The Birthright: being the adventurous history of Jaspar Pennington, etc

Front matter

THE BIRTHRIGHT "As I looked something dark and formless seemed to rise from the crock ; but 1 saw nothing distinctly " (/. 207). THE BIRTHRIGHT BEING THE ADVENTUROUS HIS TORY OF JASPAR PENNINGTON OF PENNINGTON IN THE COUNTY OF CORNWALL *»«•»*• How he was robbed of his Birthright, and how he tried to regain it. His sufferings in the pillory at Falmouth Town; his experiences with smugglers and wreckers at Kynance Cove and the Lizard ; his imprisonment at Trevose Head ; his dealings with Betsey Fraddam the witch, and her son Eli ; his search for a buried treasure, together with the true history of his love for Mistress Naomi Penryn, and of his success in winning back what was right fully his own. Written by his own hand, in the year 1758, and now placed before the Public BY JOSEPH HOCKING AUTHOR OF "ALL MEN ARE LIARS,'' "THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX," " FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN," ETC WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HAROLD PIFFARD LONDON JAMES BOWDEN 10 HENRIETTA STREET COVENT GARDEN First Edition, March. 1897.

V DEDICATORY LETTER. TO FREDERICK A. ATKINS, ESQ., Editor of "The Young Man," Etc. My Dear Atkins, — / do not know whether you will find time to read this book, but for the sake of our friendship, and because of the many kindnesses I have received from you, I ask you to accept its dedication. The Birthright is a Romance pure and simple. As you know, during the past nine years I have published seven books, all of which may be described as " novels with a purpose!' Whether this fact has helped or hindered their success, I cannot say. I cannot help remembering, Iwwever, that the book in which "the purpose" is most clearly defined, — a book which you yourself issued serially, viz., "All Men are Liars " — has had a very large sale, and has perltaps received more commendation from the press Dedicatory Letter.

VI than any book I have written. Be that as it may, however, 1 have had no "purpose" in writing the present story, save to tell a stirring tale, and to create an atmosphere of healthy romance. Some time ago you told me that you were not enamoured of Cornwall as a scene for novels. I ventured to tell you that the reason for this was tliat you had never visited that county. If you had you would think differently. Of course, being a Cornishman I may be prejudiced, but to me there is no spot on our sea-girt land that lends itself so readily to romantic story. There is a wealth of folk-lore, of superstition, as well as a quaint humour, among its people, scarcely to be found in any other part of the country. Added to this, there is scenery — especially coast scenery — such as no other county in England can boast.

Chapter I. Tells How The Penningtons Lost Pennington

I AM writing this story at the wish of many friends, who tell me it is my duty so to do. Certain rumours have been afloat, which are any thing but true, and it has been urged upon me again and again to set down in plain terms the true history of events which have set people's tongues wagging. I must confess that, in spite ofthe pleasure I have in recalling the memories of past years, it is with great diffidence that I at last commence my work. Not because I have any difficulty in remembering what took place. My memory, thank God, is as good as ever, and the principal scenes in my history are as clear to me as if they had happened yesterday. It is not that. The truth is, I was never clever at putting things on paper, and somehow, while the facts are clear enough in my mind, it is not at all easy to relate those facts in a way that is clear and under standable.

You see I have lived an open-air life, and have spent more hours with the bridle-reins in my hands than with the pen ; and although I had a fair amount of schooling I was never con sidered a quick learner. Still, as John Major said to me only yesterday, it seems a duty to clear up certain matters which are altogether misunderstood, and, what is more, to clear my name from scandal. Moreover, as he truly insisted, there are others besides myself upon whom clouds rest, and one especially about whom the truth ought to be told. " People are saying," asserted John Major, " that the land you call yours is not yours by right, and that in order to get your will you were in league with the devil. It is also said that you broke the laws of God and man in your dealings with your relations, and that Parson Inch refuses to give you the right hand of fellowship until you can prove in a fair and straightforward way that you are not the man some take you to be."

Now I am quite aware that many things have happened to me which happen to but few men. I know, too, that I have had experiences which, to say the least of them, are strange, and I am not sure that I can explain certain matters to Parson Inch's satisfaction. At the same time I am not afraid of the light, and I am determined to set down truthfully, to the best of my ability, the account of those events in my life which are mis understood, that no stigma may rest upon those who are as dear to me as my own heart's blood. I would have you know, however, that I make no pretence at fine writing, nor must it be ex pected that I, who never boasted great learning, can explain that which has puzzled Parson Grigg, who was in the parish before Mr. Inch — aye, and has even puzzled the Bishop himself, who came to visit the rectory some years since.

