Off Froward Point, black and splintered and well-named, is yet another Mewstone, with a companion, the Cat Stone; and the Black Rock some distance out. From here we turn gradually round and come by Mill Bay, under the tall white day-mark on the hill-top, to Kingswear Castle.
DARTMOUTH CASTLE AND THE CHURCH OF ST. PETROX, FROM KINGSWEAR.
CHAPTER XIX
DARTMOUTH
The cheapest ferry in England is that which takes you across from Kingswear to Dartmouth. In point of fact, there are two: the pontoon-like affair that plies from the ferry-slip, and the Great Western Railway’s steamer, conveying passengers between Kingswear station and Dartmouth Quay. The fare for one person is merely a humble halfpenny.
It is a romantic way of entering Dartmouth, which lies across there, down by the water’s edge, with great hills rising in the background, and the smoke from Dartmouth’s thousand chimneys ascending visibly, like some great incense-offering. From this point of view you perceive the essential justness of that ancient foreigner’s report when, sent to spy upon the chances of surprising Dartmouth, he declared that the hills were its walls.
And the story of Dartmouth is one of raids, made and suffered, alternately. The kingdoms of England and of France might be at peace, but the ports on either side of the Channel were often engaged in their own private wars, and sent ships and men out to burn, pillage, and slay; while between the English seaman and the Spaniard there existed an enmity which neither treaties nor prudence could set at rest. The gallant seaman of the age of romance, whether Frenchman, Spaniard, or Englishman, was nothing less than a corsair: a murdering scoundrel who, if he could appear in person at this day before his eulogists, would be the most unwelcome of visitors from the great and glorious past. His only recommendation is his undoubted courage and his exclusive patriotism. The English sea-captains of Queen Elizabeth’s day had no more doubt of being God’s avengers against the Spaniard than they had of the sun’s setting in the west; and—although we do not hear so much of the views entertained by the other side—the foreigners doubtless held equally bigoted opinions. The merchant-adventurers of Dartmouth, such as the Hawleys and the Roopes, whose monumental brasses may to this day be found in the ancient churches of St. Saviour in the town, and St. Petrox at the Castle, were embattled traders, whose captains knew what was expected of them, and accordingly did not merely trade peacefully to foreign parts, but beat about the seas in the hope of snapping up rich prizes; whether in time of peace or war mattered little or nothing. Their piety and their ferocity were equally remarkable, and they could find it easily possible to slit a throat, or to make a whole ship’s company walk the plank, to the tune of a thanksgiving psalm. It was a remarkable combination of good qualities and defects, but after all not more remarkable than the doings of such modern people as Rockefeller in America—who will, by illegitimate trading and systematic lying, ruin thousands while posing before a Sunday School—and of his fellows in England, whose names the law of libel will not permit of being printed.