The Legend
Long ago, in the days of smugglers and pirates, there was a legend among the Cornish folk – the legend of the Crusty Juggler. In the pubs and inns across the county, sailors would tell tale of a man in rags atop the treacherous rocks of the coastline, juggling lengths of flaming driftwood with his salt-encrusted hands. Accounts varied but all agreed on one thing: once you saw the Juggler, you were hell-bound for the rocks!
But despite what many thought, the Juggler wasn’t out for blood, nor was he interested in gold, what he craved lay in barrels deep in the belly of the ships that he wrecked: the finest rum slowly-aged, smuggled from the Caribbean.
Over the years, the stories faded into legend, the legend faded into myth. But among a select few the spirit of the Crusty Juggler lives on. Some say that even now, on a stormy night when the fog rolls in and conditions are just right, you can still see his flaming driftwood rising and falling in the dark, atop the jagged rocks…
For the adventurous…
The Crusty Juggler was born from the waves; forged by the wind, the rocks and the salt. Like the Juggler himself, the rum created in his honour is not for the faint of heart. We pack bold, exotic flavours into every drop.
Our process starts with the finest Caribbean rum, rich molasses and deep Demerara sugar. When the base rum is ready, we add orange peel and carefully-selected spices including ginger, cinnamon, clove and vanilla. Finally, the rum is transferred into ex-bourbon whiskey casks where it mellows and matures.
Crafted in small batches and bottled by hand, our Black Spiced Rum is finished with a wax seal and stamped with the mark of the Crusty Juggler as a sign of quality and provenance.
This legend of Cornwall is one to behold
The juggler who wanted not man and not gold
But treasure in barrels of ships that he’d wreck
Smuggled over seas, hidden deep below deck
With driftwood aflame he appears like a ghost
Atop jagged rocks on the treacherous coast
Get caught in his sights as in-land you sail
You’ll sink to the drink, or so goes the tale
He’ll plunder your cargo, then under the sun
He’ll guzzle his prize, the most precious rum
So join us as we raise a glass in his name
May you never see him with his driftwood aflame.
