Two Men of Devon in Ceylon: a story of East and West

Front matter

■ "the stream whioh falleth at LYDFORD." [From a Photo by J. Valentine & Sons.] TWO MEN OF DEVON IN CEYLON A STORY OF EAST AND WEST BY SAMUEL LANGDON AUTHOR OF "my mission garden" "the appeal to the serpent" etc. etc. frottuon: CHAKLES H. KELLY, 2, CASTLE ST., CITY RD. ; AND 26, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. MY mission garden. 26 Illustrations. Crown 8vo, ls. 6d. ; gilt edges, 2s. PUNCHI NONA. A Story of Female Education and Village Life in Ceylon. 19 Illustrations. Crown Svo, ls. 6d. ; gilt edges, 2s. THE HAPPY VALLEY: Our New "Mission Garden" in Uva, Ceylon. With Map, Portrait of Mrs. Wiseman, and other Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 2s. THE APPEAL TO THE SERPENT; OR, Life in an Ancient Buddhist City. A Story of Early Ceylon Life. Illustrated from Sketches and Photographs. Crown Svo, 6s. IConbott : CHARLES H. KELLY, 2, Castle St., City Rd., E.C. ; and 26, Paternoster Row, E.C. TO EDWARD STRUTT IN REMEMBRANCE OF MANY HAPPY DAYS SPENT TOGETHER IN CEYLON v CONTENTS — ♦ — CHAP. PACE FOREWORDS 1 I. JAN WITHYCOMB BEGINS HIS STORY' II.

GROWING LADS . 11 23 III. JAN WITHYCOMB GETS HIS "FAIRIN'" 31 IV. JAN WITHYCOMB SEES THE "SHIP OF PRAYER" V. OF HOW JAN WITHYCOMB'S FATHER KISSED THE PRIEST VI. THROUGH FIRE AND WATER .... 40 56 66 VII. JAN WITHYCOMB WEARS A STRAIT- WAISTCOAT VIII. IN WHICH JAN WITHYCOMB QUOTES POETRY . 73 83 IX. IN WHICH BOB WITHYCOMB RIDES AN ELEPHANT AND SINGS A SONG 93 X. HOW BOB TOOK MENIKA FOR A RIDE ON THE ELEPHANT XI. IN WHICH JAN WITHYCOMB WIELDS A RICE-POUNDER XII. JAN WITHYCOMB ACTS AS INTERPRETER AGAINST HIS WILL . XIII. JAN READS HIS MOTHER'S LETTER . . . . 104 115 129 142 XIV. BOB WITHYCOMB HAS THE DISSAWE IN A TIGHT PLACE 153 XV. AT THE DANCE OF DEMONS 166 XVI. SHOWING HOW MENIKA WAS CARRIED OFF BY THE DEMONS XVII. IN BADULLA ....... 180 191 XVIII. JAN WITHYCOMB'S FRIENDS SEE VISIONS 204 215 XIX.

JAN AND BOB WITHYCOMB ARE BROUGHT BEFORE THE KING XX. MENIKA RELATES WHAT SHE SAW AND nEARD AT BADULLA XXI. THE BROTHERS BUILD A COTTAGE .... 228 241 CONTENTS viii CHAP. PAGE XXII. BOB WITHYCOMB BECOMES A BENEDICT, AND MEETS THE DISSAWE FOR THE LAST TIME . ... 253 264 XXIII. BOB WITHYCOMB TAKES HIS LAST SACRAMENT 270 XXIV. JAN WITHYCOMB LEAVES CEYLON XXV. JAN WITHYCOMB BUYS SOME FAIRIN' . 279 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS — ♦ — "the stream whioh falleth at lydford " . . Frontispiece From a Photo by J. Valentine & Sons ABOUT BRIDWORTHT . . ' . . . .19 From a Photo by J. Valentine & SONS THE ABBEY BRIDGE, TAVISTOCK ... .41 From a Plwto by F. Frith & Co. THE VALLEY OF UDAKINDA ...... 123 From a Ceylon Photo A KUMARI OF THE KANDYAN COUNTRY .... 135 From a Ceylon Photo TERRACED RICE FIELDS IN UVA ..... 173 From a Ceylon Photo A PLACE CALLED DUNHINDA, WHERE THERE IS A GREAT FALL OF WATER ...... . 195 From a Ceylon lJhot<> A KANDYAN CHIEF ....... 247 From a Ceylon Photo "LIKE THE TAVY, JAN, IN CROWNDALE WOODS " ' . . . 265 From a Photo by T. L. R. Richaeds "OUT TO BRIDWORTHY, OUT BY THE TAVY " . . . 285 From a Photo by T. L. Richaeds I TWO MEN OF DEVON IN CEYLON FOREWORDS IT was during a furlough spent in what is perhaps the most beautiful part of the Queen of English counties, Devon, that I happened on the manuscript which contains the following story.

