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Traditions and Hearthside Stories of West Cornwall, Second Series
Three years passed during which the old dame had done her utmost to persuade her daughter to become the wife of some rich farmer – for true it was, as she said, Nancy might have had her choice of the best – yet coaxing and reproaches were powerless to shake the maid's constancy. When three years and many months were gone without any tidings of William, she became very melancholy – perhaps crazy – from hope deferred, and took to wandering about the cleves in all weathers, by day and by night.
On the headland, called Hella Point, which stretches far out west of the cove, there is a high over-hanging rock almost on the verge of the cliff, which shelters, on its southern side, a patch of green sward, mostly composed of cliff-pinks; this spot used to be known as Fair Nancy's bed. There she would pass hours by day and often whole nights watching vessels that came within her ken, hoping to see her lover land from every one that hove in sight, and to be the first to hail him with joyful greetings in the cove. Her father and the old fisherman – anxious for William's return – treated her as tenderly as a shorn lamb, and often passed long nights with her there; at length the poor maiden had to be watched and followed for fear that in her night wanderings she might fall over the cliff or drown herself in a fit of despair.
One moonlight winter's night, when in her chamber indulging her grief, she heard William's voice just under her window, saying, "Sleepest thou, sweetheart, awaken and come hither, love; my boat awaits us at the cove, thou must come this night or never be my bride."
"My sweet William come at last, I'll be with thee in an instant," she replied.
Nancy's aunt Prudence, who lodged in the same room, heard Willy's request and his sweetheart's answer; looking out of the window she saw the sailor, just under, dripping wet and deathly pale. An instant after – glancing round into the chamber, and seeing Nancy leave it – she dressed, in all haste, and followed her. Aunt Prudence, running down the cliff lane at her utmost speed, kept the lovers in sight some time, but couldn't overtake them, for they seemed to glide down the rocky pathway leading to Pargwarra as if borne on the wind, till they disappeared in the glen.
At the fisherman's door, however, she again caught a glimpse of them passing over the rocks towards a boat which floated off in the cove. She then ran out upon the How – as the high ground projecting into the cove is called – just in time to see them on a large flat rock beside the boat, when a fog rolling in over sea, shrouded them from her view. She hailed them but heard no reply.
In a few minutes the mist cleared away, bright moonlight again shone on the water, but the boat and lovers had disappeared.
Then she heard mermaids singing a low sweet melody, and saw many of them sporting on the water under Hella; that was nothing new, however, for the rocks and sawns (caverns) bordering this headland were always noted as favourite resorts of these death-boding syrens, whose wild unearthly strains were wont, before tempests, to be heard resounding along Pedn-Penwith shores.
By daybreak the old fisherman came to Roskestal and told the farmer that he hoped to find his son there, for, about midnight, he saw him at his bedside, looking ghastly pale; he stayed but a moment, and merely said, "Farewell father and mother, I am come for my bride and must hasten away," when he vanished like a spirit. It all seemed to the old man uncertain as a dream; he didn't know if it were his own son in the body or a token of his death.
In the afternoon, ere they had ceased wondering and making search for Nancy, a young mariner came to the fisherman's dwelling, and told him that he was chief officer of his son's ship, then at the Mount with a rich cargo from the Indies, bound for another port; but put in there because his son – her captain – when off Pargwarra, where he intended to land last night, eager to see his native place, went aloft, and the ship rolling he missed his holdfast of the shrouds, fell overboard and sunk before she could be brought-to or any assistance rendered.
All knew then that William's ghost had taken Nancy to a phantom boat, and a watery grave was the lovers' bridal-bed. Thus their rash vows of constancy, even in death, were fulfilled, and their sad story, for a time, caused Pargwartha to be known as the Sweethearts' Cove, and some will have it that the old Cornish name has that meaning.
There are other versions of this story, that only vary from the above in details of little interest.
I have recently tried in vain to find anyone who knows the old 'copy of verses,' the argument of which I have for the most part followed.
The fragments I recited, however, recalled to a few old folks a newer piece called the "Strains of Lovely Nancy," that used to be printed in a broad sheet and sung and sold by wandering ballad singers of the west, forty or fifty years ago; and from what I heard of the latter one might conclude it to have been a modernised and an imperfect version of the ancient tragedy.
