^ y <^ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Cornell University Library DA 670.N6D98 Norfolk Broads: 3 1924 028 042 608 The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028042608 THE NORFOLK BROADS THE NORFOLK BROADS BY WILLIAM A. DUTT ASSISTED BY NUMEROUS CONTRIBUTORS WITH FORTY-EIGHT COLOURED AND TWENTY-NINE UNCOLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK SOUTHGATE R . W . C R O T H E R'S , Bookseller and Stationer, 246 Fourth Aver»U«^, ' Ml New York X CONTENTS PART I CHAP. PAGE I. Outline of the History of Broadland i II. Outline of the History of Broadland {continued) ... . 22 III. Spring and Summer in Broadland 39 IV. Autumn and Winter in Broadland . 61 V. The Old-time Broadsmen . . 83 VI. Some Broadland Folk of To-day . . 95 VII. The Yare and its Broads . . 112 VIII. The Waveney, Fritton Lake, and Oulton Broad . . ..... 137 IX. The Bure and its Broads . 165 X. The Ant and its Broads . 193 XL The Thurne and its Broads . . 210 XII. Ormesby, Filby, and Rollesby Broads 238 XIII. Wild Life on Breydon. By Arthur Patterson . 251 PART II XIV. Bird Life. By the Rev. M. C. H. Bird, M.A., M.B.O.U. .... .269 XV. A Sketch of the Geological History of the Broadland. By F. W. Harmer, F.G.S. . . 292 vi CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE XVI. Archaeology. By William A . Dutt 321 XVII. Yacht-racing. By A . Townley Clarkson 339 XVIII. Fishing. By A.J.Rudd . 349 XIX. Wild-fowling. By Nicholas Everitt . 361 XX. Folk-lore — Some Local Legends and Sayings. By James Hooper and William A. Dutt . 371 APPENDICES I. A List of the Birds of Broadland . 387 II. Glossary of Broadland Terms and Pro- vincialisms . . 403 Index . 407 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Mate Stalham Staithe . Yarmouth from Breydon Long Bills Regatta at Acle . Marshland near Barton HoRSTEAD Mill Sparrow-Hawk calling her St. Olave's Heigham Sounds . A Bure Bank Above Wayford Bridge on Hauling up the Eel-Pods An Autumn Day . The October Moon An October Morning on the Marshes Frosty Sunrise on Ormesby Broad Eel-Picking THE THE Ant A Successful Shot at Waders- THE Gun .... Potter Heigham Bridge An. Eel-Sett .... Towing the Reed Harvest Marshmen Weed-Lifting Marsh Hay-Carting on the Yare Bird PAGE Frontispiece ■ 6 12 22 28 34 40 42 46 so S4 58 62 66 70 74 84 s End of 90 96 ipo 104 no 114 viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE "Scientific" Spots Fowl ii8 Flight-Shooting — Hard Hit — Marking him Down . 126 Rooks Mobbing a Heron .132 Breydon — Low Water . . . . .138 Moving to their Doom 144 Above St. Olave's .... . . 148 Beccles 152 Geldeston Lock .156 Mill Country above Stokesby 166 AcLE Bridge 170 Reed-Stacking . 176 Salhouse Great Broad . . . .180 Below Wroxham Bridge .184 Coltishall Lock 188 Rising Mists, Coltishall 192 Drainage Mill near Barton . . . . .194 Entrance to Barton Broad .... 198 Drainage Mill on the Ant 204 Below Potter Heigham 210 Potter Heigham Bridge 214 Sunset, Heigham Sounds .218 Hay-Boat on Hickling Broad 222 Horsey Mere _ 226 Waxham Old Hall from the Sand-Hills . . . 230 Ormesby Broad — Autumn .238 Throwing the Cast-Net _ 244 Punt - Gunner's House -Boats on Breydon. Watching for Fowl _ 250 Diagram showing the System of Marsh Drainage _ ^cz Breydon Rond _ 256 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ix PAGE Smelt-Fishing, Breydon 262 Punt-Gunning on Breydon 266 " Mark Cock " 272 Montagu Harrier 278 Marsh Harrier and Wounded Teal .... 284 Redshank 290 Section showing the Relation of the more Recent Deposits to those of the Eocene Period and to THE Chalk 296 Map showing the Extent and Distribution of the Chalky Boulder Clay ...... 306 Whitlingham Quarry 310 Map showing the Site of a Portion of the Ancient Estuaries of the Valleys of the Yare and the BuRE 314 Chapter House, Langley Abbey .... 328 Horning Ferry . 338 The Lateener "Maria," built in 1834 . . . 340 Regatta on Hickling 342 Half-Rater on Wroxham 346 " Pleasure Boat Inn," Hickling Broad . . . 348 Bream-Fishing near St. Benet's Abbey . . . 352 Hickling Broad 356 Duck-Shooting from Reed Screens over Decoys , 360 MooNRisE — at Flight 364 Duck-Shooting over Decoys in a Wake . . 368 All in a Day's Work 374 Green's Cottage below Acle Bridge . . .380 Snipe-Shooting . . 388 Laying at Wigeon 398 Map of the Norfolk Broads . ... 406 THE NORFOLK BROADS PART I CHAPTER I OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF BROADLAND EVEN if the general aspect of the district were not enough to indicate it, there is abundant geological evidence that the valleys of East Norfolk were formerly the bed of a large estuary or tidal waste of waters connected with the North Sea. The Icenic settlement on whose site Norwich now stands, was, at the time when the Roman galleys came up against it, situated on some elevated land near the point where the Tas, now a shrunken stream, but then a lai^e river, discharged its waters into this great estuary. All the level marshlands stretching as far inland as Bungay in one direction and Aylsham in another, then presented a similar aspect, only on a larger scale, to that which Breydon wears to-day. The Suffolk Hundred of Lothing- land, which contains the town of Lowestoft, the parish of Gorleston, and over a score other parishes, was an island ; for there was a considerable outlet at Kirkley, through which a part of the waters of the Waveney 4 THE NORFOLK BROADS that Lodbrog could not land until he reached the shore of the highlands at Reedham. And we know that in the ninth century the Danes often ravaged the Norfolk coast, and that the dwellers on the shores of the East Norfolk estuary suffered severely at their hands. Year after year they came, the raven banner of Inguar and Ubba flying from the mastheads of their viking ships. They forced their way up the Bure valley and destroyed perhaps the hermitage of Suneman ; in the valley of the Waveney they compelled the Saxons to take refuge in their churches, and there burnt them alive as a sacrifice to Thor and Wodin. Later, in 1004, Swe}^! sailed a Danish fleet up to Norwich, which he plundered and burnt. The Flegg (Norse flegg, flat) Hundreds contained within the island tract to the north of the chief mouth of the estuary were wrested from their Saxon holders, and in the names which its hamlets bear to-day we have conclusive proof that there the raiders established a considerable settlement ; for in RoUesby, Mautby, and other hamlets we find the Danish by suffixed to the names of Rollo and Malthe, who undoubtedly were viking raiders who chose the dry ground around the Flegg inlets as sites for their homesteads, because there they could moor their boats, dry their nets, and live just such lives as they had been accustomed to, in the intervals of their viking voyages, on their own wild coast. And there, near the banks of Breydon and on the marsh- lands bordering the lower waters of the Yare and Bure, you may to-day, if you study carefully the faces and inquire the names of some of the dwellers amid those lonesome marshes, discover descendants of those viking settlers who fished the waters of the Norfolk estuary a thousand years ago. But the period ; during which the Danes held the Norfolk Saxons in subjection was a OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 5 comparatively brief one. Apart from the names of some of the villages, there is little in Broadland to remind us of the raiding settlers. It was, however, according to tradition, their King Canute who, on the site of Suneman's hermitage, founded the Abbey of St. Benet-at-Holm ; and though there are no traces of Danish work in the scanty ruins of this once famous monastic house, it may have owed its wealth and in- fluence in no small measure to his lavish endowments. To go back a little in the history of the East Norfolk Valleys, it may seem somewhat strange that the Romans, when they buUt such an important station as the camp at Burgh, did not, as they did in the Marshland district near L5mn, compel the conquered Iceni to construct banks along the coast to keep out the sea, and so reclaim some of the oozy levels daily submerged by the tides. The fact that they did not do so seems to indicate that the tidal inflow through the mouths of the estuary was far greater than upon the lowlands lying along the borders of the Wash. As a matter of fact, the gradual choking up of the entrances to the East Norfolk estuary was an entirely natural process ; and, having now arrived at the period when the town of Yarmouth came into existence, it may be as well to explain how this change was brought about. Mr. R. C. Taylor, whose Geology of East Norfolk was considered so reliable a work, that Lyell based upon it most of his remarks on the character of the Norfolk coast in his Principles of Geology, tells us that the effect of the great tidal current of the North Sea has been to undermine the high projecting portions of the coast and deposit the debris thus detached to the southward of the undermined cliffs. That this wasting process is con- tinuEilly going on wiU be admitted at once by every one 6 THE NORFOLK BROADS who is acquainted with the cliffs between Happisburgh and Cromer. The debris of these cliffs either forms shoals a little distance from the coast, or low tracts of land along the shore. Some twenty miles of the Norfolk coast have been subjected to this erosion, which, with the assistance of innumerable land springs in the cliffs, has resulted in the total destruction of the ancient villages of Shipden, Wimpwell, and Eccles, the demolition of several manors, and of large portions of several parishes. In the winter of 1825, Taylor writes, a tract of twelve acres was suddenly detached from the Cromer cliffs ; since then many landslides have occurred. " The effects of this destructive process are traced in the banks and shoals extending twenty miles to the southward, and the formation of the low flat tract between Happisburgh and Gorleston. In their progress the tidal currents possess suflBicient strength and velocity to preserve a deep channel, locally called Roads, parallel with the shore ; but they deposit, both on the sea and land sides of this passage, the alluvial matter with which the waters are charged." The destruction of one part of the coast thus led to the consolidation or banking up of another, with the result that the mouth of the great estuary, once four miles wide, became so choked that only a com- paratively narrow channel was left for the inrush of the tides. Against the bank formed by the set of the tideS; sediment brought down from the estuary by the ebb gradually accumulated ; then the wind- blown sand from the neighbouring beach covered it ; and finally the decay of vegetable matter completed the composition of the land upon which the town of Yarmouth stands. The channel or Gap at Horsey was first closed by this process, that being the northern- OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 7 most mouth of the €istuary. Then the largest entrance became so shallow, owing to the forming of a sandy bar, that in the reign of Edward in. the ship channel, then much farther north than it is now, was entirely blocked. Since then the great difficulty has been, not to prevent the inrush of the tide, but to preseirve a deep channel for shipping. Seven times between 1347 and 1560 the Yarmouth port authorities found it necessary to construct new havens. So essential was it that a clear channel should be