Chapter I Jan Withycomb Begins His Story

I AM not a literary man, nor am I given to writing over much, but the reading of a book wrote not long since by Captain Bobert Knox about his life and adventures amongst the people he calls Chingulays, in the Island of Ceylon, hath prompted me to the use of my pen. For his work is of vast interest to me, inasmuch as I myself have been over much of the same ground as he describeth so well, and I too have met with adventures in that same Island which, to me at least, appear, now as I look back upon them, not less stirring than his. I have seen Bobert Knox since his return to England. It was at the East India House in London, whither I had gone on some business ; and, indeed, it was he who made me a present of his book, which hath been so highly acknow ledged by the Honourables the Directors of the East India Company.

And Captain Knox and I partook of a meal together at the Bull's Head tavern on Ludgate Hill, where he showed me letters which he had received in commendation of his work from gentlemen of very high estate, and among them one which he doth value more highly than all, being from the great architect, Sir Christopher Wren, who, he saith, is full of the building of a great cathedral for London which shall outshine all the churches of the world, except, it may be, the one that all men talk of at Eome. Bobert Knox is a good man, and of great integrity, as his work doth show, and being comparatively young in years, — that is in comparing him with myself, who am not wanting much in years of the age mentioned in Holy Writ as the limit which man can reasonably expect to reach, — it may be hoped that we shall have yet further books from his pen, especially as he hath determined to continue his seafaring career.

My adventures in the Island of Ceylon happened before the events recorded in Master Knox's book, but he was greatly excited to hear me tell of them, and he begged of me to write them down in ink on paper that they might not be lost, saying that — but it would not be becoming of me, Jan Withycomb of Bridworthy, to write what the generous man did say. It was curious to watch his pleasurable excitement when I spoke to him a few words in the language of the Sinhalese, the people amongst whom he had dwelt for so long a time, and also to see the astonishment of the waiter at the Bull's Head on hearing us speak to each other in the tongue of that far-off land. For I was ever skilful in acquiring the use of foreign tongues. People said I must have got it from my mother, on whom Providence had bestowed great gifts, much greater than I have ever possessed.

That may have been owing partly to her JAN WITHYCOMB BEGINS HIS STORY 13 having been a Portugal lady, as well as to her education, which was much in advance of that of most ladies in our part of the world. For I have noticed that learning of languages cometh much easier to the people of those foreign countries than it doth to the people of my own nation. My brother, Bob Withycomb, about whom there is much in this story, always said that it was in the tongue, that the Devonshire tongue was too blunt to cut its way amongst those fine foreign lingoes ; and, indeed, his tongue, poor fellow, was of the bluntest, neither could he keep foreign words in his mind very long. When we were at school together at Tavistock, many was the beating he received from the custus of the old pedagogue, Master Balkwill, because he could not repeat his Latin verbs ; though he had a ready wit, even then, for I remember him, when required to conjugate the verb " Amo," blundering in a way that made the master's anger rise, saying, as he looked slily at Dorothy Balkwill, the master's pretty daughter, who was taught in the same school, that he was better acquainted with the spirit than with the letter of the verb.

