PENGERSICK CASTLE

THE MERMAID OF ZENNOR

The Highwayman

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The Highwayman enjoys a lonely and dramatic setting. It stands opposite the pretty little church of St Thomas a Becket, beyond which the dark bulk of Dartmoor looms against the scudding clouds - bleak, brooding and thoroughly menacing. Until the mid 20th century this little pub was known as The New Inn, although it was anything but, since the building dates from the 13th century. In 1959 the dilapidated property came into the possession of John 'Buster' Jones, a Welsh visionary whose previous achievements had included running away to sea when he was 14, and representing Wales at boxing and distance running. He and his wife, Rita, changed the pub's name to The Highwayman, and set about transforming the modest roadside watering hole into one of the most unusual and imaginatively furnished hostelries in the whole of England.

What Buster Jones created was a fairy-tale cottage cum Aladdin' s cave, with nautical and ecclesiastical themes thrown in for good measure. He dragged tree stumps from nearby woodland and fashioned them into bar tops, or used them as massive beams to prop up ageing ceilings. The old Okehampton-to-Launceston stagecoach formed a suitably eccentric entrance lobby. Old spindles, battered tankards, cartwheels, lanterns and all manner of other bric-a-brac came to occupy every spare inch of wall, beam or ceiling. Timbers and fittings from old ships, including the intricately carved door of the whaler  Diana that ran aground in the Humber in 1869, were used to create the remarkable Galleon Bar, which has the below-decks ambience of an 18th-century pirate ship. Buster' s daughter, Sally, and her husband Bruce, who take great care to ensure that his legacy remains intact, now run the inn. They have long grown used to sharing their bequest with one or two spirits of an ethereal nature who drop in every so often to keep an eye on the comings and goings.

Much of the ghostly activity occurs in the Galleon Bar, and it is mooted that it may be related to the eerie-looking door from the  Diana Between 21 September 1866 and 17 March 1868, 13 members of the ship's crew died when she became trapped in Arctic pack ice. "We will not have a moment' s peace of mind or body so long as we are in this awful ice," one sailor wrote in his log. When the remaining crew finally managed to force the crippled vessel across the Atlantic to reach Shetland, the first reporter to board her was appalled by the sight that met his eyes. "Coleridge' s Ancient Mariner might have sailed in such a ghastly ship," he wrote,  "the main deck a charnel house not to be described." Several psychic investigators have suggested that the apparitions seen in the Galleon Bar are the long-dead mariners, whose spirits have remained earthbound in the fabric of the door. Such a theory might sound a little far-fetched, but a definite air of melancholy emanates from the relic. Other phenomena experienced here have included items being moved around by invisible hands, orbs of light hovering in mid air, and a ghostly figure in a feathered cap who drifts silently around, no doubt content to roam the eclectic interior of such a characterful and hospitable place.

Chambercombe Manor is thought to date back to the 12th century, and although it most certainly saw days of glory over the centuries that followed (including a visit from Lady Jane Grey, herself a descendent of the house’s original owners the Champernon’s), at some stage in its history it fell from its lofty pedestal and for much of its recent past was used as a farmhouse.

Yet it was as if during those lowly days the house was just biding its time, awaiting the dawn of a new era when it would awaken from its long slumber and bask once more in the grandeur of its surroundings. Thankfully, many of the original fixtures and fittings survived and today, thanks to the efforts of a dedicated Trust, the house and its grounds have been beautifully restored, and visitors can soak up its atmosphere, admire its impressive rooms and keep a keen eye peeled for its otherworldly inhabitants.

The origins of the house’s most famous ghost go back to 1865 when the then tenant carried out repairs to the roof and came upon the outline of a window for which he could find no matching room. Mystified, he began a search of the house’s interior and realised that there must be a hidden room between what is now Lady Jane Grey’s Room and the one adjoining it. He and his wife broke through the wall and poking a candle through the hole, gazed into the gloom of a secret chamber at the centre of which stood a four poster bed surrounded by a musty curtain. Scrambling into the room, they pulled the bed curtain aside and there upon a decaying bedspread, they found a gleaming white skeleton.

Although it was later ascertained that the skeleton was that of a young woman, subsequent enquiries failed to shed any light on either her identity or the cause of her death. A tradition grew up that the events which led to the woman’s incarceration date back to the 18^th century when the tenant of the house was William Oatway. His father, Alexander, had been a notorious local ’wrecker’ - a band of nefarious villains who would wave lights from the shore in the dead of night hoping to lure ships onto the treacherous coastal rocks so that they could plunder the wrecks and murder any crew or passengers who might have survived the initial impact.

