A Real Foul Ness

When I was researching locations for Never Borrow a Baronet, I wanted a remote place on the Essex coast, which could have been used by smugglers. My hero, Sir Harry Atwood, fights a family reputation for dark deeds, so any history that aligned with villainy would have been most welcome as well. But what I stumbled upon exceeded even my hopes.

Foulness Island.

Foulness Island is a low-lying area on the east coast of Essex, cut off from the mainland by creeks and marshes that were once used by smugglers. (I raised Sir Harry’s home, Foulness Manor, and the mythical village of Foulness considerably higher in the book.) The name relates to a nesting area for waterfowl, today, most notably, a long-legged, black and white seabird called the avocet. Unless you had a boat, the only access to the island was via a track called the Broomway.

The Broomway runs out from the mainland across the treacherous Maplin Sands, mud flats that are completely submerged on high tide. From the picture, it appears wagons once braved the path, which was marked by brooms driven in on either side. Legend, and even current warning signs along the path, would have it that the tide comes in faster than a person can run. Heavy fog and sea mist compound the problem and make it even easier to lose your way. The Broomway is credited with at least 100 deaths over the years.

During the Regency period, Foulness Island boasted a post office, a store, and a church. The Church of England built a school in 1846, when the island had a population of 674, 120 of them children. One of the most popular spots on the island was the George and Dragon Pub, which hosted bare-knuckle brawls. The island itself was renowned as a home for outlaws and villainy, including wrecking, purposely leading ships in to land to wreck upon rocks so you could seize the cargo.

Foulness Island has yet to give up all its secrets. The land was purchased during World War I by the UK Ministry of Defence, which has conducted a number of tests, from the usual explosives to things atomic. The island is still only accessible through permit. Signs in the area warn travelers not to pick up anything, because it might go off!

May you get real bang out of your Fourth of July! Marissa and I will be off next week celebrating. See you the week of July 9th.

Beware the Wrecker!

I hope you had a lovely time last night on Halloween!  I thought today might be a good day for a scary story from nineteenth century England, and few things are scarier than a wrecker.

Wait, a wrecker?

Yes, a wrecker.  Many of you are likely familiar with lighthouses or lighted buoys placed along waterways to guide sailors to safe harbor.  The concept wasn't lost on some dastardly criminals either.  They would post lights along England's shore in hopes of luring ships in to some nasty rocks or shoals.  When a ship floundered, the wreckers would swam aboard and take everything.  And if anyone survived the shipwreck, well, that was a shame.  Can't leave witnesses, can we now?

Do you have the chills yet?

Then let me tell you a story about Chambercombe Manor in Devon, which was once the home to a particularly dangerous wrecker named Alexander Otway.  His son William learned the trade from his father and actually married a beautiful girl he rescued from a ship his father had wrecked.  He apparently foreswore to follow in his father's footsteps at that point, and he and his wife were blessed with a lovely daughter whom they named Kate.  When Kate grew up, she fell in love with an Irish sea captain and moved to Dublin.

William and his wife fell on hard times, and the temptation to return to wrecking proved too great.  Soon he was turning a tidy profit from the misfortunes of others.  One night, a ship was wrecked on his shore in a terrible storm, and he went aboard and took what he could, including a woman so badly battered that he could not make out her face.  He carried her home, where she died, and stole her jewelry, saying nothing to anyone about finding her.  But this time, William hadn't finished his grisly work.  A few of the sailors from the ship had escaped its sinking and reported a passenger missing--a young lady named Kate who was traveling to the area to visit her father.  William Otway had engineered his own daughter's death.

Now there's a tale to chill the blood on All Hallows.