preserved, that every monarch from Edward in. to Charles i. grahted money for the purpose. Between 1560 and 1650 five other havens had to be constructed, four during that time meeting with a like fate to that which befell those made during the previous two hundred years. The expense entailed by these operations is said to have amounted to over a million pounds. As Taylor points out, there was a constant effort on the part of Nature to stretch a barrier across the mouth of the estuary, so as to connect Caister and Gorleston and shut out the sea from the inland lowlands. The process which resulted in the closing of Horsey Gap and the partial closing of the chief mouth of the estuary was also seen in operation at Lowestoft. There the debris of the northern cliffs was heaped along the border of the low-lying denes or dunes ; and the wind- blown sand, in which the binding maram-grass and sand sedge rooted themselves, increased the height and stability of these natural barriers. On this self- reclaimed land the greater part of Old Lowestoft, or the beachmen's quarter, is built. The mouth of the estuarine Lake Lothing was closed by an artificial embankment about the middle of the seventeenth century, with the object of excluding the sea from 8 THE NORFOLK BROADS certain lands that were subject to inundation. This embankment was subsequently cut through for the purpose of enlarging the harbour ; but a lock at Mutford Bridge prevents the waters of Oulton Broad and the Waveney entering the sea by way of Lake Lothing and Lowestoft Harbour. But these remarks on the processes which led to the forming of the wide marshlands bordering the Broadland rivers have brought us down to times almost within the memory of living men, and it is necessary for the completion of this rough outline of the history of Broadland to go back to the days of the Norman Conquest of England. After the BsLttle of Hastings was fought and won, King William had little difficulty in bringing the greater part of East Anglia into subjection. It was only on the Isle of Ely, that natural fortress in the midst of the trackless fens, that a small body of the Enghsh, led, if we may believe the monkish chroniclers, by the dauntless Hereward, succeeded in holding out for a while against the Conqueror and his armies. A few of the Norfolk and Suffolk men may have fled to that fenland fastness, but the rest of the inhabitants of the two easternmost counties submitted to the Normans, and saw their manors divided among the king's favourite barons. Norwich, where Uffa, the first king of the East Angles, is supposed to have had his centre of government, was given to Ralph de Guader, who was made Earl of Norfolk. He it was who built on the huge artificial mound on which the castle now stands a fortress which, when the earl rebelled against the king, was able to withstand a six-months' siege. Of this stronghold there are now no traces, but of the castle built by Roger Bigod in the latter part of the OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 9 eleventh century the huge tower or keep remains. This Roger Bigod, who succeeded De Guader as Earl of Norfolk, also had a share in the founding of Norwich Cathedral, and it is not unlikely that some of the Norman work still in evidence among the churches of Broadland belonged to ecclesiastical buildings he built or endowed. His descendants also were great builders of castles and religious houses. One of them built the massive stronghold at Bungay, and from that commanding posi- tion he ruled the valley of the Waveney. A Bigod, too, it was who founded Weybridge Priory at Acle on the Btire. Under the Normans Norwich speedily became a place of considerable importance. In 1086 it contained 1360 burgesses ; and in 1122, on the occasion of his visiting it, Henry i. granted it a charter conferring upon its citizens like privileges to those enjoyed by the citizens of London. It became the see of the great East Anglian diocese in 1094, and Herbert de Lozinga, who was then bishop, founded the church which gradu- ally grew into a grand cathedral. By this time the river channel of the Yare valley had narrowed con- siderably, and the Tas was no longer navigable ; but in 1075, Ralph de Guader, when he fled to Brittany after rebelling against the king, was able to take ship at Norwich; and so late as 1327 the citizens pleaded, in connection with a charge against the burgesses of Yarmouth, that Norwich was " situate on the bank of a water and arm of the sea, which extended from thence to the main ocean, upon which ships, boats, and other vessels have immemorially come to their market," and that " aU foreign merchants paid all their customs at Norwich, which was the then port, and in the king's hands." ^ 1 Blomefield's Norfolk. 10 THE NORFOLK BROADS Yarmouth, meanwhile, from being a small settle- ment of fishermen's huts on the sandy bar which had formed at the mouth of the estuary, was becommg a flourishing fishing station and busy port. A " greate store of sea-faringe men, as also of greate numbers of the fishermen of France, Flanders, and of Holland, Zealande, and of all the lowe countries," yearly visited it; and during the herring-fishing season the barons of the Cinque ports, who had been granted jurisdiction over the port, sent their bailiffs to Yarmouth to preserve order and collect toUs.^ Here, too, Bishop Lozinga founded a church, now the great parish church of St. Nicholas ; and in 1272 Henry iii. by charter granted the townsfolk the right to call the town "Great" Yarmouth. Beccles in its early days had its share in the herring fisheries, for the herring shoals made their way up the estuary ; but it was in Lowestoft that the Yarmouth authorities had their chief rival, for in Kirkley Haven the foreign and native fishermen could ^ " It is chiefly from the enactments and ordinances of successive sovereigns that the early history of the English Fisheries can be traced. At the time of the Conquest a great number of maritime fiefs on the eastern coast carried on the herring fishery, and there were numerous salinis in Norfolk and Suffolk. An immense number of herrings were taken in the large estuaries which at that period covered the eastern valleys. Norwich and Beccles were great rival marts for the sale of herrings. There is evidence of Norwich being a fishing town in the reign of Canute, for Alfric, Bishop of East Anglia, having bestowed his hagh, by Norwich (the site on which the church of St. Lawrence was afterwards erected), upon the Abbey of St. Edmundsbury, an annual ground rent was paid to that monastery of a last of herrings. The fee farm rent of thirty thousand herrings paid to Edward the Confessor on the manor of Beccles, was at the Domesday survey raised by the Conqueror to the toUage of sixty thousand, and many similar imposts are recorded in Domesday as paid by the villages and towns upon the shores of the estuaries." — Nail's Chapters on the East Anglian Coast. OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND ii land their catches without papng the customary dues. So we see that soon after the Norman Conquest important towns came into existence on the borders of the Broadland valleys. Norwich quickly established its claim to be considered the chief industrial centre of East Anglia ; Yarmouth soon became the most important port ; Lowestoft its chief rival ; Beccles a rising town ; and Bungay a seat of one of the great baronial families. On many of the manors adjoining the valleys Norman churches were erected, som6 of which replaced the Saxon buildings destroyed by the Danes. Of this Norman work we still have good examples in the round towers at Haddiscoe and Herring- fleet, in the apsidal chancel at Fritton, and in the doorways of Wroxham.. Chedgrave, Aldeby, and other Broadland churches. Between iioo and 1240 monastic houses were founded at Aldeby, Langley, Herringfieet, Hickling, Acle, and Bungay, the sites chosen being close to the rivers and marshes, which provided abundant fish and fowl for the monks and nuns. Peaceful times ensuing, efforts were made to drain some of the swampy lands. The rivers were embanked, and causeways were constructed across the trackless, treacherous fens. The causeway now known as Acle Dam was certainly in existence in the eleventh century, for in iioi it was found necessary to repair it ; and before 1274 the river Ant was embanked for the protection of the lands belonging to the flourishing Abbey of St. Benet- at-Holm. But for centuries there remained wide tracts of swamp, amid which the bittern, spoonbill, avocet, and black tern nested, where thousands of warblers swung and sung on the swaying reeds, where misleading 12 THE NORFOLK BROADS will-o'-the-wisps flickered, and over which buzzards, hawks, and kestrels hovered, and herons flew with slow wing-beats to their nests in the bordering woods. In the shallow lakes or Broads amid these swamps large shoals of bream provided food for the innumerable otters which haunted the sedgy shores, and hungry pike preyed on the young water-fowl which ventured out of the reed beds. Night and day the wild crjring of curlew, the bleating of snipe, and the piping of redshank were heard above the "chucking" of the reed and sedge warblers. At night the peasants who dwelt on the borders of the fens were often startled by the loud clanging of wild geese or the trumpeting of wild swans. In winter the ooze flats from which the sea receded at ebb tide were often white with wild fowl which came there to feed. On the shores and sedgy islets of the Broads were colonies of gulls, whose clamouring during the nesting season drowned the warbling and calling of all the smaller birds of the reeds and fens. While efforts were being made to drain these fenny tracts formed by the deposit of alluvial soil from the interior of the country, the sea still tried hard at times to win back its ancient bed. The reclaimers' work closely resembled that of the old-time dwellers among the Cambridgeshire and Lincolnshire fens ; and though, in course of time, it met with a like reward, it was not done without incessant toil and the encountering of disheartening difficulties. For the line of shifting sandhills which the sea and winds had reared along the East Norfolk coast was only a frail barrier against the high tides which strong westerly winds sometimes created in the North Sea ; and when such tides occurred in stormy weather, the o z o OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 13 surf-rscour often demolished a portion of this sandy bastion and the sea broke in upon the lowlands. Such a disaster happened in the winter of 1287. We find an account of it in the chronicles of John of Oxnead, who writes : " In 1287, in the month of December, the seventh of the Kalends of January, the 8th day of the moon, the sea, in dense darkness, began to be agitated by the violence of the wind, and in its agitation to burst through its accustomed limits, occupying towns, fields, and other places adjacent to the cbast, and inundating parts which no age in past times had recorded to have been covered with sea water. For, issuing forth about the middle of the night, it suffocated or drowned men and women sleeping in their beds, with infants in their cradles, and all kinds of cattle and fresh-water fishes ; and it tore up houses from their foundations with all they contained, and carried them away and threw them into the sea with irre- coverable