But he happened at last to be in it once too often--namely, when

  that dreadful tempest blew, November 27, 1703. This tempest began

  on the Wednesday before, and blew with such violence, and shook the

  lighthouse so much, that, as they told me there, Mr. Winstanley

  would fain have been on shore, and made signals for help; but no

  boats durst go off to him; and, to finish the tragedy, on the

  Friday, November 26, when the tempest was so redoubled that it

  became a terror to the whole nation, the first sight there seaward

  that the people of Plymouth were presented with in the morning

  after the storm was the bare Eddystone, the lighthouse being gone;

  in which Mr. Winstanley and all that were with him perished, and

  were never seen or heard of since. But that which was a worse loss

  still was that, a few days after, a merchant's ship called the

  Winchelsea, homeward bound from Virginia, not knowing the Eddystone

  lighthouse was down, for want of the light that should have been

  seen, run foul of the rock itself, and was lost with all her lading

  and most of her men. But there is now another light-house built on

  the same rock.

  What other disasters happened at the same time in the Sound and in

  the roads about Plymouth is not my business; they are also

  published in other books, to which I refer.

  One thing which I was a witness to on a former journey to this

  place, I cannot omit. It was the next year after that great storm,

  and but a little sooner in the year, being in August; I was at

  Plymouth, and walking on the Hoo (which is a plain on the edge of

  the sea, looking to the road), I observed the evening so serene, so

  calm, so bright, and the sea so smooth, that a finer sight, I

  think, I never saw. There was very little wind, but what was,

  seemed to be westerly; and about an hour after, it blew a little

  breeze at south-west, with which wind there came into the Sound

  that night and the next morning a fleet of fourteen sail of ships

  from Barbadoes, richly laden for London. Having been long at sea,

  most of the captains and passengers came on shore to refresh

  themselves, as is usual after such tedious voyages; and the ships

  rode all in the Sound on that side next to Catwater. As is

  customary upon safe arriving to their native country, there was a

  general joy and rejoicing both on board and on shore.

  The next day the wind began to freshen, especially in the

  afternoon, and the sea to be disturbed, and very hard it blew at

  night; but all was well for that time. But the night after, it

  blew a dreadful storm (not much inferior, for the time it lasted,

  to the storm mentioned above which blew down the lighthouse on the

  Eddystone). About mid-night the noise, indeed, was very dreadful,

  what with the rearing of the sea and of the wind, intermixed with

  the firing of guns for help from the ships, the cries of the seamen

  and people on shore, and (which was worse) the cries of those which

  were driven on shore by the tempest and dashed in pieces. In a

  word, all the fleet except three, or thereabouts, were dashed to

  pieces against the rocks and sunk in the sea, most of the men being

  drowned. Those three who were saved, received so much damage that

  their lading was almost all spoiled. One ship in the dark of the

  night, the men not knowing where they were, run into Catwater, and

  run on shore there; by which she was, however, saved from

  shipwreck, and the lives of her crew were saved also.

  This was a melancholy morning indeed. Nothing was to be seen but

  wrecks of the ships and a foaming, furious sea in that very place

  where they rode all in joy and triumph but the evening before. The

  captains, passengers, and officers who were, as I have said, gone

  on shore, between the joy of saving their lives, and the affliction

  of having lost their ships, their cargoes, and their friends, were

  objects indeed worth our compassion and observation. And there was

  a great variety of the passions to be observed in them--now

  lamenting their losses, their giving thanks for their deliverance.

  Many of the passengers had lost their all, and were, as they

  expressed themselves, "utterly undone." They were, I say, now

  lamenting their losses with violent excesses of grief; then giving

  thanks for their lives, and that they should be brought on shore,

  as it were, on purpose to be saved from death; then again in tears

  for such as were drowned. The various cases were indeed very

  affecting, and, in many things, very instructing.

  As I say, Plymouth lies in the bottom of this Sound, in the centre

  between the two waters, so there lies against it, in the same

  position, an island, which they call St. Nicholas, on which there

  is a castle which commands the entrance into Hamoaze, and indeed

  that also into Catwater in some degree. In this island the famous

  General Lambert, one of Cromwell's great agents or officers in the

  rebellion, was imprisoned for life, and lived many years there.

  On the shore over against this island is the citadel of Plymouth, a

  small but regular fortification, inaccessible by sea, but not

  exceeding strong by land, except that they say the works are of a

  stone hard as marble, and would not seen yield to the batteries of

  an enemy--but that is a language our modern engineers now laugh at.

  The town stands above this, upon the same rock, and lies sloping on

  the side of it, towards the east--the inlet of the sea which is

  called Catwater, and which is a harbour capable of receiving any

  number of ships and of any size, washing the eastern shore of the

  town, where they have a kind of natural mole or haven, with a quay

  and all other conveniences for bringing in vessels for loading and

  unloading; nor is the trade carried on here inconsiderable in

  itself, or the number of merchants small.

