The interior of Carew Church is unusually lofty and s.p.a.cious, comprising nave with aisles, chancel and transepts. Lofty, well-proportioned limestone arches open into the latter, their piers embellished with the four-leaved flower that marks the artistic influence of Bishop Gower.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CAREW CHURCH THE BOY BISHOP.]

The chancel contains a pretty sedilia and piscina, arched in the wall; while an adjacent niche is tenanted by a curious little figure carved in stone, and supposed to commemorate a certain boy-bishop, elected, according to a quaint old custom, from amongst his fellow-choristers.

Be that as it may, we now turn to the opposite wall where, beneath plain, pointed recesses repose the figures of an ecclesiastic habited as a monk, and a knight in armour, sword in hand and shield upon arm, legs crossed at the knees, and head and feet supported by carven animals. The latter is a finely-executed piece of sculpture, and withal remarkable from the disproportionate size of the head, which is twisted in a strange manner over the right shoulder--perhaps a personal trait committed to marble.

Whom these figures represent is not precisely known, but we may reasonably hazard the conjecture that this mail-clad effigy represents some forgotten scion of the n.o.ble family of Carew, erstwhile lords of this place.

The ancient tiles upon the chancel floor are also worthy of notice, displaying the emblems of the bishopric with the arms of Sir Rhys ap Thomas, the Tudor rose, and various other devices.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD RECTORY HOUSES AT CAREW]

Having completed our survey of this interesting church, we next make our way to a curious-looking structure known as the Old Rectory. Though now a mere farmhouse the place bears traces of considerable antiquity, and appears, like many of the older dwellings in this locality, to have been built with an eye to defence. The ma.s.sive walls are corbelled out beneath the eaves of the roof, which is pitched at a steep angle, giving the old structure a picturesque appearance. The house has apparently been formerly enclosed within a walled precinct; and a fast-fading tradition tells vaguely of 'the soldiers' having been quartered here in the turbulent days of old.

But it is high time to be up and away, so pulling ourselves together we face the slanting sunlight, and put the best foot foremost _en route_ for Upton Castle.

After pa.s.sing the grounds of Milton House, we follow the Pembroke road for about a mile and a half, until, just short of the fingerpost, we strike into a hollow lane that leads direct to Upton. The latter part of the way goes through a shady avenue, affording glimpses of the winding Haven and the broad, gray front of Carew Castle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: UPTON CASTLE]

Upton Castle is undoubtedly of very ancient origin, but it has been restored and rendered habitable of late years, and is now occupied as a dwelling-house. The original gateway, with its double arch, is flanked by tall round towers pierced with loopholes for archery, and is crowned by corbelled battlements. A small old building beside the neighbouring creek was probably used as a guard-house or watch-tower.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OLD CHAPEL AT UPTON]

Within the castle grounds stands Upton Chapel, a lowly structure of no architectural pretensions, yet containing several objects well worthy of notice.

Opposite the entrance is the fine mural monument seen on the left of our sketch. The figure beneath the canopy is supposed to represent one of the Malefants, an extinct family that for several centuries made a considerable figure in this and the adjacent counties. The knight is clad in a complete suit of mail, having a chain around the neck, with the hands folded in the att.i.tude of prayer. The upper portion of the monument bears traces of colour and decoration, while the canted ends are adorned with carven figures beneath dainty canopies.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FROM UPTON CHAPEL.]

A curious if not unique feature is the candelabrum, in the form of a clenched fist, that projects from the adjacent wall. This singular object is fashioned from a piece of yellow limestone, and is pierced with a hole to contain the candle formerly used at funerals and other ceremonies. It appears probable that the worthy knight whose effigy lies near may have left a small pension for the maintenance of this candelabrum.

The handsome Jacobean pulpit was originally in St. Mary's Church at Haverfordwest, whence it was acquired by purchase during the restoration of that edifice.