William, however, was of an altogether more law abiding and gentle disposition than his father, and having married a beautiful Spanish woman - whom he had saved from one of his father’s ‘wrecking’ expeditions - he leased Chambercombe Manor and brought her to live there. One regret constantly gnawed at William. That he didn’t have the money to purchase the house outright in order to provide a family home that could be passed down to future generations. But that aside he and his wife were extremely happy and their joy intensified when they had a baby daughter, who they christened Kate and who grew into a beautiful and spirited young woman.

One day Kate met and fell in love with an Irishman named Wallace, who was the Captain of a pirate ship. The two were married, and decided to settle in Dublin. Tearfully Kate bade her parents farewell but as she left the house in which she had spent an idyllic childhood she promised them faithfully that she would one day return for a visit. William and his wife settled down into a house that now seemed so empty without the presence of their vivacious daughter. But eventually they grew used her absence and eagerly looked forward to the day when they would see her again.

One day a ferocious storm blew up along the Devon coast and William went down onto the beach to see if any ships were in distress. As he stood gazing out to sea, bracing himself against the lashing rain and the howling wind, he heard a faint murmur from the nearby rocks. Clambering over them he found a badly injured young woman, whose bloodied features had been rendered unrecognisable by the pounding her body had evidently taken on the rocks. Lifting her up, William carried her to the manor house where he and his wife tried desperately to save her life. But her injuries proved too serious and later that night she died without regaining consciousness.

As they searched her body for some clue to her identity they found a money belt strapped around her waist. Opening it William discovered that it contained enough gold coins and jewels to enable him to achieve his most cherishe ambition, the ownership of Chambercombe Manor. The temptation proved too great and with a shaking hand William reached out and relieved the dead woman of her valuables.

Next morning, a shipping agent came by to enquire if they had any knowledge of a woman passenger who was missing off a wrecked ship. Realising that if he admitted to having found the woman he would probably be forced to return the valuables, William denied all knowledge of her. As the agent was leaving he asked William to keep an eye on the coastline should the body of the woman, Mrs Katherine Wallace, be washed up. Realising that that he had robbed the dead body of his beloved daughter, William walled her body up in a secret chamber and then he and his wife departed Chambercombe Manor, never to return.

So runs one of several legends that attempt to explain the mysterious skeletal remains at Chambercombe Manor, and thus has Kate Wallace’s ghost written itself into the history of this lovely old house, her spectral footsteps walking along corridors, whilst a low moaning has been heard emanating from the former secret room where her remains were found.

Kate’s, however, is not the only ghost to haunt Chambercombe Manor. Two ghostly little girls have been seen in the upstairs rooms, whilst a ghostly lady in a long white dress has been seen in the vicinity of the pond behind the café. Mediums visiting the house have picked up on several spirits including that of a rather friendly man, who once tried to possess a woman during a séance held in the Tudor Room. In addition to ghostly appearances, the house also has several cold spots and there is a staircase which ascends from the Dining Room to the Tudor Room that has a decidedly unnerving atmosphere and which few people like to go up!

St Michael’s Mount

Jack the Giant Killer.

Rising from the sparkling waters of one of England’s prettiest bays, St Michael’s Mount is a rocky jewel, whose magic slowly draws you across its sea-sprayed causeway on which, with each exhilarating step, you find yourself sinking ever deeper beneath its ancient spell of mysterious enchantment.

The Mount has a long and varied history. It has seen use both as a church and a Priory. The lofty castle that crowns its summit dates from the 12th century, and has been the private home of the St Aubyn family since 1659. Tradition holds that the island was at one time the eastern border of the lost land of Lyonesse. Legend maintains that King Arthur once battled a ferocious giant on its rock-strewn shoreline. It is, however, the Mounts association with another mythical figure that has transcended the centuries to be recounted time and again in storybooks the world over.

Thereafter Jacks adventures took him far and wide. En route for Wales he killed two more giants who wished to avenge Cormoran’s death. Later he became a devoted servant to King Arthur’s son and, whilst seeking food for his hungry master, tricked another giant into giving him four magical possessions. A sword that could cut through anything; a coat that rendered him invisible; a cap that made him all- knowing; and a pair of shoes that enabled him to outrun anyone or anything. Suitably armed he was able to lift the spell that an evil magician had cast over a beautiful princess, whom the prince wished to marry. He was rewarded by being made a Knight of the Round Table, in which capacity Arthur set him the task of ridding Wales of the many giants that were terrorising the country.

