Nestled in the shadows of Brampton, England, lurks the eerie legend of Gervase Matcham, a man whose soul was forever shackled by the weight of a heinous crime. Tales of his spectral presence wandering between two local pubs have permeated the quaint village, casting a chilling veil of unease over its unsuspecting inhabitants. It is a story woven with threads of treachery, betrayal, and the torment of a restless spirit unable to find solace even in the afterlife.
The year was 1796 and two sailors, their pockets lined with their wages, were on their way home to Huntingdonshire in England from Plymouth. During this journey, Gervase Matcham, and his companion Sheppard decided to stop at Woodyates Inn on the Salisbury Plain to spend some of their hard earned coins which were burning a hole in their pocket. Sheppard had noticed that his travelling companion had become more and more withdrawn since they had left their naval ship; he hoped a few tankards of ale would relieve his ill disposition.
As the men settled by the fire with their drinks in hand, outside a storm suddenly stirred up. Lightning flashes lit up the sky as ominous cracks of thunder exploded. Rain and wind pummelled the old wooden door causing eerie whistles to rattle around the crowded inn room. Out of nowhere, Matcham suddenly leapt from his seat and began staggering around looking wild eyed and crazed and calling out for his companion to save him. Once Sheppard had settled his friend once more by the fire he inquired as to what circumstances had frightened his friend. It was then, as the storm continued to unleash its rage, that a chilling, dark tale was revealed…..
During the summer of 1780, a young Gervase Matcham had enlisted in the 49th Foot Regiment and received the distinctive scarlet uniform from Quartermaster Sergeant Jones whose son Benjamin also served as the Drummer Boy. On the 18th August, Benjamin was tasked with travelling to Diddington Hall to collect money and supplies by his father; Gervase Matcham was tasked with accompanying him as an escort.
Soon the pair set off on foot and after accomplishing their task and receiving seven pounds in gold coins they then headed back towards Huntingdon. It was while they were walking that Matcham started to think about the large sum of money that Benjamin was carrying in his pocket. Work had never come easily to Matcham. He had briefly been at sea with the Navy before running away. Working for the army was also not working out so well. As Matcham continued to ponder the matter, increasingly he began to think of how such a large number of gold coins could mean he would not have to work for some time. It was no surprise with Matcham so preoccupied that the pair soon became lost and forced to shelter for the night before continuing their journey once more.
Sleep had not come easily to Matcham and his change in demeanour had not gone unnoticed by Benjamin who was becoming suspicious of his escort. When Benjamin voiced his concerns Matcham responded with a brutal attack. His throat was cut and his lifeless body robbed and discarded. Matcham gave no backward glance as he set off in a different direction for York with the intent of buying more discrete clothes. He lived comfortably for a while… only joining up with the Navy once again as the gold ran out. This is where he had met Sheppard.
A small crowd had by this point begun to gather around Gervase and Sheppard to listen intently to the tale. They recoiled in horror as the wild-eyed Gervase, trembling with fright, went on to tell them that he had just seen the ghost of the little drummer boy who wouldn’t leave him alone. As the thunder and lightning hit a crescendo, an exhausted and terrified Matcham leapt from his chair once more and dove under the small wooden table he had been sitting at. Sheppard knew he had to take his friend to the authorities. Surprisingly Matcham was desperate for this to happen too, so he could be relieved of the boy’s ghost.
Gervase Matcham was convicted and sentenced to death by hanging. Forced to wear the scarlet uniform he discarded all those years prior he was then duly executed in Huntingdon. After the public hanging his body was hung from a gibbet in his home village of Brampton as a stark warning. The body was left to rot; the gruesome display visible for miles as the red rags flapped in the wind, coaches and carriages would look out for it for many years.
It is said that if you walk down the streets in Alconbury and Diddington at sunset, you can still hear the footsteps of the little drummer boy walking along behind you. On a still night if you listen very carefully it is said you can hear the tap-tap tapping on his drum.
As the winds of Brampton continue to whisper the haunting echoes of Gervase Matcham's tragic tale, the legend of the little drummer boy perpetually reverberates through the cobbled streets of Alconbury and Diddington. With each tap-tap-tapping of an unseen drum and each ghostly footstep trailing behind unsuspecting passersby, the ghostly spectre of Gervase Matcham serves as a grim reminder of the perils of temptation, the consequences of malevolence, and the eternal burden of an unquiet soul forever tethered to the shadows of its own dark legacy.