Upon pa.s.sing through the small, plain chancel arch, we espy a huge, dilapidated effigy in a corner by the south wall. Though bereft of half its lower limbs, the figure still measures fully six feet in length.

This image is clad in a complete suit of chain-mail, and is considered to be the most ancient of its kind in the county. To its history we have no clue, but tradition avers that this rude specimen of the sculptor's art represents a certain 'tall Ammiral' of bygone times, Lord of Upton Castle, who, returning from distant voyagings, was wrecked and cast lifeless ash.o.r.e almost within sight of home.

A stone let into the chancel pavement shows the tonsured head of an ecclesiastic, with a floreated cross and damaged inscription. Within the Communion-rails we observe a female figure, draped from head to foot in flowing robes and lying under an ogee canopy. Though devoid of any distinctive badge this figure is well executed, and in a very fair state of preservation.

Upon the south side of the chapel, and close to the entrance-door, rises the small stone cross figured at the end of this chapter. It is raised upon a sort of bas.e.m.e.nt constructed of masonry overgrown with vegetation, and is approached by rough stone steps.

We now retrace our steps to the highroad, and at the fingerpost bear to the left. Just beyond the old toll-gate we pa.s.s near a house called Holyland, so named from the fact that its stones were drawn from the ruins of an ancient hospital, dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene, which formerly existed at Pembroke.

As we traverse the King's Bridge, at the head of the tidal water, the clamour of the 'many-wintered crows,' winging their homeward flight to a neighbouring spinny, falls pleasantly on our ears. Thus we reenter the quiet street of Pembroke, while the arrowy swifts, wheeling around St.

Mary's time-worn steeple, fill the air with their shrill, piercing cries.

Finally we round off the day's adventures by climbing the castle walls, whence the eye traces all the familiar landmarks standing clear-cut against a glowing sky, with a broad span of the fast-empurpling landscape, locked in a silvery reach of the winding Haven.

Beside the deep, untroubled waters of Milford Haven, there has grown up within the present century one of the finest and most complete shipbuilding establishments around our coasts. Here were constructed those hearts of oak that bore our flag so bravely in days of yore; and hence are nowadays turned out the leviathan 'battleships' that will bear the brunt of Britain's future wars upon the vasty deep.

Lord Nelson was, we believe, one of the first to point out the peculiar advantages offered by Milford as a constructing yard for the British navy.

In the first years of the present century, the Government rented an existing yard at Milford for a term of fourteen years; after which, being unable to come to terms with Lady Mansfield's representatives, the authorities caused the establishment to be removed to the opposite side of the Haven. Thus arose the modern town of Pembroke Dock; and from these modest beginnings the place has continued to increase, both in size and importance, down to the present day.

In spite of its remoteness from the manufacturing districts, whence most of the tools, materials, etc., have to be brought, the work is turned out in a style that would do credit to any establishment, by as steady, thrifty a set of men as is to be found in any Government yard. The workmen dwell in rows of neat cottages, forming a small town at the rear of the slipways. Though unpicturesque enough, these modest dwellings appear clean and sanitary, although unfortunately still lacking that prime necessity, a constant supply of pure water.

The adjacent hill is crowned by a heavily-armed redoubt, while many a vantage-point of the winding waterway is so strongly fortified that, should an enemy endeavour to force a pa.s.sage, he would probably experience a _mauvais quart d'heure_ in the warm welcome prepared for him.

From Pembroke a short run by train, and a ten minutes' walk through dull, workaday streets lands us at the dockyard gates. Before pa.s.sing through, a constable politely relieves the visitors of such parlous _impedimenta_ as fusees, lucifer matches and the like inflammables.

Thence we are handed on to a stalwart sergeant, who without more ado pioneers us around the constructing sheds. Work is now in full swing, and the ring of riveters' hammers and clang of resonant metal combine, with a thousand other ear-splitting sounds, to swell an uproar fit to awaken the Seven Sleepers.

