Drake and the Orchards of Hartland

By James A Child

Two young people make an amazing discovery. Their inheritance could include a historic cache of gold, which could be the legacy of Sir Francis Drake. Their search takes them to Devon, Cornwall, and then the Caribbean. Use your imaginationwhat do you do when you find a treasure trove of gold? That is the problem Robert Orchard faces as he enlists the help of the family, and then they realize there is a lot more where that came from. Their search takes them to the Caribbean. Read on. It is the stuff of dreams. You just need a vivid imagination and the ability to suspend your disbeliefs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Oct 10, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524594558

James A Child

My name is James A. Child. This is significant because I am a spiritual child of God. Quite a claim, I know, so let me explain how I came to this knowledge of God. My first wife was a reader in the Church of England (licensed to preach). She died in November 2003 and three months later, in bereavement, I tried spiritual journaling at the suggestion of our local vicar. I just told God I loved him and was immediately overwhelmed with a feeling of being loved. I continued spiritual journaling (and who wouldn’t?) to the present day. The revelation experience is repeated in all my books. I was sixty-five when my wife died, and from that revelatory day in March 2004, I studied everything I could on what Jesus had to say about life after death. I should also add that I found I understood everything that I had previously not understood, in respect of the Spirit. I knew that we are all on a spiritual journey in this mortal life, and significantly, I understood what Jesus was implying in Luke 17:21, “The kingdom is within you.” I was certainly in a heavenly state of being, and my life was completely transformed. At the ripe old age of sixty-eight, I wrote my first book God’s Worldwide Fellowship and self-published it in 2009 at the age of seventy-one. If you want to know how to become a spiritual child of God, you can read my books, of course, or check out Romans 8:14, “Those who are led by God’s Spirit are his children.” The author is a retired engineer, happily remarried since 2005, and living in North Devon.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Bob Orchard woke unusually early from a deep sleep.

The sun slanting through the windows of the bedroom of their tiny flat, highlighted the dancing dust motes floating in the air. He was a fit-looking 28-year-old of medium height and build, with a humorous cast to his features. Crossing to the window yawning and stretching, he took in the view overlooking the busy street outside. Um … not the most inspiring sight. He then contemplated a sight more inspiring - the recumbent form on the bed, of his still comatose wife. He decided to take the risk:

Tara, are you awake my lovely?

Tara turned, stretched and opened bleary eyes.

Urgh. I am now and it is your turn to make the tea Bob, in case you have forgotten your sweet talking promises of last night she grinned.

Fair do-s - I’ll get the tea if you listen to the dream I had, is it a deal?

Providing I don’t have to act out any sex scenes; I know you and your erotic fantasies Bob Orchard.

Not at this time in the morning surely my dear, there are limits even to my appetite; on that note then, I’ll get that cuppa. He cheerfully clattered into their tiny kitchen, returning in a few minutes with two steaming mugs. Handing one to Tara, he continued…..

Are you now sitting comfortably? Good, then just listen up to the weirdest dream I’ve ever had.

This had better be good; because you have had some real whackers in the past said Tara, warningly, as she settled back on her pillows.

You may well scoff, but, you remember we were discussing my family tree, as per the family bible. (I am sure this dream was brought on by your pleading poverty). Anyway, it placed me in 16th. Century Hartland in Devon. Actually, the OrchardThree Pears on the family crest, figured large in the dream. You know - the crest in the front of my Bible Tara? The coastline at Hartland is really rugged as you know and this guy Lord George was equally rugged in my dream.

The women were also likely to be of the same character, given that a living from those wild lands was hard fought for, interjected Tara who had distinct feminist leanings.

