THERE is a skull behind the bar in Ye Olde White Harte, found in the wall space in an 1881 restoration. The centre of dark rumours about a serving wench killed by a former landlord, it winks at drinkers within its glass case, a historical mystery waiting to be solved over a couple of pints.
Every pub in Hull's Old Town is full of history, accumulated secrets whispered over pitted wooden tables and flickering candlelight. With the stories behind these pubs, you don't really need an excuse to visit them – but a new heritage ale trail launched by the Civic Society makes it even easier to justify popping in.
"The White Harte is like a working museum," said landlord Mike Woollas. "A lot of people are trying to mimic pubs like ours but it's not the same."
That character is on display in each of the nine pubs featured in Hull's ale trail. Drinkers are given clues to find a token in each one and hand them all in at the last pub to collect a prize.
The Mail decided to take up the challenge. Our journey began at the Minerva, in Nelson Street, named after the Greek goddess of wisdom and blessed with a sweeping view of the Humber. Gazing over the rain-tossed river and sipping some fine real ale, we settled down to the task in hand.
The pub has been newly refurbished and held its own beer festival during Freedom last weekend.
"It's the quality of the food and the cask ales that bring people in," said landlord Lee Kirman.
Finding the first token in a hidden box, we set off through the drizzle towards The Mission, in Posterngate. For such a large pub, it feels oddly cosy.
Off to one side is a converted chapel. A leather armchair sits next to where vicars used to preach from the pulpit. Dim lights, brass handles and wooden panelling make you feel you should be speaking in a hushed voice as grey daylight filters through the original stained glass windows.
It's like a country pub in the city centre," said assistant manager Mike Beadle.
Next up is The Bonny Boat, in Trinity House Lane. It has been run by Linda Levantiz since her partner Colin Harman died suddenly from a heart attack in April.
The pub is a repository for the flotsam and jetsam of the city's maritime history. Three barometers are fastened to a wall below metal plaques from the shipping world.
"Manhole to be closed when ship is at sea," reads one, alongside a plate for Gemmel and Frow Engineers and, more improbably, a sign saying "hands off the barmaid".
A polished bell behind the bar comes from the tug Brahman, which played a key role in rescuing torpedo-struck HMS Kelly.
"There's lots of history to these old pubs," Linda said. "When Colin died, everyone said, 'don't change it. Keep it how it is'."
From there it was a short walk to The George, a former coaching house and our next stop. Newly done up by landlord Kevin Conman, it features Britain's smallest window, a tiny slit in the front wall behind which a stable boy used to sit and wait for coaches on rainy days. The pub still feels old fashioned but a flatscreen TV mounted on wooden panels provides a touch of modern life.
Colin has waited a long time to take the George over and is determined to make it successful.
"It just captures the whole ambience of the past as soon as you walk in," he said. "There are some ghosts in the building. In the ladies' toilets you can hear a baby crying."
We leave quickly after that for pub five, past the halfway point. It says a lot that the White Harte's skull is not its most famous feature. Up a staircase in this rambling old building, its wooden banister blackened by a 19th-century fire, lies the plotting parlour. It is quiet now and sees little more than the occasional rowdy dinner but history was made in this little room. Rumour has it the pub was where the city decided to refuse Charles II entry, the first open challenge to the King and the beginning of England's civil war.After grabbing our token, we headed to Ye Olde Corn Exchange, in Market Place. It is lighter and newer than the others, a legacy from its previous incarnation as a bar, but was founded back in 1913. To get a token we had to swap something with staff, teaching landlord Adam Scruton to say cheers in French (it's "santé", if you're interested) before collecting our reward.
The Corn Exchange looks newer than it is but our next port of call, Hawkes in Scale Lane, seems older. Featuring a mahogany bar bought from a 1960s alehouse, it looks a similar age to the White Harte. But the pub, on the site of a gunsmith open in the 1800s, is only a year old.
"It's a proper traditional pub," said landlord Alan Murphy. "We built it – it was offices before. Everyone think's it's been there hundreds of years."
The end is in sight as we walk to The Black Boy, in High Street. Its name was probably a reference to the wooden Indian chiefs used as signs outside tobacco shops.
We find the last token in a box hidden among the whiskey boxes and beer bottles lining the walls and race up the street to the Lion and Key for our prize. Sitting at the bar under its high ceiling, our final beer tastes of victory – appropriate for a pub named for Wellington's capture of Ciudad Rodrigo in the Peninsular War, a town said to be the key to Spain.
Our journey at an end, we step out again into the modern high street. Chain pubs and gleaming modern chrome bars are all very well. But they can't replace the history that, like the mysterious skull, can be found in the walls of a proper pub. In their names, their bars and their warren-like rooms lies the real heart of Hull.