damage. Many, when surrounded by the waters, sought a place of refuge by mounting into trees ; but, benumbed by the cold, they were overtaken by the water and fell into it and were drowned. Whereby it happened that in the town of Hyckel3nigge (Hickling) nine score of different sexes and ages perished in the aforesaid inundation." It was, it appears from this account, in the neighbourhood of Horsey that the sea broke in on this occasion, and it was there that a serious inroad of the sea, fortunately unattended by loss of human Hfe, was experienced in 1897. Similar inundations occurred in later years, destroy- ing, in a few hours, work which had taken years to accomplish ; but if Stow and a contemporary writer can be believed, the Hickling flood was nothing like so serious as those which devastated Kent, Essex, 14 THE NORFOLK BROADS Suffolk, and Norfolk in 1607 ; for then, we read, thousands of men, women, and children were drowned, whole towns and villages demolished, and vast numbers of cattle and sheep destroyed. The destruction wrought at this time has undoubtedly been greatly exaggerated, but that serious damage was done is evident from the fact that in 1609 an Act of Parliament was passed " for the speedy recovery of many thousand acres of Marsh Ground and other Ground within the Counties of Norfolk and Suffolk, lately surrounded by the Rage of the sea in divers parts of the said Counties, and for the Prevention of Danger of the like surrounding here- after." The sea, we are informed by the preamble of this Act, had caused a flood which affected places as far removed from each other as Horsey and Gillingham, Caister, Oulton, and Carrow. At Yarmouth part of the Haven Bridge was destroyed, and the Haven House, in which were the " Haven man " and his son, was " carried into the marshes six miles from the Haven." Blomefield relates that " a part of the seashore Isdng between the towns of Great Yarmouth and Happisburgh, lying low, and being sand only, was lately (1607) broken down and washed away by the violence of the tides, so that the sea broke in every tide, and with every sea-wind came up the Norwich River into the very body and heart of the county of Norfolk, drowning much hard grounds, and many thousand acres of marsh, upon which great part of the wealth of the county depends, being most rich grounds, and without which the uplands, which are mostly dry and barren, cannot be husbanded ; and by means of the salt waters, the fisheries between Yarmouth and Norwich, as well in rivers and Broads, were much damaged, so that the great plenty which used to maintain many poor men OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 15 was gone, and the markets badly served with fresh fish ; to remedy which there were appointed eighteen com- missioners, who, according to the direction of the Act, were to stop the breaches, it being to be feared that in time to come further mischief might follow by other breaches, or enlarging of those already made, if speedy remedy be not provided, and God of His mercy stop not the same." These inroads of the sea often nullified the Broad- landers' efforts to reclaim the swamps ; but in the four- teenth century the loss of life by flood was hardly worthy of consideration beside that caused by an outbreak, in 1349, °f ^^^ terrible Black Death. Then, it may be truly said, the Angel of Death hardly for a moment ceased to cast the shadow of his wings over the eastern counties. In Norwich and Yarmouth several thousand people died ; and there was no town, and scarcely a hamlet, in the marsh districts of Norfolk and Suffolk which had not cause to mourn each day its newly dead. Brought over sea by some ship from an infected con- tinental port, the plague first attacked the coast towns ; but it soon spread along the river valleys, village being linked to village, " closer and closer every day, in one ghastly chain of death." When Bishop Bateman of Norwich, who was abroad at the time of the outbreak, landed at Yarmouth, the first news he heard was that his brother, Sir Bartholomew Bateman, whose home was at Gillingham, had fallen a victim to the dread scourge. At Bungay the prioress of the Benedictine nunnery died, and the bishop, when he hastened to Gillingham, was called upon to institute a new prioress. During the ensuing twenty days a hundred clergy were admitted to cures made vacant by death. A little later the Abbot of St. Benet-at-Holm was i6 THE NORFOLK BROADS numbered among the victims ; and at Hickling, where was a priory founded by Theobald de Valoins, only one canon survived. Dr. Jessopp, whose careful re- searches among old parish rolls and other documents have enabled him to present a vivid picture of East Anglia during this terrible time, asks, " Who can adequately realise the horrors of that awful summer ? In the desolate swamps through which the sluggish Bure crawls reluctantly to mingle its waters with the Yare ; by the banks of the Waveney, where the little Bungay nunnery had been a refuge for the widow, the forsaken, or the devout for centuries ; . . . among the ooze and sedge and chiU lonehness of the Broads, where the tall reeds wave and whisper, and aU else is silent — the glorious buildings with their simiptuous churches were little better than centres of contagion. From the stricken towns people fled to the monasteries, lying away there in their seclusion, lonely, favoured of God. If there was hope anj^where, it must be there. As frightened widows and orphans flocked to these havens of refuge, they carried the Black Death with them ; and when they dropped death-stricken at the doors, they left the contagion behind them as their only legacy." It is a gloomy picture, and difficult to associate with the charming hamlets, sparkling Broads, flower-spangled meadows, and bird-haunted reed beds and copses amid which sails the summer voyager on Broadland waterways. One is glad to forget it, or to remind one's self that the days have long gone by when the conditions of hfe in England were such as to favour the spreading of dreadful plagues. But one cannot forget that so downtrodden were the Norfolk peasantry at that time, that it is not surprising they had sunk into a state of such callous OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 17 indifference that their houses were worse than modern cattle stalls, and constituted hot-beds for the breeding of disease. As Langland says, the lords treated the husbandmen and labourers in such a way, " that us loathed the lyi." The system of forced labour was keenly resented. Although after the plague the value of the hind's labour had doubled,; statutes were passed dompelling him to work at the same wages he had received before it. If he fled from service and was captured, he was branded on the forehead for his " crime." So it is little wonder that the " vermin," as Froissart calls them, grew restless through brooding over their wrongs, and although Church and State were against them, determined to strike a blow for freedom. Con- temporaneously with Wat Tyler's insurrection in Kent, and Jack Straw's in Suffolk, the Norfolk rustics re- volted. They appointed as their leader John Litester, a Norwich man, who led them to Norwich and afterwards throughi the county, where many knights and gentlemen were glad for a time to render them service to escape ill-treatment at their hands. No doubt they indulged in great excesses, for John Litester was not a strong man who could keep them under control, or help them to gain the ends they had in view. For a time they were masters of the situation, and it was not until Bishop Henry le Spencer collected a force and marched against them that they were overpowered and compelled to retreat. They then abandoned Norwich, which they had plundered, and fell back on North Walsham, where they encamped on a heath outside the town, and tried to make a stand. But Bishop Le Spencer vigorously attacked them, and, after a sharp battle, dispersed them and captured their leader. The slain, it is said, were buried on the battlefield, and a stone cross which stands i8 THE NORFOLK BROADS beside the Norwich road is believed to mark the spot where they lie. The King of the Commons, as the leader styled himself, was hanged and quartered, and the quarters set up on his house at Norwich, and in London, Yarmouth, and Lsmn. Then the hinds— the men by whose labour the lords of the manors grew rich, and by whose embanking and ditching many thousand acres of the East Norfolk fens were being transformed into grazing lands — were kept in submission for over a century ; but in 1549 there was another and far more serious rising in Norfolk, under the leadership of Robert Kett, a Wymondham tanner. The grievances of which the insurgents com- plained were very like those under which the hinds of Richard the Second's reign had laboured ; but their chief cause of complaint was the frequent enclosing of the common-lands on which they had kept their geese and swine. Among them, however, were many of the men of the Broadland marshes, and in the petition which Kett sent to the king we find it asked that " redegrounde and meadowe-grounde may be at such price as they were in the first yere of Kyng henry the vii " ; that " all marshysshe that ar holden of the Kyng's majestic by ffre rent or of eny other, may be age}^! at the price they were in the first yere of King henry the vii " ; and that " R3^ers may be ffre and comon to all men for fyshyng and passage." To the men of the marshes it seemed a hard thing that they should be grudged a mess of roach or bream when they and their wives and children were starving, and that they should be debarred from earning a little money by cutting and selling the wild reeds which grew by the waterside. But the king, we learn, was indignant that such a petition shotild be sent to him : and after the Earl of Warwick had slain thou- OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND ig sands of Norfolk peasants in a battle on Mousehold Heath, near Norwich, Kett and other leaders of the insurgents met with the common fate of sixteenth-century reformers. But while the peasantry remained little better than serfs, crouching, like whipped hounds, at the feet of the lords of the manors, the towns on the borders of Broad- land were becoming important centres of industry. At Norwich and Worstead a large number of Flemings had settled, and were making these places famous for their woollen manufactures ; Aylsham had become a thriving centre of linen-working; while Yarmouth, which was still at loggerheads with Norwich and Lowestoft about port dues and privileges, was, at the end of the fourteenth century, surrounded by "a fair high wall embattled and most magnificently towered and turretted." That such extensive fortifications were constructed, testifies to Yarmouth's growing importance ; it was, in fact, the chief port on the east coast, and prospered not only on account of its increasing fishing industry, but because its situation at the mouth of the estuary of the three principal rivers of Broadland enabled it to supply many places in the interior with imported goods. Its merchants rapidly became wealthy, and contributed considerable sums towards the enlarging and beautifying of Lozinga's Norman church, where Roger of Haddiscoe, who was prior of St. Olave's in 1370, erected a costly and elaborate rood loft, which screened the high altar from the nave. In Norwich there were