his profits would allow, and thus he became a curiosity dealer. He secured business premises in Market Street, and began to store them with odds and ends of every description. He rambled about in Cornwall, and his keen eye detected at once a bit of old china, a scrap of carved oak, an odd signboard, a piece of Chippendale furniture, a framed sampler, and he bought everywhere, and stocked his premises. As his business grew he advertised extensively, and gradually but surely built up an extensive business. In curiosities he became a very Whiteley. Any one who desired anything peculiar could apply to John Burton, and John Burton would supply it, if not a genuine antique, yet "made to order," and indistinguishable from an antique. When there began to be a run on Bristol lustre ware, he was ready with a stock, which went off rapidly. He bought old muskets by the thousand, and sent them abroad to arm savage nations in Africa and Asia.

One day a Scotchman entered his shop and said to Burton, "I am looking out for a man who can sell me three sixpences for a shilling."

"Then I am the man for you," said Burton, and produced three defective sixpences.

"I'll have another shilling's worth," said the Scotchman.

"Ah! then I cannot accommodate you; but I can do better--give you a bad shilling for a good one."

On one occasion the curator of the Edinburgh Museum wrote down to him for the eleventh vertebra of the skeleton of a whale that he had, but which was wanting. By return of post Burton sent him up what he needed.

He had a marvellous memory--remembering all the multifarious items in his shop, though they were continually changing.

When the new Eddystone Lighthouse was erected, he wrote to Trinity House and offered £500 for Smeaton's lighthouse that had been taken down. This roused a storm of indignation in Plymouth, and ended in that town securing it for £1600, to be erected on the Hoe.

The town of Penryn possessed its old stocks, bearing date 1673. These he bought for £2, and sold them to a Devizes antiquary for a large sum. Then he purchased a haunted house--Trevethan Hall, in Falmouth--but as the ghost could not be turned into money, he pulled the house down and built on its site Mount Edgcumbe Terrace.

During many years a stream of tourists, walking, bicycling, motoring, has circulated round Cornwall, starting from Bideford, careering to the Land's End, and returning by the south coast to Plymouth, and hardly a tourist thought of visiting Falmouth without going to Burton's Curiosity Shop and making a purchase there. Indeed, he and his shop were some of the sights of Cornwall. He had by nature great ready wit, and a bluntness of manner which he cultivated, and which gave poignancy to dealings with him. But his bluntness, which was part of the stock-in-trade, was not infrequently carried too far, and became impertinence. He had a real love for his genuine curios, and parted with them reluctantly; and this he allowed to be seen. In this he was wholly unlike the ordinary dealer who presses his wares on the hesitating purchaser. When the present King, then Prince of Wales, visited Falmouth in 1887, the Prince having a cold sent Mr. Cavendish Bentinck to the Curiosity Shop to request that Mr. Burton would send a collection of what was most interesting in his shop for the Prince's inspection. Upon this he addressed the following letter to the Prince:--

"RESPECTED ALBERT EDWARD.--I much regret to find you are
indisposed. If I were to fetch to Kerrisvean a Pickford's
wagon-load of samples it would be utterly impossible to convey the
remotest idea of my ponderous conglomeration of curios; but if I
could prevail upon Your Royal Highness to go through my shanty, I
would give you local wit and humour which would throw you into a
state of laughter, and there is every probability it would
counteract your cold.--Yours until we meet in the next hotel,

"JOHN BURTON."

This, which he doubtless thought very smart, was mere insolence. In fact, he had not a large store of "local wit and humour," and mistook rudeness for fun. But he was often encouraged in this. A lady once entered his shop and said, "You've a rum lot of stuff here, old boy; how much do you ask for that pair of vases?"

"Six guineas."

"I'll give you five, old fellow."

"Then, old girl, they are yours. Where shall I send them, and to whom?"

"To the Duchess of ----."

"Oh! I beg Your Grace's pardon; I have been too familiar."