But more of him anon. I took my leave of Bobert Knox at the Bull's Head with great regret, and not until I had promised him to write the history of my adventures, and he had promised me to come on a visit to Bridworthy to read it, and also to see our " Menika " who liveth with us at Bridworthy Farm, and who also appeareth in this history. She being, by the mother's side, of the blood of the Sinhalese and able to speak their tongue right well, he ■4 would like well to see and converse with her, for he hath an undoubted affection for the people amongst whom he spent so many years and endured so many hardships. Now I have told whosoever may read this how the writing of it was begun, and as I write, for I write slowly, my hand not being accustomed to pen-work of such length, I can recall most of the incidents of my past life.

It is usual, I have noted, in writings which are of a biographical character, to say much at the beginning of one's ancestors ; and though much might be said of the Withycombs and of their doings, together with other men of Devon in the days of the Spanish Armada, and even further back than that, I will make a beginning with the mention of my father. He also was Jan Withycomb, — the eldest son in our family always being called John, and it is said that for several generations there hath always been a Jan Withycomb at Bridworthy. When I was about to be baptized at the parish church at Tavistock, my mother, who as I have said was of Portugal, wanted me to be named after a brave man of her race, and called Constantine ; but my father, so she hath since told me, would have none of it, and declared that there was no name so suited to a Devon man as good, plain, honest John.

It was not long before my mother, who had met with my father in his voyages to Lisbon, for he was a sailor, grew as fond of the name — his own name, too — as himself, and I believe she got to love Devon better than she ever loved the banks of the Tagus. And as to the men of Devon, she used to say, after some of father's stories about Drake's JAN WITHYCOMB BEGINS HIS STORY 15 old sea-dogs, — and there had been Withycombs amongst them, — that there were no finer, braver men on the face of the earth. This, of course, was all in the pride of a wife and in the hope for her growing sons ; but notwithstanding that, I think she got to be as proud of the county as if she had been born and bred in it. Of my father I did not see much, for he was frequently away on long voyages at sea, having obtained the post of master of an East Indiaman.

But during the intervals of his stay at home, none were so happy in all the land as we. My mother's joy seemed unbounded, while my brother and I obtained holidays from school, and spent much of the days in the woods by the Tavy with our father, who was possessed of a great regard for fishing ; and often my mother would come to meet us laden with food and many delicacies, to give us our midday meal in the woods. Then in the long evenings we sat around the fireside listening to our father's stories of his adventures in the Indies and of his perils on the sea. As we grew up we boys were accustomed to note that there was much reticence in the stories told in the presence of our mother, and there were gaps in the narratives which we had to fill up ourselves, and the way in which Bob and I completed his stories for him often gave him much amusement.

The stories as we finished them were always full of warfare and seafaring ; but our contributions were not, I do think, very original. They were a curious mixture of the yarns of the old sea-dogs of Devon and chapters from the Eevelations read out by the parson from the old Bible chained to the reading desk in the parish church at Tavistock. We were always church-goers, as, indeed, were nearly all of our neighbours except the Waldrons, who lived at the Middlebrooke Farm near Whitchurch, and they were Papists. But as there was no church of the Pope near, they had to depend on an occasional visit of a papistical priest for such ministrations as they stood in need of. My father had no love for either priests or Papists, and when he spoke of them it was always with such speaking as men who live much on the ocean thought befitting when angry.

It was not often, however, that he would speak of them ; but I remember his saying once to us boys that the less we saw of them the better, for he had had enough of them to last for several generations. Our mother was always silent and looked sad when priests were mentioned, and would turn the conversation at once to some other subject with a look of significance to our father. And these things I thought not of at that time, but since I have many times pondered them in my heart, and have come to understand better what they meant. It might have been for this reason that our father would not have us friendly with the Waldrons of the Middlebrooke Farm. He was accustomed to say that they looked down on him because his farm, Bridworthy, was so small. It was true that our farm was much smaller than theirs, and that they had much land of their own ; but our father did not much regard his farm except as a change JAN WITHYCOMB BEGINS HIS STORY 17 from his seafaring life ; and I think he understood but little of it, leaving it much to our hind, William Stidston, who served him well and honestly.