All I under take to do is to put down in plain, homely words the story of my life, in so far as it affects my good name and the good name of those who are asso ciated with me. It may be that I shall have to touch upon matters peculiar to the part of the country in which I was born and reared, and to which I am proud to belong. As far as I can I will make them clear ; but even concerning these I will make no great promises. To begin at the beginning then — for this is necessary if I would make matters plain. My father, Jaspar Pennington, died when I was nineteen, leaving to me, as I thought, Elmwater Barton, a farm of about three hundred acres. I am called Jaspar too ; indeed, for generations back there has always been a Jaspar Pennington. Elm water Barton is by no means a bad farm. Nearly all the land is under cultivation, and the house is roomy and substantial.

You must not imagine, however, that the Barton is the principal place in the parish of St. Eve. Far from it. The parish contains twelve thousand acres, and is on the whole, the richest in Cornwall ; and so three hundred acres do not count for much. Up to the time of my father living at Elmwater Barton the place had always been held by a family of yeomen by the name of Quethiock — respectable people, but not regarded as gentry of course. No ; the principal house in St. Eve is Pennington, which, when my father died, was owned by Richard Tresidder. My father was born at Pennington, and my grandfather and great-grandfather were born there ; indeed, the estate, which is a very valuable one, has been owned by the Penningtons for many generations. The question, therefore, naturally arises, How did a Tresidder get possession of the estate which had always belonged to the Penningtons ?

It is well to explain this, because evil tongues have told lies concerning it. My father's mother died soon after his birth, my grandfather being a comparatively young man at the time. When my father was about five years old, his father called him into the library, and told him that it was his intention to give him a mother. " A mother ? " said my father. "You told me my mother was dead." " Yes, she is," said my grandfather, " and is in heaven if ever it is possible for a woman to get there ; that is why I want to give you another, Jaspar, one who will take care of you better than In can. " Will she be kind to me ? " asked my father. " That she will," was the reply ; " but more than that, she will bring you a brother, who is about your own age, and he will be a playfellow for you." My father was greatly pleased at this, and so he welcomed his new mother very eagerly, thinking all the time, of course, of his new playfellow.

The lady my grandfather married was a widow. Her husband, Richard Tresidder, had been a lawyer in Falmouth, but he had died of cholera about four years after my grandmother died. Her little boy, too, was called Richard, or Dick, as they named him for short, and in a little while the two boys became friends. Now, the widow of Lawyer Tresidder brought my grandfather no property at all — not a penny piece ; but she brought a great deal of discord instead. She was always jealous for her son, and she hated my father. The very sight of him used to vex her, especially as after several years she did not bear my grandfather a son. There were three daughters born, but no son, which greatly dis appointed my grandfather, and made his wife exceedingly bitter towards my father. As years went by it seemed to be the great purpose of her life to cause quarrels between the father and son, and at the same time to show up the excellencies of her own son, Richard Tresidder.

I suppose the wisest and best men are clay in the hands of a woman ; at any rate, such has been my experience in life, especially if that woman is clever, and has a will of her own, which latter quality few women are short of. Anyhow, after many years, Tresidder's widow succeeded in setting my grandfather against his only son Jaspar. How she managed it I don't know, for my grandfather always had the name for being a just man ; but then, as I said, what can a man do when a woman gets hold of him ? Just before my father was twenty-one this widow of Tresidder got her husband to make a new will. She persuaded him to let her first husband's brother be present when Mr. Trefry, the old family lawyer, was writing the document, and a good many hard words passed, even then. You see, Mr. Trefry couldn't bear to see my father defrauded, and yet he had no right to interfere.

The upshot was that the will gave my father the sum of five hundred pounds, while all the Pennington estates were to be held in trust for Richard Tresidder. This of course seems very strange, but it goes to show how a woman can twist a man around her finger when she sets out to do it. There was a clause in the will, however, which my grandfather would have in serted in spite of James Tresidder, who was also a lawyer. I think the old man's love of justice, and perhaps his love of his son, caused him to have a mind of his own in this case, for in the face of Lawyer Tresidder's objections and his wife's entreaties he stood firm. The clause was to this effect : that if Jaspar Pennington or his heirs ever possessed in their own rights a sufficient sum they could claim the Pennington estates at half their value.

