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This article was first appeared in the Old Cornwall Volume 2, Journal 2, page 36.

The Longshoreman's Chart.

By P. Cowls

To many who have stood on the foreshore at Porthleven and watched the boats entering and leaving the harbour, or watched them sailing—apparently without any set plan—around the Bay, it may come as news that the laws of the sea are as fixed as the laws of the road, as are also the bounds as to where one may or may not go. It might appear to the uninitiated that with such a wide expanse to sail over one could not easily go wrong; ‘also that one would be as likely to catch fish in one part of the Bay as in any other. But such is not the case. It is vitally necessary for the fisherman—and particularly the type known as the “longshoreman,” the man who does not go out of sight of land to do his fishing—to know the rules of the sea, and to know what the bottom of the sea is like, in order to be able to decide what particular type of fish finds the particular type of ground to its liking, and consequently may be expected to frequent it. For fish are more susceptible to a set type of sea-bottom than are sheep or cattle to a set type of pasture.

  The large black conger clings to the black rock, his protective colouring being made full use of accordingly; similarly the large brown pollack loves the area where the brown, ribboned seaweed languidly sways in the undertow, while its nearest relative— locally known as the “whiting pollack” from its silvery resemblance to the whiting—is a roamer not branded by any local colour: he takes the silver and grey of the great sea. The crab, the lobster, the crayfish, each possesses its “home ground,” and it is the discovering and marking of these grounds that is a great part of the business lore of the longshoreman.

The sea-bottom of Mount’s Bay is more rugged and undulating even than the land immediately on its shores; very deep are some of its areas, while in others so shallow is the water that at low tide even small boats have been known to strike the crest of those sunken hills. As a boy I have often heard the fishermen refer to the “Great Row” and “Little Row ”  but had no idea at that time that the shallows referred to were the crests of submerged hills which  were only a continuation of the ridges of which such headlands as Tremearne and Cudden are but the land termination. The longshoreman knows these ridges well ; he knows, too, the valleys  on each side of them. In the month of February he takes out his long strings of  crab and lobster pots and lays them along the ridges where  he knows his intended victims will be found.  At the first sign of the approach of a south-west gale, with its accompanying rough sea, he hurries out and deposits his pots in the valleys below the ridges, where the tremendous swell will not be able to wreak such destruction on his frail wattles. 

At the present day the deep sea fisherman has a wealth information about the habits, breeding areas and periods, and migration of fish supplied to him by the Government Fishery Research Department but a hundred years ago, when few fishermen had had the privilege of schooling and those who could read were rare, all the information had to be gained in the hardest and most efficient of all schools— that of bitter experience. Consequently when the information was first gained it was jealously guarded. Let us imagine that Dick Body (nicknamed Barras) has discovered that a certain patch of black rock on the sea bottom is a prolific spot for conger (the sea bottom is easily to be noted on still days). After a few days of good fishing and consequently good landings, it has come to be noticed by his brothers of the line that he has fished with good results at the same spot for many days; others try the spot with success, and its position is marked in the following way.

From the boat it is noticed that a line of houses in Mullion village are exactly in line with the end of Mullion Island. In the other direction it is noted that the tower of Cury Church is lying immediately to the right of a patch of green on Gunwalloe Sand known as the “Castle.”  The longshoreman has thus marked it as “Barras’s Mark." The position has to be taught to the younger generation by the sea patriarchs, and from them to be passed to their descendants. Each branch of the longshore fishing industry has its own particular and peculiar mark as do the trawlers, the crabber’s and day hookers. Many of them are virtually copyright and are by no means revealed lightly. Nor should they be; they have been come by far from easily and ought to be jealously guarded as the rights of the inheritors. I may say here in passing that when I approached one old fisherman to obtain  the names of some of the marks he said quite abruptly; “Whaffar?”  I am a landsman, and consequently not above suspicion of poaching.

You will notice in the list of marks I shall be quoting presently how frequently the churches are used as marks. As my old friend said, “You see, they are sure to be there always, and don’t change.” Perched on the top of Wheal Mount is a long low building, now a stable but once the farm house. It is a famous “depth” mark with the fishermen. Some weeks ago one of them said to me, “Tell the man at We’l Mount to gie th’ old house a coot of whitewash; we shall be usen of un soon.”  The Cornish fishing-village abounds in “nick-names, not given out of any disrespect for the bearer, but to enable even friends to disassociate them from perhaps two or even three bearing the same Christian and surname. This accounts for some of the curious names of the marks.

Before taking the fishing marks I would like to give a list of the cliff names used by the fisherman, and given to me by an old “crabber.” Beginning with Beacon Crag on the west side of Porthleven Harbour and extending to St. Michael’s Mount, we have :— Bullan, Song, Sawn or Sowan Shaggy (a long gully in’ the cliffs frequented by Shags or Cormorants), Pertrammel, Perslinches, Mearne (Tremearne) Cove, White Par (bands of white granite in the cliff), Blue Par, Madgy. Leggy, Git Sawn, Jane Jump (steep cliff), The Cloodges, Baagel-coulen or cowlin, Nine-wells, Perkew, The Winnocks, Streath Water, The Innes, The Mount. I have left out well-known headlands, bays, etc. The White Par is also known as “The Flakes o’ Mearne.”

In addition to natural phenomena, there are also marked by the fishermen the positions of Ships’ Anchors that have been lost in the Bay at various times; unless the position of these is known to the trawlers serious loss of’ gear is likely to ensue. One of these is found “over the stile of Breage Tower, in line with the splat of sand on the east of the Bar.”

Then we have:  Jimmy Read’s Anchor ---- Breage Tower in line with Beacon Crag, trees in Gunwalloe over western chimney of the shop.

Jan Ivy’s Anchor—Breage Tower with Seymour’s House; short hedge with the pit (a pit in the Morrops

Harry Cuttance’s— Breage Tower with Seymour’s outhouse; western end of Harry Cuttance’s house with eastern end of Gunwalloe Coastguard house.

Old Pembro—Old Pembro House with Penberthy’s;  Gate House in Degibna over the road of the Morrops.

“Antonio’s” Anchor —Breage Tower with Scott’s House; Umbrella Trees (behind Chyvarloe) just in sight.

Robby’s Anchor—Mullion Tower clearing Gwinion Point; Breage Tower with Scott’s House; short hedge with the pit.

Old Pembro anchor gets its name from Pembro Farm in Breage; “Antonio” was the name of the ship which lost the anchor; the others bear the names of those fortunate (?) enough to be the first to discover them (usually associated with the loss of a trawl).

