Time was also when Minehead possessed a ghost, but that was long ago. It is now going on for nearly three hundred years since this malignant spectre was finally discredited, and the up-to-date circumstances of the place scarce admit the possibility of a successor. Sir Walter Scott, in his notes to “Rokeby,” tells us about this apparition, which was (or was reputed to be) that of a Mrs. Leakey, an amiable old widow lady of the little seaport, who died in 1634. She had an only son, a shipowner and seafaring man of the place, who drove a considerable trade with Waterford and other ports of the South of Ireland. She was in life of such a cheery and friendly disposition, and so acceptable a companion to her friends that they were accustomed to say to her and to each other what a pity it was so amiable and good-natured a woman must, in the usual course nature, be at last lost to an admiring circle in particular, and in general to a world in which her like was seldom met. To these flattering remarks she used to reply that, whatever pleasure they might now find in her company, they would not greatly like to see her, and to converse with her, after death.
After her inevitable demise, she began to appear to various persons, both by day and night: sometimes in her house and at others in the fields and lanes. She even haunted the sea. The cause of this postmortem restlessness appears to have been a small matter of a necklace which had fallen into hands she had not intended; and her dissatisfaction with this state of affairs entirely changed her once suave disposition. One of her favourite ghostly fancies was to appear upon the quay and call for a boat, much to the terror of the waterside folk. Her son, however, was the principal mark of her vengeance, for her chief delight was to whistle up a wind whenever the unfortunate son’s ships drew near to port. He suffered, in consequence, so greatly from shipwreck that he soon became a ruined man. So apparently credible a person as the curate of Minehead saw the spook, and believed, as also did her daughter-in-law, a servant, and numerous others. In fact, Minehead in general placed entire confidence in the supernatural nature of “the Whistling Ghost”; and it was not altogether reassured by the finding of a commission that sat to enquire upon the matter, presided over by the Bishop of Bath and Wells. The finding was “Wee are yet of opinion and doe believe that there never was any such apparition at all, but that it is an imposture, devise, and fraud for some particular ends, but what they are wee know not.”
QUIRKE’S ALMSHOUSES.
There are still some quaint objects, and odd nooks and corners in Minehead. Among these an alabaster statue of Queen Anne (deceased some time since) is prominent in the principal street: but the local experts in the art of how not to do anything properly have just enshrined it in a clumsy stone alcove affair that not only serves the intended office of shielding the statue from the weather, but also most efficiently obscures it. This figure was the work of Bird, author of the original statue of Queen Anne in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and was presented by Sir Jacob Banks to the town in 1719, as some sort of recognition of the honour he had for sixteen years enjoyed of representing Minehead in nine successive Parliaments, by favour of the powerful local Luttrell interest, he having in 1696 married the widow of Colonel Francis Luttrell. The statue was originally placed in the church, and the churchwardens’ accounts tell us, in this wise, how it was received:
| s. d. | |
| Ringing when the Queen’s effigies was brought to the Church | 7 6 |
| Paid for beer for the men that brought in the Queen’s effigies into the Church | 2 6 |
The Quirke almshouses, in Market House Lane, form a pretty nook. Their origin is sufficiently told on the little engraved brass plate that is fixed over the central door:
Robert Qvirck, sonne of James Qvirck
bvilt this howse ano: 1630 and
doth give it to the vse of the poore