All the demons of whom the old folks tell in the West Country were not
evil spirits. Some, like that one who helped Sir Francis Drake, worked
good magic for the benefit of those to whom they attached themselves.
To Drake's demon a number of good deeds are attributed. One story they
tell of him is of those days when the news of the fitting out of the
mighty Spanish Armada had caused a thrill of apprehension to sweep
through the country. The danger that threatened was very great, and
Drake, like all of those who were charged with the safeguarding of our
shores, was vastly worried, although he kept his worries to himself.
And one day, as the story goes, the great admiral was sitting, weighed
down with anxiety, making and remaking his plans, on Devil's Point, a
promontory that runs out into Plymouth Sound. As he was thinking, almost
unconsciously he began whittling a stick. How, he wondered, could he
find enough ships to combat the enormous force the King of Spain was
sending against him?
Looking up from his reverie, at length, across the Sound, he started in
happy surprise, for floating quite close to the shore he saw a number of
well-armed gunboats; each chip that he had cut from the stick having
been so transformed by the magic of his friendly demon.
Later, when Drake had achieved his great victory over the Spaniards,
Queen Elizabeth gave him Buckland Abbey. When he took possession, the
legend goes, there was great need for stables and outhouses, and
building work was set in train at once.
After his first night there, one of Drake's servants was amazed to find
how much building had been done, and, feeling that something unusual
must be going on during the hours of darkness, he secreted himself
in a tree at dusk the next evening to see what happened. There he fell
asleep, but towards midnight he was awakened by the tramp of animals
and the creaking of wheels. Looking down, he saw several ox teams
approaching, each dragging a wagon filled with building materials and
led by a weird spectre form.
As the first team passed by, the spectre, urging the weary beasts on,
plucked from the earth the tree in which the servant was hiding, in
order to beat them. The unfortunate servant was cast to the ground, and,
picking himself up, ran in terror to the house.
His violent fall injured him seriously, and they say that the fright
made him half-witted for the rest of his life. Still, he recovered
sufficiently to tell others of what he had seen, and to explain the
mystery of the miraculous speed with which Buckland Abbey's outbuildings
were constructed.
Buckland Abbey lies between Plymouth and Tavistock, close to the banks
of the pretty River Tavy. Drake built his house there on the site of a
thirteenth-century abbey, some remains of which are still to be found.
Preserved in Buckland Abbey is Drake's Drum, the beating of which in
time of national danger would, so they say, bring the great Elizabethan
sailor back from his ocean grave by the Spanish Main to fight once more
for his country.
Plymouth, the port with which Drake is so closely associated, is a town
brimful of interest, magnificently situated on high ground overlooking
the sea. From famous Plymouth Hoe, the scene of the historic game of
bowls, a view of unequalled charm may be obtained. Out at sea, the
Eddystone Lighthouse is seen, and east and west the rugged shores of the
Sound, always alive with shipping, meet the eye.
And although Plymouth is over 226 miles from London, it is the first
stopping-place of the famous Cornish Riviera Express, which leaves
Paddington each week-morning at 10.30 and arrives at Plymouth only four
hours and seven minutes later.
[Illustration: _Buckland Abbey_]
[Illustration]