And now for some fishing marks:

Town with Castle--- (Cury Church in line with green on Gunwalloe sand. Point of Pradnack in line with the Git Ubble.) The Ubble mounds on Cudden Point, (the hollows between being known as Saddles.)

Pusser’s Mark --- Houses in line with Town scarfing the Castle.

Bray’s Veal—Helston Tower in sight over Western Bar, and Town with Castle. Cury with Mashie (the Marshes) and. the Middle Stagg in sight.

Hocken.’s Mark—Sinny Tower over Harry Boy’s (house near the Institute), Cury Tower in sight.

Head Pollack Mark—Shop with shop, and shop scarf­ing (Gwinion Head).

Kenella, Cairn Allocle or Cairn Ulla— Trencrom joining the east side of the Mount, Paul Tower in Mousehole, Coastguard Row. The Gob Minner Head (west of Bishop Rock) just in sight over Gwavas Head. Ship Inn, Porthleven with the end of pier.

Welloe Mark—Gonning Hill just over Minner Head, Mount in line with Minner Ubble.

Great Shoal (Git Shool)—West of Minner, Perran Church just showing out from Cudden.

Tumma Dugga, Tubble dugga, Tul-me-dug.—Mullion Tower just in sight from Gwinion Head. Baulk in line with Pier.

The Cubbards—Trequean Valley with House in sight. Waväs flakes in sight.

The Eephon or Eefon—A large sawn or song near Poldhu Cove. Lifeboathouse scarfing the pier-head.

The Pellar—(West of Degibna Loe) Breage Tower with Gar Tul in line. Wheal Mount over Tregear.

The Iron Gates—Two Lizard Lights in sight. Godolphin Hill with Hoe Point.

In addition to these, there are The Calligan, The Mern, Jack and Benny, The Drusk (Sinny Tower with Beacon Crag, Cury in sight), The Bream Mark (Breage Tower with Flakes of Tremearne, Cury out of sight),- Cairn Mallas. (a very shallow area off Prussia Cove), The Stone (another shallow beyond Cairn Mallas), Mount Mowpas (shallow off Cudden point—only 6 feet of water over it), Great Row (a shallow beyond the Welloe, running in line Rinsey Head-Welloe­Great Row). On the eastern side of Porthleven are found The Clidja (Clyde.ja—The Morrops), Hog-a-dower (near Pradnack), The Booder (east side of Pengwinion), Trig-a-bellah (near Poldhu Cove), The Visses (in Mullion Bay), Growse and Growse Cliff (near Poldhu). 

Most of these names, known only to fishermen, are  Celtic fragments that, however corrupted they may be, are worth preserving. I am afraid the collection of them has been left somewhat late, as an old fisherman friend aged 8o, who knew most of them, tells me that he “caan’t maake it out, but he can’t run them off haaf like he used to, and the young wans have gaw new names far thum.

Thatched Cottages of Newlyn

Map showing thatched cottages remembered by Mr. Joseph Marrack Harvey in 1944/

Click on all pictures to see larger versions.

The Last Thatched Cottage in Newlyn  on Church Lane  

John J Beckerlegg  had a conversation with his father-in-law, Joseph Marrack Harvey, in August 1944. Joseph M. Harvey was born in 1859  and was a native of Newlyn. It occurred to John Beckerlegg that he should try and find out how many other thatched cottages in Newlyn his father-in-law could remember. Joseph  confined his recollections to the cottages in the  area of Newlyn Town, as in his early days Street-an-Nowan was a separate community and had not made the same impression on his memory. John J. Beckerlegg acted simply as recorder. He  thought there  might have been a dozen or so but he was astonished to find that his father-in-law had personal recollections of no fewer than 64 thatched cottages in Newlyn Town alone. So in the lifetime of this 85 year old man 64 of the thatched cottages of Newlyn had gone forever.

The diagram above shows the position of each marked with a black rectangle. To show the main area on as big a scale as possible, the road from the foot of Bowgey Hill (A in diagram ) towards Mousehole has been omitted from its correct position. It has been included in the top left-hand corner to the same scale but defined by dotted lines  with the thatched cottages marked by cross hatching.

Smuggling Memories

By S.A. Opie

  First published in Old Cornwall Vol.1, Journal 11, Page 30

  A GENTLEMAN living at Fourlanes well remembered having been told of the route taken by the smugglers after landing their cargo at Gwithian. Apparently each rider would have a spare horse. Two kegs of spirits could be slung on each side of the pack-saddle on the led horse, and two kegs in front of the rider. By night they would pass up the bottoms from Gwithian to Tuckingmill, thence on by Treskillard and Gryllis to Forest. From here, probably by this time considerably reduced in numbers, they passed on to Nine Maidens, Polhigey Moor, and Hernis Farm in Stythians. Mr. W. T. Martin was told by an old man near Polmarth, not a great way from Polhigey Moor, that when hard-pressed by unwanted inquirers, the smugglers would hide their kegs beneath the waters of the stream.

Sometimes it would appear that a wagon, with wheels muffled to deaden the sound, was used. An old lady who, about sixty years ago, used to visit a friend near lllogan, was on several occasions nearly frightened to death by the appearance of a ghostly chariot without wheels at a cross­roads between Illogan Church-town and Broad Lane, probably at what is now Paynter’s Lane End. She discovered later that it was the smugglers’ wagon, the wheels of which were muffled to reduce the sound to a minimum; but the sudden appearance of a wagon which made no sound, dashing at full speed through the lanes, was enough to give the impression to a superstitious person of a chariot without wheels. It is possible that the smugglers tried to increase the suggestion of the supernatural, as I was told that the men in the “chariot” were “dressed all funny.” A gentleman then resident in Four Lanes made several trips across the Channel in the pursuit of this profitable trade. Sometimes it was necessary to resort to such stratagems as hiding liquor in coffins, or other unlikely hiding-places, to escape the vigilance of the preventive men, but often underground hiding-places were specially excav­ated. Some time ago such a smuggler’s bolt was discovered by the subsidence of a garden wall in Stithian’s Row, Four Lanes. Although reports were published in the Press (e.g., The Cornubian) at the time, I can gather no record of what was found; if any reader has any information or newspaper-cuttings regarding this I should be glad if he would communicate them. 

At Cam Brea village, near Redruth Churchtown, there is a row of whitewashed cottages. Although most of these are fairly modern i.e. 1920’s, one of them (I believe the third in the row) is apparently much older. When some alterations were being carried out, a large space was discovered in one of its walls, the only apparent outlet being a small window in the back of the house. It could not have been part of the old open fireplace, as the open grate was in the wall opposite: the thickness of the wall had often been com­mented upon before. Local opinion conjectured that it was a forgotten smuggling store-place.