several flourishing monastic houses, and the cathedral was being enlarged and adorned through the efforts of the bishops of the diocese. The fifteenth century saw the building, on the border of the Caister marshes, of Sir John Fastolff's great brick castle. Sir John was a famous soldier, and a descendant of a family which had established itself at 20 THE NORFOLK BROADS Yarmouth in- the reign of Edward i. After serving, Thomas of Lancaster, second son of Henry iv., he was present at the taking of Harfleur, and became one of the governors of that town. At Agincourt, Caen, and Rouen he greatly distinguished himself, and afterwards was appointed successively governor of the Bastille, seneschal, lieutenant, and regent of Normandy, and governor of Anjou and Maine. He was a very wealthy man, possessing houses in London, Norwich, and Yar- mouth, and when he built Caister Castle he made it one of the largest and finest buildings in England ; but he was an old man when it was completed, and died after occupying it a few years. He was buried in the abbey church of St. Benet-at-Holm. The castle then came into the possession of the Pastons, from whom the Duke of Norfolk took it by force ; but on the death of the duke they regained possession and held it until 1599, when it was sold to one of their creditors. Since then it has gradually fallen into its present ruined state ;. but there is enough left of its walls and towers to indicate what a fine place it was in Fastolff's day. Among the manors held by Sir John was that of Blickling, near Aylshara. He sold it to Sir Geoffry Bolejm, a wealthy Lord Mayor of London, and its manor house became an early home of the ill-fated Anne Bolesm. This house has vanished, but on its site stands the finest Jacobean house in Norfolk. Vanished, too, is that stately hall at Oxnead which Clement Paston, a dis- tinguished naval commander of the reign of Henry vni., built, and in which King Charles 11. was sump- tuously entertained ; but in the haU and gardens at Blickling can be seen some of its ornamental work, and also some of that wiith which Sir John Fastolif adorned his Caister home. OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 21 While most of the towns on the borders of Broadland were growing fast, Lowestoft seems to have experienced many vicissitudes of fortune. These were chiefly due to its disputes with Yarmouth concerning the herring fisheries ; for these disputes led to the granting and revoking of several charters. But there is little interest attaching to these sordid squabbles, and as, after the blocking up of the great Norfolk estuary, they referred only to the herrings caught at sea, they scarcely come within the scope of a book dealing with Broadland. At the beginning of the seventeenth century most of the swamps bordering the Broadland rivers had been drained, and the marshy pastures into which they were transformed were a source of considerable profit to those who owned or hired them. Still, here and there, there were fermy tracts where the bearded titmouse — that pretty little fen bird — abounded, and amid which, during his residence in Norfolk, Sir Thomas Browne found many of the birds mentioned in his Norfolk list. Wild-fowl decojring had become a fruitful source of revenue to the dwellers on the shores of the Broads, where, as Sir Thomas tells us, duck, wigeon, and teal were plentiful ; and he adds that there was also a " great store of otters " among the " rivers, great broads, and carrs," and that they destroyed large quantities of fish. King Charles i., we learn, was supplied with herons from Reedham, where there is still a heronry ; and peewits were so plentiful around Horsey that cartloads of them were brought into Norwich, and the country people used their eggs in puddings. CHAPTER II OUTLINE OF THE HISTORY OF BROADLAND (continued) PLEASURE-SEEKERS who lived beyond the borders of East AngUa did not discover Broad- land until about thirty years ago. Since then nearly all writers about the district have expressed surprise that its charms and beauties so long remained unrecognised. But Norfolk and Suffolk folk, in spite of all that has been said to the contrary, were weU aware of the delights of cruising on the slow-winding, peaceful rivers, and angling and wild-fowling on the Broads. Long before the Dissolution, the abbots of St. Benet- at-Holm entertained their distinguished guests with falconry on the Cowholm marshes ; and who can doubt that the monks of Langley, St. Olave's, and St. Benet's spent many days in fishing the streams which flowed beside their monasteries ? That the people of Yarmouth in the seventeenth century were no more in the habit of taking their pleasures sadly than they are to-day, and that they were quite aware how much pleasure was to be enjoyed on the inland waters, is evident from an account of the proceedings at the annual inquest of the river liberties, contained in the journal of the Rev. Rowland Davies, a famous divine of his day. The bailiffs of Yarmouth, it should be explained, at an early 22 OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 23 period in the history of the town, claimed a right to levy on fishermen a small toll for permission to establish fishing stations on the lower waters of the rivers Yare, Bure, and Waveney. This right, often disputed by the riparian owners, was enforced on the annual " in- quest " day. On 7th August 1689, writes the reverend diarist, " I broke fast with Mr. Bailiff England, and about nine o'clock went with him on board a wherry made in the form of a barge. As we marched, three drums were beat, and as many colours flourished before us all along the street ; and as we went up the water in each of our wherries, a drum beat at the head and a colour was flourished at the stern of our boat. We were attended by over twenty other lesser boats full of people, and if the seamen were at home and dared appear, I was assured we should have had double the number, as was usual. The first boat that led the way was full of young men in white, with caps made like those of our grenadiers. After followed our boat with the king's colours on the mast ; then another alike in aU things, wherein was the other bailiff ; after which two wherries followed each other (!), having the arms of the town for their flag, in each of which was one of the foremen, and the quest for each end of the town ; they being persons sworn in the nature of a grand jury, to an inquiry into aU the abuses and all the privileges of the town, and make presentments as they find occa- sion." Manship, the Yarmouth historian, who also gives an account of this ceremony, adds that the inquest was attended with " banners and ensigns displayed, sometimes with sound of trumpets, beating of drums, playing of fifes, and otherwhiles sweetly singing " ; and that the bailiffs carried with them scales and measures to ascertain whether the fishermen's nets 24 THE NORFOLK BROADS were of a lawful size and mesh. After crossing Breydon, one of the bailiffs' barges went up the Waveney as far as St. Olave's, while the other, by way of the Yare, reached Hardley Cross. On their return and meeting at Breydon there was " a stir in firing guns, huzzas, and drinking healths, etc. ; and so we returned in the evening as we went out." This annual inquest seems to have been a lively festival, and there is little doubt that, if it survived, it would be very popular with Yarmouth's summer visitors, for whom its gun-firing, huzzaing, and health- drinking would have a great fascination. It was looked upon as one of the most important civic events of the year. The mayors of Norwich and Yarmouth, in their state barges, met at Hardley Cross, the limit of their respective jurisdictions over the Yare. There the Norwich town clerk, standing beside the old cross on the river bank at the mouth of the Chet, made the following proclamation : ^ " Oyez ! oyez ! oyez ! If there be any manner of person that will absume, purfy, implead, or prosecute any action, suit, plaint, or plea for any offence, trespass, or misdemeanour, done or committed upon the King's Majesty's River of Wensum, let him repair unto the Right Worshipful Mr. Mayor and the Worshipful Sheriff of the City of Norwich, for the redress thereof, and he shall be heard. God save ^ Several attempts have been made to explain the words " absume " and " purfy " in this proclamation. Mr. J. H. Druery, who published some interesting notes on the ceremony, says they are Norman, " absume " a corruption of " absoudre," to absolve, acquit, or dis- charge ; " purfy " derived from " par-faire," to perfect or complete. There is an old story told in Norfolk that a Norwich town clerk was once asked what he would do if some one expressed a desire to " ab- sume " and " purfy." " I should tell him to go and do it," was the reply. OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 25 the King." A similar proclamation was read by the Yarmouth town clerk with reference to the waters below Hardley Cross, and the barges then went down on to Breydon, where a kind of regatta was held. Dr. Sayers, who witnessed one of these jollifications, relates that on such occasions " all the many pleasure boats kept on these rivers assemble ; the commercial craft (probably the wherries) is in requisition to stow spec- tators, to waft music, to vend refreshments : such of the shipping as ascends above the Yarmouth draw- bridge is moored within ken ; there are sailing matches, rowing matches, and spontaneous evolutions of vessels of all sorts, a dance of ships, their streamers flying and their canvas spread. It is a fair afloat, where the voice of revelry resounds from every gliding tent. And when the tide begins to fall, and to condense this various fleet into the narrower waters, and the bridge and quays and balconies and windows of Yarmouth are thronged with innumerable spectators — and boys have climbed the masts and rigging of the moored ships — adding to the crowd on shore a crowd above — and the gathering boats mingle their separate concerts in one chorus of jollity — and guns fire — and loyalty and liberty shout with rival glee — and the setting sun in- flames the whole lake, the scene becomes surpassingly impressive, exhilarating, and magnificent." But while residents in the district were beginning to disport themselves on the Broads and rivers, strangers were little impressed by East Norfolk's level lowlands and sluggish streams. Miss Celia Fiennes, an adven- turous lady, who in the seventeenth century took a ride on horseback through many parts of England, entered the Waveney valley by way of Beccles. Having crossed a wooden bridge, she found herself, she writes, 26 THE NORFOLK BROADS on low flat grounds, which were often overflowed by the river, "so that the road lay under water, which is very unsafe for strangers to pass, by reason of the holes and quicksands and loose bottom." The houses in Beccles, she observed, were built of old timber and plasterwork ; in fact, there were no good houses in the town except Sir R. Rich's and one or two others. Still the town even then ranked third in importance in Suffolk, only Ipswich and Bury being larger and more populous. In 1722, however, Daniel Defoe gave a better account of the East Norfolk marshlands. The river Yare, he wrote, passes through the largest and richest tract of meadows in England, stretching from Norwich to Yarmouth, and extended by the marshes on