And that in the case of such an emergency, sive representatives of five county families be asked to make the valuation. My grandfather further stipulated that none of the Pennington lands should be sold at any time for any purpose whatever. Now, Tresidder's widow greatly objected to this, and even after it was duly signed did her utmost to get my grandfather to have the clause expunged. But the Pennington blood asserted itself, and although he had given way to his wife to such a degree that he had almost dis inherited his son, he still held to this clause. Not that it could be worth anything to my father. How could he, with only five hundred pounds, expect to gain many thousands ? As I said, the will was made some few months before my father was twenty-one, and it was stipulated that he was to receive the five hundred pounds on his twenty-first birthday.

And now comes a stranger part of the business. About a week before my father came of age, my grandfather grew angry at what he had done. The thought of his only son being disinherited in favour of an outsider, just because a woman had twisted him around her finger, made him nearly mad. He saw now what his wife had been aiming at for years ; he saw, too, that the quarrels he had had with my father were of his wife's making. Anxious to do justly, he wrote a letter to Mr. Trefry, telling him that he desired his presence at Pennington, as he wanted to make a new will, which should be duly signed and sealed before his son Jaspar's twenty-first birthday. This letter was given to a servant to take to Truro. Now this servant, like almost every, one else she had in the house, had become a tool of the attorney's widow, and there is every reason to believe she saw the letter.

Be that as it may, before Lawyer Trefry reached Pennington, my grandfather, who the day previous had been a hale, strong man, was dead, and the doctor who was called said that he died of heart-disease. My father, however, believed that his father had been poisoned, or in some other way killed because the woman he had married feared that he would make a new will in favour of his son Jaspar. And now I have told why Pennington, which had been in the possession of the Penningtons for many generations, passed out of our hands, and became practically the property of the Tresidders. After my grandfather's funeral five hundred pounds were paid to my father, and he was ordered, with many bitter words, to leave the home of the Penningtons. The clause in the will to which I have referred, however, comforted him greatly.

He was young and strong, and he determined to save up enough money to get back the estates, according to the provisions laid down. At that time Elmwater Barton was to let. Old Mr. Quethiock, who had just died, had left one son who had a shop in Falmouth. This son did not like farming, and he willingly agreed to let the Barton to my father, who spent nearly the whole of his capital in stocking it. Meanwhile, Richard Tresidder lived in state at Pennington, and sneered at my father, who toiled hard at the Barton. Thus, if my father hated Richard Tresidder, was it to be wondered at ? Now, adjoining the Pennington lands are those belonging to the Lantallick estates, which belong to the Archers, a family as old as the Penningtons, and as greatly respected. Squire Archer had five sons and one daughter, and my father, who was always friendly with the people at Lantallick, visited the house often, all the more because he loved Mary Archer.

Concerning her I will pass no opinion. I will only state facts. I have been told that she was a beautiful young woman, and that my father loved her dearly. Indeed, it was generally understood that he should marry her when he came of age. It has been said, too, that she was simply crazy in her love for my father ; but about that I have my doubts. Not long after my father settled down at Elmwater Barton he asked Mary to be his wife, and it was then that Squire Archer told him to leave the house, and informed him, moreover, that his daughter would shortly be married to Richard Tresidder. " But," said my father, " Mary has promised to be my wife — promised again and again." " And do you think," asked the Squire, "that I would allow my only daughter to marry a tenant farmer, a wild young scamp that his father disinherited?

Leave the house, I tell you ! " I have heard that Mary pleaded with her father, but I will not vouch for the truth of that. Certain it is that some time after she became married to Richard Tresidder. Thus it was that Richard Tresidder robbed Jaspar Pennington, not only of his home and lands, but of his love. Now, my father prospered at Elmwater Barton. He was a clever man, and fortune favoured him. He began to lay by money, and he farmed the land so well that folks said he would in a few years, by the blessing of God, have enough to buy back the Pennington estates, according to the terms of his father's will. This was told Richard Tresidder and his mother one day, and they both laughed. About this time my father's cattle began to die. No one could explain why, but die they did, until many rumours were afloat, and people whispered that the cattle were bewitched.