Many of the farms of Wendron and the district around possess caves cut in the marl or pot-granite. These usually consist of a tunnel, extending in one case for fifty feet, with branches on either side. These branches are not usually more than ten or twelve feet in length, but one that branched from the main tunnel at Mount Wise, near Carn Menellis, took sixty cartloads of material to fill the gap it left after it had collapsed beneath the weight of a steam’ tractor. There are, or were, examples of these caves at Mount Wise, Filtrick, Gregwartha, Hendra, North Penhalurick, and a farm near Penhalvean. Although the prominent positions of some of these forbid the view that they were excavated for smuggling, it is more than probable that they were occasionally used as hiding-places by smugglers. It is likely that they were first made, however, for a purpose similar to that which they served until recently, that of storing roots, etc. They were so used for potatoes, many sacks of which were heaped inside, the entrance being then filled in with earth, thus protecting them from frost in the severest winter. The entrances of some have an extremely ancient look and there is a remote possibility that some such may be of early date, as similar tunnels are sometimes connected with undoubtedly ancient Logos or passage-chambers. My reason for mentioning them at such length, is to record the purpose to which they were recently put, before this, too, is forgotten and “lost in the mists of antiquity.”

A Glimpse of Smuggling

By D. de L. Nicholls

First published in Old Cornwall Autumn 1981

The smuggling trade through Norway House was run on a financially sound basis with two families in Guernsey. The enterprise was clearly designed to take advantage of the Early Charters held by Guernsey which exempted her from paying revenue to British Customs. When George Ill found himself short of revenue during the Napoleonic Wars, he renewed efforts to impose Customs and Excise officers on Guernsey. Relying on their Charters, Guernsey refused. In 1767 Customs and Excise managed to attain a precarious foothold in Jersey and. Guernsey. But they were later routed, in fact 1775 became known as the Golden age of smuggling.

The families who shared the enterprise with Norway House, the Priaulx and the Tuppers (related to Victor Hugo), lived overlooking St. Peter Port where many of the vaults were under their command.

Now came the discovery of the subtle improvement in flavour of wines and spirits matured in the caves under the climate of Guernsey. This led to the opening of a regular and facile route between that Channel Island and Cornwall.

The Priaulx traded directly with Roscoff: the Norways then traded directly with Guernsey. As a precedent, the trafficking between Lanlivery and Guernsey, run on successful business lines, may reveal a glimpse “as the gentlemen go by.”

A cargo of brandy cost £1500 in Guernsey, and sold in England for £3000. A gallon cost 3/3 smuggled, but 5/4 over a counter.

When the ancestral home in a parish provided the finance, captain and crew were never lacking. On the word Captain would hire a boat £150, also £100 to pay 4 crewmen £25 each. Then £1 per tub was banked to cover expenses.

Even before landing the galley was recognised by knowing men and women on farms on the cliffs, especially one farm overlooking Polmear. On nearing the entrance to Fowey harbour, the cutter drew in towards the small bay. Here two deep steps have been cut into the rock face providing a smuggler, loaded with a tub means to make his way to the long tunnel in the south cliff which led under fields to the farmhouse above. The tunnel opened in the dairy. From the farm a field path led with all appearance of innocence, down to the roadway, where stood conveniently the-Ship Inn.

If the way were clear to slip into the harbour, signals having been exchanged as to “strangers” being about, rowers took their cargo up the river. The goods weighed several tons. To compete with the shallow river, at the first creek smugglers transferred their cargo to barges. Word went swiftly round. Farmers were waiting at many creeks upstream. After dark goods were unloaded at short quays. Nightfall was the favoured time for landings. On drawing up to the quay the Captain landed and took his stance. Beside him stood a man with a lantern, his back to the wind. All was quiet and orderly. The men were bonded by trust and there were no loafers nor drunkards among them. That firmest of all bonds, a common enemy, held them. A joke which scored off the Excise men was greeted with high glee. The farmer was heard with relish whose wife’s quick wits won when she heard the Revenue men approach: she pulled the pins from her hair, stood it on end, rolled her eyes and gibbered. The Excise men took one look and fled, leaving her seated on a tub of brandy!

  Smuggling called for men who were athletic and muscular, with presence of mind and who welcomed risks. The Cornish, being Celtic, had that innate romanticism and were acknowledged in the smuqgling world for their lack of viciousness and brutality. During summer months miners often formed part of the crew. To travel over to Guernsey or even Roscoff, would have provided the essentials their way of life lacked.

  With the assured protection from families of standing as here, the 19 farmers on the estate soon showed a reckless daring. Indeed Squire as J.P., M.P. was conversant with every form of rescue. In 1788 Capt. John Carter, the widely heralded “King of Prussia,” was sheltered by Lanlivery though £300 was offered for his apprehension. He came to rest with a sorely injured eye. Leeches had failed. A doctor operated. After 6 days the King of Prussia, much relieved, returned to “duties” unapprehended.

  Squire Nicholas Kendall of Pelyn in Lanlivery, though the house is Elizabethan, had cellars under the entire house. Although under 2 miles inland, his connections with the Norways soon become unmistakeable.

  A great uncle of the writer, Osmond Priaulx, made many journeys from Guernsey, between 1870 and 1890, staying at Norway house or with his cousin Nicholas Kendall at Pelyn. He recounted how landings took place at nightfall. A landing at Lanlivery quay could amount to 15 tons of goods, tea and spirits. Being essentially a country parish silks were seldom of the cargo.

  As word preceeded the landings, ponies were loaned or borrowed unknown. A cousin named Barry, aged 95 in 1970 remembered staying with her uncle, Frank Kendall at Lanlivery vicarage in 1885. He would come in to breakfast rumbling with rage. “The horses were left groomed and fed. Now they are out there covered with mud.” One morning he came in beaming. There was a tub of brandy in the stable! An old man who lived near Fowey harbour as a boy, told me how his mother spotted a smugglers’ cutter unfailingly. He would be sent out to row over with bottles of “lemonade” if accosted, and returned, his bottles well filled with spirits.

Finally there are three sequences that comply with this glimpse of the smuggling world. On 8th of May, 1863 Nicholas Kendall married Clair de Lancey Priaulx. When the traffic began to grow, Roscoff with her vaults and cellars was chosen as the port of trade.

  In 1973 the Western Morning News reported that “the last remaining Customs Officer was being withdrawn from Guernsey because of shortage of Customs and Excise in England. They were first sent to Guernsey in 1805 to stamp out smuggling.