"Wait for it: now enters Francis Drake into the mix; he had dropped anchor here and married one of my ancestors; so when I say rugged there were exceptions. There was apparently a good smattering of gypsies in the Hartland area too, which probably accounts for the wild and beautiful Romany looks of Elizabeth, the Lord’s daughter. Drake, as we know, had roamed right round the world in his good ship ‘The Golden Hind’; so he probably had an eye for such a rare beauty in 16thC Devon. His royal connections would also persuade him to select a woman of noble birth. Elizabeth would have fit the bill perfectly and led him a merry dance to boot, no doubt. Thus, the Plymouth connection between the two notable families was established. Her brother Tyler was however, true Lord-of-the -Colonial type, both by inheritance and disposition, and the Romany influences were sadly missing in his character. Elizabeth would have none of his arrogant ways and they fought like cat and dog. Lord George despaired of them; so when Francis came wooing his beautiful daughter, he gave his wholehearted blessing to Francis’s proposal. The wedding was a grand affair; the Abbey house of Hartland had never seen so many guests. According to Tyler, anybody who was anybody, arrived on their doorstep and a new dynasty was born. This isn’t too romantic for you is it Tara?"

Fully engaged by now, Tara straightened further up on her pillows. No and I do like the Francis Drake bit, so do get on with it!.

I am telling it like it happened in the dream my love, so be patient - it’s all there in graphic detail, right down to the clothes they wore. The sea was the main access to Hartland in those times, no one in their right mind would cross Bodmin moor, or Exmoor or Dartmoor for that matter, in the winter months; roads were little less than cart tracks. There was quite a ‘wreckers’ trade off this coast, and the locals supplemented their meagre fishing and farming incomes from the ship wrecks; with a suitable tithe going to Lord George of course. Smuggling was a further lucrative pastime; and guess who the sheriff was? Why Lord of the Manor - naturally; he was inclined ever to turn a blind eye, provided he benefited from the spoils.

He paused to sip his tea and draw breath.

And what part did you play in this drama Bob?

"Me? Why Tyler, Lord George’s son of course, the one who ran the business side of things and I was a really devious bastard, when it came to looking after the family fortune I can tell you.

So, all was very cut and dried, until Francis shipped in and got wind of the source of his soon-to-be in-laws’ wealth. The funding of his seafaring adventures had suddenly gained a potential new benefactor; a most welcome dowry! Stranger things happened at sea; but not many, were Francis’s thoughts. He became very philosophical about his new found wealth. While piracy on the high seas after all is said and done, was a great source of income, unfortunately the spoils were far more visible. Dues had to be paid to the crown on this trade and Elizabeth 1 was a very demanding Queen; but that was a small price to pay in covering up the smuggling and you could still bury the evidence of your piratical activities. It kind of legitimised it; and this appealed to the philosopher in Francis, the business man in Lord George and especially so to the devious Tyler. Mutually beneficial thought Elizabeth (not to be forgotten in all this), who quite suddenly got on much better with me, her brother. Why, we could now be trading partners, with the blessing of the crown; legal in fact – well almost. Trading posts in both the south and north of the county, gave them much greater flexibility. The wild and rugged coastline of Hartland for the smuggling and Plymouth for the legal piracy spoils, a marriage made in heaven is the way Lord George viewed it. So, Tyler proceeded to bury the loot; quite literally, in true pirate fashion; well he was a quick learner and cunning in the extreme. I believe the final cache from their piratical activities was buried by Tyler in 1596, the year Drake died. For some reason the churchyard was involved with the stashing away of the loot, it was all rather confused in the dream; but I remember seeing the date of 1596 on a gravestone. The church was kept sweet, so they could also turn a blind eye to the smuggling, it was a wise person, who knew which side his bread needed buttering. When the coast guards hit the shore line things had to go hastily underground; storage caves known only to the locals. Local brotherhoods sprang up to protect the guilty; they were real roguish characters I can tell you Tara. It was woe betide anyone who broke ranks; the space between life and death, was a very thin place indeed; rough justice was administered by the noble lords, not the least of which, would be carried out both summarily and swiftly at Hartland. My dream showed a place name called Hangman’s Hill with a smiling Lord George looking on; a powerful impression; you knew he was the man with the power of life and death over any deviant rogues."

This is all very well Bob, but ‘devious’ as you were, the family wealth hasn’t trickled down to you now has it? Need I remind you, we can’t even raise a deposit for a flat; never mind a stately pile. And another thing, how come you have the family Bible; your name isn’t Drake or even Sydenham.

Do you mind - I haven’t told you about that and how it made an appearance in this big house, well I think it was a house; it could just as easily have been a church; because it was on a lectern.