the banks of the rivers Waveney and " Thym." On that vast tract of meadows were fed an immense number of black cattle, which not only supplied Norwich, Yarmouth, and the country adjacent with beef, but also great quantities to the London markets. It was also par- ticularly worthy of remark, he added, that the greater part of the Scots cattle which yearly came to England was brought on to those lush marshes, where they fed eagerly and grew " monstrously fat." He was told, and had good reasons to believe, that above forty thousand of these Scots " runts " were fed in the county every year, " and most of them in the said marshes between Norwich, Beccles, and Yarmouth." The town of Yarmouth he considered better built than Norwich, and for wealth, trade, and advantage of situation " infinitely superior " to that city ; its quay was the finest in England, if not in Europe, and along it stood some " very magnificent buildings," some of the merchants' houses having the appearance of OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 27 " palaces rather than the dwelling-houses of private men." During the latter years of the eighteenth century the sea on several occasions invaded Broadland, usually, as in the earlier centuries, in the neighbourhood of Horsey, where there have always been weak spots in the sandhills. During one of these floods a breach two hundred yards wide was made, and the salt water, " poisoning " the rivers even so far inland as Norwich, killed great quantities of fresh-water fish. After 1791, however, the sea was kept out for over a century, and the men of the marshes had some reason for believing that they would never again be troubled by any inunda- tions worse than the ordinary rain-floods. But in the winter of 1897 the Horsey sandhills were again unable to withstand the surf scour, and, winning its way into the narrow bed of the shrunken Hundred Stream, the sea soon poured over the adjoining marshlands. Fortu- nately the hundred miles or so of dykes which drain these marshes were almost empty at the time, or, as an old marshman observed, no one knows " what mightn't ha' happened." For nearly three hours the sea swept in through the breach it had made, and often the waves broke on the landward side of the sandhills. Hundreds of rabbits, which had their burrows in the warren l3ang between the sandhills and the marshes, were drowned ; and for days afterwards the gulls and hooded crows gorged themselves with the dead fish in the dykes. After the sea had gone down, nearly 200,000 tons of salt water were pumped off the Horsey marshes in about thirty hours. But in spite of inundations the work of reclamation has for centuries gone steadily on. Acre by acre swamps 28 THE NORFOLK BROADS have been turned into rush marshes and rush marshes into grazing grounds. Along the banks of the chief rivers " walls " have been raised to protect and preserve the reclaimed lands, and scores of steam and wind pump-mills, discharging the water out of hundreds of miles of dykes, quickly free the marshes of rain-floods. For centuries the Broadsmen have reaped an annual harvest of reeds by the riversides and around the Broads ; while hundreds of wherries have sailed up and down the rivers, carrying cargoes of com, coal, and timber between the coast and the inland towns. At the begin- ning of the last century another kind of craft traded between the chief towns of Broadland. These were called keels, and it was written of them about ninety years ago, that they were " in a great measure peculiar to the navigation between Norwich and Yarmouth, and are supposed to be superior to the small craft upon any other stream in England, as carrying a larger burden and being worked at a smaller expense. They have but one mast, which lets down by a windlass placed at the head, carry one large square sail, are covered close by hatches, and have a cabin superior to many coasting vessels, in which it is not unusual for the keelman and his family to live. They are never navigated by more than two men, and often by a man and his wife, or one man and a boy. The usual passage for a loaded keel is from twelve to sixteen hours ; when light, they perform it in five hours. . . . This kind of craft carry grain of every sort grown in the county — flour, etc. — to Yarmouth, besides the goods manufactured at Norwich for foreign markets. In return, from Yarmouth they bring coals, grocery, ironmongery, fir-timber, wine, spirits, etc." In the Norwich Castle Museum there is a picture of one of these keels, which were larger and OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 29 heavier craft than the wherries, and had their masts placed amidships. The reference to the exporting of Norwich-manu- factured goods reminds me that even at the time when the foregoing words were written, the importance of Norwich as a manufacturing centre had begun to decUne. How great was once that importance can be gathered from another writer's words. The Norwich travellers, he writes, have penetrated throughout Europe ; " their pattern cards were exhibited in every principal town, from the frozen plains of Moscow to the milder climes of Lisbon, Seville, Naples, Rio Janeiro, and Buenos Ayres. The Russian peasant decorated himself with his sash of gaudy calimanco, and the Spanish hidalgo was sheltered under his light cloak of Norwich camlet. The introduction of Norwich articles into Spain soon made the manufacturer ample amends for the capricious turns of fashion in his own country. The taste of foreign nations was now consulted. The gravity of the Spaniard was suited in his plain but finely textured camlets ; the loom was taught to imitate the handiworks of Flora, and the most garish assemblage of colours of every dye satisfied the vanity of the Bohemian and Suabian female. The great fairs of Frankfort, Leipsic, and Salerno were thronged with purchasers of these commodities. Norwich was then crowded with its looms. Every winter's evening exhibited to the traveller entering its waUs the appearance of a general illumina- tion ; and from twenty miles round the village weavers resorted to it with the produce of their industry." Such a passage as this, grandiose as it is, helps to give us some idea of the scene presented by one of the chief rivers of Broadland at the time of Norwich's, greatest prosperity ; for it was by way of the winding Yare 30 THE NORFOLK BROADS that the camlets, the gaudy calimancos, and the brilliant- hued cloths which delighted the eyes of the Bohemian and Suabian beauties were borne to the coast for export to foreign lands. But early in the last century the railway came to Norfolk, and much of the carrying trade was taken out of the wherrymen's hands. Since then, the traveller has been able to cross in a few minutes wide stretches of marshland which previously were almost untraversable except by the men who lived on them and knew the winding footpaths and the mazy courses of the dykes. StiU, the railway did not rob the wherr5niien of all their means of livelihood ; and at the present time there are, in all probability, as many wherries as ever on the Broadland rivers. It was partly for their convenience that, some seventy years ago, a three-mile-long canal was cut to connect the Yare at Reedham with the Waveney at Herringfieet, making it possible for them to make the voyage between Norwich and Lowestoft without sailing round by Breydon. A few years previous to the opening of this New Cut, a scheme was conceived for extending Lowestoft Harbour by cutting through the land barrier which existed between the sea and Lake Lothing ; and after much opposition from the people of Yarmouth, a Bill for making Lake Lothing navigable to sea-borne vessels was carried through Parliament. On 3rd June 1831 this work was so far advanced that the sea was let • into the lake ; and two large yachts, the Ruby and Georgiana, each drawing about nine feet of water, passed through the newly made cutting into the new inner harbour. The mingling of the salt water with the fresh water of the lake was attended with some curious phenomena, and a night or two after the channel was opened Lake Lothing was brilliantly phosphorescent. OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 31 Its waters were thickly covered with "the bodies of pike, carp, perch, bream, roach, and dace, multitudes of which were carried into the ocean and thrown after- wards on the beach, most of them having been bitten in two by the dogfish which abound in the bay." And the " singular fact " is recorded that a twenty-pound pike containing an entire herring was picked up at the Mutford end of the lake. The completion of a chain of waterways — Lake Lothing, Oulton Broad, Oulton Dyke, the Waveney, and Breydon — connecting Lowestoft with Yarmouth, and the fact that the Waveney was about this time connected with the Yare by the making of the, New Cut, may have had something to do with what has been called the " discovery " of the Norfolk Broads. At any rate, since about 1840,^ pleasure-seekers' atten- tion has been constantly turned towards Broadland. True, at first strangers only came into the district in small numbers, and as there were then few sailing craft suited to inland cruising to be hired, and there was practically no accommodation for visitors at the marshland inns, it is not surprising that many of these strangers, after enduring considerable discomfort, went away little impressed by its beauties. Even the Rev. Richard Lubbock, who knew the district well, and whose Fauna of Norfolk is deservedly valued by nat- uralists, was of opinion that the Broads and rivers had "little to interest the seeker after picturesque beauty," though he admitted that " nothing was pleasanter ' In Howitt's Journal, 1847, there are two articles entitled " A Week on the Rivers of Norfolk " by " Silverpen." This writer, who seems to have cruised in one of the old lateeners, gives an interesting description of river life on the Yare, Bure, and Waveney, and the country through which the rivers flow. 32 THE NORFOLK BROADS than a summer expedition, for a few days, to some of the larger Broads." But the strangers who visited the Broads had to do so in cabinless boats, so that there was no shelter for them when they were overtaken by rain-storms ; and, perhaps, with empty stomachs and the wind against them, they found themselves miles away from village or inn. So for a while ardent anglers, gunners, and naturalists only were enthusiastic about Broadland ; people who disliked " roughing it," after a day or two's discomfort, or a thorough drenching, hastened back to Norwich, Yarmouth, or Lowestoft, and said uncomplimentary things about those persons who had deluded them by speaking of the delights of the Broads. George Borrow, perhaps, had he been so minded, could have written a book about Broadland which would have shown wherein the charm of the district lay ; for he dwelt many years beside Oulton Broad, and it has been said of him that he could " draw more poetry from a wide-spreading marsh with its straggling rushes than from the most beautiful scenery, and would stand and look at it with rapture." Charles Kingsley, too, felt that the beauty of the fens was as the beauty of the sea, " of boundless expanse and freedom " : he could have done for Broadland what he did for the Cambridgeshire fens. But it remained, so far as I can ascertain, for Mr. G. Christopher Davies to give to the world