A Surprising Legacy

By Ernest Swain

A Surprising Legacy is a work of fiction.
Set at the end of the 1700s, it is a tale of romance, hardship and a dangerous flirtation with a counterfeit coin racket that is entwined in folk-lore, myths and legends that abound this Godforsaken and lawless moorland area.
Amos Carlisle is a young man forced to lead an itinerant lifestyle because of the implementation of the Enclosures Act. He travels the countryside in his vardo (a gipsy caravan) pulled by his mare Maggie, picking up casual work.
He is drawn to the remote and bleak village of Flash in the Staffordshire Moorlands where life in general is hard and winters extreme. Pulling him back to this place is the excitement generated by the risk of being involved in a counterfeit coin racket.
Sarah Fletcher, raised in an orphanage was placed in 'service' at the home of wealthy people at an early age. Her treatment there was harsh but she fell in love with the son of her employers and became pregnant with daughter, Ruth. The relationship is not acceptable to her employers and a commission is purchased in the army for her young lover in order to separate them. Unfortunately he is killed in action in the New World.
Sarah finds herself destitute with a child to support. She begs for food and is gaoled as a vagrant. At this point Amos finds the child, Ruth, hiding in a barn and cares for her. When Sarah is released from gaol she joins Amos in his caravan. Together they experience ghostly happenings, a violent robbery, cock-fighting, bare-knuckle fighting, become involved with a mining tragedy and a death caused by an illegal abortion.
Amos narrowly escapes discovery and arrest with his counterfeit coin, but his nefarious enterprise is abandoned when Sarah hears news of the legacy she and Ruth have inherited in the will of her former lover. Plans for their marriage are being laid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ernest Swain
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9780957485211

Ernest Swain

The author was the eldest son in a family of six children raised in a mining community. He joined the Police service, first as a cadet and eventually becoming a Special Branch detective, working together with MI5 and briefly with the American Secret Service. He was a firearms operative and was privileged to provide ‘special protection’ for Her Majesty the Queen and most other members of the Royal Family. This took him into palaces and stately homes. He also provided protection for such dignitaries as Ladybird Johnson (widow of President Lynden B. Johnson of America) heads of State such as Chairman Hua Kuo Feng, of China, and for the Ex Director General of MI6/Supremo of the Security Forces in Northern Ireland, Sir Maurice Oldfield. During his service he received several commendations from Judges of Assize and Crown Courts and from Chief Constables, for his diligence and bravery in cases which included facing armed criminals. Upon retirement he purchased a secluded hill farm, high in the Pennines of the Peak District National Park, which to some extent, inspired his writings. He is an accomplished organist and has a lifetime of experience with working horses, from Shires and Clydesdales to the lighter carriage horses that have been a major past-time.

Book preview

Prologue

A Surprising Legacy is a work of fiction, and the town of Halsmere is fictitious also. However, the story is mainly set in and around the village of Flash in the Staffordshire Moorlands and incorporates legends and myths that are folk-lore in that area. The characters are all fictional and not based upon any person living. If there is a resemblance to any person it is purely accidental and unintentional.

Flash, at the end of the 1700’s was a wild and barren place. The whole area was an area of heath, stone walls and black commons with scarcely a tree to be seen (Wm Beresford 1864). An early volume of ‘Companion for Travellers’ reported that Stage Coach robbers working along the Leek to Buxton turnpike escaped through Flash into the hills. It became a popular place for cock-fighting, dog-fighting and bare-knuckle fighting or prize-fighting, as it was easy to walk over the boundary into another county should there be any intervention by the law.

Sir George Harpur-Crewe, Lord of the Manor of Quarnford, of which Flash village is part, inherited the estate in 1819 and wrote in his diary;

Quarnford….appeared…. the very end of the civilised world….the village of Flash was dirty, and bore marks specifically of poverty, sloth and ignorance. The clergy were little better than the peasants. One was found living with his half-naked children in a miserable cot by the mountain side. Another was a constant occupier of the ale-house bench, and of rough and uncouth manners, while the third was a clever man, but of whose moral character there was no good report. The only doctor was a vulgar sot who subsequently committed suicide.

Counterfeiting of copper and silver coins was a lucrative business in this area and was achieved by the adaptation of the button presses that were a feature of many homes. It was estimated at one time that of the coin in circulation throughout the country a large percentage was counterfeit. Meg Lane End farm is believed to be one of many places where counterfeit coin was produced and recently button presses were recovered from a well at the farm. The coins were generally produced through the winter months and were then distributed during the summer by itinerant pedlars who hid the coin in the hollowed out axles of their carts. They were variously described as hillside terrorists, higglers, and twanners. Many of these miscreants, became known throughout the areas in which they travelled, variously as Flash Harry or Flash Jim, or whatever their name might be.