Anyhow, it was asserted that Richard Tresidder had been seen talking with Betsey Fraddam, the witch, while many delicacies had been taken to Betsey's cottage from Pennington. As I said, there will be many things in this narrative which I, an unlearned man, cannot explain. Still, I must tell of matters as they occurred — this, among others, especially as my relations with Eli Fraddam, Betsey's son, have been condemned by Parson Inch. It is said that the Fraddam family has witchcraft in its veins. Anyhow, it is well known that Betsey was regarded as a witch, while Eli, her son — but of the poor gnome I will tell later on. My father tried everything to cure his cattle, but could not ; and what was more perplexing was the fact that other people's cattle in fields adjoining suffered not at all.

In a few months he was driven to extremities ; he saw his chances of buying back his old home slipping through his fingers : and what maddened him most was that, whenever he passed Richard Tresidder, the man who lived on his estates, he laughed him in the face. One day my father was in a field adjoining the Pennington lands, when he saw Richard Tresidder. " Well, farmer," said Tresidder, with a sneer, " and how are you getting on ? " Whereupon my father accused him of having dealings with Betsey Fraddam, and told him he was a black-hearted knave, and other things concern ing himself, which maddened Richard Tresidder so that he jumped over the hedge that divided them, and struck my father with his heavy riding whip. Now, the Penningtons have always been a large limbed, powerful race, and, although slow to anger, they have — thank God — had a strong sense of what is just, and have been regarded as brave men.

Richard Tresidder was a slim, wiry man, and, while strong and agile, was no match for a man who, though he had not an ounce too much flesh, weighed over twelve score pounds. What my father would have done by him I know not, but at the time he was in the act of thrashing him, two of Tresidder's men came up, and thus the business ended — at least, for the time. A little later my father was summoned for unprovoked assault. The affair was the talk of Cornwall for some time: — at least, of that part of Cornwall — and most people thought my father would be severely punished. The magistrates, who knew the Pen ningtons and liked them, however, did not allow this ; but he had to pay Tresidder a sum of money which, unless he were helped, meant his utter ruin. So once more Richard Tresidder and his mother, who, I believe, was behind all this, got the upper hand of my father, and again by unfair means.

Was it a wonder, then, that Jaspar Pennington should regard them as enemies ? Was it any wonder that I, when I came to know about these things, should feel bitterly ? After the sentence was passed, my father, wondering what to do, went to see Betsey Fraddam, the witch. " Betsey," said my father, " tell the truth about my cattle. You can't harm me, because I'm the oldest son, indeed the only son ; but I can harm you. Did Tresidder hire you to ill-wish the cattle ? " "Jaspar," said Betsey, "ded 'ee bait un — ded 'ee bait un, now, right bad ? Zay you ded, now." " Yes, I did," said my father. " I'm glad the two men came up, or I should have murder on my conscience, and that's not right, even when the man is your enemy." " But you ded bait un ! Aw, aw ! Jaspar ; ther's they that can kill, an' ther's they that can cure.

Some can do both." tc You can, Betsey." " P'raps I can, Jaspar. Ave 'ee see'd my boy Eli, Jaspar ? " " No," replied my father. " Then come in and zee un — come in, Jaspar ; " and she led the way into the cottage. My father, who told me this years after, said he should never forget the curious feeling that came over him as he saw Betsey Fraddam's son. Even as a child he looked like an old man, and he had a wild light in his eyes that made one shudder. " He edn' wot you may call a purty cheeld, es a, then ? " asked Betsey. My father did not reply. " Well, we caan't expect for Betsey Fraddam to 'ave purty cheldern, can us, then ? " My father was still silent, for Betsey had a strange way with her that made people afraid. Even I can remember that. " You may have a son some day, Jaspar." " No," said my father.

" But you may," said Betsey, " you may. I doan't main nothin' wrong, Jaspar. Margaret Quethiock es well off, and her father do oan the Barton. Think about it, Jaspar. And then ef you do ever have a son, you'll tell 'im to be kind to Eli, waan't 'ee now, Jaspar? " " Yes," said my father, wondering all the time why he should give the promise. And that was all the conversation they had — for my father told me, and he was always a truthful man. But his cattle got better from that time, and as Mr. Quethiock, of Falmouth, lent him three hundred pounds, he was able to tide over his difficulty. A little while later my father married Margaret Quethiock ; and the fortune that her father gave her was two hundred pounds besides the three hundred pounds he had borrowed, and Elmwater Barton rent free during her lifetime.