"Not at all. You treated me as I have treated you."

John Burton was an abstemious man, and believed that by moderate diet and moderation in drinking he would--and any man would--live to the age of a hundred. He had framed for himself a code of rules to ensure a long life.

1. Eight hours' sleep and that on your right side, and sleep with the bedroom window open. Fresh air is essential.

2. Do not have your bedstead against the wall, so that the air may circulate about you freely.

3. Take a glass of hot water on rising, and a bath at blood temperature, and take exercise before breakfast.

4. Eat little meat and see that it be well cooked, and be careful to eat plenty of fat.

5. Take plenty of daily exercise in the open air.

6. Have no pet animals in your living-room.

7. Avoid tea--the tannin turns meat to leather and spoils digestion, but take little or no intoxicant.

8. Keep guard against man's three enemies, the three D's--Damp, Drains, and impure Drinking water.

9. Change of occupation, and frequent, if short, holidays.

10. Eat plenty of fruit and vegetables.

11. Keep your temper, and keep a cheery mind.

12. Limit your ambition to what you can do.

But, notwithstanding these rules, John Burton did not live to a great age. He died of a painful internal disease on May 28th, 1907. He had eight children by his wife. One son, John, has a large earthenware establishment in Falmouth; another--the image of his father in face--carries on the "Old Curiosity Shop."

THE FATE OF SIR CLOUDESLEY
SHOVEL

The life of Sir Cloudesley Shovel, Knt. and Admiral, must be given in few words, as his association with Cornwall was in his death and not in his birth and life.

He was born about the year 1650, of parents in Norfolk in a humble condition of life, and he was made a cobbler's apprentice, but, disliking this profession, ran away to sea. He was at first a cabin-boy with Sir Christopher Mynns; but, applying himself to the study of navigation with indefatigable industry, his skill as a seaman soon raised him above that station. The corsairs of Tripoli had for long committed great depredations on the English in the Mediterranean, plundering and capturing merchant vessels and carrying off the crews into slavery. Sir John Narborough was sent in 1674 to reduce them to reason. As he had received orders to try the effects of negotiation before he proceeded to hostilities, he sent Mr. Shovel, who was at that time a lieutenant in his fleet, to demand satisfaction. The Dey treated him with disrespect, and sent him back without an answer. Sir John despatched him a second time, with orders to observe the position of the piratical fleet in the harbour. The behaviour of the Dey was as insolent as possible. Upon Mr. Shovel's return he informed Sir John that it would be possible, notwithstanding the batteries commanding the harbour, to cut out or burn the ships therein, and he volunteered to command an expedition in boats for the purpose. His offer was accepted, and he managed to burn in the harbour, under the castle and walls of Tripoli, the guard-ship and four men-of-war belonging to the pirates of that place, and to force the Dey to accept such conditions of peace as Sir John Narborough was pleased to impose on him.

Sir John Narborough gave so favourable an account of this exploit, that Shovel was soon after made captain of the _Sapphire_, a fifth-rate ship.

In the skirmish of Bantry Bay, 1689, he was engaged, and won such scanty laurels as the unworthy Admiral Herbert allowed his fleet to deserve. James II had his Court in Dublin. A French fleet, commanded by the Count de Château-Renaud, had anchored in Bantry Bay, and had put on shore a large quantity of military stores and money. Herbert, who had been sent to those seas with an English squadron for the express purpose of intercepting the communications between France and Ireland, sailed into the bay with purpose of giving battle. But the wind was unfavourable, and Herbert was without dash and energy, and was a traitor at heart. After some trifling discharge of gunpowder, which caused no serious loss of life on either side, he deemed it prudent to stand out to sea, and allow the French fleet to retire unmolested.