By dint of stentorian shouting, our _cicerone_ explains the various details of construction; now descanting on the special merits of a swift 'torpedo-catcher,' anon describing the internal economy of a half-completed gunboat. Meanwhile weird, Rembrandtesque effects of light and shade are seen on every side, as the men ply their heavy labour in the gloom of the iron-ribbed hull.

Thence we pa.s.s onward to a gigantic shed, lofty as a cathedral, with its forefoot planted in the sea. Here the rudimentary ribs of a huge ironclad swell upward from the keel-plate, resembling the skeleton of some antediluvian monster of the deep.

Farther on we come to long ranges of s.p.a.cious workshops, crammed with machinery of the latest types propelled by engines both ancient and modern. By means of these, thick metal plates and beams are shaped and fashioned as easily as wood in a carpenter's shop. Here lies a ma.s.sive bronze casting weighing many tons, destined to form the ram of H.M.S.

_Renown_; yonder a metal plane shaves off golden spirals, much like the 'corkscrew' curls of other days, from a plate of solid bra.s.s. In another direction a strapping mechanic is bringing a steel plate to the requisite curve, by means of herculean blows from a heavy sledge.

Pa.s.s we now to the iron foundry, where a gang of workmen are about to draw the glowing metal from the furnace. The scintillating ma.s.s is. .h.i.tched on to a movable crane, and borne away to be manipulated between a pair of ma.s.sive metal rollers. After several successive squeezes, it emerges in the form of a huge armour plate.

Now, too, the Nasmyth hammer is much _en evidence_, its mighty strokes shaking the solid ground as we approach; yet so docile is the monster that the engineer cracks a nut beneath it, to the no small astonishment of the visitors.

Nor must we omit a peep at the wood-working shops, where the circular saw sings at its work the live-long day, shearing the roughest logs into comely planks with wonderful precision, while skilful hands fashion and frame the various parts required.

All these multifarious handicrafts, carried on in extensive and inflammable structures, necessitate an efficient fire-extinguishing apparatus. This is maintained in a separate building, and is kept in apple-pie order, ever ready to fight the flames in case of an outbreak of the devouring element.

Resuming our peregrinations 'in search of the picturesque,' we now bid farewell to the county-town of Pembroke. At Hobb's Point a grimy little steamboat, that years ago plied on the Thames, ferries the traveller across to the railway pontoon at New Milford, whence we entrain _en route_ for Haverfordwest.

Rail and river keep company for a time through a pleasant, undulating country, with copsewood feathering down to the water's edge. Presently we pa.s.s close to Rosemarket, a primitive-looking village where, in the days of the Stuarts, dwelt a certain fair maid named Lucy Walters.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LUCY WALTERS.]

Here at the age of seventeen 'that browne, beautifull, bold but insipid creature,' as Evelyn calls her, was discovered by the gay Prince Charlie, who was so fascinated by the young lady's charms that he bore her away with him in his cavalcade.

Lucy's grandfather it is said constructed a fine genealogical tree, in which that gay lady figures as 'married to King Charles ye Seconde of England.'

The house where Lucy Walters' father lived has long since disappeared, the only relics of that period being probably the old stone pigeon-house east of the village, and the parish c.o.c.kpit!

Our sketch of the famous beauty is copied from a contemporary portrait, brought from Dale Castle, whither the Walters family removed from their earlier home. It is now in the possession of a gentleman residing near Pembroke, who has kindly allowed us to make the accompanying copy.

The next station is Johnston, where we will break our journey and take a peep at the church, whose steeple we descry as the train approaches the station. The little structure stands, with a few cottages grouped around it, at a corner of the lanes; and its gray, time-worn stones make a pretty picture amidst their setting of fresh green foliage.

At the western end of the church rises a small but ancient tower, with roof fast falling to decay. The lower part is solid, but towards the top it is pierced with a quartette of graceful, traceried windows, of which three have been blocked up; while the only bell the church could boast lies broken in two on the stone floor.