Bareppa, and sentenced him to carry sacks of sand across the estuary of the Looe, and to empty them at Porthleaven, till the beach was entirely cleared as far as the rocks. Artful St. Petrock had observed that the sweep of the tide was from Trewavas Head towards the Lizard, and that every day's wave would roll back the sand. Long did poor Tregeagle labour, but all in vain; and at last his loud howlings began to seriously disturb the fishermen of Porthleaven. A mischievous goblin at last brought them relief. One night when the giant, laden with an enormous sack of sand, was wading across the mouth of the estuary, the goblin, out of pure malice, tripped up Tregeagle. The sea was lashed by a storm at the time, and, as the steward fell, the contents of his sack were poured out across the arm of the sea, and formed a bar which at once destroyed the commerce of Helston (Ellas' town).
Anger and weapons were useless; so, by bell, book, and candle, the priest again put chains on the wayward and tormented spirit, and transported him to the Land's End. His task this time was more tremendous than ever. He was condemned to sweep all the sands from Porthcurnow Cove round the great granite headland of Tol-Peden Penwith into Nanjisal Cove. There is one thing against him, and that is the strong sweep of the Gulf Stream; but he perseveres. Those sighing sounds, heard before the sou'-west gales, are said to be his meanings, when he knows the tempest is coming, to scatter the sand he has with such cruel toil collected.
Another version of the great Cornish legend, an amalgam of many centuries of myths, represents Tregeagle, when exorcised by the priest's magic circle, changing into a black bull, at first furious at the prayers, but gradually growing quiet as a lamb. He was at last sent to Genvor Cove, and sentenced to make trusses of sand and carry them up to Escol's Cliff. Many winters Tregeagle toiled at this unsatisfactory business, till he suddenly thought of bringing water from an adjacent stream and freezing the sand. This he did, and finishing his job, went back to the defendant in the Bodmin trial, and would have torn him in pieces had he not had a child in his arms. But over innocent children spirits have no power. The impracticable Tregeagle was then sentenced to the same task, minus all fresh water. In one legend Tregeagle is made lord of a castle which stood by Dozmare Pool, the Bodmin moors being his hunting forests. Enchantment has removed the castle, and turned the oak trees into granite blocks. Near St. Roche there is a granite pillar twelve feet high, which is called Tregeagle's staff. Tregeagle, one night crossing the Daporth hills, lost his hat, and running to get it, flung away his staff to lighten him in his search. The hat, a great disk of granite, remained on a neighbouring hill till 1798, when some soldiers camping there, fancying it to be the cause of constant rain that tormented them, hurled it down into the sea.
And now the crow will take a bold flight seaward, far from the ceaseless mists that float over the Bodmin moors and the vaporous rains that beat on the Four-hole Cross, and the desert heath of Temple Moor, into King Arthur's country. At Tintagel-by-the-Sea he was born, and at Slaughter Bridge, close by, he fell with all his knights beside him. This Arthur, who owes everything to Alfred—not King Alfred, but Alfred Tennyson—is divisible into two parts: the fabulous Arthur and the semi-fabulous Arthur of semi-fabulous history. He was probably really a British chief of the sixth century. He is said to have defeated the Saxons in twelve battles, at last to have been wounded to death in a battle at Camelford, and then to have been conveyed by sea to Glastonbury, where he died and was buried. In the romances he is made to conquer Scotland, Ireland, Iceland, Norway, and Gaul. Geoffery of Monmouth tells the story of Arthur from Armorican sources, and a romance about him was one of the earliest books printed by Caxton. Leland says that near Camelford, where Arthur's last battle was fought, pieces of armour, rings, and brass furniture for horses, were still sometimes dug up at Slaughter Bridge, where ages ago
All day long the noise of battle roll'd
Among the mountains by the winter sea,
Until King Arthur's table, man by man,
Had fallen in Lyonness about their lord.
Across the stream of the Camel in a valley near Boscastle, not far from the sea, there is a bridge of flat stones upon uprights. The tradition is that this stream ran crimson on the fatal day when Arthur slew Mordred, his traitorous nephew, at this spot, having previously, in front of where Worthyvale House now stands, received a wound from Mordred's poisoned sword. An engraved stone over the stream is said to still mark the exact spot. The Cornish tradition is that Arthur was transformed into a red-legged chough, and it is therefore still thought unlucky to kill one of these birds.
There is a tradition that the Danes once landed at Genvor Cove. Alarm fires instantly spread from Carn Brea to St. Agnes beacon, and from the Great Stone to Cadbarrow, and from Cadbarrow to Brown Willie. King Arthur, then at Tintagel, feasting with nine other kings, instantly marched to the Land's End, and smote the red-haired Danes so terribly, that only those escaped who had charge of the ships. The mill of Vellan Druchar was that day worked with blood. The ships, too, were cast on shore, and left so high among the rocks by an extraordinary spring tide, that for years the birds built in the rigging. After the battle, at which Merlin was present, Arthur and his nine kings pledged each other in holy water from St. Sennan's well. They returned thanks for their victory in St. Sennan's chapel, and finally dined together on the Table Rock. The old name for the Land's End was The Headland of Blood, and Bollait, a place near, is The Field of Slaughter.