Tara continued to sip her tea thoughtfully, with a somewhat vacant stare. Then, with a determined look on her face, she leapt out of bed. "OK, you’ve almost convinced me. We need to get dressed, Bob and investigate Francis Drake’s history on the internet"

OK love, straight after breakfast, You see, I knew I’d grab your interest!

Marching into the kitchen, Bob called over his shoulder As it’s Saturday, how about a fry up?. Taking a grunt from his preoccupied wife as acceptance he proceeded to gather the makings of breakfast together, humming to himself all the while. The view from the window over the sink was not the most inspiring, but the March day showed promise of blue skies and not too strong a breeze. No decisions yet, but…..

I’m logging onto your laptop Bob, called Tara, I think we need to investigate the family tree of Francis Drake and likewise the Orchards of Hartland She scrolled through, muttering to herself the while, until, several minutes later: "Here we have it - The Orchard family bought the Abbey in 1704 from the Luttrell family who had owned it for the previous 100 years.

Drake died in 1596 having married a certain Elizabeth Sydenham in 1585. So ...Tyler Orchard was named after one of the Sydenham’s ie. Tyler Sydenham, that’s your connection. But all very confusing, since it was a Prudence Abbot who married Andrew Luttrell. They only bought the Abbey presumably from the Sydenham family Oh, well what do I know…. But hang on a minute, this is beginning to sound more interesting: there is an Abbey at Hartland, I’ve been there."

I know heart of mine, I was with you if you recall and I do now remember the same lectern as in the dream. The Bible was a leather- bound one just like mine in fact; which is a King James one. Now here is the weird thing Tara; you were looking at a verse in the back of the Bible dressed in your nightie.

She turned to him in exasperation:

Hello here comes the sex scene on the sacrificial altar. Well you can count me out, you crafty swine Bob Orchard; what you will do to get your wicked way with me; you almost had me believing in your dream. Tara scowled at him, but the scowl reflected a degree of disappointment.

"There is one thing that would convince you and me and I will tell you what it is shall I? Check out the Bible; if I am not mistaken there is a verse written in the back which I never did understand."

Tara crossed to the bookshelf holding the Bible and opening it up at the back, found an inscription, which she read out:

"The foundation of the family wealth,

Can seriously affect your health

Within these covers all is revealed

Therein your destiny is surely sealed

Take the well laid steps to my grave

Fortune and guile then favours the brave

Tyler Orchard 1711"

There you are, from the horse’s mouth; I always told you I was of noble birth.

So, I am yours to command my Lord and master. But not this morning lover boy. Nor tonight even, Napoleon. No, we are off to Hartland to claim your inheritance; if it is still there for the taking.

Hang on Tara! It is only a dream and some 4 centuries old, we need to do the research in depth.

Oh, where’s your sense of adventure she snorted. All the research we need do, is to find out where great -––-great grandfather Tyler Orchard is buried. We can do it! I didn’t do an archaeological degree for nothing you arch manipulator you.

"Yes and I didn’t do a psychology and philosophy degree, without gaining some insight into how the human mind works; it’s what makes me so devious. Think about it, examine the words; the clue is written in italics.

Covers and sealed Look here, the paper on which the verse is written has been sealed inside the back cover. You can feel a small depression line with your nail forming this rectangle. I am going to cut it out with a razor blade. "He charged off to the bathroom and after much huffing and puffing, emerged triumphantly (and some might consider, somewhat dangerously) brandishing a razor blade.

Hope you’re going to put everything back where you found it muttered Tara. Ignoring this somewhat familiar sally, Bob attacked the back cover. Having perused the contents, he exclaimed: Well I’ll be jiggered, the verse has been glued to a separate piece of cardboard–look. And there is this map on the back detailing the grave yard, with steps and the foundation bricks highly detailed. He paused for breath, then said excitedly, Are you thinking what I am thinking girl? This is a bloody treasure map and we could well be on our way to being rich, beyond the dreams of avarice; as all the good treasure hunting books declare.

Pass it by me again Bob, where is great–-great grandfather Tyler buried?