Traditions connected with places in the southern parishes of West Penwith having brought us within a short distance of the Land's End, we now return to St. Just and purpose to relate such as are found in that parish and Sennen.
And singular enough, almost all old stories handed down in St. Just are fairy-tales.
An' Pee Tregeer's Trip to Market on Hallan Eve
ONE St. Just Feasten Monday, about thirty years since, we heard the following story told by the kitchen fireside in the "North Inn." An aged mine-captain related the principal part, others of the company helping him out when his memory or invention failed.
"I have heard the old folks tell," said Captain Peter, "how long ago – it may be hundreds of years past, for what we know – the Squire, who then lived in Pendeen, had for his housekeeper an elderly dame called Pee Tregeer, who came to a sad mishap one Hallan Eve. Some spices and other small things were wanted from Penzance for the Feasten tide, and the careful old creature wouldn't trust anyone to go for them but herself. Now, An' Pee dearly loved company on the road, and, not knowing of anybody more likely to take the jaunt with her than Jenny Trayer, who lived at Pendeen Cove, she took her basket and stick and went down to see if Jenny would go.
"This woman was the wife of one Tom Trayer. The hut in which they lived was the only dwelling then in the cove. The pair were but little seen out of the place. Tom passed great part of his time a fishing, when he wasn't smuggling; and his wife seldom left home except when she took round liquor and fish together, in her cowal, for sale. Jenny, however, was frequently visited, for she professed to be, and passed for, a White Witch, charmer, or wise-woman. On this account many resorted to her that they might be benefitted by her charms and spells. Yet, there were others that regarded her as a witch of deeper dye, and who believed that, by her strange dealings with the Old One, her husband had always a favourable wind, so as to make a quicker passage to France and back than anyone else in "the fair trade." Besides, fish, they said, always came to his hook and net when other fishermen had none. If anyone happened to offend either of the pair some strange run of bad luck was sure to follow; and nothing proved their compact with Old Nick so much as the rich wrecks which were constantly floating into Pendeen Cove when the pair lived there. Yet, as they lived on the Squire's estate, few cared to openly accuse them of practising the black art; and An' Pee didn't trouble herself about their sorcery or witchcraft, so that they furnished her with a good supply of choice liquors.
"When she arrived at Tom's door, contrary to custom she found it shut, and, hearing voices within, her curiosity made her peep through the finger-hole (latch-hole). Then she saw Tom sitting on the chimney-stool, and his wife taking on the tip of her finger from a croggan (limpet-shell) what appeared to be salve, which she rubbed over her husband's eyes.
"The anointing finished, Jenny placed the croggan in the mouth of the oven and covered it up with rags. An' Pee, seeing Tom put on his hat, and come towards the door, lifted the latch and entered. Tom didn't seem pleased at the old dame's abrupt entrance, as he went out with a very black look, but his wife made much of her, that she might speak a good word for them to the Squire whenever they wanted any favour, which she was ready enow to do for the sake of good liquor.
"'I am very glad to see 'e, An' Pee,' said Jenny, 'I have this moment been thinking about 'e and wishing you would come down to taste the choice cordials Tom and the boys brought home by their last trip.'
"Whilst Jenny was in the spence after the liquor, An' Pee took from the croggan the least bit of a greenish salve and touched one eye with it. Before she had time to anoint the other, out came Jenny with her hands full of jars and bottles. 'Now, what will 'e take, An' Pee?' said she, in placing the liquor and drinking-horns on the board, 'Will 'e first of all help yourself to some brandy from this jar, or some rum out of that, before you try the Hollands in the case-bottle, and take some of the sweet cordials afterwards? We have wine, too, in the spence if you would like that better to begin with.'
"An' Pee took a drink of all the various kinds of liquors, just to sample them. Jenny excused herself from going to town, because, being Feasten eve, she had many churs (odd jobs) to do that the place might be tidy against the morrow. Besides, she expected many customers that evening, for a supply of drink to pass the tide. She didn't choose to leave the selling of the liquor to Tom, she said; he was too easily taken in.