the first satisfactory description of Broad- land life. True, some years before the appearance of Norfolk Broads and Rivers, Nail, a somewhat neglected Yarmouth historian, had said that the marshlands around Breydon presented landscapes equalling those depicted by Potter, Cuyp, Hobbima, Ruysdael, and Vanderneer ; but Mr. Davies, in his accounts of his OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 33 cniisings on the Yare, Bure, and Waveney, and their tributaries; surprised many who were unfamiliar with the district,, by telling them that Broadland had not to rely entirely on its wide vistas, quiet waters, and gorgeous sunrises and sunsets for its picturesque effects. He told them that Wrxjxham, Barton, and some of the smaller Brdads were not, like Rockland, simply reed- fringed meres in the midst of level marshlands, beautiful only when the reeds were mirrored by the still surface of the water or the ripples sparkled in the sunlight ; but that they were bordered by pleasant woodlands, whose fresh green in early summer and glorious hues in autumn made them as lovely as many of the leafy backwaters of the upper Thames. Weaving a spell of enchantment about his readers, he led them beside banks fragrant with water-mint and purple with loosestrife, where sedge warblers sang incessantly, reed buntings twittered, brilliantrhued butterflies fluttered, and dragon^flies darted in the sunlight. He wrote of summer nights spent on Wroxham, SalhJouse, and Hickling, when his yacht seemed to be floating in air between two star- spangled skies ; of days passed in the company of Broadland anglers, gunners, eel-catchers, and decoy- men ; of charming waterside hamlets whose inhabitants spoke the broadest of " broad Norfolk " ; and at all times he was ready to chat pleasantly of the myths, folk-lore, habits and customs of the men of the marshes. And when he had described the indisputable charms of the upper waters of the Yare and Bure, he even had the courage to confirm Nail's statements about the lower reaches of those rivers^at least, to assert that they were not without their elements of the picturesque. In this assertion he soon had the support of Sir John Lubbock, who, in his Beauties of NaturCi 3 34 THE NORFOLK BROADS wrote that the Broadland streams are like " rivers wandering in the meadows on a holiday. They have often, no natural banks, but are bounded by dense growths of tall grasses, bulrushes, reeds, and sedges, interspersed with the spikes of the purple loose-strife, willow-herb, hemp-agrimony, and other flowers, while the fields are very low and protected by dykes, so that the red cattle appear to be browsing below the level of the water. And as the rivers take most unexpected turns, the sailing boats often seem as if they were in the middle of the fields," People of all sorts and conditions^ from all parts of England, no sooner heard of these delights, than they were anxious to enjoy them. Oulton, Wroxham, Hickling, Ormesby were words coiltinually in people's mouths ; and the natives of these places, realising that they were discovered, speedily learnt how to cater for holiday folk cra.ving for new scenes and pleasures. So that now there is no lack of craft of every kind suited to the navigating of Broadland waterways, and all through the summer the white sails of yachts are more numerous than the black sails of wherries on the Yare, Bure, and Waveney. On board the larger of these craft every possible comfort and con- venience is provided ; so that " roughing it," after the fashion of the early adventurers on the Broads, is a thing of the past. But the visitors who content themselves with what they can see of Broadland from a yacht's deck can never become really acquainted with the Broads and Broadland life. To gain a real knowledge of these, they must, to some extent, " rough it " as the early adventurers did : trudge the river walls ; associate with the eel-catchers, marshmen, reed- cutters, and Breydon gunners ; explore the dykes OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 35 unnavigable by yachts, and the swampy rush marshes where lapwing and redshank nest ; spend days with the Broadsman in his pimt, and nights with the eel- catcher in his house-boat ; crouch among the reeds to watch the acrobatic antics of the bearded titmice, and fraternise with the wherr3mien at the staithes and ferry inns. If the stranger in Broadland be unwilling to do these things, he must rest content with the out- ward aspect of the district and secondhand knowledge of its inner life. But there must always be many whom lack of time, opportunity, or inclination will debar from becoming intimately acquainted with the scenery, inhabitants, archaeology, history, sport, and wild life of this most delightful and interesting district ; and it is for such persons, as well as for the guidance and information of those who have ample time for exploration and investigation, that this book has been written. In concluding this rough outline of the history of Broadland, it is necessary to say something about a matter which in late years has attracted much attention and excited some indignation. I refer to the action of certain riparian owners who have denied the right of the public to have access to waters which from time immemorial have been looked upon as public highways. The trouble seems to have had its origin in the Enclosure Acts and Awards, by which, some seventy years ago, some of the Broads and much of the wet marshland adjoining the Broads and rivers were allotted to neigh- bouring landowners. As at that time the Broads had not been " discovered " by holiday-makers and yachting folk, this allotment was permitted to be made almost without protest on the part of the public. The wherry- 36 THE NORFOLK BROADS men were, to a certain extent, considered, and in some instances their right of Way was preserved to them ; but in other cases Broads were handed ov6r, almost unconditionally, to private owners. Since the district has become a I popular playground, the restrictions tenforced or attempted by some of the riparian owners have been greatly resented, have led to unpleasant dis- putes, and occasionally not only visitors but residents in Broadland have been proceeded against for fishing in or shooting over certain Broads. ' At the present time the public is denied access to Hoveton Great and Little Broads, Woodbastwick or Decoy Broad, Belaugh Broad, and parts of Ranworth, Filby, and RoUesby Broads. The owners of RanwOrth, South Walsham, Salhouse, and Salhouse Little Broads claim the right to exclude the public, except in so far that there is a right of way to certaiii staithes. The fishing is preserved on the Salhouse Broads, Hickling, Horsey, Barton, Wroxham, Sutton, and Surlingham Broads, and part of South Walsham. Until what is known as the Hickling Broad case was decided in the Supreme Courts, few attempts were made to debar the pubhc from fishing on the Broads. In that case the riparian owners sought to take ftom the public all rights of sport on or passage over Hickling Broad. The decision of the Court was that " the rights of fishing and shooting were vested in the riparian owners to whom the Broad had been allotted under an Enclosure Award, but that the right of passage and navigation is in the public, and without hmitation to any particular channel." It . appears, however, that if thie judge had been satisfied that Hickling Broad is tidal water (as if undoubtedly, is) the public would have retained their sporting rights as well as those of OUTLINE OF HISTORY OF BROADLAND 37 passage and navigation ; but on the evidence adduced he came to the conclusion that the Broad is not tidal. As a matter of fact, all the principal Broads are tidal ; but the mistaken judgment given in the Hickling case has resulted in fishing and shooting being prohibited on several of them, and others being closed to the public. That I am justified in calling the judge's decision mis- taken will be admitted by every one who has any acquaintance with Hickling; but I may quote in sup- port of my assertion a passage from a letter sent by Mr. Walter Rye to the press. He says that in the Hickling case the plaintiffs argued that the regular rise and fall of the water was " only caused by the salt tide pushing the water up and (letting it) down, and that this, therefore, did not prove a tide, as the water was not whoUy and regularly salt. How utterly absurd this argument was, did not apparently strike the magis- trates, who could hardly have denied that the river Thames at Putney, which has a rise and faU of ten feet or more, is tidal, though it does not contain any salt water at aU. It is only a question of degree — a tide is a tide if of inches or feet, and Rigby in the Hickling case advised me that half an inch of proved regular tide was as good as a foot. The presence or absence of salt water has nothing to do with proving or dis- proving a tide." Mr. Rye, in answer to the statement that the public are " forcible would-be usurpers " of the riparian owners' rights, adds that he thinks, " the boot is entirely on the other leg. . . . Bryant's map of the county, taken in 1826, shows Walsham Staithe (which it would hardly have done if it had been a private one), the now improperly closed entrance to Wroxham, and the two entrances at the ends of Hoveton Broad, through which the trading wherries used to make their 38 THE NORFOLK BROADS alternative course up and down the river if the wind suited them better than on the main river. Since then the adjoining owners have been continually encroaching on the rights of the public." That the latter have a real grievance no one can deny. How to remedy matters is not easy to decide. A Royal Commission to inquire into the existing state of affairs, with a view to settling all matters in dispute, has been suggested ; so, too, has the forming of a Board of Conservators endowed with full power to regulate and control the use of all the rivers and Broads ; but at present no steps have been taken to obtain either Commission or Board. CHAPTER III SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND Spring IN spring the natives of the district and a few enthusiasts for cruising and wild life have BroadT land almost entirely to themselves. In this season you may row or sail for miles along the rivers and encounter no other craft than the wherries and here and there a solitary gun-punt, while on Hickling, Horsey Mere, Barton, and some other Broads you may spend days together in April and early May and scarcely see a boat afloat or a human being. This is not sur- prising, for the spring weather is far too treacherous for extended cruising, and it is only on those few deUghtful days when the sun shines brightly and the wind blows from the south or west that a few smaU sailing boMs are launched from the " hard " or leave for a while their winter moorings. The nights and early morning hours, too, are often very cold, and should one not have a snug cabin into which to retreat at a moment's notice, the sudden rain squalls of spring will soon drench one to the skin. Yet for the botanist or student of wild life who goes abroad and afloat prepared for weather changes, the spring days are far too few and brief; for not only the uplands around the river valleys, but 39 40 THE NORFOLK BROADS dyke, reed bed, alder and sallow carr, rond, and rush marsh each day show some fresh sign of reawaken- ing