By this time, looking a little white round the gills, he replied Where else, the church at Hartland of course. Hey what are we wasting time for; who knows it may even include Drake’s treasure trove. Dead men could yet tell tales be they even four hundred years old. Pack us a suitcase love, I can feel a trip to deepest Devon coming on and we may be gone some time.

So we pack up Old Faithful camper van? Time she had a serious outing. But don’t forget a spade Bob - sorry I mean Ben Gunn of course.

I see what you mean, I’ve always fancied a bit of grave digging for light relief. Let’s relocate the family fortune into my bank account shall we?

CHAPTER TWO

Within the hour, duly packed for the great adventure, their ancient camper van was wheezing and shaking its way through reasonably light morning traffic, along towards the M5. The earlier promise of a fine day had not failed them and as a consequence, spirits remained buoyant. After sometime though, Tara groaned:

When we grab this treasure Bob, promise me we can replace this bone shaker of a camper van will you?

What would you like, whilst we are dreaming of being rich my love?

A ‘Range Rover’ would do for starters! How far is it to Hartland from here in Bristol anyway Ben Gunn?

Oh I don’t know maybe 130 miles and about 3 hours drive. We should make it about 6 o’clock, grab a bite to eat and it will be dark enough for the treasure hunt to begin.

"We have got a torch Bob?"

Of course. That big one we use when we go camping.

They drove along in contented silence, the while admiring the drifts of blackthorn lining the motorway, its white blossom promising at least a Spring to come, if not a personal fortune! The North Devon link road junction appearing, they left the M5 and continued west towards the North Devon coast, eventually nearing the South Moulton turn-off. At this point, Tara said Let’s treat ourselves to fish and chips. A hot meal inside will do us a power of good, there’s bound to be a chippy in South Moulton.

Good idea Tara, there may not be too many eating places in Hartland itself, open at least. And we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves in that area either.

So saying, the camper van veered off in the town’s direction. Here we are, what did I tell you said Tara, a chippy AND a dining section to boot. You don’t half know how to show a girl the high life Mr. Orchard.

All part of the service and of course you will have to get used to eating in these up-market establishments my Lady.

They parked the van and ambled into the café. After they had seated themselves, a waitress came towards them, smiling:

What would you like sir?

Fish chips and peas, tea and bread and butter, twice please and could we have some tomato sauce?

Certainly sir it will be about ten minutes, would you like the television on, I think it’s about news time?

That would be lovely, thank you love.

Tara winced at this - You and your ‘love’, women do find it very patronising. It may be OK up North; but not down here in the West Country.

Right sweetie, sorry. He watched the television for a moment or two. I see the Euro is still in turmoil with Greece and three other countries all looking dodgy.

That’s a good point Bob -if we strike gold, maybe we should deposit gold bullion in the bank; I mean there is nothing better than gold at the present.

I like your thinking girl; but why don’t we get our hands on the loot first!

The meal arrived and they happily tucked in to some of the best fish and chips they’d had in a long time. We will have to remember this place on the way back, said Tara, and while I think on, I am going to get a card with their opening times and powder my nose at the same time.

By the time they had finished and were on their way again, both were feeling a lot better and ready for the task ahead. Tara broke a contented silence, saying:

We should know by 8 o’clock if we are loaded or still broke; I just hate the thought of still having to worry about the gas bill.

You and me both! And on that note, do we live in the UK or somewhere warmer, if we strike it rich? I rather like the sound of the Caribbean and if you think about it, the gold, if there is any, would simply be going back home

Tara smilingly agreed, though still with mental reservations that they could be on a very wild goose chase.

We will be there about seven-ish; so have you got the sat-nav. up and running, Bob asked You know what these Devon roads are like?

More like country lanes if you ask me and that is the ‘A’ roads.

After following the A39, the signs finally indicated Hartland and the Abbey and they turned off. The wildly beautiful aspect of the Hartland headland was somewhat wasted on the travellers, as the light had gone, leaving them to pick up the narrow tracks in the light of headlamps alone. Wild moorland tracks gave way to wooded valleys and eventually they arrived within reach of the Abbey. Parking some distance away, they cautiously approached and sought out the graveyard. The clear skies of day time had yielded to clouds, gusted across the moon by the prevailing