"It was about three o'clock when, An' Pee having filled with brandy a bottle, which she always carried in her pocket, left the cove and started for Penzance. Coming out of the dark dwelling she was surprised to find how well she could see, and the good liquor put such life into her heels that she tripped along the lanes without feeling the ground under her feet. Yet, it was almost candlelighting when she got to town. After purchasing what she wanted for the house she went down among the standings on a three-cornered plot, where the market-house is now, to buy a pair of shoes for herself. Whilst she was trying their size with a piece of stick the length of her foot, to her great surprise she saw Tom Trayer going from standing to standing as brisk as a bee, picking off everything that suited his fancy. Yet, nobody but herself appeared to see him taking rolls of leather, knives, forks, pewter-plates, wooden spoons, thread and yarn, and many other things, which he stuffed into his pockets and the knapsack he carried on his back. An' Pee, vexed to see his tricks on the tradespeople, went up to him and said, 'Tom! arn't thee ashamed to be here in the dark carrying on such a game?' 'Ah, es that you Aunt Pee,' Tom replied, 'now tell me which eye can 'e see me upon?' 'Why with both, I should think,' said she. But when she winked the eye that had been anointed, and found she only saw him on that, she said, 'I can see thee, and thy thievery, plain enow on my right eye, but the other es rather cloudy by night.' When she said this, Tom held up his finger and, pointing towards her anointed eye, said, —
"'Cursed old spy,Thou shalt no more peep nor pry,With thy anointed eye.'"Then he blew on it and, laughing in her face, said, 'Take that for poking your nose where you arn't wanted, and meddling with other people's business. You shall neither see me, nor anyone else, any more with that game eye.' The old woman felt as if a needle had pierced it. She fell to the ground, and rolled about under the standings. Such was her agony she couldn't keep on her legs.
"She called on the market people to seize Tom Trayer, telling them he had put out her eye by witchcraft, and that he was going about in the dark, stealing goods from their standings and stalls. But no one, except herself, had seen him. Some said that An' Pee was drunk or dreaming, and they led her to Alverton-lane, tied her basket on her arm, wished her good night, and a pleasant journey home to Pendeen, and a merry feasten tide.
"Now An' Pee didn't return by the way of Polteggan Bottom and Boswednan, though it's the nearest, because there are so many stiles on that road and bogs near it. She took her course through Castle Horneck fields. When she came out into the high road, she drank a little from her bottle (which she had refilled in town) and went on for three or four miles, as she thought, being so distracted she couldn't tell whether she was going up hill or down dale half the time, and fancied herself much more advanced on her journey than she really was, when she beheld, a little before her, a man on horseback. By the proud way he was stuck up on his high horse, she took him for a gentleman who lived in the south of the parish.
"An' Pee was very glad to see him, and he was going so slowly that she soon overtook him, and when the old woman came up he stood stock still. 'My dear, maister,' said she, 'how glad I am to see 'e; don't 'e know me? I'm Pee Tregeer, and you can't think how I've been served out to-day.' Then she told him how she went down to the cove and anointed her eye with witch's salve – how that made her to see Tom Trayer stealing from the standings – how he put out her eye, because she let him know, and other people too, that she was up to his tricks, and had found out which way he managed to live so easy without working like an honest man. The gentleman made no reply, and An' Pee continued to say 'In spite of being blind, foot sore, and leg weary, I'm got as far as here you see, and we can't be far from Ballaswidden I should think, and oh! my eye is still burning like fire; so, for goodness, do take pity on a poor unfortunate oman and take her up behind 'e. I can ride well enow on the flat 'cheens' of your horse without pillion or pad; it won't be much out of your way to give one a lift down to Pendeen gate, or if you will only take me over Dry Carn I won't forget your kindness all my born days. I well remember the time when you went much farther out of your way to meet me. Then, to be sure, I was young and much better looking than I am now; though you are years older than I am, yet you are still a fine-looking man, strong and lusty; all your family are good-looking boys; and how upright you sit on your horse! You have still a colt's tooth in your head, if all they say be true, but why don't 'e speak to me, are 'e gone to sleep? One would think you were takean a nap, and your horse too, it's standing so quiet.'
