During recent storms off the Cornish coast, a scarcely remembered legend has once again reared it's vaguely predictable spooky head. This rugged seashore has always borne a reputation for smuggling and rum behaviour of varying descriptions.  The tale in question concerns one Captain Anton Neele, Master of the ship, 'The Strolling Belgian'. A ten gun sloop, 'The Strolling Belgian' plagued the shipping routes off Falmouth for almost four years. (I know, it doesn't sound very much, but I assure you they were long, long years full of hardship and toil and depravity and all that, so let's just leave it at that, shall we?) 

Captain Neele was born to a Mother, and very possibly a Father in 1681, in Helston.  Not much else is known about his early life, which is actually quite convenient as it means we can leave that bit out.

He was a harsh and cruel pirate with scant regard for Health & Safety regulations.

Never one to suffer fools, or indeed anyone, he was often found flogging an errant crew-member morning, noon and night, and often at weekends too.  Not even Bank Holidays could quench his fearsome desire for discipline and loyalty.

Neele's reign of terror lasted but a short time between 1714 and 1718, when he was finally brought to book, not by the authorities, but by another pirate, William Quelch-known as 'Plaidbeard The Pirate'.

Quelch had grown weary of the continual boasting of Neele.

Neele had variously claimed to have 'The Key to Davey Jones' Locker', fought 'The Mighty Kraken.', and 'a small holiday cottage on The Isle of Barra, overlooking the sea, and within easy walking distance of many convenient local amenities and tourist attractions.'

In a final, bloody battle, the 'Strolling Belgian' was sunk with all hands, and possibly some legs and feet too by Plaidbeard's vastly superior 26 gun, 3 lavatory schooner 'The Saucy Nigel'.

As Neele's ship slowly succumbed to the wet, icy metaphor of the cruel, heartless and frankly not very nice sea, he cursed Quelch and vowed to seek him out from beyond his watery grave and exact a quite unprintable revenge upon him.

It is said that every time since that day that there is a particularly convenient storm a'brewin', that the ghostly image of Neele's ship do rise from the waters with a terrible creakin' and a groanin' and a howlin' that would curdle the clotted cream on the bravest of scones!

We asked local fisherman Tom Laudable if he had heard the legend of 'The Strolling Belgian'?

"Yer." He said.

And had Mr. Laudable ever actually seen the ghostly ship?

"Nope."

So what did he think fuelled this enduring legend amongst the Cornish people?

"If you ask me, theym's all a bit soft in the head." He divulged.

"Either that, or theym's bin at the rum rather too much."

Wise words, from an old man who catches fish.