[126] He seems to have been called “Vautier” or “Gautier” indiscriminately.
[127] Letters illegible, but have been supplied from the “Second Report of Commissioners (Guernsey)”, p. 303, viz., Names of Officials 5 Ed. III.
The Spectre of Les Grentmaisons.
At no great distance from the thriving village of St. Sampson’s, which, thanks to its commodious harbour, the neighbouring granite quarries, and an extensive trade in stone carried on there, bids fair to become a town, stands what was formerly the mansion of a considerable branch of the Le Marchant family,[128] one of the most ancient and influential in the Channel Archipelago. It is known as “Les Grentmaisons,” the name of a family that has been extinct for some centuries, but which possessed lands in this part of the island. The house is situated on the high road leading from St. Sampson’s to the town of St. Peter Port, and, although surrounded at the present time on all sides, was, at the beginning of the present century, far removed from any dwelling—none indeed being then in sight but those of the town, distant at least two miles.
At that time the proprietor, who possessed a very handsome dwelling in St. Peter Port, only inhabited the house of the Grentmaisons during the summer months; and in the winter it was closed and left under the care of a servant, who lived in one of the dependencies. How it had come to acquire the evil reputation of being haunted, or how long it was supposed to have been so, no one could tell, but that it was the resort of troubled spirits no one could doubt. Fearful noises were heard, and lights that could not be accounted for were seen in its deserted rooms during the long winter nights; and belated wayfarers were affrighted by the apparition of a horrible beast, with large glaring eyes, and long shaggy hair trailing down to the ground, which took its nightly rambles round the ancient walls, and seemed to guard the house from intrusion.[129]
[128] Editor’s Note.—It was bought by the Reverend Thomas Le Marchant, Rector of St. Sampson’s parish, August the sixth, 1655.
[129] From Mr. Denys Corbet.
“La Bête de La Pendue.”
The western coast of Guernsey, abounding in sunken reefs stretching far out to sea, and exposed to the full force of the Atlantic waves, was, before the establishment of a lighthouse on the Hanois rocks, most dangerous to shipping coming up Channel, and many a gallant vessel, with all its crew, has struck on some hidden danger and gone down in deep water, leaving no traces but what the waves might throw up some days afterwards on the shore, in the form of detached portions of the wreck and cargo, or the dead bodies of the hapless mariners.
The inhabitants of this inhospitable coast are a rugged race of hardy fishermen, for the most part experienced pilots, who know every rock for miles round, not one of which is without its distinguishing name. As might be expected, they are close observers of the weather, and of every sign that may indicate a coming storm. Those in the neighbourhood of L’Érée and Rocquaine declare that they are warned of an approaching tempest by a peculiar bright light which appears some time before in the south-west, and also by a loud roaring, like that of a large animal in great pain, which appears to proceed from a rock known by the name of “La Pendue.” They do not attempt to account for this noise, but speak of it as “La Bête de la Pendue.”[130]