Nov. 3rd, 187-. Brig “James and Maria”: J. D., fair-haired, height 5 ft. 8 in., marked on chest with initials and cross swords, tattooed, also anchor and coil of rope on right fore-arm: large brown mole on right shoulder-blade. Striped flannel drawers: otherwise naked: no property of any kind.
Ditto. Grown man, age 40 or thereabouts: dark; iron grey beard: lovers’ knot tattooed on right forearm, with initials R. L., E. W., in the loops: clad in flannel shirt, guernsey, trousers (blue sea-cloth), socks (heather-mixture), all unmarked. Silver chain in pocket, with Freemason’s token: a half-crown, a florin, and fourpence—
And so on. On the opposite page were entered the full names and details afterwards discovered, with notes of the Vicar’s correspondence, and position of the grave.
“They ought to have gravestones,” said Mr. Raymond. “But as it is, I can only get about thirty shillings for the funeral from the county rate. The balance has come out of my pocket—from two to three pounds for each. From the beginning the Squire refused to help to bury sailors. He took the ground that it wasn’t a local claim.”
“Hullo!” said Taffy, for as he turned the leaves his eye fell on this entry:—
Jan 30th, 187-. S.S. “Rifleman” (all hands). Cargo, China clay: W. P., age about eighteen, fair skin, reddish hair, short and curled, height 5ft. 10 and 3/4 in. Initials tattooed on chest under a three-masted ship and semicircle of seven stars; clad in flannel singlet and trousers (cloth): singlet marked with same initials in red cotton: pockets empty—
“But he was in the Navy!” cried Taffy, with his finger on the entry.
“Which one? Yes, he was in the Navy. You’ll see it on the opposite page. He deserted, poor boy, in Cork Harbour, and shipped on board a tramp steamer as donkey-man. She loaded at Fowey and was wrecked on the voyage back. William Pellow he was called: his mother lives but ten miles up the coast: she never heard of it until six weeks after.”
“But we—I, I mean—knew him. He was one of the sailor boys on Joby’s van. You remember their helping us with the luggage at Indian Queens’? He showed me his tattoo marks that day.”
And again he saw his childhood as it were set about with an enchanted hedge, across which many voices would have called to him, and some from near, but all had hung muted and arrested.