Cornish Smugglers

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Fishing Out Of Newlyn

By J. Kelynack

  First published in Old Cornwall Vol. Journal , Page

NEWLYN West nestles at the foot of a hill on the N.W. shore of Mount’s Bay. It was once a fishing village, but since the formation of the new harbour it has become popular and important as a port, and is now linked up with Penzance.

  Newlyn is divided. The lower part, first reached when walking westward from Penzance, lies on each side of a river and is known as Street-an-Nowan, which name was formerly affixed to a house opposite where now the “Sailors’ Rest” stands. On this side was a saw-pit, and long ago an annual fair was held here.

  Newlyn Town, the higher and southern part, was approached by crossing a pretty sandy beach, with a low stone bridge for use when the sea covered the beach. Mounting a slip, one stood on the cliff, for some distance along which and up the hillside cobbled streets of houses stood.

Street-an-Nowan and Newlyn Town are now connected by a good broad road. At one end stands a big Fish Market.

From the river to almost the southern extremity of Newlyn there is a commodious and safe harbour formed by two piers, North and South, built about fifty years ago. The need for a harbour at Newlyn was felt because Penzance Harbour was so dangerous to enter in southerly gales, and there was not always sufficient water to take boats in, while Newlyn could be reached in all weathers and at all states of the tide. To-day the harbour affords shelter to fishing and trading craft from various parts. Steam mackerel-drifters from the East Coast lie side by side with Belgian boats, crabbers from Brittany and Brixham trawlers. Steam-ships discharge cargoes of coal, and alongside the South Pier are others being laden with stone (blue elvan) for road-making.

Comparatively few local fishing-boats are observed. They have been ousted by bigger and more up-to-date vessels, which can go faster and farther to fishing grounds and also stay longer before bringing their catches to market for sale. From 45 to 50 years ago a fleet of about 200 mackerel.drifters sailed from Newlyn to the fishing grounds, but these boats have gradually dwindled down to about 20.

Mackerel fishing was carried on from March to June, off the Scillies, Ireland and France. Each lugger was manned by seven men and carried a train of 50 nets, each 5o fathoms long—12,500 ft., about 2 miles.

In the early parts of the season, mackerel were caught near enough for landings to be made every day or two; but later, when the fish were farther off, nearer the Irish and French coasts, the takings were borne to St. Mary’s, Isles of Scilly, there sold by salesmen from Newlyn, and purchased by buyers also from the home port, the salesmen and buyers spending the week from Monday to Friday at St. Mary’s. In succession three ships, the Queen of the Bay, the Lady of the Isles, and Lyonesse conveyed all the fish to Penzance for despatch to the Metropolis by rail.

Lists of the various luggers and their respective catches were sent by the salesmen from Scilly and taken by the waiting messenger with all haste “home” to the officer of the firm for which he worked. Here an eager crowd of children, and often women, waited to know whether the boat concerned was “listed,” some going away light­heartedly, others despondently, at the result. On Saturdays the money realised from the week’s toil was shared by the captain at his home, the members of the crew being present.

All seasons, even in those days, were not prosperous. Some dragged on and on with very poor catches. When the lesson was read from Numbers XXII. in Church, one would hear the remark, “Baalam and Balak was read in the lesson to-day: no more fish now, the season is over This would just mark the time when big catches of fish could no longer be expected.

As soon as the season ended the boats were “belayed,” and all nets were washed, dried, repaired, and stowed away in the loft until required.

Nets were preserved by “barking” or tanning with catechu in huge vats, then they were spread in the fields, on the beaches, or on the grass at the foot of St. Michael’s Mount to dry: children delighted in sailing to the Mount or to the beach under the Promenade, Penzance, with the nets. That is past history. Few in Newlyn to-day would have participated in that pleasure.

Next, all the big boats were fitted out for the Irish herring-season. Every boat was scraped, caulked,- tarred and painted, nets were placed in the “net room,” and provisions to last a few days taken on board. Bags of hard ship’s-biscuit and fresh beef from Penzance formed the bulk of the food store.

The boats, now arrived off the Irish coast, fished out of Howth. The men had their favourite resorts. Newlyn men visited Kingstown, and Mousehole men Ardglass, on Sundays. (see editors note).

As the fish travelled North, the boats followed them and fished from the Manx ports. Peel, Douglas, Derby-haven and Castletown were favourite resorts.

Still the herring travelled farther North, and the luggers, arriving in the Clyde, entered the locks through which they were towed to the East coast. Eyemouth and Berwick were the first ports of call.

Southward they came down to Hartlepool, Whitby and Scarboro’, the North Sea herring ports. On making the homeward voyage, which took about one week with fair wind, a few boats fished out of Lowestoft, also. More recently Mount’s Bay boats have gone as far as Aberdeen for the herring-season.

The fleet generally arrived home for Paul Feast, in October. What treasures were in the boat’s lockers and sea-chests for those at home! They were gradually collected: liquorice and broad-figs from the Isle of Man, glass and china, dolls for the girls, and toys—such novelties and strange sweetmeats!

During the summer, seining was carried on in Mount’s Bay in large rowing-boats built for the purpose. Mackerel-seining was pursued in June. A “school” of mackerel was a fine sight. On a smooth sea there first appeared what one might take for a gentle breeze ruffling the surface. This spread and deepened until the whole became a splashing, tumbling mass.

Smaller luggers, “pilchard.drifters,” were prepared for catching this specially Cornish fish, the pilchard season lasting from June to September.

Pilchards were caught in Mount’s Bay, the pilchard ­drifters leaving the harbour at 4 p.m. to arrive on the “ground” and “shoot” nets at sunset.

Each boat had a crew of three men and carried 12 nets, each “250” long (25 fathoms). When the nets were shot they extended for more than half-a-mile, and to these the boats “rode” and drifted with the current. No prettier picture was ever witnessed than that from Gwavas Hill, on a summer night about 9-30 or io o’clock, when all the lights of the little pilchard-drifters, dotted about under a velvety, star-lit sky, formed a crescent around the outer part of the bay and looked like fairyland.

At 10.30 or 11 p.m., the nets were hauled in, and the boat made for port. One often heard a quiet call from a watcher on the cliff, “What fish have ‘ee got ?“ and the equally subdued reply in a deep voice, so many “hogsheads,” “thousands,” or “hundreds,” and occasion­ally “Not a life !“

At times a boy or girl, or two, or a visitor, would be taken out “pilchard-driving.” What an experience was theirs when a good catch rewarded the fishermen’s efforts, to see the glistening fish being drawn into the boat out of the deep, dark water! These pilchards were all disposed of in the early mornings to jousters, or to local fish-curers.