  The other inlet of the sea, as I term it, is on the other side of

  the town, and is called Hamoaze, being the mouth of the River

  Tamar, a considerable river which parts the two counties of Devon

  and Cornwall. Here (the war with France making it necessary that

  the ships of war should have a retreat nearer hand than at

  Portsmouth) the late King William ordered a wet dock--with yards,

  dry docks, launches, and conveniences of all kinds for building and

  repairing of ships--to be built; and with these followed

  necessarily the building of store-houses and warehouses for the

  rigging, sails, naval and military stores, &c., of such ships as

  may be appointed to be laid up there, as now several are; with very

  handsome houses for the commissioners, clerks, and officers of all

  kinds usual in the king's yards, to dwell in. It is, in short, now

  become as complete an arsenal or yard for building and fitting men-

  of-war as any the Government are masters of, and perhaps much more

  convenient than some of them, though not so large.

  The building of these things, with the addition of rope-walks and

  mast-yards, &c., as it brought abundance of trades-people and

  workmen to the place, so they began by little and
little to build

  houses on the lands adjacent, till at length there appeared a very

  handsome street, spacious and large, and as well inhabited; and so

  many houses are since added that it is become a considerable town,

  and must of consequence in time draw abundance of people from

  Plymouth itself.

  However, the town of Plymouth is, and will always be, a very

  considerable town, while that excellent harbour makes it such a

  general port for the receiving all the fleets of merchants' ships

  from the southward (as from Spain, Italy, the West Indies, &c.),

  who generally make it the first port to put in at for refreshment,

  or safety from either weather or enemies.

  The town is populous and wealthy, having, as above, several

  considerable merchants and abundance of wealthy shopkeepers, whose

  trade depends upon supplying the sea-faring people that upon so

  many occasions put into that port. As for gentlemen--I mean, those

  that are such by family and birth and way of living--it cannot be

  expected to find many such in a town merely depending on trade,

  shipping, and sea-faring business; yet I found here some men of

  value (persons of liberal education, general knowledge, and

  excellent behaviour), whose society obliges me to say that a

  gentleman might find very agreeable company in Plymouth.

  From Plymouth we pass the Tamar over a ferry to Saltash--a little,

  poor, shattered town, the first we set foot on in the county of

  Cornwall. The Tamar here is very wide, and the ferry-boats bad; so

  that I thought myself well escaped when I got safe on shore in

  Cornwall.

  Saltash seems to be the ruins of a larger place; and we saw many

  houses, as it were, falling down, and I doubt not but the mice and

  rats have abandoned many more, as they say they will when they are

  likely to fall. Yet this town is governed by a mayor and aldermen,

  has many privileges, sends members to Parliament, takes toll of all

  vessels that pass the river, and have the sole oyster-fishing in

  the whole river, which is considerable. Mr. Carew, author of the

  "Survey of Cornwall," tells us a strange story of a dog in this

  town, of whom it was observed that if they gave him any large bone

  or piece of meat, he immediately went out of doors with it, and

  after having disappeared for some time would return again; upon

  which, after some time, they watched him, when, to their great

  surprise, they found that the poor charitable creature carried what

  he so got to an old decrepit mastiff, which lay in a nest that he

  had made among the brakes a little way out of the town, and was

  blind, so that he could not help himself; and there this creature

  fed him. He adds also that on Sundays or holidays, when he found

  they made good cheer in the house where he lived, he would go out

  and bring this old blind dog to the door, and feed him there till

  he had enough, and then go with him back to his habitation in the

  country again, and see him safe in. If this story is true, it is

  very remarkable indeed; and I thought it worth telling, because the

  author was a person who, they say, might be credited.

  This town has a kind of jurisdiction upon the River Tamar down to

  the mouth of the port, so that they claim anchorage of all small

  ships that enter the river; their coroner sits upon all dead bodies

  that are found drowned in the river and the like, but they make not

  much profit of them. There is a good market here, and that is the

  best thing to be said of the town; it is also very much increased

  since the number of the inhabitants are increased at the new town,

  as I mentioned as near the dock at the mouth of Hamoaze, for those

  people choose rather to go to Saltash to market by water than to

  walk to Plymouth by land for their provisions. Because, first, as

  they go in the town boat, the same boat brings home what they buy,

  so that it is much less trouble; second, because provisions are

  bought much cheaper at Saltash than at Plymouth. This, I say, is

  like to be a very great advantage to the town of Saltash, and may

  in time put a new face of wealth upon the place.

  They talk of some merchants beginning to trade here, and they have

  some ships that use the Newfoundland fishery; but I could not hear

  of anything considerable they do in it. There is no other

  considerable town up the Tamar till we come to Launceston, the

  county town, which I shall take in my return; so I turned west,

  keeping the south shore of the county to the Land's End.

  From Saltash I went to Liskeard, about seven miles. This is a

  considerable town, well built; has people of fashion in it, and a

  very great market; it also sends two members to Parliament, and is

  one of the five towns called Stannary Towns--that is to say, where

  the blocks of tin are brought to the coinage; of which, by itself,

  this coinage of tin is an article very much to the advantage of the

  towns where it is settled, though the money paid goes another way.