If she died before my father, the question of rent was to be considered. They had been married about two years when I was born ; but my mother died at my birth, so I never knew a mother's care and love. My grandfather Quethiock said nothing about rent after my mother's death, but my father did not become a rich man. Somehow things were constantly going wrong with him, and he was in endless trouble about money matters. It was his step-mother, he told me, who was constantly per secuting him, because she feared his getting rich, while her son, who enjoyed my father's wealth, had all sorts of people ready to do his will. He had only to hint at a thing, and his satellites would do it. Thus, one day a herd of cattle would get into a corn-field and destroy it ; and on another, without any apparent reason, a corn-mow would catch fire.

We could never trace it to them, but we always knew, by the jeering laugh on Tresidder's face when he passed us, who was the cause of our trouble. All this shortened my father's life. When I was nineteen, at the time when he should have been in his prime, he was a worn-out old man ; and so, when sickness overtook him, he had no strength to fight against it. It was during this sickness that he told me some of the things I have written, and also informed me of other matters which will be related later. I was with him shortly before he died, and then he said to me very earnestly, " I leave you Elmwater Barton, Jaspar, for I don't think your grandfather Quethiock will ever charge you rent, and he told me it should be yours completely at his death ; but your real property is Pennington, my boy.

Now I want you to make me a promise." " I will promise anything in my power, father,' ' I said. " Then," he replied quietly, " I want you to promise me that you will never rest until you get back your own. Never rest until you are back at Pennington as master and owner. You have been robbed, my son. I have tried to get your rights, and have failed ; but you must not fail." "No, father, I will not fail," I replied. "I will never rest until I get back Pennington." " And never trust a Tresidder, Jaspar ; they are all as deep as the bottomless pit, and as cruel as the fiend who rules there." " I hear, father," was my reply, " and you shall be obeyed." This was in the month of July, in the year 1742, when I was nineteen years of age. What I have to tell is how I tried to get back my home ; of the battles I had to sight ; of the love which came into my heart ; of many mysteries which I cannot explain ; and of the experiences through which I passed in seeking to obey my father's will.

Whether I shall be believed or no I doubt greatly, but I will write the truth only, strange as it may all seem. Moreover, let God be the judge whether my quarrel with the Tresidders was not a just one, and whether I did not fight fairly, as every honest man should.

Chapter II. Tells How I, Jaspar Pennington, Tried To Get My Own

IDO not think I have as yet mentioned it, but Richard Tresidder — I mean the man who entered into my father's possessions — had three sons and one daughter, and all of these were brought up with the thought that I was their natural enemy. Of course, they were informed that my grandfather's will provided the means whereby I, if I were sufficiently fortunate, could buy back the estate at half its valued worth. If I were to marry a rich wife this could be done ; if I were to have some stroke of fortune, their home might be taken from them, they receiving only a given sum of money. And thus it was to their interest to keep me poor, as well as to damage my reputation in the neighbourhood. The eldest son was a year or more older than I, and was, of course, respected as the heir to the Pennington lands — for it is strange how people's sympathies veer round to the side of those who are most fortunate.

My father has told me many times that, when he was thought to be the pro spective heir of Pennington, folk could not make enough of him, while Richard Tresidder had but scant courtesy paid him. When it became known that my father was disinherited, no matter how unjustly, it was immediately discovered that Richard Tresidder was a very mine of wit and goodness, and my father was made a butt for fools' jokes. Thus I discovered that my being a Pennington counted for little, while it seemed to be forgotten that, but for the scheming of a clever, selfish woman, I should be the Squire of the parish. When I was old enough I was sent to Tregony Grammar School, my father being determined to give me a schooling befitting the position he hoped, in spite of his misfortunes, I should some day occupy. Now, Nick Tresidder had been attending the same school for some months when I went.

For this I was very glad, because I thought it would give me an opportunity to test him. I had not been in the school a week, however, when my father came to fetch me away. Richard Tresidder had demanded this, as he would not allow his son to be educated at the school where the son of a tenant farmer was admitted. He told the schoolmaster that he had two other sons whom he intended to send, but that he should immediately withdraw his patronage if I were not sent away. All this angered me as well as my father ; but there was no help for it, and I went to Probus instead, where the education was as good, but where I had no chance of meeting the Tresidders. I have said that Elmwater Barton was a good farm, but I must confess to looking longingly at Pennington. This was in the nature of things very reasonable on my part, for I always regarded it as my home.