During September and October pilchard-seining took place. This was one of the most exciting and interesting of all the seasons. The pilchards first made their appear­ance off Newquay, then gradually travelled down all round the coast to Mount’s Bay and on to Mevagissey. The seine-boats for Mount’s Bay were kept at Gunwalloe, Mullion and Cadgwith, the fishery having died out at Newlyn, Mousehole and the Mount, formerly all dependent on it. When news came that the pilchards had passed Newquay, the “huers” at Mullion were ever on the watch on the cliffs.

As soon as a school was sighted, the signal was given to the crew of the “seine-boat,” a long open rowing-boat with a great hump of net in the centre. Beside her were the “tuck-boat” and “cock-boat.”

All hands were in readiness, and at the sign speedily pulled out from the shelter of some rocky headland to the spot indicated. Bonfires were lighted to signal to the Western Shore for boats to come for fish, and as soon as the blaze was seen the cry went up, “Hevva! Fire in Mullion!”

Such a commotion in the sea met the eyes of the delighted seiners !—Here were millions of pilchards dancing and leaping out of the blue water and lashing it to fury. What a prize if the men are quick enough! They encircle the “school” with the heavy seine and draw the ends securely together; to keep the fish in the enclosure the boys in the “cock-boats” frantically splash with their oars, and plunge big round stones slung on ropes up and down in the water to the cry of “Plouncy, boys! Plouncy !“

Meanwhile the encircling net is drawn closer and closer, and those in the “tuck-boat” dip up basketful after basketful of silvery fish into the waiting huggers, whose crews, on hearing the familiar cry of “Hevva !“ carried from street to street, emptied their boats of nets to fetch a load. They fill up till they are deep down to the gunwale in the water, and so return home across the bay.

Eager hands await the harvest of the sea, and the precious burden is carried, by men, women and children up the slip-ways and stiff streets, to the cellars in readiness to receive them. Horses and carts toil up the inclines by the aid of torches as the night advances. Women bend under the weight in their cowals. One might see three persons carrying two baskets of fish between them, and children following, picking up what fell out of the baskets.

Now let us look at the cellar, It is a big stone-paved court with lofts, or the dwelling-house, over part; these being supported by tall granite pillars. The covered portion is paved closely with very small oval stones in cambered strips, divisions being made for drainage with long narrow pieces of wood. The rest is open to the sky. About four or five feet above the pavement, and at intervals along the walls, are square apertures to accommodate the ends of long beams, or “pressing-poles.”

When the pilchards reached their destination the whole cellar was illuminated by candles, and everyone was busy till far into the night. As soon as day-light appeared, men and women were again in the cellars to start the curing of the fish. “Bulking” was the first process. This meant the forming of huge piles of pilchards on the small paving stones, in alternate layers of fish and salt, the outer row showing all the fishes’ heads. These “bulks” were allowed to remain 3 weeks before the fish were considered cured and fit to “break out.” Now the salted pilchards, known as “fairmaids,” were washed in a kieve, or huge wooden tray having a grating in the bottom through which the fish scales could drop. From this the pilchards were lifted on a big griddle into a wooden stand, having a barred bottom, on high legs. This stand containing the fish was carried by two men to the women already waiting to pack the “fairmaids,” into hogsheads, numbers of which were standing in readiness against the walls, under the apertures.

Each woman placed as many fish as she could on her open palm in the shape of a fan and placed them in the hogshead, head to cask, until the circle was complete. The centre. called the “rose,” was filled in alternately head and tail, this being repeated until the cask was full. A heavy wooden cover called a “buckler,” was next placed on top, with blocks on its inner side for leverage. A long “pressing­pole,” inserted in the aperture above and projecting some distance beyond the cask, was weighted at the end by means of a big, rounded “pressing-stone” hung by its hook on a rope sling, and so the fish were pressed for 2 or 3 hours. At the end of this time the cask needed a refill. 24 hours later a further repacking was necessary, and at the end of two days the final “back-laying” was done. - This time all the backs of the fish were uppermost. Two thousand “fairmaids” were now in each hogshead, and the whole had a last pressing before the cooper came to “head in” the cask. Buyers’ agents next came to examine the fish, which were weighed, and, if approved, passed and stamped with the purchaser’s name, usually “Bolitho & Co.” They were then despatched to their destination, Italy, in schooners, and later, steamships.

Each hogshead of fairmaids fetched about £3. Everything from the pilchard was valuable. Nothing was lost. The oil obtained through pressing, was sold for refining and came back as—who knows? Drugs, the scum, were sold for lubricating engine-wheels. The salt, used in preserving the fish, was sought after by the farmers for manuring their land.

At the settling up of the season’s accounts, the “seines’ account” took the form of a feast at one of the inns. Punch was the drink, and the toast was, “Long life to the Pope, death to our best friends, and may our streets run in blood !“ No wonder such a toast was pledged when the pilchard industry was so remunerative.  

Editors note:-  J Kelynacks grandfather was a partner in a fishing boat with  Henry Vingoe. In 1840 they were fishing the Irish sea and this report appears in the Collectanea Cornubiensia by George Clement Boase.

Pg. 1452: under "Recollections of the Irish Church". written by Richard Sinclair Brooks M.D., Pubpilshed by Macmillian & Co. 1877.

"Contains under date of 1840 Notices of John Kelynack, Henry Vingoe, Thomas James (who was afterwards drowned) Nicholas Wright, Hitchens, Boyns and of Simmons (who died of consumption). These men were in Ireland fishing and Brooke held a service on board their boat at Kingston Harbour."

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CORNISH WRESTLING.

By H. PASCOE.

  First published in Old Cornwall Vol.1, Journal 2.

Cornwall is a happy hunting ground to the Antiquarian, and it seems quite natural that a pastime handed down from the days of antiquity should have been preserved there.

As to the origin of this ancient game we can merely indulge in flights of fancy. We might stretch the old legend and claim Corinaens as the first Cornish champion three thousand years ago, and we might stretch it a bit farther and claim that his bout with the giant Gog Magog on Plymouth Hoe, was the first of those inter-county (Devon and Cornwall) matches that retained their popularity even to the middle of the last century.

But to find authentic records we are obliged to leave the remote past, however wistful a look we throw in that direction, and to plunge into mediaeval times, when wrestling was a common sport throughout the length and breadth of Merrie England, special skill in the exercise being the hall­mark of Cornishmen. In "The White Company" Sir A. Conan Doyle gives us a charming mediaeval scene at "The Pied Merlin" (a scene, by the way, that one would like to see on the stage), terminating in a wrestling match between Sankin Aylward and Hordle John. In view of the fact that the former threw 

his opponent by a variation of that quick " fore-heep," known as the " flying mare." I have never quite forgiven the author for not making Aylward a Cornishman. No man named Sankin Aylward ever stepped in Cornwall—out of a book.