  This town of Liskeard was once eminent, had a good castle, and a

  large house, where the ancient Dukes of Cornwall kept their court

  in those days; also it enjoyed several privileges, especially by

  the favour of the Black Prince, who as Prince of Wales and Duke of

  Cornwall resided here. And in return they say this town and the

  country round it raised a great body of stout young fellows, who

  entered into his service and followed his fortunes in his wars in

  France, as also in Spain. But these buildings are so decayed that

  there are now scarce any of the ruins of the castle or of the

  prince's court remaining.

  The only public edifices they have now to show are the guild or

  town hall, on which there is a turret with a fine clock; a very

  good free school, well provided; a very fine conduit in the market-

  place; an ancient large church; and, which is something rare for

  the county of Cornwall, a large, new-built meeting-house for the

  Dissenters, which I name because they assured me there was but

  three more, and those very inconsiderable, in all the county of

  Cornwall; whereas in Devonshire, which is the next county, there

  are reckoned about seventy, some of which are exceeding large and

  fine.

  This town is also remarkable for a very great trade in all

  manufactures of leather, such as boots, shoes, gloves, purses,

  breaches, &c.; and some spinning of late years is set up here,

  encouraged by the woollen manufacturers of Devonshire.

  Between these two towns of Saltash and Liskeard is St. Germans, now

  a village, decayed, and without any market, but the largest parish

  in the whole county--in the bounds of which is contained, as they

  report, seventeen villages, and the town of Saltash among them; for

  Saltash has no parish church, it seems, of itself, but as a chapel-

  of-ease to St. Germans. In the neighbourhood of these towns are

  many pleasant seats of the Cornish gentry, who are indeed very

  numerous, though their estates may not be so large as is usual in

  England; yet neither are they despicable in th
at part; and in

  particular this may be said of them--that as they generally live

  cheap, and are more at home than in other counties, so they live

  more like gentlemen, and keep more within bounds of their estates

  than the English generally do, take them all together.

  Add to this that they are the most sociable, generous, and to one

  another the kindest, neighbours that are to be found; and as they

  generally live, as we may say, together (for they are almost always

  at one another's houses), so they generally intermarry among

  themselves, the gentlemen seldom going out of the county for a

  wife, or the ladies for a husband; from whence they say that

  proverb upon them was raised, viz., "That all the Cornish gentlemen

  are cousins."

  On the hills north of Liskeard, and in the way between Liskeard and

  Launceston, there are many tin-mines. And, as they told us, some

  of the richest veins of that metal are found there that are in the

  whole county--the metal, when cast at the blowing houses into

  blocks, being, as above, carried to Liskeard to be coined.

  From Liskeard, in our course west, we are necessarily carried to

  the sea-coast, because of the River Fowey or Fowath, which empties

  itself into the sea at a very large mouth. And hereby this river

  rising in the middle of the breadth of the county and running

  south, and the River Camel rising not far from it and running

  north, with a like large channel, the land from Bodmin to the

  western part of the county is almost made an island and in a manner

  cut off from the eastern part--the peninsula, or neck of land

  between, being not above twelve miles over.

  On this south side we came to Foy or Fowey, an ancient town, and

  formerly very large--nay, not large only, but powerful and potent;

  for the Foyens, as they were then called, were able to fit out

  large fleets, not only for merchants' ships, but even of men-of-

  war; and with these not only fought with, but several times

  vanquished and routed, the squadron of the Cinque Ports men, who in

  those days were thought very powerful.

  Mr. Camden observes that the town of Foy quarters some part of the

  arms of every one of those Cinque Ports with their own, intimating

  that they had at several times trampled over them all. Certain it

  is they did often beat them, and took their ships, and brought them

  as good prizes into their haven of Foy; and carried it so high that

  they fitted out their fleets against the French, and took several

  of their men-of-war when they were at war with England, and

  enriched their town by the spoil of their enemies.

  Edward IV. favoured them much; and because the French threatened

  them to come up their river with a powerful navy to burn their

  town, he caused two forts to be built at the public charge for

  security of the town and river, which forts--at least, some show of

  them--remain there still. But the same King Edward was some time

  after so disgusted at the townsmen for officiously falling upon the

  French, after a truce was made and proclaimed, that he effectually

  disarmed them, took away their whole fleet, ships, tackle, apparel,

  and furniture; and since that time we do not read of any of their

  naval exploits, nor that they ever recovered or attempted to

  recover their strength at sea. However, Foy at this time is a very

  fair town; it lies extended on the east side of the river for above

  a mile, the buildings fair. And there are a great many flourishing

  merchants in it, who have a great share in the fishing trade,

  especially for pilchards, of which they take a great quantity

  hereabouts. In this town is also a coinage for the tin, of which a

  great quantity is dug up in the country north and west of the town.

  The River Fowey, which is very broad and deep here, was formerly

  navigable by ships of good burthen as high as Lostwithiel--an

  ancient and once a flourishing but now a decayed town; and as to

  trade and navigation, quite destitute; which is occasioned by the

  river being filled up with sands, which, some say, the tides drive