Rye-now cut from the ocean by a wide stretch of sand

CHAPTER X

PAGES TO BE SKIPPED BY A HURRIED READER

T

HE English Channel in these last three hundred

years has shifted its coast line by many miles,

and most inconsistently. Rye, a seaport in the middle ages, is now cut from the ocean by a wide stretch of sand; whereas Winchelsea, its ancient neighborthe parent of the present town-once likewise on the coast, is now buried beneath the water and fishing craft sail above its chimneys. It is perplexing how the ocean could have played such opposite tricks upon towns so close, and each trick so destructive.

And yet generally hereabouts the ocean has retreated. What were once harbors for herring boats are now a watery fen, and former fens are mostly dried to grazing land. The Isle of Oxney, four miles north of Rye across the marshes of the Rother, where yesterday we lay marooned, is still an island in the narrow letter of its definition because of a military canal and drainage

ditches; but it is ridiculously washed about with meadows more or less dry and is even without a distant view of broad water. But once these flats were open channels from the ocean and one might have sailed north from Rye up their shallow courses, steered around the island on a rising tide and dropped a cargo of illicit rum at Tenterden, ten miles inland. And all of this lower country shows that it was but lately rescued from the sea; for, like a swooning lady, it is clad in a dripping garment of watery meadows.

A newer Winchelsea was built back safe from the ocean on a hill to replace the older town, and now in its turn the newer town grows old. Rye gazes at the sea across its stretch of sand and dreams of braver days. For all of these seaports were rich in commerce until the shifting coast blocked them from their living.

Even in Roman times, when they were only obscure fishing villages, they were more or less concerned with the policing of the Channel. In Saxon days they put to sea against the Dane, although it was a vain attempt, and then in turn they served him when he had come to power. From the earliest times it was recognized that this southeast coast lay nearest to foreign enemies and the defense of England depended on the channel towns. But it was William the Conqueror who built a system of protection, who banded their ports in compact and levied men and ships against them. So long as Norman and Angevin influence was strong in France as well as England the Channel was little more than a domestic lake, but with the closing of the twelfth century Saxon and Norman had been

welded into peaceful English living and France was their common enemy. The thirteenth century brought a need of ships for war that fetched the Cinque Ports into power and prestige.

There were seven of the Five Ports-Hastings, Winchelsea, Rye, Dover, Hythe, Sandwich and Romney-and on them during the next four hundred years fell the duty of protecting England against invasion. During all that time there was no royal navy, as we would understand the word, but the seven ports supplied the King with a varying quota of ships as the prosperity and changing fortune of each permitted. It was an extempore fleet of fishing boats and coastal vessels at an average of twenty or thirty tons-onemasted boats with high prow and stern, manned by twenty men (boats which presently on the signing of a foreign truce would sail again for herring)—; and the charter of the towns provided that they must serve the King as he might direct fifteen days each year without pay, but that compensation be given for service beyond that number of days. If the King planned an expedition against France, if reprisals were needed on the sea to restore the nation's honor, it was these ports of Kent and Sussex which supplied the ships and sailors. We hear of their expeditions against the Scotch. With their aid Wales is conquered and a bridge of boats is thrown across the Menai Straits. They blockaded French ports and took the mounseer's loot from vessels on the sea. If a royal princess must be fetched or an ambassador set down abroad it was a fishing boat from one of these towns that was summoned for the task.

In return for such services as these the Cinque Ports were loaded with titles and distinction. They were declared free towns and given special privileges. Each freeman, whether of birth or election, might style himself a baron and walk among the sailors of London or East Anglia with proud uplifted nose. Literally he was but a fraction of a baron; for a single title had to serve the entire baronage and be divided among the freemen, but Yarmouth dared not sneer. Ships that passed the Five Ports were required to dip their colors. These towns owed no obedience to the jurisdiction of the shire, for they answered only to the Warden of the Channel who was a King's officer. They were exempt from outside tax and were free to trade in any English market. "They are to be quit," so runs an ancient charter, "on both sides of the sea throughout our whole land of tallage, passage, carriage, rivage, spondage, wreck, re-setting and all customs." And even if the reading of these exemptions brings to light that we do not know what some of the hard words mean (and Webster is almost as ignorant, for I have tried him), still we can guess that mighty privileges were conferred on the Cinque Ports for their guard upon the coast.

It must not be thought that England during these centuries was supreme upon the sea or that she dreamed of wide conquest to the corners of the map. It was not until the days of Elizabeth that England came to power, and before her time it was Spain, Portugal and Genoa from whose harbors there sailed the mightiest ships of war and commerce. In comparison to these more stirring ports the channel towns were engaged only in

trivial business that did but alternate between war and herring.

For if the southeast ports of England were her earliest defense the later and more glorious honors were with Somerset, Devon and Cornwall. It was from the western harbors that ships sailed forth in exploration that revealed the world. From the west English pirates sailed to attack Spanish galleons and colonies, and practiced a seamanship that was finally to defeat the Armada. And long before this time the southeast ports had grown too shallow for the heavier vessels that had come to use. For with wider sailing and with guns to replace the bow and arrow, larger ships were needed. Some of the older ports, like Rye, were already choked with sand by the shifting current of the Channel.

Rye stands on a great rock above the sand, with houses crowding up the slope and a church tower at the top that makes the town look as if it had been whittled to a point. Three lazy rivers meet below the rock and dawdle in a single sluggish channel to the sea. There is a golf course now upon the sand.

Rye is a town where the streets rise so steep that a pedestrian upon the hill is always short of breath and nothing on wheels can get to the top at all, where houses have leaded windows on the sidewalk with glimpses inside of pewter and brass candlesticks, of generous fireplaces and the smoky beams of ancient hospitality. Often there is a step or so down to their front doors, as if in curiosity the street had acquired the habit of standing up on tiptoe with nose pressed against the glass for a better view of these friendly rooms.