Besides Pensans, which is the end of the line, we also went to Pendennis Castle and to the Scilly Isles. Auntie the historian insisted on both the castle and the voyage. After all, who knows if the kids shall ever get back to the Isles of Scilly? For most tourists, it’s off the beaten path.
To get to Pendennis Castle, one has to go to Falmouth. This means one has to get back on the train, go back up to Truro and change trains, then take another dinky commuter to Falmouth. Like Pensans, it’s the end of the line. From the train station, you walk past the harbor, which still has a working shipyard. We saw two Navy vessels--haze grey and not under way.
Pendennis (Pendenys) Castle isn’t medieval; rather, it’s an early modern castle, built Henry VIII in 1539. When people think of castles, they tend to think of the big things, like the Edwardian castle of Snowdonia--Caernarfon and Harlech, to name two. Or maybe they think of something out of fairy tales or Disney, like Neuschwanstein in Bavaria. Pendennis isn’t any of that--it’s small, in excellent repair, and designed to be defended by guns.
The castle sits on the west bank of the River Fal. With its opposite number on the opposite bank, St. Mawes Castle, it guarded the entrance to the river as well as Carrick Roads. 1539 was a perilous time. France and Spain were the European powers. At this time, they looked set to ally and take out anti-papal England. Fortunately for England, their mutual antagonisms reasserted themselves.
Pendennis saw more action during the Civil Wars. It was the last Royalist position in the West Country. It held out for five months of siege before surrendering to the Roundheads in August of 1646.
(My father’s family were Welsh Royalists. They fled to Virginia in 1647. To top that, I’m also C of E. I have no use for the Parliamentarians aka the Roundheads. And what Cromwell did in Ireland . . . well, let’s just say I agree with the Pogues.)
Pendennis and St. Mawes remained serious defensive fortifications through the Napoleonic period. The concern remained Carrick Roads. One of the more interesting 18th century tidbits--Ethan Allen was imprisoned in Pendennis in 1775. An Army barracks was maintained here in the 19th and 20th century, and Pendennis saw its last action during World War II, not unlike Carrickfergus Castle in Ireland.
The Scillies are a small group of isles off the Cornish coast. I wanted to go because I wanted to make the passage. Historically, sailors have generally avoided the passage between the Scillies and Land’s End because of the hidden rocks and confused seas.
In 1782, Richard, Viscount Howe, (later Admiral Earl Howe) was forced off station by a gale. He took the Channel Fleet between Land’s End and the Scillies. At the time, this was considered a fine piece of seamanship. The Franco-Spanish fleet paraded around the Western Approaches (west of the Scillies), but that same gale blew them off and they went southeast, avoiding the islands altogether.
Lord Howe is important to Armitage’s brother, Captain Sir Peregrine Paget-Gardiner, in that Howe’s is Pippin’s mentor. Networking was as important in the 18th century British Navy as it is among 21st business people. Furthermore, Howe becomes First Lord of the Admiralty when Armitage is trying to effect some change in smuggling. He’s got to lean on Howe to get a commission in the Customs Service for James Durdan. Getting Howe to do anything with patronage was tough at best.
Our trip to the Isles had much of the weather to direct it. We left on a Thursday morning for 2 hour and 40 minute journey from Pensans to St. Mary’s. The ferry, which is quite large, is called Scillionian III. On a good day, this voyage wouldn’t have been calm. This trip was anything but calm. One of the crew said, “It was a middling bad passage”.
A cold front came through with wind and rain, the tide was going out, and the Scillies lie at the point where the English Channel meets the Western Approaches. The end result were terribly confused seas and high waves. These conditions made a lot of people, including my brother-in-law, my sister-in-law, and, most of all, my niece, seasick. At one point, I thought I was going to lose, but I didn’t. I levitated up two companion-ways and made it to cold air. I sat outside, nose to the wind. By the end of the voyage, I’d nicked Brad’s fleece.
The first stop after arriving in St. Mary’s--tourists have about three hours before the ferry goes back--was the sweatshirt shop, where just about everybody, me included, got a T-shirt or sweatshirt. Location, location, location. My brother-in-law found it on the strength of a T-shirt that read “Can’t sail. Can drink.” Brad and I both opted for the latitude and longitude of the Scillies--49º 54’ 46” N and 6º 17’ 30” W--on our sweatshirt and T-shirt.
After lunch, Brad and I rented bicycles and rode to one of the local landmarks. The gentleman manning the shop in lieu of his friend, the owner, was an American originally from California who’s moved permanently to St. Mary’s. His eyes popped open when he heard us. He said they don’t get too many Americans in St. Mary’s; he hadn’t heard one in about four years.
This was was the first time I have ever operated a vehicle, of any kind, in Great Britain. Being on the other side of the road is a bit unnerving. The bicycle and I had words, for it has much newer breaks and gear shift than I’ve got on my personal bike, Suzie Specialized, which I’ve had since graduate school.
In the rain and fog, we took off for Bant’s Cairn, a Bronze Age burial tomb and ceremonial center. It’s at the top of a hill. 150 feet below it lies Halagny Down, an Iron Age farming village that was abandoned between AD 600-700. After exploring every part of the place--after Stonehenge, the oldest place we went in Britain--we flew back down the roads into town to return the bikes.
The return voyage was smoother and made much more pleasant by being the bar with a couple from Australia. He’s originally from Britain; she, from South Africa. Oh, yes, the Empire is still on the move.