So began Jack’s most famous encounter, as he pitted his wits against the ferocious, two headed giant, Thundel, who had sworn vengeance for the slaughter of his kinsmen. Thanks to the coat of invisibility, his savage adversary was unable to see Jack. He could, however, smell his hidden prey, and thus it was that from Thundel’s lips came what is undoubtedly the most famous utterance of the whole saga: -

Unperturbed, Jack lured the giant onto a booby-trapped drawbridge, through which Thundel crashed into a deep moat, where the noble knight promptly beheaded him.

In Jack’s final adventure he rescued a beautiful maiden from a mountain top castle in which a wicked wizard had imprisoned her. Her delighted father granted Jack her hand in marriage, and the couple went on to live happily ever after on a vast estate presented to them by a grateful and admiring King Arthur.

Huge beech trees tower over this rambling ruin of a castle that perches on a cliff edge above a thickly wooded ravine. It was built in the late 15th century and was the seat of the Pomeroy’s an ancient Baronial family who arrived in Devon at the time of the Norman Conquest. In 1547 the Castle was purchased by Edward Seymour, first Duke of Somerset uncle of Edward V1 and Protector of England. Following his execution in 1552 his eldest son Edward headed for a new life in Devon and built the splendid manor house the gaunt, hollow shell of which still stands surrounded by the original castles outer defences.

A ghostly blue lady has been seen drifting among the melancholic ruins. She is reputed to have been a member of the Pomeroy family who had a child by her own father and in her shame strangled the unfortunate baby. She has been sighted in the Castle grounds beckoning to startled onlookers. Some visitors have heard the sound of doors being mysteriously slammed, despite the fact that there are no doors here whilst others have been disturbed by the sound of a baby’s heart rending cries accompanied by a decided drop in temperature.

But the eeriest part of this eeriest of ruins has to be the 15th century Margaret Tower where a twisting stone staircase spirals down into a dank, dark dungeon where a feeling a dreadful foreboding hangs heavy in the chill air and where the moss covered walls cackle with atmosphere.

It was here that the beautiful Margaret Pomeroy was imprisoned by her less alluring sister Lady Eelana when the two fell in love with the same man. Determined that Margaret's good looks would not steal her love from her, Elana allowed her sibling to starve to death in the cramped confines of this claustrophobic little dungeon. But on certain nights of the year, when the full moon bathes the grey walls in its ethereal glow, Lady Margaret's ghost rises from her prison and, resplendent in flowing white robe drifts through the still night calling upon anyone who sees her to follow into her subterranean cell where those who accept will be rewarded with either death or insanity.

It was while visiting the Duchy Hotel in Princetown (now a visitors centre), that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle heard tales of the spectral hound that is said to haunt the rough and remote moor land thereabouts. When he also learnt of a notorious local character named Squire Cabell, a huntsman who supposedly sold his soul to the devil he was inspired to weave the two legends together and create what is perhaps Sherlock Holmes’s most famous and spine-chilling adventure The Hound of the Baskervilles.

Squire Cabell’s tomb can still be seen outside Buckfastleigh Church in the porch specially constructed for him, where a huge stone slab is meant keep its occupant from wandering. Local tradition states that a pack of spectral black hounds have been heard howling around his burial chamber and that the evil squire himself frequently escapes from his stone prison and leads his baying hounds on a phantom hunt about the district. Baskerville was the name of the name of the pony trap driver who brought Conan Doyle to Princetown.

Travelling along the B3212 from Princetown to Two Bridges you pass through remote and desolate moor land and can feel a sense of trepidation even on the brightest of summer days. In June 1921 the medical officer of nearby Dartmoor Prison was rising his motorcycle along this stretch of road when, as he descended the hill where a little bridge takes the road over the East Dart he suddenly swerved causing his motorbike to crash killing him instantly. Not long afterwards an army officer suffered a similar accident at more or less the same spot but survived and was able to reveal that a pair of large muscular and very hairy hands had seized hold of his own forcing him into his almost fatal swerve. A couple who had parked their caravan near to the spot had a similar encounter when the wife woke to find a big hairy hand clawing its way up the outside window. She had the presence of mind to make the sign of the cross whereupon the demonic digits disappeared.