Ufe. And this in spite of the fact, which I think no one who knows the district will deny, that signs of spring are later in revealing themselves on the low- lands of Broadland I than in the woodlands, among the cornfields, on the roadside banks, and in gardens. Long after the blackthorn blossoms have faded, only last year's withered reeds are niirrbred by Broad and river ; for though the " colts " may be coming up, they are hidden by the dense jungles of amber culms. But by the time the sedge warblers are back in the reed beds, and the dykes are full of amorous frogs, there is much to tempt one to take a cruise on the rivers or a ramble along the river walls. Every marsh and swampy rond is then bright with golden clusters of marsh marigold ; on the sun-warmed sides of the walls yellow coltsfoot has pushed its way up through the clods, and purple patches of dead nettle attract the early roving bees. On the boggy lands green rushes are gradually hiding the withered growths of rush and sedge ; the silken sallow catkins are sending out their yeUow anthers, and the ruddy bog myrtle fills the air with its sweet, strong scent. Sunward the river is agleam with flashing ripples ; elsewhere the water is as blue as the sky.' As you cross the 'rush marshes, redshank and peewit rise from their nesting grounds, crying plaintively; now and again a snipe is flushed, and uttering that strange bleating note which has gained it the name of "summer-lamb," betakes itself to erratic flight. In almost every dyke where there is dead sedge or gladden, moor-hens are beginning to make their nests, and the loud challenge of the pugnacious cocks is heard along the riversides ; SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 41 while from the shores of the larger Broads comes the harsh " cark " of the coot. The reed beds are full of sedge warblers, pla3dng the mocking-bird to sparrow, thrushj and greenfinch ; occasionally a louder, 1 quicker " chucking " tells of the presence of a reed warbler. By •■ the time the reed warbler — which arrives later than the sedge warblei: — is heard, you may listen for the strange insect-like " reeling " of the shy little grasshopper warbler, which lurks among the scrub of sweet gale and sallow and in the lush marsh grass. On the floating rafts of broken reeds and sedges, with which wind and tide have covered the surface of some of the creeks, that dignified and graceful little dyke-ranger, the yellow wagtail, is strutting, care- fully searching for crawling insects or darting its beak at those upon the wing. In the marsh farm gardens tits and bullfinches are busy among the fruit-buds, and the goldfinch, which is not so rare in Norfolk as in some counties where the bird-catchers are more in evidence, is often heard singing' among the apple trees. It was on an April day, when the gorse on the Herring- fleet Hills was in full blaze of bloom, that I sailed down the Waveney to St. Olave's Bridge, and moored for the night just above the old Bell Inn. The day had been warm and cloudless — almost like a fine day at the end of May^and the night was so warm that at midnight I opened my cabin window and lay in my bunk for an hour, looking out over the river. The moon had risen above the hills, and the old inn, the brush-topped willows, the cottages on the shore, and the masts of the wherries on the river, were clearly outlined, like Indian ink silhouettes, against a sky^ background of star-speckled, slaty blue, while a shimmer- ing lane of silvery light stretched from the cabiri' window 42 THE NORFOLK BROADS to the dark shore. Not a breath of wind stirred the dark-plumed reeds and slender wUlow wands, but across the sky drifted little pearly clouds and films of mist. The curved white ironwork of the bridge — beneath which the tide was ebbing — gleamed in the moonlight like a lunar rainbow. Except for the lapping of the tide, the only sounds I heard were the crying of the redshank on the Herringfleet marshes and the chucking of sedge warbler, which, in the midst of a neighbouring reed-bed, was continually bursting into song. The rower of a little gun-punt which went gliding down-stream passed under the bridge so silently that I thought he must be either the water-tailiff or some fisherman anxious to escape the bailiff's notice ; the punt with its noiselessly moving oars looked like a great black water-beetle. The morning was as fine as the night had been. A little way above St. Olave's Bridge, a millwright was hoisting new sails on to an old wooden windmill, and all the male dwellers on the marshes for miles around — there were not a dozen of them in all — ^had come to assist or look on. The millman was anxious to get the miU to work, for some cattle were to be turned on to the marshes at the end of the month, and at present the dykes which his mill drained were filled with flood- water. At midday the heat of the sun was more oppres- sive than it often is in June, and the millwright's assistants, who seemed quite content to work all day so that they might partake of the refreshment provided by a capacious wicker-bound bottle, were glad to cast aside their coats. The scene was such a busy one for the lethargic lowlands, that I stayed an hour or more watching it ; but although there was much shouting and hauling of ropes, the progress of the sail-hoisting SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 43 was remarkably slow. An old marshman, who, Uke myself, was an interested spectator, remarked that it " fared to him as how for all their shoutin' they didn't fare to git no forrarder ; but seein' as how it wor th' fust time in his lifetime a mill in their parts had had new sails, he reckoned as how th' chaps what wor at work there wom't pertickler handy at it." I noticed that a pair of moor-hens which were making a nest in a dyke not fifty yards from tJie mill were quite undisturbed by the hammering and shouting. With the aid of my field-glasses I could watch them dabbling about as unconcernedly as though they were the only inhabi- tants of the marshes. The lapwings, however, seemed very restless, and were continually rising and wheeling in the air. As yet there were no cattle turned on to any of the marshes of that triangular tract Is^ing between the Yare, the Waveney, and the New Cut ; but when, after reaching Breydon and sailing a little way up the Yare, I moored near Banham's marsh farmstead, the old man, who has lived his life on that lonesome tract of marshland, told me that his marshes would be dry enough for the bullocks to come on to them at the end of the next week. A matter of this kind may not seem of overwhelming interest to the stranger who chats with a Broadland marshman, but he ought never to discourage the native when he happens to be in a talkative mood ; for by listening patiently he may gain much insight into tlie lives and interests of the lone- living marsh folk. Old Banham has a quip and joke for all comers, and as, during the greater part of the year, he has few visitors at his almost inaccessible farmstead, he is often glad to chat with those who come to him by way of the river or the rough marsh 44 THE NORFOLK BROADS walls. He it was who told the River and Haven Com- missionets, when they held a meeting at Reedham, that the reason why the river walls Were destroyed and the marshes flooded was because the Commissioners had dydled away the sandbank which used to stretch nearly across the mouth of Yarmouth Harbour, so that the flood-tides swept up the rivers with double the force and the water rose twice as high as it did when he was a boy. But though he told the Commissioners, he laughingly remarked, that his hay crop is often spoilt before he can get it up, he could not persuade them to let the harbour mouth choke up again. But he did not tell them that in the days of his boyhood the hay crop of his marshes was not worth the cuttingi In those days he could go down on to the swampy marshes and collect a bushel of hornpies' (green plovers') eggs in a morning. Bird protection is a matter which does not appeal to these old marshmen ; and Banham glee- fully related how old Kemp, a long-legged marshman from Haddiscoe, with an empty gun so put the " fear of death " into the heart Of Plum, the keeper who came to keep an eye on the egg-collectors, that Plum fled from the marshes and would never go near them again. On that fine April morning I spent nearly two hours chatting with Banham. A hundred and sixty years, he said, his family had lived on the marshes around Breydon ; but from his own appearance and that of his stalwart, fair-haired sons I should say that it is ten hundred and sixty years since his ancestors first settled there, and that they were some of those Scandinavian viking raiders who gave their names to several of the hamlets in the Flegg Hundreds. In course of conversa- tion with him, I learnt that the herons at Reedham, where is their chief Broadland colony, had been much SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 45 disturbed of late by the cutting down of some of the trees on which they nested. He told me, too, a tale of a gun. The gun was a heavy old weapon which had been used as a swivel gun on Breydon, and for five years lit stood untouched in a: corner of his house, no one thinking it was loaded. Then he sold it to a man who, while taking it home with him in the train, put it to his shoulder and piiUed the : trigger. . Fortunately, before pulling the trigger, he pushed the barrel out of the carriage window ; but so great was the recoil, and so scared was the man, that he nearly went out of the other window. " That gin him a rare fright, that did ! " We spoke about the marshland windmills^ He knew of only one around Breydon that retained its Original wooden cogwheels. " How old are the mills ? " "Ah, that I shoun't like to say; but I've heerdimy grand- father say that they looked jist th' same iiiihis young time as they did when he wor an owd man ony three weeks off being a hundred." From Banham's farmstead I sailed to Reedham, entered the New Cut, and soon reached Haddiscoe Bridge. There I landed, and strolled along the marsh dam to the village. In the plantations around the fine old Norman-towered church the fresh green of the larches pleasantly relieved the sombre foliage of the firs ; green buds were opening on the brushwood of thei elm trunks, though some of the oaks, in sheltered places, stiU retained their last year's withered leaves. A faint odour of sweetbrier lurked in the lanes. In the adjoining hamlet of Toft Monks I met a woodman, who pointed out a sparrow-hawk's nest in an oak tree. Until the previous day, when he saw one of the birds leaving it, he had taken it for a squirrel's drey. The Toft Monks woods were full of birds. Great tits and blue tits were busy at 46 THE NORFOLK BROADS the buds ; in a dense conifer there were half a dozen or more long'tailed tits. Jays were continually scream- ing, and once I heard the laugh of a green woodpecker. A few willow warblers were singing among the under- growth of ash Wands and nut bushes, and in the fences on the borders of the woods were several redstarts and whitethroats. The old woodman had a brushwood hut in the woods, where he worked all the year making hurdles and barrel hoops. A wren had a nest in a hole in the roof inside the hut, and the little bird when it flew down from its nest was in the habit of alighting on the old man's back. As I returned