It is well known that Cornishmen fought in the French wars of those days, and it is pretty well established that the Cornish contingent following King Henry V. to Agincourt, 1415, marched under a banner on which was depicted a pair of wrestlers in a " hitch,"

"A silver tower Dorset's red banner bears.

The Cornishmen two wrestlers had for theirs."

(Drayton's Agincourt)

One feels that the banner floating proudly over the Cornish quarters was a direct yet friendly challenge to the rest of the British Army, and when the moment came for the archers to discard their bows and draw their swords with .i " God for Harry, England and St George ! " I have no doubt that our hardy ancestors were amongst the first in the charge that overthrew the enemy.

Less than a hundred years later, we find Henry VIII. requesting  Godolphin to supply a number of Cornish it wrastlers " to compete in a great sporting carnival at Calais. (The Field of the Cloth of Gold, 1521) It is said that the Cornishmen justified their choice by winning.

The game "seems to have been generally similar to the Cornish game still in use. In the common game, the hold was taken by the collar and waistband, in the prize game the body was stripped to the waist, and each (wrestler) had a girdle something like a shawl, over one shoulder and under the other, for his opponent to take hold of."

Carew, writing in 1588, mentioned the girdle—" This (Cornish wrestling) hath also his laws, of taking hold only above girdle, wearing a girdle to take hold by. .

After Tudor Times, wrestling, as a common pastime, died out, except in the North West, (Westmorland and Cumberland) and South West (Devon and Cornwall). In the North-west the shawl, or sash, or girdle has entirely disappeared, but the "sash" hold still survives, and, indeed is the one and only hold now permitted. That is to sa^y each wrestler must take his hold by putting his arms over one and under the other shoulder of his opponent, locking his fingers at the back before the umpires (or as we should say "sticklers ") give the word to go. There are recognised hitches or tricks such as " the outside hipe," "the inside hipe " " the back heel" and so on, "hipe" like the Cornish " heep' being a corruption of the word "hip." In the South­west the sash appears to have grown bigger and bigger until it became " the jacket." When Polkinghorne returned after his celebrated match with Cann in 1826, his Cornish admirers presented him with a "championship sash" which is now the property of the County Wrestling Association.

Two hundred years ago the jacket was almost tight fitting and small enough to be called a "vest." To-day it is big, loose, coarse and ugly. "Coat" is no name for it. We can scarcely call it an implement-or an instrument, although it might easily prove an instrument of torture to a man of to delicate skin. The only name suitable to the stiff canvas abomination seems to be "jacket." In the Westmorland‑ Cumberland game, the competitors appear in the ring as athletes should appear, clad to show the symmetry of their form.            The body of a Greek god would be " uglified " by the jacket.  It is only when that grotesque garment has been gathered," or better still when it is laid aside at the end of a bout that we realise the physical beauty of the wrestlers. Although Cornish wrestling, like " Punch," is not so good as it used to be, and we might use the witty rejoinder of a late editor of that national journal and say that it never was, nevertheless the palmy days of the game appear to belong to the periods of its unrecorded history. Carew tells us that " ^you shall hardly find an assembly of boys in Devon or Cornwall where the most untowardly amongst them will not as readilly give you a muster of their exercise, as you are prone to require it. . .

This practice            was            common amongst our grandfathers in the game of"shuffle hats and wrastle "—hats being tossed into a ring and paired to decide the order in which their owners should wrestle off—and is yet struggling to survive in one or two remote districts. (Carew) intimates that the pastime had, even in his time, already declined in          some            degree from     its former  pre‑ eminence.

Fuller (16o8-1661) says, " The Cornish are masters of the Art of Wrestling, so that if the Olympic games were now in fashion, they would come away with victory... Wrestling was not then a gentle exercise; perhaps it is scarcely a gentle exercise as we know it to-day. Gilbert's " History            of Cornwall" speaks of former "desperate wrestling matches" and we learn from Shakespeare's " As You like it," how a champion might deal with his opponents….. .”the eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the Duke's wrestler ; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him; so he served the second and the third."   After which   feat, we are pleased            to note, the celebrated Charles was faced by the handsome, curly-headed young hero. and naturally (and quite properly, too), was himself carried off on the ambulance.

A prototype of Charles, although we may trust he was not so brutal, was the Cornishman Lyttleton Weyworth who had the honour of wrestling before Charles 1I.

Skill in the pastime was not confined to any particular class.            The "hero" quoted above was a young nobleman. John Goit, a champion during Elizabeth's reign, was a sea captain " upon often trial." and a friend of Carew. The Reverend Richard Stevens (born 1656) "who prized himself for skill in wrestling " was headmaster of the Truro Grammar School, and William Parson (born 1722), "several years champion of Cornwall," was the respectable parish clerk of Sithney.

It seems impossible to find descriptions of wrestling matches before the days of newspapers, but accounts of tournaments during the first half of the last century are fairly common.

A meet]ng at any of the larger centres, such as Truro, Falmouth, Redruth, etc., drew together thousands of spectators and usually lasted at least two days, sometimes three—the first day wholly occupied in wrestling off for "standers " or, as generally pronounced to-day, "standards," a standard being a player who reached the third round by vanquishing two opponents. The following day was devoted to wrestling for prizes. The practice of awarding cash is a comparatively recent innovation—say a hundred years old. Prizes consisted of gold-laced hats, silver-laced hats, silver goblets, gold and silver lined baskets, beaver hats, pairs of gloves, and even pairs of leather breeches. There are still to be seen silver goblets won by the great Parkyn of St. Columb, but one concludes that the hats and breeches have long since become too worn and shabb^y for exhibition.

Parkyn held the ring for upwards of twenty-five years until he gave place to Polkinghorne (born at St. Keverne 1788), who was successively landlord of the King's Arms and Red Lion Inns at St. Columb. Polkinghorne sprang into fame by vanquishing the Devon Champions Flower and Jackson at the inter-county meeting of 1816, and was the greatest figure in Cornish Wrestling until 1826, when he met Abraham Cann in the historic match at Morice Town, Devonport. Many inaccuracies have crept into recent descriptions of these men and their match. Anyway it was a draw, and it appears to mark the close of a period abounding in talent, brawn and muscle on both sides of the Tamar, and also the magnitude of the stakes appears to have exercised a baneful influence on the pastime just as fabulous purses to^.dav exercise a baneful influence on the sport of boxing. From this date Cornish Wrestling began to languish, and later (after Gundry's day) fell into a serious decline. Ill-health compelled Cann to retire from the arena while Polkinghorne's fame and figure forced on him the role of stickler. It is interesting to recall that those desperate rivals put their heads together as sticklers twenty years afterwards, when Gundry won the Devon and Cornwall Championships at Camden Town, London, in 1846.