G. P. Dyer, Librarian & Curator at the Royal Mint wrote; ‘Counterfeiting of copper coins was undoubtedly a serious problem in the eighteenth century, and in our view the larger of the two Meg Lane presses certainly looks capable of striking halfpennies and farthings’. It seems that Flash money, including forged notes, was distributed by a gang based at the ‘Bottom House’ public house on the Leek to Ashbourne turnpike and some of the gang were executed at Stafford.

A glimpse of life in the area in 1786 is seen in a decree of The Manorial Court, presumably that held at Manor Farm, Quarnford, which stated;

Whereas itt has heretofore been found Inconvenient and of ill Consequence to entertain and suffer Strang women with child to come into and bee Delivered of their Bastard Children within the jurisdiction of this Court And also of Entertaining Orphiant Children not of age and ability to provide for themselves, whereby the same may become chargeable to our parish… Therefore to prevent the like practisse for the future and for the Establishing and car….?…..an Agreement to the Effect Aforsd in writing….?….Quarnford the 14th day of this instant May Wee hereby lay a pane that if any person or Householder within the Jurisdiction of this Court as aforsd shall entertain any Such Woman with Child or any Orphion or Child not of Age or Ability to provide for themselves as aforsd for the Space of one Week shall forfeit to the Lord of the Manor the Sums of 30/- And so proportionate for any Shorter or Longer term. (Sic).

Travellers or itinerants were certainly a part of the make up of the Quarnford community, and then, as now, there was distinction between them and the true Romanies. The ‘Romani’ or ‘Roma’ dialogue used in this story is true to the Romany culture.

Chapter 1.

Amos was just one of a good number of travelling men who wintered in this area. It seemed strange that they should gravitate to Flash which is considered to be the highest village in the country, to spend their winter months in what was almost certain to be some of the worst weather imaginable. Its high aspect guaranteed either endless days of wet, dismal hill fog, or vicious biting winds, that when the snows came, and come they certainly would, it blew into enormous drifts that beggared belief. To venture outside in such conditions meant a monumental struggle just to get about, and clothing soaked through that wouldn’t dry from one day to the next. But there was a reason that drew these men to this God forsaken place – a secret that was only whispered about under guarded breath between knowing people, because disclosure meant but one thing, the gallows!

It was a strange mixture, this Shropshire young man, with some education, living the life of a Romany. His head of dark hair, and his bronzed skin were well in keeping with his lifestyle, and his lean, muscular body was that of a young man used to physical labours, but the moment he opened his mouth to speak, his accent and his fluent use of the English language, betrayed the fact that his origins were not Romany.

Flash was a village of nothing much, just a few houses, a blacksmith’s shop and an alehouse. A dour place of poor, wet land that made earning a living difficult, so these few hardy residents, especially the ale-house keeper, eagerly anticipated the late autumn arrival of these itinerants and the money they would bring. One and all, they were ‘men of character’, as they liked to be known – which really meant they were sly, devious people who lived on their wits; generally outside the law. This village was therefore a haven to them, as it lay at the furthest extent of the Staffordshire Moorlands, at its boundary with the counties of Cheshire and Derbyshire. A haven, because if the law should pursue them, as it occasionally did, their escape was an easy matter; simply move over the boundary into another county where the law couldn’t follow. There were good living people, of course there were, they were mostly born and bred in the area, many of whom had just a small cottage and were able to raise a pig, or perhaps a goose or two for meat, and those a little better off may have a cow for milk, which they’d graze on the common. The common land was becoming a problem with the introduction of what they called the ‘Enclosures Act’, which meant the wealthy estate owners, who already owned the majority of the land, were fencing off commons in a ‘land grab’. Amos would often recite a telling little poem for those who would listen;

"The law locks up the man or woman,

Who steals the goose from the common.

But lets the greater villain loose,

Who steals the common from the goose". (Anon)

The aspirations of these people were understandably low. They were mainly unskilled, uneducated people who could only hope to subsist on the meagre fruits of their labours. For generations past, those not engaged in farm labouring, were mainly quarry workers over the county boundary in Derbyshire where the basic rock strata changed from the gritstone and shale of the moorlands, to limestone.

A few enterprising families began to covertly dig for the coal which was surprisingly close to the surface up on these moors. Covertly, because immediately the land owners discovered the enterprise the mine would be seized. These excavations were generally turned into ‘bell mines’, the name being derived from the shape of a bell, with a small opening at ground level with a rough hewn derrick to hoist the coal and spoil, and an ever widening circular chamber below. These mines were extremely dangerous for those working below the surface as there was nothing to support the roof and the surface water constantly drained into them making it a dangerous occupation.