"Not having a word in reply to the fine speech she made to please the old gentleman, who didn't so much as turn his head, An' Pee called out as loud as she could, 'Ef you are the lord of Bosavern you needn't be stuck up there so proud that you won't speak to a poor body afoot, as ef I didn't know 'e and all belonging to 'e!' Still he never spoke. Yet she thought he winked on her, just as he used to do in his younger days. This vexed her the more, and she screamed out, 'The time was when the Tregeers were among the first in the parish, and were buried in the church as well as the old Bosvarguses, Usticks, Borlases, Milletts, and others of the quality! Ef you won't believe me, ask maister; he can tell everything from his books.' Still no speech with the horseman. 'Art ah dead drunk then? Wake up and speak to me, west ah?' screamed the old woman with increasing anger, as she took up a stone and threw it at the sleeping steed. The stone rolled back to her feet, and the horse didn't as much as whisk his tail.
"Pee now got nearer, and saw that the rider had neither hat nor wig on; nor was there a hair to be seen on his bare head, and, putting out her hand to touch the horse, she felt nothing but a bush of furze. She rubbed her eyes, and saw at once, to her great surprise, that what a moment before appeared (and she would have sworn it was) a gentleman on horseback, was nothing else but a tall cross that stands on a high bank, by the road-side, about half a mile from Santust lane's end. The old woman thought she was miles farther on, and must be so bewitched that she couldn't believe her senses.
"Fearing that Tom Trayer was still dogging her steps, she went on for dear life, and, not staying to look for the stepping stones in the stream below Cardew Mill, she splashed through with the water above her knees.
"On she went and, seeing a light on her right hand side, she thought it shone through the window of a dwelling, where she might rest awhile and dry herself, so she made for it, straight across the moors, but went on for miles, it seemed to her, without coming to it. Then the light went out and left her floundering in the bogs; yet, getting out and steering for the place from which it vanished, she at last found herself amidst the furze-ricks and pigs'-crows in Boslow. Not seeing any light in the only dwelling of this lonely place, An' Pee opened the door of an out-house and entered it, hoping she might take a few hours' rest.
"In the crow that the old dame entered she was glad to find a good quantity of straw, on which she lay down and fell asleep, but her slumbers were soon disturbed by a bosom of vears (litter of sucking pigs) which had just been severed from their dam and placed there to be weaned. The young sucklings, taking An' Pee for their dam, continued rooting round her with their snouts. All her endeavours to get a comfortable rest being in vain, she came out and, hearing the sound of a threshal (flail) going, and seeing a glimmer of light in the barn on the other side of the town-place, she thought that the old man of Boslow was up late threshing that he might have straw to serve his cattle over Sunday. 'Now,' said the old woman to herself, as she crossed the town-place, 'I shall get a spell of rest in the barn, for I feel so sleepy that no noise of threshing will hinder me from having a nap.' She made for a window, which stood open and through which the light glimmered, that she might have a peep at what was going on before she went in.
"Looking in she could only see, at first, an old iron chill (lamp) with two porvans (rush wicks) burning in it. The chill hung from a stake, driven into the wall opposite, at the head of the barn-boards. Then, in the faint light, she noticed a slash-staff (beating part of the flail) going up and down, but couldn't see anybody working it. That she might be able to reach her head farther in, to see better, she rolled close under the window a big stone, and, standing on that, on her tip-toes, she saw that the threshal was worked by a little old man, no more than three feet high, covered only with a few rags, and his long hair that hung over his shoulders like a bunch of rushes, (a bunch beaten for making sheep's spans). His face was broader than it was long; she couldn't make out the colour of his great round owl's-eyes, they were so shaded by his shaggy eyebrows, from between which his long nose, like a snout, poked out. His mouth reached from ear to ear, and they were set far back to make room for it. Pee noticed, too, that his teeth were very long and jagged, for he was so eager about his work that, with each stroke of the threshal, he kept moving his thin lips round and up and down, and his tongue in and out. He had nothing of a chin or neck to speak of, but shoulders broad enow for a man twice his height. His naked arms and legs were out of all proportion, and too long for his squat body; and his splayed feet were more like a quilkan's (frog's) than a man's.
