Faithful Dash

The County Camp Site was fully booked: in fact it was overbooked that year, with a number of Scout groups signed up on an unofficial ‘waiting list’ in the hope of a cancellation.

The Feast of the Lanterns, held over the last weekend of October, had always been a major attraction for every Scout group in Liverpool. The site has always been able to accommodate about five thousand campers comfortably, but there were practical limits to how many could be shoehorned into Tawd Vale’s 85 acres.

Our troop, based at St. Oswald’s church, were not amongst the ‘lucky sods’ who had booked early in the season, so rather than disappoint the boys we’d made inquiries and found an alternative Scout Camp not too far from Liverpool – in truth, it looked on the map as if it was somewhat closer than Tawd, as it was just outside St. Helens and could be reached by public transport with just one change.

Bispham Hall, a gift from a local family to the Scout Association, stands on a hill overlooking Billinge to the east and the Mersey peninsular to the north and west. Records of when the first Hall was built are sketchy, but every time it has been rebuilt or extended it has remained more or less on the same foundations.

At seven years of age, this was my very first weekend camp. I’d lied my way into the Cubs at 6½ and passed my 7^th birthday before I got “found out” – there was no such thing as “Beavers” for the Under-Sevens at the time!

A word of explanation is perhaps due at this point. The “Feast of the Lanterns” weekend was always (and still is) the traditional way in which Liverpool County Scout Association marks the official end of the camping “season” which (again, officially) starts with the Easter weekend.

I have known people turn up for this particular weekend on crutches rather than miss out. From Cub Scout to Scout Fellowship, everyone seems to make the effort to be there, and I suspect it was for this reason that the Warden at Bispham Hall decided to lay on a weekend of activities as an alternative for those unable to book in at Tawd Vale.

Our group consisted of 30+ Wolf Cubs (as they were then called), 20+ Scouts and a half-dozen or so Seniors plus an appropriate number of Leaders – at the time this was not an unusual number.

When circumstances dictate that you alter your plans, often the best thing is simply to ‘go with the flow’ and see what happens.

Friday afternoon, home from school and straight into uniform (rucksack having been packed and re-packed several times over the preceding days). As kids we didn’t realise it, but this was the late 1950s, and our leaders must have been accustomed to military discipline. Everything worked as smoothly as clockwork: two bus journeys brought us to the gates of Bispham Hall just as daylight was beginning to fade.

“Tents first; get ’em up quickly if you want a good night’s sleep!”

Naturally, the Seniors and Leaders did most of the work, but even the greenest and least experienced Cub Scout (probably me!) felt as if we’d made a meaningful contribution! By the time we were finished, the Leaders had erected their own tents and brewed hot drinks all round.

Others arrived and set up throughout the evening, and by the time it was full dark Bispham Hall was beginning to look respectably full. We were assembled (still in full uniform) for a Grand Howl. Each Six was then allotted a Senior and taken on a night stroll around the camp site – officially to “get our bearings”, but in reality I now realise it was probably a (futile) attempt to calm us down!

Even then, the Hall itself hadn’t been lived in for some considerable time. It was now full dark, and we were at a very impressionable age. To us, the Hall and its surroundings suggested only one thing…….

Our tents were pitched close to the Hall, perhaps 50 metres or so from what I now know would have been the kitchen and servants’ quarters. Nobody ever sleeps through the first night of a Scout camp, of course, least of all impressionable Cub Scouts: inevitably, one ghost story followed another, each (we thought!) more gruesome than the one before …..

To this day I don’t know whose idea it was, but I know it wasn’t mine! We had been warned several times to “keep the noise down” and most of the camp site had settled, with just an occasional glow which might be from a forgotten torch showing in one tent or another. But we were Grey Six: and we weren’t afraid of anything, …. were we?

We dressed warmly (not in uniform) and stole silently between tents and guy ropes: if we were afraid of anything, it was the fear of waking one of our snoring Leaders and being ordered back to bed.

We reached the Hall, and without a word being spoken agreed to circle the perimeter, peering through each window as we came to it. This was illogical, of course: what could we expect to see in a Hall which hadn’t been lived in for many years, and was in such a poor condition that it was no longer considered suitable even for storage of equipment? But for Cub Scouts, some of whom were away from home for the very first time, logic might as well have been a town somewhere in deepest Russia ……….

One of the windows which had not been boarded over gave us a clear, uninterrupted view of a large, open area which, from the size and decorative nature of the nearest doors, must have been the main entrance hall. It was backlit by windows on the upper storeys and part of the roof was missing, which allowed the full moon to bathe the scene in strong, shadowless light.

All told we were seven: grey Six, and our allotted Senior (whose name I no longer remember). And we all saw exactly the same thing ………….

From the right (the direction of the main entrance door), soundlessly, dramatically, there was a sudden blur of movement. This rapidly resolved itself into an apparition which shone so brightly it hurt our eyes to look at it directly. A knight in full armour sat astride a battle-ready horse. The horse reared soundlessly, its lips parted in silent challenge: it dropped back to stand on all four legs, and pranced on the spot. The rider raised his visor, but remained with his back to where we stood, open-mouthed, dumb witnesses. He unsheathed his sword, which seemed to grow to an impossible length as he flourished it above his head. Still without a sound that we could hear, he dug his heels savagely into the horse’s flanks: the steed responded by surging forwards, carrying the rider across the Hall and up the stairs until they disappeared around a corner.

In the 1950s the phrase hadn’t been invented, but if it had the only term I could have used to describe how we felt would have been “Gobsmacked”. It was literally exactly like being struck hard across the mouth. We didn’t dare speak, but mouthed and mimed sentences such as “Did you see that?” and similar sentiments, assuring ourselves that we had all witnessed the same thing.

With increased caution and exaggerated stealth we continued to circumnavigate the Hall. At the back of the Hall, we came across what was obviously a memorial stone. It wasn’t of a size which would have been used for human burial, suggesting perhaps a deceased, loved pet animal. It was perhaps two feet in height, and our torches revealed the faded inscription “Alas, poor faithful Dash”

This was as much as our nerves could take. With one accord we turned and fairly bolted back to our tents, which we could see from this side of the Hall, intending to ask older, more experienced Scouts for further details about the Hall and its history.

Next day, we were told the following story.

The first Lord Bispham was a companion of Richard Lion-Heart throughout the Crusades in the 12^th Century. During his lengthy absence from home, Lady Bispham had struck up an illicit relationship, believing him to be dead.

He arrived home unannounced and unexpected, late one evening. He was so full of love and desire to see his wife that he rode his charger through the Entrance doors, across the Hall and up the stairwell to her boudoir.

Realising that her husband had returned, and fearful of discovery, Lady Bispham had risen from her bed and flung herself out of the window to die on the flagstones of the courtyard. An instant later her faithful terrier Dash – a parting gift from Lord Bispham – flung himself out of the window after his mistress.

Lord Bispham skewered his wife’s lover as he lay on her bed, and declared that neither he nor anyone else would ever sleep easily in that room. In his rage he took a brand from the fire and set the room ablaze before he left. He ordered the corpse of his cheating wife to be dismembered and thrown on the midden, but raised a memorial to the dog, whose only fault (he said) was his total devotion to his mistress.

This was the first occasion upon which Bispham Hall was destroyed partially or completely by fire, but by no means the last. The Hall was most recently targeted by vandals who set it ablaze yet again, but as it is also a “Listed Building” the Scout Association as owners do not have the funds to restore and repair the damage……..