Forrabury Bells

Once the main part of Boscastle around the harbour was called Forrabury, and Forrabury was a village without bells. Its people wanted beautiful bells, ones to rival the regal bells at Tintagel, bells that would run away with the wind, ringing across the sea marking every occasion. There were no local foundries, so Forrabury's new bells were cast far away in Spain, and would be transported by ship. 

The arrival of the bells was to be a big occasion, stalls were laid out along the harbour walls, musicians played and the village girls danced. The hour the ship was due there was a dream of a sea, a fair wind drifted waiting for the tide to bring her to shore. Tintagel’s vesper bell rang out and the pilot of the ship, who was a thin tense man, crossed himself praying, thanking the Lord for a smooth voyage and asking for a safe landing. The Captain of the ship, who was a big rugged man with a great beefy beard, laughed at the pilot praying.

‘Don’t you go thanking ‘ee. It was I steered this ship so swiftly and I alone.’

‘God forgive you,’ said the pilot, looking uneasily about him.

The people of Forrabury gathered on the cliffs and excitedly waited for their bells to be delivered. They felt the rub of the fair wind on their bare arms strengthen to a stinging swipe and knew the sea was about to change her mood. A communal gasp rose above the wind as the onlookers saw an enormous wave rise above the ship, enveloping it and claiming the bells to be rung in the arms of the sea. As the ship sank, the new bells were heard ringing out the deaths of the many sailors aboard. Of a ship full of men only the thin pilot survived. The bells were smashed to smithereens.

To this day, when a storm is coming to ravage the north coast of Cornwall, the ghostly peals of the Forrabury Bells can be heard ringing a warning from deep within the sea.