(continued)
Every year Huw returned in secret to Arthur's Quoit, dug up the witch's ball, and tramped down to Lligwy bay to dip it in the waves. He always returned it to the watchful care of the ancient cromlech.
Huw's fishing boat never foundered. He never scraped the keel over sunken rocks. His nets never split under the heavy loads of whiting and bass that brought his family prosperity. His wife bore several children who all grew up strong, healthy, cheerful, good-hearted.
But one year when Huw dug between the dolmen stones, the ball was nowhere to be found. He couldn't imagine who had stumbled onto his secret. With dread souring his stomach, he tamped the dirt back into the hole, stood and gazed out to sea. The sparkling waves mocked his fear. On a foul-weather day he'd come into good fortune. On a glorious sunny day he'd lost it.
From that day on Huw's luck turned sour. His nets fouled. His boat sprang leaks every time he set to sea. Three of his children sickened and died.
For seven years Huw struggled against misfortunes of all kinds. Then one day an ailing neighbor called Huw to his deathbed. The feeble man pointed to a box on the shelf, which Huw fetched down.
"It's yours," the dying man confessed. "I followed you one day. Dug it up. Took it for myself. Never had half the luck you did. Saw you'd lost all yours. Guilt riddling my soul. I'm sorry."
Huw opened the box, and there lay the witch's ball.
The next day he trekked to the sea and dipped the ball in the salty waves. Found a new place to hide it. Never told another soul, except his oldest son.
Good fortune returned and followed Huw to his dying day.
When Huw's two surviving sons voyaged to Australia in the mid-1800's, the ball went with them. They joined the mad throng of miners trekking inland to the gold fields, but made sure to visit the sea once a year to dip the ball in the sea.
The witch's luck stayed with them. They found rich diggings and prospered beyond belief while so many of their fellows labored in vain.
The enchanted family heirloom was last heard of in the 1870's, in the keeping of Huw's granddaughter who dwelled in India. She lived, as one may expect, within a day's drive of the coast. Among all the rich furnishings of her prosperous home, she counted as her most precious treasure the old wooden ball once buried under a cromlech half the world away.
folktale from Anglesey, Wales