But according to Herbert's report, a great victory had been gained by him, and the House of Commons, believing what he stated, absurdly passed a vote of thanks to him. We may well conceive the rage of heart and scorn of his admiral that consumed Shovel at the feeble attack and cowardly retreat. At the time he was commander of the _Edgar_, and was soon after knighted by King William.

Next year he was employed in transporting an army into Ireland, a service which he performed with such diligence and dexterity that the King raised him to the rank of Rear-Admiral of the Blue, and delivered to him his commission with his own hands. Soon after he was made Rear-Admiral of the Red, and shared in the glory of the victory of La Hogue. In 1694 he bombarded Dunkirk.

In 1702 he was sent with a squadron of about twenty men-of-war to join the Grand Fleet, and bring home the galleons and other rich boats taken by the Duke of Ormond and Sir George Rooke at Vigo.

The next year he was promoted to a higher post, being appointed as Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate Fleet in the Mediterranean, consisting of thirty-five English and fourteen Dutch men-of-war. On entering the Leghorn roads, the Governor refused to accord a royal salute. Sir Cloudesley peremptorily ordered the salute to be given, or to expect all the guns of the fleet to ask the question why it had not been at once accorded. The threat sufficed. In this expedition Sir Cloudesley sent two men-of-war to endeavour to supply the Camisards of the Cevennes with money, arms, and ammunition, but failed to obtain communication with them.

Soon after the battle off Malaga he was presented by Prince George of Denmark to Queen Anne; she received him graciously, and the next year employed him as Commander-in-Chief.

In the month of June, 1704, he had his share in the honour of taking Gibraltar; and by his admirable conduct, bravery, and success in the sea-fight that happened soon after, between the Confederate and French fleets, obliged the enemy's van to bear away out of the reach of his cannon, and the Count of Toulouse to follow the example of his van, and escape out of danger. Although in this action Sir Cloudesley was second in command, yet he won the principal credit for its success, and some months after was appointed Rear-Admiral of England.

In 1705 he commanded the fleet, together with the Earl of Portsmouth, which was sent into the Mediterranean, and it was mainly owing to him that Barcelona was taken.

After an unsuccessful attempt upon Toulon he sailed for Gibraltar, and from thence on Michaelmas Day homeward with a part of his fleet, consisting of fifteen men-of-war, five of a lesser rank, and one yacht. He was on the _Association_, Sir George Byng was commander on the _Royal Arms_, Lord Dursley on the _S. George_.

On the 22nd of October Sir Cloudesley Shovel being enveloped in fog, and taking soundings in ninety fathoms, he brought to and lay by from noon till six o'clock in the evening, when, as the wind freshened and blew from the S.S.W., he made signal for sailing. The fleet steered E. by N. and supposing that they had the Channel open some of the ships ran upon the rocks of Scilly, before they were aware, about eight o'clock at night, and at once made signals of distress. The _Association_, in which was Sir Cloudesley Shovel, struck upon the rocks near the Bishop and his Clerks, and went down with all hands on board.

The same fate befell the _Eagle_ and the _Romney_. The _Firebrand_ was likewise dashed upon the rocks and foundered; but the captain and four-and-twenty of his men saved themselves in a boat. And Captain Sansom, who commanded the _Phœnix_, being driven towards the shore, was forced to abandon his ship to save his men. The _Royal Arms_ was saved by great presence of mind in both Sir George Byng and his officers and men, who in a minute, on perceiving the rocks not a ship's length to leeward, as well as those on which Sir Cloudesley Shovel was lost, set her topsails and sheered off. Nor had Lord Dursley, commanding the _S. George_, a less fortunate escape; for his ship was dashed upon the same reef as that on which the _Association_ had been wrecked; but the same wave that beat out the lights of Sir Cloudesley's vessel lifted the _S. George_ and floated it away.