Without any doubt, Gundry, whose memory has not yet wholly vanished, takes rank amongst the very greatest exponents of the art. There is little to be said of the period from 1850 to 1900, although a few players of outstanding merit are still remembered (notably Treglown in the West, who followed hard on Gundrv, twenty years later Philip Hancock of St. Austell, who is yet living, hale and hearty, at Mullion, and about 1890 the brawny Pearce of Wendron), but inter-County matches died out, and the game had not only fallen into decline—it had fallen into disrepute.

The present revival—so well fostered and encouraged by the County Association—really dates from twent^y years ago, when the Chapmans of St. Wenn took the ring. Those brothers, each of them dead game to the last ounce, infused new life into the pastime, and, perhaps unconsciously, helped to prepare the ground for the new growth now springing up under the auspices of the Association.

The following describes a meeting that took place just before the Great War. Readers who followed the sport in those days will recognise some of the characters portrayed.

Blue sky overhead, green sward under foot, a light breeze from the sea, a ring 40 yards in diameter—rimmed with spectators ten deep—quick play of hand and foot, and the rigour of the game, the game that has been played in Cornwall from time immemorial!

The " wrastlers " shyly and awkwardly come up to the committee tent and give in their names. They are then matched according to their weight and record. They wrestle off in rounds on the knock-out system and, when the entries are many, two pairs often simultaneously take the arena. Each competitor must strip to the buff and don the regula­tion loose canvas " jacket." His other raiment consists only of tight-fitting drawers and (sometimes) stockings. He must not grip his opponent below the waist, but he rarely tries for a body hold. He plays to get his favourite "hitch" on the jacket, and the hitch is often suggestive of" ju-jitsu."

When a man is thrown on his back so that at least three of the four points touch the ground at the same time (two shoulders and a pin, or two pins and a shoulder) his opponent has gained a " back " and becomes a "standard" (i'e. he is standing) for the next round.

There is no struggle for mastery on the mat. He may play for the "cramp arm and heel " hitch, the " fore hip," the " under heave," the "back step " or any other, or he may give his man the "flying mare,' but always three "sticklers" (umpires with sticks—old men wise in the craft aforetime) slowly revolve round each player to see that the wrestling is bona fide and the hitch a fair one. At each fall the stickers solemnly put their heads together, a nod of profound gravity signifying a " back " and a shake of more profound gravity, " no back."

Exponents of the ancient sport assemble from all parts of the county to contend for money prizes varying from ten pounds (often with a cup or belt) to ten shillings.

The pair of youngsters with round faces, sturdy bodies and legs, and beautiful brown arms, are from the clay works—where the most beautiful brown arms in Britain are to be found. They struggle together like young bulls, but neither will stand long when he meets a slippery light­weight from -St. Stephens or Nanpean (also in the clay district) in the second round.

The lanky lad wrestling in trousers is a farm hand from Tregadillet and he is matched against a dangerous-looking fisherman fronm Mevagissey. ("Mevagissey' sibilantly swelling sounds like a roller hissing up the sand.") They will put up a great bout and whichever wins is pretty safe for a prize.

The game little fellow entered under a nom de guerre and matched against a travelling scissors-grinder is a yeoman farmer. Against every opponent he will wrestle fiercely—neither asking nor giving quarter—and at the end of the day he will drive off in his own car.

Getting slowly into the " jacket " is an oldish man long past his prime. He is foolish and unfortunate—foolish, because he thinks to reproduce the form of his youth, and unfortunate because he is matched against an active and saucy boy. When at last he came down heavily on his stiff old back every bone in his body cracks.

There is the best light-weight, growing a little bald, alwa^ys smiling pleasantly and handling his men gently and with the touch of an artist. His plan of campaign is to work his way into the last round and then give his back to the champion heavy-weight (against whom he would be hopelessly outmatched) thus qualifying for second prize.

The romantic figure of the champion with his pale and eager face, is as striking as a Greek statue. He scarcely looks a "heavy," but the rippling muscles of his back and chest tell of enormous strength. He will throw every man he meets this year, and next year, and—until the time comes when "youth will be served, my masters." There is many a trophy in his mother's parlour which his skill and courage have gained for him in the mining camps of America and South Africa. Neither he nor his scarcely less famous brothers have ever been known to give their "backs" in the wrestling ring. He is sure of a place on the roll of fame in company with other great names.

Incidents are not wanting. An old man is tripped up by a promising youngster. Brute strength and weight are tossed heels over head by craft and cunning, The over-fat player worried by a sinewy stripling is, in the words of a spectator, " steaming like a crock." A novice of tender years—trying on the "jacket" for the first time— is gently laid to rest on mother earth by our friendly light-weight.

As a popular sport, wrestling is unique. We all know the clean game of cricket, with all its keeness, with its white-flannelled, sun-browned players, and well-dressed spectators, and we know football and the cigarette-smoking mob who invade the ground (mostly looking unable to afford the entrance price) often to jeer at the opposing team, and always to howl at the referee.

The wrestling crowd is very different. They are com­fortable. Thev don't hurry to the ground. They take it easy, and they smoke pipes. They are not excitable and they never howl at the sticklers. (" What, never ? Well, hardly ever.") The most offensive remarks hurled at these impressive veterans rapt in the play, is when one of them —himself a -' bony wrestler" in his day, but now running to weight and breadth of beam—allows his burly figure to block the view of half the field. Then we hear a chorus "Move round there, Sticklers ! " And the wrestlers them­selves— modest fellows some of them, chewing straws and sitting round in groups before they enter the ring—game to the last ounce, are the best tempered sports­men in the world. You may see an experienced heavy­weight lay a novice on his back with rough kindness—as you would chuck over a Newfoundland puppy--and when the heavy-weight's heels are knocked out—knocking him out of the prize list too—there is no malice in his grin as he shakes the hand of his vanquisher. 

The second and later rounds sort out the prize winners and at the finish, shyly and awkwardly as at first, the wrestlers come forward for their money, and if you happen to meet one of them afterwards in the street or on the railway station, where he is not at all an imposing figure, you will be wise to remember the advice of Polonius and "beware of entrance to a quarrel." With a grip on the collar and cuff of your coat he can give you a turn which will land you, half a dozen yards away, on your head.