Occasionally the coal seam would surface on a hillside and there the men would follow the seam, forming an adit and a tunnel which could be supported with timber, but few of these allowed a man to stand upright. These seams near the surface were usually thin and as only the coal was saleable it was futile to rip out tons of unsaleable stone just for the comfort of the men. Most of the work was done by the miner lying on his side, hewing with his pick-axe, in dirty, wet, claustrophobic conditions lit only by a candle that was difficult to keep alight. Boys of eight to ten years, even girls, would often be used underground, being smaller than an adult. In more recent years coal mining had become a profitable industry and two deep mines had been sunk on the nearby Axe Edge.

At Gradbach, just below Flash, on the local squire’s Manor farm, the wide, fast flowing Flash Brook was dammed and the water diverted into beds where it was held until the ochre that it carried, settled out. Once the water was again released from these beds, the ochre was collected and sold to dye and paint manufacturers. The local population were eager for work, whether it be energy sapping, wet and dirty, or cold, claustrophobic and dangerous, but whatever the work, of one thing was certain, the rewards were pitiful. Poverty was endemic. To eke out their meagre existence, in many households the income was supplemented by button making, a home industry that occupied the women and girls sewing the cloth or leather coverings. Some buttons were more intricate and required an oak press which would be filled with molten metal and pressed into shape.

Manor farm also held the Court-Leet where local issues of infringements regarding land, poaching and other misdemeanours, were dealt with by a visiting magistrate, the more serious offences being taken to Leeke. A local Parish Constable was appointed in the form of the farm bailiff at Manor farm, but in truth he was a rogue who looked after himself first and foremost, and not being the bravest of men, he rarely ventured where trouble might ensue.

Since the death of his parents, Amos had continued in this nomadic lifestyle and he had his own secret reasons to spend his winter months in this harsh, poverty stricken area. This year was to change his life forever. The mother and child who were to enter his bachelor domain in such a dramatic way, would play on his heart-strings.

Chapter 2.

Ruth began to hum a tune to herself. .Amos pretended to take little notice but allowed the thought to flitter through his mind that at last the child was beginning to feel a little secure and perhaps, was finding some pleasure in her short life. He saw her sitting relaxed on the trunk of a fallen tree, her tousled hair hanging forward over her face as she bent to smell the flower she plucked from the grass. Her appearance was quite grubby, her hair in need of a good wash and comb, and her dress – well, what remained of it –had seen better days.

Recent times had certainly been unkind to her and Amos felt a tenderness toward the child. He’d worked at several farms in the area around Halsmere throughout the harvest period, as he did most years, to provide for his needs, and being a dependable regular to visit the farms, he would be fed rather well and when possible was given produce such as turnips or mangolds and carrots from the fields, or fresh fruit and potatoes from the garden. A blind eye was turned also to the occasional rabbit – when the estate game-keeper wasn’t around.

It was on one such day, out with his snares to take a rabbit, that Ruth came into his life. He knew well the grassy banks where the warrens lay and he spent some time setting his snares in the well padded runs the rabbits used regularly. He favoured the spots where perhaps a hawthorne had fallen and the grass grew long through the twiggy branches, or, where some obstacle lay and the grass was flattened as the rabbits had regularly taken a particular route back and forth from their burrows. By placing the snare upright on the run where the rabbits emerged from the hawthorne bush he relied upon the unsuspecting animal to push through, putting it’s head through the noose. Panic would cause it to pull against the noose which would tighten about it’s neck and the result would be a good tasty meal. The only problem was that all the best places where the rabbit warrens offered good pickings were as well known to the game-keepers as they were to him and he had to keep his wits about him to avoid being caught.

It didn’t pay to hang about and so, having set his snares, he left with the intention of returning to take his catch later that evening. He favoured to wait until at least after sunset when the rabbits would normally emerge to feed. He made his way to an outlying barn some fields away from the nearest houses, where he would rest a while. He looked around but could see no-one so he stepped inside the open doorway. The transition from bright light to the gloom inside the barn made it a little difficult to see but, his sixth sense told him that there was something or someone there. He pretended to be unaware and he sat himself down on a pile of hay but he was careful to be in a good position near the doorway.

He was vaguely aware of a sound or a movement and although he pretended not to look in that direction, from the corner of his eye he saw the shadow that now made a frantic dash for the door. Amos was extremely agile and he launched himself from his sitting position to block the exit. He was absolutely astonished to see a young dishevelled child, a girl, obviously trying to escape. He stood with his back to the light which probably gave the impression of someone quite large.

Amos made no effort to take hold of the child as she shrank away from him whimpering. Realising she was afraid he spoke to her in, what he considered to be, a quiet comforting manner, assuring her that he didn’t intend to harm her, Don’t be frightened. I only came in here to rest a while. You quite surprised me. I wasn’t sure what it was; perhaps some wild animal.