Notwithstanding which, I feel sure he was proud of the little farm when he was on the deck of his ship, and wished himself there ; and when he was at Bridworthy he would say that the master of an East Indiaman was the equal of any man in the county of Devon. We thought so too ; but there was a feeling of mystery in the minds of us boys regarding the Waldrons of Middle brooke, and often we did go out of our way a little as we went to, or came from, school to look in at the big gates at the old house which, people do say, once was connected with the Abbey at Tavistock, intending to do no more than look, if, haply, something of the secret might come to us through the looking. And, one day, I do remember right well, nor shall I ever forget, — for it was the day on which I first saw two of the principal personages in this story, — as we were looking in at the gateway, Bob saying he would like to walk up the path a little way, for " nobody wad'n able fur to see ort down to the gate, and I'm Bob Withycomb of Bridworthy," he said, " and I bain't afraid of the Popes."

He was always a lad of venturous spirit, and nearly always spoke in the tongue of the people of our dear old Devon. I cannot say now what we were afraid of particularly, unless it were something of the same feeling we had when, during the dinner hour at Master Balkwill's, we boys went in procession round the parish church saying the Lord's TWO MEN OF DEVON IN CEYLON Prayer backward, and then looked in at a keyhole, for we had been told that if we did that we should surely see Satan himself inside. I think there must have been some such thought in our minds of seeing the Pope of Eome at Middlebrooke House, for most of the people of Devon at that time thought of one very much as they did of the other. On the day of which I speak, Bob, who had gone up by the path nearly to the old tower of the house, came running back towards me with a look of terror on his face, crying, " I've 'a seed un, Jan.

Tes the Pope, tes the Pope hisself. Bin, Jan, rin ; tes the Pope, I tell ee, rin ! " But in running down the path poor Bob fell on his face, and while I was lifting him to his feet we were joined by the people from the house whom Bob had seen, for they had heard his cries. We would have run away immedi ately, but were detained by one of two gentlemen in long black robes, whom we knew at once, from descriptions we had heard, to be priests. One of them, who was addressed as Father Alphonso, — and I remember thinking it very curious for so young a man, he was aged about thirty-five of years, to be spoken to as Father, — was very attentive to Bob, and indeed seemed to be affectionately interested in both of us. He stooped to kiss Bob, and I noted, as he did so, that there was a bald round spot on the top of his head.

But Bob would none of it, throwing out his feet and hands in most violent ways. " Why, what a very stupid boy you are ! " said a o-irl who had come down from the house with her brother, a ABOUT BRIDWORTHY. [From a Photo by J. Valentine & Sons.1 JAN WITHYCOMB BEGINS HIS STORY 21 little older than herself, to see what was ado. " It is only Father Alphonso. I thought you Devon boys were not afraid of anything." " Nor I bain't," said Bob, " only of the Pope and the devil." The girl's voice quieted him, however, for my brother was ever influenced by such voices, and this voice was most musical and pleasant, but not more pleasant than the face was sweet and beautiful. We were both taken aback. Father Alphonso smiled ; the other priest, Father Dormer, as I afterwards found out, broke into a loud laugh.

The boy, about my own age, talked of getting the horsewhip for one who could so speak of the Holy Father at Eome. At which Bob's fists were doubled, and perhaps a fight would have ensued but for the girl, who came towards him with a kerchief in her hand, saying, " Poor boy, let him alone, Giles, he is hurt " ; and she pointed to the scratches and blood on Bob's hands, occasioned by his fall. The priest Alphonso wiped the scratches with great tenderness, then wrapped the handkerchief about the hand and spoke in broken English the time, asking us of our ages — I was fourteen and Bob was of the age of twelve. And when we went away, I saw him looking fixedly but tenderly at Bob. And I heard him mutter with a sigh, "■ Maria Bodrigo " ; and I remembered then Maria was my mother's name, and even then the thought came to me, " Bob is like our mother, and he is also like the priest !