"'Well,' thought An' Pee, 'this es luck, to see Piskey threshan; for, ever since I can remember, I have heard it said that Piskey threshed the corn in Boslow of winter's nights, and did other odd jobs all the year round for the old couple who lived here, but I wouldn't believe it. Yet here he es!' As she reached farther in and looked round she beheld scores of small people, no more than two feet high, attending on the thresher; some of them lugged down sheaves and placed them handy for him; others shook the straw and bore it off to the end of the barn. An' Pee couldn't help admiring how, when one side of a sheaf was threshed clean, Piskey, by a few quick, smart blows, would rise the sheaf on its butt-end, then knock it over quite cute like with the unthreshed side uppermost. When the corn was all out of that side, with a few sharp blows on the tongue of the bind, it was laid open and the straw sent to the lower end of the boards with the tip of his slash-staff. An' Pee declared that she never saw a smarter thresher in all her born days.
"When a heap of corn had gathered on the boards, he raked it off with the barn-rake and kicked the bruss-straw (short straw) out of it, leaving the corn just as clean as if it had been winded. In doing this job, he raised such a dust that it set him and the small folks sneezing, and the old woman, according to custom, said 'God bless 'e little men!' She had no sooner spoken the words than the light went out and all vanished; but she felt a handful of dust thrown into her eyes that nearly blinded the only peeper that she could see anything on, and she heard Piskey squeak out,
'I spy thy snout, old Peepan Pee;And I'll serve thee out, or es much to me.'"An' Pee felt rather uneasy when she remembered that the 'small people' have great spite against anyone who watches them or tries to pry into their doings.
"The night being clear she found her way out of the scrambly lane, leading up from Boslow to the highroad, scampered on as fast as she could, and never stopped till she reached the top of Dry Carn. There she sat down a minute, that she might recover her breath, to pass quickly over the road near Carn Kenidzek and down the Gump, as everybody then (as now) dreaded that haunted track; indeed, few go near that wisht place, about the turn of night, without hearing, if not seeing, the Old One and his hounds, hunting among the rocks for any restless spirits that might have strayed so far away from the churchyard – their only place of safety – or some other frightful apparitions, fighting and howling round the carn, or fleeing over the downs.
"She 'jailed' away – down the hill, as fast as she could lay foot to ground, thinking to be home by the kitchen fire in a quarter of an hour, and went far enough, as she thought, to have reached Pendeen gate twice over. Then she feared that she might have got into a wrong bridle-path over the downs, or that Piskey was playing her a trick, because, turn whichever way she would, the road appeared to be before her. After going on for a long while, she saw light and heard music, at no great distance. Thinking then that she must have kept too much on her left and be near some house on the road to Church-town, where they were getting in tune for the dancing on Feasten Monday night, she went over the downs, straight towards the light, feeling ready for a jig, and stopped more than once to 'try her steps,' as the lively old dancing tunes kept sounding in her ears. But, instead of arriving at a house, as she expected to, in passing round some high rocks, which hid the light a moment, she came, all at once, on a level green, surrounded by furze and rocks, and there, a few yards before her, saw troops of 'small people' holding a fair, or belike it might be their feasten market.
"Scores of little standings all in a row, were covered with trinkets, such as knee and shoe buckles of silver and gold, glistening with Cornish diamonds; pins, with jewelled heads; brooches, rings, bracelets, and strings of crystal beads, figured with green and red, or blue and gold; and scores of other pretty things quite new to An' Pee; who, not to disturb the small folks till she had seen all that was doing, crept along softly in the rear of the standings, till she stood opposite a company of dancers; hundreds of them linked hand in hand, after the old bonfire-dance fashion, were whirling round so fast that it made her head light to look at them.
"Small as they were – none more than two feet high, and rather slender in make – they were all decked out like old-fashioned gentry – the little men in three-cocked hats and feathers; full, square-skirted, blue coats, stiff with buckram and gay with lace and buttons; vest, breeches, and stockings of a lighter hue; and their dainty little shoes fastened with diamond clasps. Some few, who were rigged more like soldiers or huntsmen, wore either jet-black or russet-coloured riding boots.