A story has remained deeply engraved in the minds of the men of Scilly to the present day. It is to this effect:--

On the 22nd October, that same fatal day, a sailor, a native of Scilly, ventured to approach the admiral and tell him that he was steering too far to the northward, and that unless the course of the fleet was changed they could not fail to run her upon the rocks. For this act of insubordination Sir Cloudesley ordered the presumptuous adviser to be hanged at the yard-arm of his ship, the _Association_; and the only favour granted him, in mitigation of his punishment, was a compliance with the poor fellow's request that, before execution of the sentence, he should be allowed to read a portion of Scripture. The prayer granted, he read the 109th Psalm in which occur the imprecations: "Let his days be few; and let another take his office. Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.... Let his posterity be destroyed, and in the next generation let his name be clean put out. Because his mind was not to do good, but persecuted the poor, helpless man, that he might slay him that was vexed at the heart."

The report of this atrocious act could have been communicated by only one man who was said to have escaped alive out of the crew of the _Association_. Now happily we know that no man was saved out of that vessel. The one man who was saved was George Laurence, quartermaster of the _Romney_, a North-countryman from near Hull, and a butcher by trade. Of him we learn something from the account of Mr. Edmund Herbert, Deputy Paymaster-General of the Marine Regiments, who was in Scilly in 1709, sent there with the object of trying to recover some of the property lost in the wreck, which had taken place two years before.

This fellow, says Herbert, was "a lusty fat man, but much battered with the rocks. Most of the captains, lieutenants, doctors, etc., of the squadron came on shore and asked him many questions in relation to the wreck, but not one man took pity on him, either to dress or order to be dressed his bruises, etc., whereof he had perished had not Mr. Ekins, a gentleman of the island, charitably taken him in; and a doctor of a merchant ship then in the road under convoy of Southampton searched his wounds and applied proper remedies."

Now it is obvious that this man could say nothing relative to what had happened on the _Association_. But we arrive at the origin of the story from what Herbert relates, and he alone. He says: "About one or two after noon on the 23rd (22nd) October Sir Cloudesley called a council and examined the masters what latitude they were in; all agreed to be in that of Ushant, on the coast of France, except Sir W. Jumper's master of the _Lenox_, who believed them to be nearer Scilly, and that in three hours (they) should be up in sight thereof. But Sir Cloudesley listened not to a single person whose opinion was contrary to the whole fleet. (They then altered their opinion and thought themselves on the coast of France, but a lad on board the ---- said the light they made was Scilly light, though all the ship's crew swore at and gave him ill language for it; howbeit he continued in his assertion, and that which they made (to be) a sail and a ship's lanthorn proved to be a rock and the light afore mentioned, which rock the lad called the Great Smith, of the truth of which at daybreak they were all convinced.)"

This is the small egg out of which so large a fable has hatched forth. The boy was probably drowned, and his parents or relations on Scilly, angry that his advice had not been taken and so the wreck avoided, felt resentment against Sir Cloudesley on this account, and little by little magnified the incident, and transmuted it from an error of judgment into a crime.

Beside Sir Cloudesley on board the _Association_ were Lady Shovell's two sons by her first husband, Admiral Sir John Narborough. These were Sir John Narborough, Bart., and his brother James; Edmund Loader, the captain; also a nephew, the son of her first husband's sister; Henry Trelawny, second son of the Bishop of Winchester; and several other young gentlemen of good family.

After that Sir Cloudesley had adopted the prevailing opinion that the squadron was off Ushant; he detached the _Lenox_, _La Valeur_, and the _Phœnix_ for Falmouth, with orders to take under convoy the merchant vessels waiting there bound eastward. These ships, following a north-easterly course, as had been determined on, soon found themselves among the myriad rocks and islets that lie to the south-west of the Scilly group, where the _Phœnix_ sustained so much damage that her captain and crew only saved the ship and themselves by running her ashore on the sands between Tresco and S. Martin's Islands. The _Lenox_ and _La Valeur_ were fortunately able to beat through to Broad Sound, an anchorage to the west of the principal islands, where they remained till break of day on the ensuing morning. Then they discovered where they were, and sailed for Falmouth, in the direction in which they now knew that it lay, and arrived there on the 25th, bringing news of the wreck of the _Phœnix_, but knowing nothing of the mishap to the vessels of the squadron from which they had been detached.

