The old mansion house of smuggler Squire Penrose of Sennen was not always as it seemed. It had a wonderful orchard heavy with Cornish apples in autumn and the wisteria grew a shimmering violet over the granite walls. The house was huge and sea facing. In the entrance hall was an open fire, tree trunks burnt in the grate, wintertime. The cupboards in the mansion were always full and when Squire Penrose was home, great feasting occurred. However, he was restless and preferred to be away with the ocean. Generously, he left his doors and food store open to the local community.

Squire Penrose was father to one boy named William, when his wife died of ill health, he wanted to keep the boy close. Much could be found to occupy a boy of seven on the smuggling galley but the boy longed for the apple orchards and sandy cove of Sennen. Returning the boat to Sennen one evening, to bring the boy ashore, Penrose found the wind was up and the mist low and the ship hit the rocks unexpectedly. Penrose was furious, he had sailed the seas of the world, smuggled more brandy than any other free trader and now he was losing his ship in his own cove. He was determined every soul be saved and swam back and forth with sailors who could not swim, including his boy. On the last trip, the sea got the better of smuggler Penrose and he himself was drowned within sight of shore.

The boy walked home in despair, he spent many a month wandering the grounds and rooms of the mansion praying his father would return. The squire’s brother came to live as master of Penrose Mansion. The uncle had none of the generosity and welcoming community spirit of his brother but he did have visitors and he was a successful smuggler in his own right. The house became a centre for shady deals and violent ends, most of the rooms were shut off including the tapestried chambers of his brother who had been lost to the waves. Understandably, the boy disliked his uncle and took to keeping himself to himself outdoors. He spent many an hour sitting on a rock staring out over the cove where his father’s spirit roamed.

One evening, Uncle Penrose gathered his men for a wolf hunt, there was much hunting and much merriment, with a huge crowd taking part. In amongst the commotion, the boy disappeared and it was thought he had been taken by the sea like his father. For many years people talked of how young Willaim had gone under the waves by Escols Cliff.

After a time, Uncle Penrose decided he disliked Sennen and Sennen disliked him. He shut up the house and went to sea. He sailed out of Plymouth and was gone many years. The villagers of Sennen were often in the grounds of the mansion. Fruit was ripe for harvesting after all and the master still had a good lot of brandy to be drunk in the cellar. It was on such a night, when a fire had been lit in the grate and a good crowd had gathered in the manor because who of the Penrose was here to say differently? When there was a knock on the front door. Now, no one knocked on that door. Everyone knew the way in through the side door and there was never a need for knocking.

The door was opened and there stood a young man weathered by the sea wind, with a smile in his eyes. There was something familiar about him but everyone had had too much smuggler’s brandy to care too much about who he might be. He came in and sat by the fireside, took a dram of brandy, and told the best drolls (folk tales) and songs for hours. The visitor was given the best rooms with the tapestries on the wall, as he said he wouldn’t be too bothered by ghosts.

It was New Year’s Eve, the young people of Sennen had gone gathering ivy and rushes to make winter love spells to find clues as to who they would marry. Suddenly, they all crowded into Penrose’s Hall with terror on their faces. The candlelight flickered weakly, a draft blew in through the open door and everywhere was a strong stench of salty water and surging tides. The air in the room swirled thick with the spirit of the sea, and the voices of a thousand drowned sailors wailed at the walls. A great wash of fear welled up in those who only a moment ago had been gathered listening to tales of old.

‘William Penrose is returned from the sea.’

retold by Anna Chorlton

source Robert Hunt Popular Romances of the West of England