There was no response from the child, so he continued, I can see that I’ve frightened you so I’ll go and leave you alone. The child simply whimpered and covered her face with her hands.

Don’t cry. I’m going now so you don’t need to fear me, he said as he retreated through the door.

The experience had unsettled him and he was fearful that she was from one of the farms, which could be very awkward for him. He walked a little way and then turned about to see the small girl just inside the doorway, peeping around the corner at him. He waved a hand to her then continued about his business, not looking to see where she went.

Amos tried his best to put the thought of the little girl out of his mind but no matter how he occupied himself with other thoughts his sub-conscious would return to the child over and over again. The terrified look on her face seemed to haunt him but at last, he drifted off into oblivion. He was awake with the morning light and he arose to a typical wet, misty autumn daybreak. The stream, running behind his caravan, looked rather cold but Amos did as most mornings and stripped down to the waist. The muscular frame was that of young man used to hard labour and carried no sign of easy living. Bending at the knees he sat on his haunches and scooped the sparkling water in his two hands and threw it over his head and face, rubbing vigorously. Standing, he threw back his head and slicked the water from his jet-black hair, then giving a violent shake of his shoulders, dislodged most of the water from his torso. He dipped his bucket, into the clear water and carried it to the caravan where he dried himself before dressing.

Opening the box seat just inside the van he took out some of the dried moss and kindling, and, moving the tripod from the remains of last night’s fire, he scraped away some of the white wood-ash to reveal just the slightest semblance of live red embers. Bending closer he gently blew over the embers and produced a small flame which he quickly fed with the moss which immediately became a blaze. With the kindling and the dry Ash branches he’d collected he soon had a useful fire. Adding a little salt to the water in his pot he hung it from the tripod, directly over the flames. One of the two rabbits from last evening’s exercise was quickly skinned and placed into the boiling water together with some diced potato, carrot, and turnip. As the meal cooked, he spread the pelt from the rabbit on a board and stretching it tight he pegged it fur side down, spread-eagled and tight as a drum. He drew his knife from its sheath and with the sharp edge of the blade he scraped the pelt clean of any meat or fat residue. He placed the pelt, still pegged out, on the floor and then taking a handful of salt he worked it into the skin. It could now be left to dry, and added to the others he was saving to sew into a jacket.

As he sat there intent upon his work, he was suddenly aware of a movement nearby and looking up he saw the child of the previous evening. She stood a good distance away from him as though she was maintaining a good margin of safety. She didn’t speak but Amos realised she was focused on the cooking pot and it was obvious that the aroma of the stew had drawn this waif near. He thought how small, unwashed and shabbily dressed the child was. Remaining where he was he said casually,

It’s rabbit, would you like some? There’s plenty. There was no reply from the girl but it was plain to see that she wanted - no, needed - the food, so without further thought he climbed the steps of the van and emerged with two dishes.

The pot had been boiling for more than an hour and the stew was ready, it smelled delicious. Holding the handle with a piece of Hessian, he lifted the pot from the fire and placed it on the ground making the grass sizzle. Flipping off the lid with a large ladle he filled the two dishes with a good portion of liquid and vegetables. The rabbit carcase had virtually fallen apart in the cooking and he skewered a leg with a fork and placed it in a dish. He shook his fingers and blew on them to indicate to the child that it was hot and then he reached again for the rabbit carcase and took his own share.

Despite her hunger, she was still reluctant to come near, so to help break this barrier Amos took his dish and moved away. Now feeling more secure she moved in towards the food. Again Amos warned her, Be careful it’s very hot.

It was good to see the child eat. Amos had broken some bread on a plate on the caravan steps and she took some and dipped it into the stew. He was sure she hadn’t eaten for some considerable time. Maintaining his distance, just to give her confidence, he asked,

What’s your name?

Almost inaudibly she responded, Ruth.

How old are you Ruth? he probed.

Still in little more than a whisper and with her mouth full of food she replied,

I don’t know.

Where do you live? he asked.

Nowhere she responded.

Well, where’s your mother and father? he continued.

The child looked up from her food, clearly distressed, and said, Some men took her. They tried to catch me but I ran away.

Amos was beginning to feel uneasy at this interrogation but he asked,

When did this happen? and she replied,

Two days ago. I was hiding in that barn when you came. I thought you were one of those men, and the tears began to run down her cheeks.

Please don’t cry, I don’t want to upset you, Amos said. She sobbed, I don’t know who they were or where they took her. Some of them had funny coats on.

Amos realised that to question the child further was only going to deepen her distress and so he let matters rest for a while.

Chapter 3

Ruth finished her bowl of rabbit stew and a glow seemed to light up her cheeks.

Any more? asked Amos.

She