J. Addison, in a letter dated October 31st, 1707, wrote: "Yesterday we had the news that the body of Sir Cloudesley Shovel was found on the coast of Cornwall. The fishermen, who were searching among the rocks, took a tin-box out of the pocket of one of the carcasses that was floating, and found in it the commission of an Admiral, upon which, examining the body more closely, they found it was poor Sir Cloudesley. You may guess the conditions of his unhappy wife, who lost, in the same ship with her husband, her two only sons by Sir John Narborough."

In an article on Sir Cloudesley by Mr. S. R. Pattison, in the _Journal of the R. Inst. of Cornwall_, October, 1864, he says: "On a recent visit to the site of Sir Cloudesley's first burial place, on the inner shore of Porthellic Cove, we were informed by our guides--fishermen and pilots--that the body of the unfortunate Admiral when washed ashore was on a grating, on which was also the dead body of his faithful Newfoundland dog. They are said to have been found, early in the morning after the wreck, by a woman named Thomas, then living at Sallakey farm--a short distance from the Cove. Mrs. Thomas immediately gave information and procured assistance from Sallakey, and the body of the unfortunate hero was buried at the inmost part of the Cove, near the junction of the shingle and the herbage, but within and at right angles with the latter. And here it remains, conspicuous from no inconsiderable distance, without a particle of verdure to obscure the brilliancy of the white shingle which occupies its space, in marked contrast with the dense herbage by which it is surrounded on three of its sides. Our guides asserted that this strange appearance of the grave is due to an imprecation uttered upon Sir Cloudesley a few hours previous to the wreck, and (as they, with other Scillonians, superstitiously believe) with more than human power of prophecy. The islanders assert that ever since the body of a cruel tyrant, as they deem the hero, rested in this grave, grass has never grown upon its surface, and they are confident it never will grow there."

"Sir Cloudesley Shovel's body being the next day after this misfortune taken up by some country fellows, was stripped and buried in the sand. But on inquiry made by the boats of the _Salisbury_ and _Antelope_, it was discovered where he was hid; from whence being taken out, and the earth wash'd off, he appeared as fresh as if alive, tho' he had lain interr'd from the 23rd to the 26th, on which day he was brought on board the _Salisbury_, embowell'd, and the 28th of that month brought into Plymouth, from whence he was afterwards carried to London. This was the fatal end of one of the greatest sea-commanders of our age, or, indeed, that ever this island produced. Of undaunted courage and resolution, of wonderful presence of mind in the hottest engagements, and of consummate skill and experience. But more than all this, he was a just, frank, generous, honest, good man. He was the artificer of his own fortune, and by his personal merit alone, from the lowest, rais'd himself almost to the highest station in the navy of Great Britain."[37]

But we have a much more detailed and accurate account of the finding of the body in the narrative of Mr. Edmund Herbert: I do not give the contractions as in the original. "Sir Cloudesley Shovell [was] cast away October 23rd [actually on the evening of the 22nd], being Wednesday, between six and seven at night, off Guilstone, [and] was found on shoar [at Porthellick Cove] in S. Marie's Island, stript of his shirt, which by confession was known to have been done by two women, which shirt had his name at the gusset at his waist; where by order of Mr. Harry Pennick, [it] was buried four yards off the sands; which place I myself viewed, and as [I] was by his grave, came the said woman that first saw him after he was stript. His ring was also lost from off his hand, which last, however, left the impression on his finger, as also of a second. The Lady Shovell offered a considerable reward to any one [who] should recover it for her, and in order thereto wrote Captain Benedick Dennis, Governor and Commander-in-Chief of the Islands of Scilly, giving him a particular description thereof, who used his utmost diligence, both by fair and foul means, though could not hear of it. Sir Cloudesley had on him a pair of thread stockings and a thread waistcoat. Mr. Child [Paxton] of the _Arundell_ caused him to be taken up, and knew him to be Sir Cloudesley by a certain black mole under his left ear, as also by the first joint of one of his forefingers being broken inwards formerly by playing at tables; the said joint of his finger was also small and taper, as well as standing somewhat inwards; he had likewise a shot in his right arm, another in his left thigh. Moreover, he was well satisfied that it was he, for he was as fresh when his face was washed as if only asleep; his nose likewise bled as though alive.... Many that saw him said his head was the largest that ever they had seen, and not at all swelled with the water, neither had he any bruise or scar about him, save only a small scratch above one of his eyes like that of a pin. He was a very lusty, comely man, and very fat."