" They sent us away kindly, all except Master Giles Waldron, who stood aside grumbling. I spoke to Bob of the strange dark young priest on our way home ; but could get little in reply except praises of Mistress Joan Waldron, and how he would like to fight somebody on her behalf. And then he confided to me that he thought her the most beautiful girl in Devon ; but I had other thoughts then, and my mind was back in the schoolhouse we had left, with pretty Dorothy Balkwill, the schoolmaster's daughter. Thus do the thoughts of young lads run.

Chapter II Growing Lads Bob

was for saying nothing about the adventure at Middlebrooke when we got home to Bridworthy ; but in the evening, after we had eaten our broths of mutton which was our supper, my mother inquired relating to the scratches she had noticed on his hand, — and I told her the whole, for I could never say her au untruth, and her eyes always read into my heart. The mention of the priest, Father Alphonso, made a fire come into her eyes, and turned her beautiful dark face pale in such a manner as I had never hitherto observed in her. She gasped and moved her hands cross-wise, and said in a low, intense voice — in the Portugal tongue, the tongue of her youth : "Mother of God! but no, it cannot be he!" This she said, not remembering, I think, that I understood, for she had taught me something of the tongue for amusement, though we seldom talked in it.

But, as I have before said, such work as the learning of strange tongues was not difficult to me. And when she was excited in her feelings, expressions in that language and of a Papist cast would force themselves suddenly out of her bosom, which at other times her conscience, now entirely with the Beformed religion, would strongly disallow. After her first surprise she made me sit down at the back of the kitchen, where we had partaken of our broth, and describe for her the appearance of the priest. Her concern was not with the others then, although in the time to come much of the interest of her life was con nected with them. But of this she wot not at that time. When she took us to the chamber, as was her wont, to say our prayers to our Father in heaven, for our father on the sea and all good Devon men, — for so we had been taught to pray, — she asked us to say something new, and we repeated after her — ■" Keep Thou our mother, 0 Lord, and this house with all who herein dwell, from aught of harm, either of priest or devil !

" And when we went into bed she tucked in the clothes around us, and with a great anxiety begged us never to go near that place, meaning Middlebrooke, again. The next day, in the morning, when we were drinking our hot milk preparatory to wending our way to school, she repeated the warning, and she looked as if she had not slept ; and as she kissed us farewell the tears filled her great dark eyes, and there was a look as of dread, for something to come, on her face, which made me offer to stay at home with her, though going to school was never a matter of distress to me. This she would have none of, but she gave orders to William Stidston to stay near the house all day ; and when we returned from school in the evening, we found William in the linhay, — a place GROWING LADS 25 we had much resort to, — and he told us, with a great awe, that a stranger had come there who had greatly disturbed our mother; and that, though they first talked in some words that had a sound of our own tongue, they after wards spoke in some barbarous words of the foreigners, — he supposed it was the tongue of his poor mistress before she married the maister, — and he wished maister had 'a been home to give un his desarvins, for he believed he was nothing more than one of the Pope's men, come to worry the poor mistress, who was as good a Protestant woman now as ever there was in Devon, though he never would 'a thought it of her when her did come to these parts fuss.

Nothing was said of his visit by our mother ; and so the time went on to the waning of the year, when we expected our father home. He came on horseback from Plymouth, for he was as much at home on the saddle as he was on the deck of a ship. And our mother and we boys went out to Plymouth road to meet him, for we had received tidings of his approach. And as we went we kicked the yellow leaves, that had fallen from the oak trees, about in our glee, and picked up the black, crackling chestnuts from the ground ; but our mother was silent, and took no note of our fun, until we heard the clatter of horses' feet on the hard road, and then, as the horsemen came in sight, my father and his man who came behind with the bags, she clapped her hands in delight, for she loved well to see him on his horse, and said he looked every inch a king, and never so well as on his return from these long voyages of his.

