In the past there have been many recordings of wrecks along the coast of Glamorgan, and tales tell of smugglers who were known for looting these vessels.

Local legends suggest that the Vaughans, who were past occupiers of Dunraven Castle, which stands on rugged clifftops overlooking the bay, had some involvement in such incidents.

Walter Vaughan wasted his vast fortune on living a life of extravagance. Following the deaths of his three children in a drowning accident in the sea, he teamed up with a notorious pirate known as Mat of the Iron Hand (who had lost his hand and replaced it with a hook). They took up lives together as wreckers.

In the depths of long dark nights on the solitary beach the smugglers would hide amongst the deep dark caves of the cliff heights. After hanging glowing lanterns on the horns of cattle, some of the gang would lead the beasts along the golden moonlit coast.

When the waves were crashing, a stricken vessel would follow the lights in the hope that it was heading for safety and towards dry land. The figurehead of the ship pounded through the spraying salty waters, unaware that an anxious band of smugglers awaited them.

The fully laden ship would be lured to the rocks, not knowing that it was off-course and that crew and passengers were doomed. Their destiny lay with the heathen ahead of them.

They sailed towards the shore, the tide splashing above the stern, sails shredding in the blustery gale, and spray bursting over the twisting hull.

Then there was an almighty thud as the hugh timbers of their ship hit the jagged rocks, bursting inwards and letting in the freezing cruel sea. It was every person for himself as the ship began to break up into small pieces. Those that could swim jumped into the sea and those that could not fell in anyway to drown, or if they were lucky there was timber to cling onto.

The crews cries were unheard except by the evil smugglers who began to hack to death the sailors and passengers that were unfortunate enough to make it to the shore. The ship was plundered of all its worthy goods. To the sea it would never journey again, its spirit lost - and the smugglers, with their prize, would melt away into the night.

All that would remain was floating driftwood and the bodies and souls of sailors and passengers that had now past on . . . They say today that if you see one of the ghost ships out by the rocks it is your bad omen.

* THE END *

Copyright ValleyStream 99