Nearly 1800 lives were lost in this disastrous shipwreck. The _Association_, the _Eagle_, and the _Romney_ were totally lost with every soul on board save the one we have already heard of. The _Firebrand_ had struck and foundered, but her captain and seventeen men were saved in a boat, and two more of her crew got on shore on pieces of the wreck.

Sir Cloudesley's was the first body that came on shore, and there was a woman who at once stripped it and robbed it of its rings. One of these was a fine emerald set with diamonds, which is said to have been given to the Admiral by his intimate friend and comrade, James Lord Dursley, who so nearly shared his fate in the _S. George_. Although strict inquiries were made for this ring, no tidings could be heard of it. Lady Shovel then granted a pension for life to the woman and her husband who had found the body. Many years after a terrible confession was made by a dying woman to a clergyman of S. Mary's Island. She said that the Admiral had been cast ashore exhausted and faint, but still living, and that she had squeezed the life out of him for the sake of his clothes and his rings. She produced the long-missing emerald hoop, and gave it to the clergyman, saying that she had been afraid to sell it lest it should lead to a discovery of her guilt, and she added that she could not die in peace until she had made this full confession. This disclosure was made between the years 1732 and 1736, after the death of Lady Shovel. The ring was sent to Lord Dursley, who became Earl of Berkeley in 1701, and from him it descended to his grandson, Sir George Cranfield Berkeley, and in the possession of one of his descendants it still remains, but has unfortunately been converted into a locket.[38]

The _History of the Reign of Queen Anne_, 1708, says that on "December 23rd was performed the interment of Sir Cloudesley Shovell, whose body, after having lain in state for many days, at the Queen's expense, was conveyed from his late dwelling-house in Soho Square, to the Abbey of Westminster, where it was buried with all pomp and magnificence suitable to her Majesty's high regard to the remains of so brave and faithful a commander. There were at the ceremony the Queen's trumpets, kettle-drums, and household drums, with other music; the Queen's and the Prince's watermen in their liveries, most of the nobility's coaches with six horses, and flag-officers that were in town, and the Prince's Council, the Heralds-at-Arms, and the Knights' Marshal men."

Sir Cloudesley, by his wife, the widow of Sir John Narborough, left two daughters, of whom the elder, Elizabeth, married first, 1708, Sir Robert Marsham, Bart., who was created Baron Romney in 1716; and, secondly, Lord Carmichael, afterwards Earl of Hyndford. The second daughter, Anne, married in 1718 the Hon. Robert Mansel; and, secondly, John Blackwood, Esq., by whom she had Shovell Blackwood, of Pitreavie, Fife, N.B., and of Crayford, Kent, and a daughter.

Elizabeth, who married Sir Robert Marsham, had issue Robert, second Baron Romney, and the Hon. Elizabeth Marsham, who married Sir Jacob Bouverie, third Baronet, created Viscount Folkestone in 1747, as his second wife, and by him had the Hon. Philip Bouverie, who assumed the name of Pusey, and so became the ancestress of Dr. Pusey.