Jay’s Grave

At the side of the road that runs between Heatree Cross and Hound Tor you come across one of Dartmoor's most poignant monuments, the wayside grave of Kitty Jay. She is said to have been a poor workhouse orphan who having been deserted by her lover hanged herself. In those days a suicide could not rest in consecrated ground but had to be buried at a cross roads with a stake driven through the heart. Kitty’s bones were re-discovered in 1860 by a road mender named James Bryant and re-buried in their present location. From that day forth fresh flowers would be mysteriously appear upon the grave and no –one ever discovered who was responsible. Even when snow lay thick upon the ground the flowers would appear each morning yet no footprints were ever discovered leading to or from her resting place. More startling are the reports of a footless, ghostly figure that has often been seen floating over the grave.

Nestling amidst peaceful woodlands the isolated, remote and picturesque buildings posses an air of timeless tranquillity. In 1582 Sir Francis Drake purchased the converted Abbey and it would remain in the possession of his family through the bloodline of his brother Thomas until 1948 when it came into the possession of the National Trust.

Although the Abbey is rumoured to be haunted by weird and writhing figures and spectral monastic chanting not to mention Drake himself who, because he invoked satanic aid to complete his alterations to the Abbey within only three nights, has been condemned to drive a hearse drawn by headless horses along the nearby Tavistock Road.

But it is the late 16th Century side drum displayed as “Drake’s Drum” that really captures the imagination . Drums were often used aboard ship to call the sailors to action, accompany floggings or sound the death march for burials at sea. The one displayed at Buckland is emblazoned with the Drake family’s coat of arms and may be one of thirteen purchased in 1595 for use on Drakes last voyage.

He died from dysentery on the morning of 28th January 1596 and his body “being put into a Coffin of Lead was let down into the sea”. The drum may have may have sounded its mournful tattoo as the coffin disappeared from view.

In the 19th century the legend arose that the spirit of Drake lived on in his drum and that its beat would sound out whenever England was in danger. Many said that the drum was heard to roll on the eve of the battle of Trafalgar and even claimed that Nelson was Drake re-incarnate. It was heard again at Scapa Flow on midsummer's day 1919 before the German Navy scuttled their fleet to retain honour in defeat. A silver replica of his drum beaten on the deck of HMS Devonshire to rally support during a fleet regatta supposedly caused a metaphysical intervention from an offended Drake which saw a collision with the harbour wall; unexplained fires aboard the ship and a telegraphophist falling to his death. Fearful of further repercussions the officers disposed of the replica and all was once more peaceful.

With its den of bloodthirsty bars, themed museums and well stocked gift shops Jamaica Inn is a veritable Daphne Du Murier theme park. Yet the actual inn with its dark, low beams, sturdy wooden furniture and blazing log fire is cosy and welcoming.

In the late 18th century a sailor drinking here was asked by a stranger to step outside to conduct some business in private. Taking a final sip from his tankard the sailor duly followed. His lifeless body was discovered the next morning and, though the killers identity was never discovered, the sailors troubled wraith has returned time and again no doubt hoping to drain the last dregs from his unfinished tankard!! He is most often seen sitting on he low wall outside the inn, a solitary figure in old fashioned sailors garb who never moves or speaks, but sits watching and waiting but for what, no-one knows.

It was to the rock strewn banks of this melancholic pool that Sir Bedivere is said to have brought the dying King Arthur, who instructed him to cast Excalibur into the sullen waters. It doesn’t take a great leap of the imagination to picture Bedivere trudging down to the reed-fringed banks where he found himself unable to dispose of so beautiful a sword. Twice he returned to his dying King who knew from the answers to his questions that his wish had not been carried out. On the third occasion, however, the loyal knight had reluctantly complied with Arthur’s wishes and thus when questioned was, according to Tennyson, able to reply:-

Arthurian epics aside, the pool has several other legends to fire the imagination of even the most jaded city dweller. At night a dark spirit is said to sit by the lifeless waters its despairing cries clearly discernable over even the wildest of autumn gales. He is known locally as Jan Tregeagle and his dreadful spectre has, it is whispered, been doomed to eternal torment for the dreadful atrocities he committed in life.

Jan Tregeagle lived in the early 1600’s and was a none too popular local magistrate said to have used his position to make himself very wealthy. Local tradition holds that he murdered his wife and children, seized an orphan’s estates and even sold his soul to the devil. That an unsympathetic and unpopular magistrate named Tregeagle existed is historic fact. Whether he ever sold his soul to the devil, murdered his wife and children or seized the estates of orphans to swell his own coffers, as is claimed, is doubtful. But such was the low esteem in which he was held that, when he died, it was said that he had to bribe the clergy to allow his body to lie in the consecrated ground of St Breock’s churchyard.