nstant there came out of St Sebastian twenty sail of sloops; some
attempted to land on Lundy, but were repulsed by the inhabitants.'

One of the most conspicuous of all Lundy's owners was a certain Thomas
Benson, merchant of Bideford, who, with great sang-froid and
considerable humour, combined smuggling and piracy with being a member
of Parliament. Unfortunately, his varied occupations after a while
brought him to grief. Amongst other charges, it was proved that he had
'entered into a contract with the Government for the exportation of
convicts to Virginia and Maryland, and gave the usual bond to the
sheriff for so doing. But instead of doing this he shipped them to
Lundy, where he employed them in building walls and other work in the
island. Every night they were locked up in the old keep of the
Mariscoes. He regarded himself as King of Lundy, and ruled with a high
hand.' In answering this accusation he offered the ingenious excuse for
his breach of contract: 'That he considered Lundy to be quite as much
out of the world as these colonies.'

From Ilfracombe, towards Lynton, the road at first follows the edge of
the cliff, high above the sea. One tiny bay curves inland till the road
seems almost to overhang the water, blue-green with undertones of grey,
and the foam splashing on the broken rocks. All around is a sense of
wide spaces and freshness. Headland beyond headland rises to the east,
the Little Hangman, Great Hangman, and Highveer Point, softened by a
transparent grey haze. A little to the right of them are the first
ridges of Exmoor, some long, some short, ending in full curves and
slopes clearly outlined against the sides of their higher neighbours,
and the highest against the sky. In the prettiest of hollows, Watermouth
Castle looks down a slope of richest pasture to the sea sparkling below,
and a great mass of rock shields it from storms blowing off the water.
Clouds of foliage soften the lines of the hill rising behind the Castle.

A short distance inland is the village of Berrynarbour, chiefly to be
remembered as the birthplace of John Jewel, Bishop of Salisbury, 'a
perfect rich gem, and true jewel indeed,' over whose virtues Westcote
falls into panegyrics. 'If anywhere the observation of Chrysostom be
true, that there lies a great hidden treasure in names, surely it may
rightly be said to be here; grace in John and eminent perfection in
Jewel.'

John Jewel was born in 1522, and when very young was sent