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"Deadwood Dick," a Famous Cornishman
By FRED BULLOCK

ON the 20th of August, 1847, at Ruthros (known locally as Ruthers) in the Parish of St. Columb Major, was born a boy who later in lift' became a very noted character. 

This was Riehard Bullock, known the world over as ''Deadwood Dick'. Brought up in a humble home at Ruthros, a village of some 20 houses only, he moved at an early stage with his Parents to Retew not far away, in the Parish of
St Enoder.

His father, John Bullock, I believe came originally from Devonshire. He married Elizabeth Liddicoat. The family Bible shows that they had eight children Jane, who became Skews by marriage; Elizabeth, who married Jack Kessel; Thomas, later known to everyone as "Uncle Tom,'' who married Kate Boundy; John who married a Rowe; Richard "Deadwood Dick) who married Susie Poad; William, who married Annie Staple; Albert who married Kate Thomas of St. Stephens and Fanny, who died when she was three years old.Their father, Captain John Bullock, as he was locally known, became the manager of a clay work at Retew belonging to the firm of Messts. Robert Dunn & Co., of St. Austell, and most of his Sons incluing William, my father worked at onetime or another under him. They were big- limbed, strong men, and in the daily routine had many opportunities of showing their strength. The clay in those days was carried by horse-wagons to Grampound Road G.W.R. Station,
about 6 miles from Retew. There was then no universal education, and I have heard my father say that. he learnt to write his own name with a small piece of clay on the tail of a wagon, whilst carrying the clay to Grampound Road.

The Gun and Sporting held a front-rank place in the lives of all the young men of this family, they were without exception excellent shots, and missed no opportunity of a day's sport. They were all very mechanically minded too, which perhaps helped to make them so successful in shooting. This ability still runs in the family, be the marksman a Bullock, a Skews, a Kessel, a Liddicoat, or even a Crowle (an offshoot of the Liddicoats). I remember how on many occasions my father would be "lost", and if the question came, "Where's Cap'n Bill ? it was generally safe to answer, "Gone off with the gun".

The family were all ardent Free Methodists and worshipped at the Queens United Methodist Free Church, now known as Immanuel Church, which is in the St. Columb and. Padstow Circuit. Richard Bullock was for years a valued member of the choir there. It is remembered that at one early morning Christmas-Day Service he had to take a prominent part in singing "Unto us a Child is born", which caused some amusement since his own only child, Maurice, had been born not many days before. 

Pigeon-Shooting had a fascination for Dick Bullock, as he was then always called, and he invariably took first prize. I am indebted to my friend Mr. A. J. Hocking of Fraddon for the following : - 

"Dick Bullock as a young man was my father's great friend and shooting partner, and whenever I think of him, I call to mind stories I have often heard regarding their shooting. When Dick was 18 years of age and my father, Ned Hocking, was 16, they decided to compete in their first pigeon-shooting match, to be held at St. Stephen ­in- Brannel Feast Week On their way to St.. Stephen Churchtown, going through Meledor, Dick announced to a roadman working there that they were going to bring back first and second prizes, a feat which they actually acomplish­ed! Many times, too, I have heard the tale of Dick Bullock marking-in four partridges, in what was later known as Daniel Crowle's Moor. When his dog flushed the birds, two taking to the right and two to the left, with his double-barrelled gun he shot the four of them, two with each shot. - partly luck, of course. 

Dick went to America soon after his son Maurice was born, and when later he received a letter from his friend Ned Hocking informing him that Mrs. Hocking had given birth to a daughter, Dick sent his congratulations and jocularly added, 'I suppose you will soon be putting your girl and my son to spark (go courting) now?'"

Dick when he went to America was probably about 25 or 26 years old. He worked in the mines there for about ten years, but I well remember when a lad my father receiving letters from him later which contained news-cuttings from the American papers recounting some of his exploits as "Deadwood Dick". These letters were very terse, and while be might let himself go a little on the subject of guns and sporting dogs he had little to say of himself or his doings as reported in the cuttings, beyond that he was well.

A book recently written by a well-known author and lecturer, Mr. Escott North- The Saga of the Cowboy- devotes a page or two to "Deadeyed Dirk," and a Western Morning News review of this led to some interesting correspondence about him. The Bodmin Guardian, in l921 following his death, also told the main facts of his life, including his Cornish origins. It was not until he was 35 that Richard Bullock began to get famous. While then working in the Black Hills, South Dakota, as a miner, he became so exasperated at hearing how regularly the stage-coaches took their hard-won gold to the settlements were held up and robbed, that be gave up mining, buckled on his six-shooter, and volunteered himself as a bullion-guard for the Homestake Mine, then owned by Senator George Hearst, who was the father of the famed newspaper proprietor.

His best-known feat in this capacity was shooting "Lame Johnny," a road-bandit with a terrible record. Bullock was guarding the Deadwood stage, on its trip over the old Cheyenne route when, just as it turned on to Hurricane Flats, "Lame Johnny" confidently stepped out to hold it up. In a flash the very surprised outlaw was dropped in his tracks" by Dick, and after it was made quite certain that he would hold up no more coaches the stage went safely on. It was this and perhaps other such quick-shooting deeds on the Deadwood stage that gained him the name of Deadwood Dick."

Secured long after by Col. W.F.Cody for his "Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show," The "Deadwood Coach" itself largely partook in Dick's fame and thrilled thousands in the realistic encounters with redskins in war-paint and feathers and road-agents armed to the teeth as staged in a great travelling hippodrome. Mr. Escott in a letter to Old Cornwall suggests that the old
stage-coach may still exist at 'Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, where he was told, after "Buffalo Bill's" show had ceased to tour Europe and America it found a more restful place of exhibition.

After leaving the employ of the Homestake Mine "Deadwood Dick" continued to wage war with his unerring six-shooter upon the "bad men" of the wild West, and a series of stories has been written about him, true or well. invented,
until his name, sometimes varied to "One. eyed Dick" or "Dead-eye Dick," has become almost proverbial, for marvellous shooting and coolness in dangerous situations. No doubt he did much to bring respect for the law into places where it was lightly held. With him as Homestake bullion-guards were two Los Angeles men; Herbert B. Eakin and W. R. Dickinson, and it was beside these two old companions of former days that he spent the last quiet years of his life. He died at Thorncroft Sanatorium, Glendale, California, in 1921, aged 73.

His only son, Mr. Maurice Bullock, now also dead, for many years lived at Bodieve, near Wadebridge. His parents, John and Elizabeth Bullock, were both buried at St. Enoder, where the headstone bearing their names can be seen on the right as one enters the church.