THE ESSEX FIELD CLUB.
277
Mr. and Mrs. Hepburn, although not natives of Fowlness, so worthily uphold.
If a household has but one loaf and you go there as a wayfarer and stranger, you
are invited and expected to take your share of that loaf. There are other traits
which might not meet with such unqualified approbation, that are still in
existence. Like the Danes of old they have a notion at times of the superiority
of the person to the law. The law in short has, in years gone by, had to be rather
liberally interpreted on the island. One thing, however, we note, that whereas
in years past there were three coastguard vessels in the neighbourhood engaged
in the "Preventive" service, there are now none.
Life upon the island consists of a battle waged almost continuously with
Nature in her inexorable moods. Even internal communication is not always
easy. The roads are ploughed periodically to make them passable. We may
judge, therefore, the effect of rain and a saturated atmosphere on that stiff clay.
Suppose one wants to catch a train at Southend or Burnham. He has to take
the roads and the tide into calculation for the former, and the roads, tide, and
wind for the latter. Something like attempting to find one's place at sea without
the aid of the Nautical Almanack. It is in the remembrance of some, how, a few
years ago, the Postmaster-General sent down his emissaries in the King-Canute
style, to arrange for his despatches and deliveries regardless of tide or wind. His
agents had to report that those roarers cared not for the name of King, and that
even the inhabitants were content to accept the concessions that can be wrung
from Nature lather than the commands of arm-chair officials.
There being a very heavy sea at the point at which we intended to embark for
Burnham, we were obliged to take a three mile walk to the other end of the
island where the sea was quieter. The short voyage to Burnham of about three
miles illustrated the delightful uncertainty of this coast navigation. From a
heavy sea at starting the water became smooth as we neared Burnham, and the
wind, which had been blowing strongly, fell to a calm—so much so that we could
scarcely make the Quay.
The town of Burnham is attractive and well kept, and just now it has several
yachting visitors. It compares peculiarly with its state of a generation or so
previously. At that time the Saturday evening gathering of" Salts," which is
an institution of great antiquity, was enlivened by various nautical songs, and the
exploits of the redoubtable Admiral Benbow in particular were by that means
kept in constant remembrance.
After a stroll through its quiet main street we found ourselves at 7.30 at the
railway station. As we passed along the north bank of the Crouch on our way
home we had a parting view of Canewdon (=Canute's hill), where that monarch
for long had his camp, and a little further along was the wooded hill of Ashingdon
(=Assendune), where a long, wasting, and uncertain conflict was fought nearly
nine hundred years ago. We saw the island of Bridge Marsh in the middle of
the stream, to which the Danes retreated after that terrible conflict.
Thus ended a day spent chiefly on ancient Danish territory, among descendants
probably in great part of that people, and with very many reminders of their
notable occupation.