That first night was always a time of great joy, as we gathered around the fireplace in the kitchen, while he smoked his long wooden pipe which our mother had filled for him, for he had a liking to the weed of Virginia, though he smoked it only sparingly, and in the evenings. It was a trick that sailors caught, he said, and, indeed, most of the sailor men of Devon that I have met were known by their smoke, and I would say nought against it, for it hath oft done me good service. Then after the pipe came the unloading of the bags, and this was to us the great event of the year. There were always some presents for us boys which rejoiced our hearts, and shawls or rich lace — such things as women do love — for our mother. The next day after the return of which I speak, as our father went out with us to the Tavy to see what the trout were like, I noticed that there was a shadow on his big frank face, and the trout disappointed him ; and as we were leaving the river he said, although we had not spoken of the matter, " Beware of them foreign priests and the Papistries, lads ; don't ee go anist 'em, but rin from um like the devil.

Dang um!" And then I knew that our mother had told him of the man in the long black robe. Nor did the shadow leave his face even when we sat down to eat our pasties and the Devonshire cream which our mother had provided for us, food that his soul generally loved. He was more anxious than ever on this occasion that we should not go near Middlebrooke, and talked of sending us away to Plymouth to school ; and my heart was sore GROWING LADS 27 stricken at once, for I loved the school at Master Balkwill's, and had — I think it can be no wrong in me, an old man now, to say it — made great way in all the learning taught there. As for Bob, he made no pretension, and cared not anything about the Latin or the English syntax. " One scholard in the family is enough, Jan," he would say ; " as for me, I'm gwain to the sea, like our father and like Sir Francis Drake.

And the old sea-dogs of Devon never wot much of such learning as Daddy Balkwill's, I reckon." This he said in his ignorance, for they were, some of them, men of much learning and wit. But the dear lad was skilled in all things except in regard to books. From a model which a sailor on board one of my father's ships had made of an East Indiaman, he had learnt all the parts of a ship, and could distinguish every rope and sail ; and I have known him, when he was only fifteen years of age, catch one of the wild ponies on Dartmoor, for which these moors were famous, and spring on his back before the pony knew what had happened unto him ; nor could all the pony's efforts shake him off, for Bob had a way of sticking on to whatever animal he mounted. In the school, too, Bob grew up to be feared and reverenced far more than if he had known much Latin, by reason of his skill with his fists and in wrestling.

I grudged him not, however, for this his popularity, for I loved him ; neither was I backward in those arts, which have always been conspicuous among the boys of Devon, myself. When our father talked of sending us to Plymouth to school, Bob turned white, and I could see that it liked him not any more than myself ; and it was a cause of rejoicing to us both when our father yielded to our mother's entreaties to let us remain because of her loneliness during his absences. And we grew in stature year by year. Bob never grew tall, never taller than my mother, and his likeness to her increased. New boys at school would sometimes call him rudely " little Spaniard " ; and nothing would enrage him more, for he always called himself a Devon man ; and of this he was right proud. And no boy ever called him to his face by that name more than once.

Nor did they often dare to call him that in hearing of mine. He was like our mother in appearance, but m naught else, for he was strong with the strength of three. He looked small as compared with my height, though he was of moderate size ; but he would bare his arm up to the shoulder and ask you to feel the muscles above the elbow ; and they were hard as if they had been wire threads, and he would laugh and say, " That's Dartmoor air and Devonshire cream, old lad." I will not dwell longer on our growing up, except to mention one or two incidents. Bob was taken from school when he was seventeen to go to sea with my father, who said he was the nimblest man as to his fingers and feet that he had on the ship ; and Bob told me, when he returned from his first voyage, that he had had many a fight with the men on board before he could bring them to, and make them haul down their colours ; and " some of them were men of Devon, Jan," he said, " from Plymouth."