across Haddiscoe Dam I met Last Farman, the marshman-naturalist, who said that the marshmen had noticed that if when they cut the sets — that is, the wands or branches — of the willows, they left the smallest and youngest branches, the trees died ; but if all the branches were cut off, the trees lived. He believed that when the young branches were left they drew the sap up and out of the " wounds " made where the larger sets had been cut off, and that the trees " bled to death." A few days later, in early May, when the chestnuts and sycamores had burst into leaf, and the birches in the carrs and copses were beginning to look like large maidenhair ferns ; when the wild beaked parsley was opening its white, starry flowerets, and the dark spikes of sedg6 by the waterside were covered with pollen ; when the white scurvy grass was in bloom by the river- side and the cuckoo flowers gave another colour to the marshes, I sailed from Potter Heigham Bridge to Horsey and Hickling, The weather was colder than it had been a week or two before, when I was afloat on the Waveney ; and George Applegate (whom every one who has been to Potter Heigham knows) told me it was SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 47 sure to rain before the day was " out." But the swallows and warblers were back in their old haunts, and I was minded to see them there ; so about half an hour after passing under the picturesque old bridge I was in the midst of that wild waste of reeds and water, Heigham Sounds. Except for two men, who seemed suspiciously anxious to keep themselves concealed among the reeds, and who, I am afraid, were on the watch for a certain rare and beautiful little bird which breeds there, the wild life and I had the whole Sounds to ourselves. A keen breeze was rustling the yellow reeds and ruffling the grey water, but at intervals gleams of sunUght broke through the clouds which were scudding inland from across the sea and the wild marshlands, and then the Sounds sparkled and flashed as with phosphorescent fire. Scores of little brown sand martins were fly- hawking over the rippling water, or resting and preening on the swaying reeds ; but neither they nor the swallows could have been quite happy, for little insect life was to be seen : the may-fly was not yet abroad. The aspect of the watery wilderness through which the largest Broad is approached was more than usually primeval, and the crjong of the redshanks and plovers and the bleating of the snipe only emphasized its chill loneliness. And presently darker clouds came rolling up from beyond the ragged line of Horsey sandhills and discharged a fusilade of hail, which rattled loudly among the dead reeds, and set little fountains playing all over the surface of the Sounds. But the hailstorm was over in a few minutes, and before I had passed through the mile-and-a-half-long Old Meadow Dyke the sun was lighting up thfe sandhills, so that they stood out boldly and yellow against a background of sombrous cloud. The wind was much 48 THE NORFOLK BROADS keener on the lonely mere than in the narrower Sounds, for the mere is only a few minutes' walk from the sea- shore, on which I could hear the waves beating ; so, after sailing round the little islet in its midst, and dis- turbing some coots which were swimming well out from the shelter of the reeds, I returned to the Sounds. Then, leaving on the left the little wood in which the herons used to nest, I sailed through Whiteslea and on to Hickling. With a pale haze hiding its low shores, the waters of the Broad that morning seemed almost limit- less, and the fitful wind-gusts which from time to time swept down upon me gave me little time to distinguish the mist-mantled landmarks. A great crested grebe was rocking on the slight swell the wind had set running, and let me get within about twenty yards of it ; then it dived and appeared again on the shallow water beyond the channel posts. Some of the posts, I noticed, had disappeared since the previous summer, and when I landed at Hickling Staithe I learnt that they had been broken down during the winter by the pressure of drifting ice. From Hickling I walked by way of Ingham toStalham. The hedge banks were yellow with primroses, red cam- pions were beginning to bloom, and the hedges seemed full of white-throats. The doors of the fine old chtirch at Ingham were locked, and I had not time to go in search of the keys ; so, after examining the scanty ruins of the priory, and Ustening to a nightingale which was singing near by, I rambled between primrose-decked banks to Stalham. And late in the afternoon, when the light of the setting sun gilded the reed and rush beds of Sutton Broad, I rowed down Stalham Dyke to Barton Broad, between banks heaped with sheaves of reeds and rushes ; and I passed a reed-laden raft towed by one SPRING AND' SUMMER INBROADLAND 49 marshman, and kept from running ; into the bank by another man who carried a long pole. The catkins of the sweet gale on Sutton Fen looked, at a little distance, like red berries, for their colour was that of the young lily-pads ; the alder scrub on the dyke banks was already inifuU'leaf, though the alder trees > were i as yet almost leafless. Treading thei quaking surface of the fen, I found the slender fronds'of the graceful mirsh fern unfolding amid golden clusters of marigoldi and lilac blossoms of lady's-smock. Cuckoos w6re calling from the copses ; and just before dusk came down on Barton, a sparrow-hawk silenced all the warblers in a reed shoal by iflying just above the ragged plumes of the reeds. Then the sun sank behind a bank of dose-packed clouds which lay ail along the western skyline, ahd for a few minutes the clouds were edged with smouldering fire, while the sky above them was radiant with shafts of light. For studying the bird life of Broadland there is no time like the spring, for the birds are not so shy, then as they become later on, when the holiday folk are on eveiy Broad and waterway. True, the bird life of the district is not what it used to be — the avocets, ruffs, and black terns are gone— buti in May you may see a Jew spoonbills on the Breydon flats, and rarely that "haunt- ing voice of the marshlands," the booming of the bitternj is heard among the jungles of reed. Sixty years ago you might have seen half a dozen bitterns in a morning about Heigham Sounds and Hickling. But even now Broadland is the most bird-favoured district in England, and a great number of species may be seen in a day; Marsh, reed bed, alder carr, rond, river, and dyke, each has its special species, and to' watch them and listen to their strange cries and varied songs, is a constant 4 50 THE NORFOLK BROADS delight. To note the trees, too, as they in turn unfold their leaf buds, and the wild flowers — the first marsh marigold in March and the first orchis in May — is always a pleasure to "children of the open air." And in springtime these delights are the more enjoyed because one has grown weary of leafless trees and Broads fringed with yellow reeds and rusty bladefe of sedge. The silver sheen of the sallow catkins is a sign that Nature is waking from her winter sleep, and every day gives proof that she is throwing off the lethargy into which she fell when the frosts and snows came. And when the sedge warbler's sOng is heard and the grass-cup nests of the red-shank are found on the rush marshes, we know that she is wide awake and will soon be decking herself with the rainbow-hued draperies of springL Summer The footpaths along the river walls are nearly hidden by tall, drooping grasses. Many of the dykes are almost choked up with hemlocks, frogbits, and marshwortj so that open water spaces, where the " whirligigs " and "skaters" can disport themselves, are few and far between. From the marshes the shrill sound of scythe- whetting and the metallic murmur of; mowing machines are heard from early morn till dusk, and a fresh ffa^ance — the sweet scent of new-mown hay — is in the air. Innumerable butterflies — among them handsbme black and yellow swallow-tails and gorgeous red admirals^ — are fluttering over the meadows and along the rose- decked driftways; over the rush marshes^ now pink with orchid and ragged robin, ruddy with red rattle, and flecked with a white spray of wild parsley, beautiful SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 51 little burnet moths are poised on almost invisibly beating wings. , Now is the time to go in search of the lovely bellrflowered buckbean, the marsh cinquefoil, the marsh thistle, and the dainty bog pimpernel ; and to range the dykesi for the curious aloe-like water-soldier, the insectivorous bladderworti and the; lovely f flowering rush. For Broadland; is now a great wild-flower garden : marsh, dyke, riverside, alder carr, and even the swampy rond and osier bed eadh has its brilliant blossoms, and the summer teeeze is as laden with sweet scents as though " Nature's incense-pans had spilt> And shed the dews i' the air." The nightingales are silent, but the sedge warblers, though less seen now that the new reeds are hiding last year's yellow culms, are still singing ; and at intervals the strange " reeling " song of the shy grasshopper warbler is heard among the marshes. The swallows are busy midge-hawking over marsh. Broad, and river ; but they have young to feed, and their dartings under the doorways of boat-houses and into the upper storeys of the windmills are more frequent than they were a few weeks ago. The swifts, too, are continually circling around the windmills and over the riyers ; but some- times they rise so high in the air as to become almost invisible. Hundreds of rooksi jackdaws, and wood paeons are feeding on the marshes, undisturbed by the cattle grazing there ; day and night the harsh challenge of the cock pheasant is heard, — ^for the pheasants are almost as numerous on the marshes as in the woods, — as dusk approaches the " crek-crek " of the corncrake, a bird which seems rarer now than it used to be, comes with misleading distinctness from amid the luish grass. The nights and dawns are no longer chilly, but the 52 THE NORFOLK BROADS mists still rise from the dykes at sunset, and all day a wavering haze of pollen-laden air veils the meadows where the grass is still unmown and undulates like a grey-green sea. " The Broadland season has begun. At Oulton, Wrexham, Thorpe, Potter Heigham, and Brundall only condemned hulks are drawn up on the boat-yards ; the over-hauling and refitting of yachts and launches are finished, and most of the craft afloat have cruising parties on board them. Already two or three regattas have been held, and some of the racing craft display fresh prize-flags among those which indicate earlier but well-remembered successes. Broadsmen who all winter have been indistinguishable from the other men of the matshes, have donned close-fitting jerseys with yachts' names in red or white letters on them ; the conversation at the riverside inns is all about yacht-racing and the victbries of this or that famous winner. The wherrymen scan critically the new tia.it as they pass them on the rivers ; the old men among them talk of the changes they have seen. Rivers and Broads wear a holiday aspect, which, if not so attractive to some as their spring freshness and loveliness, is inspiriting and not without its charm. At night, when' the! whispering of the reeds often suggests a coolness that is not felt, the glow of lamp-lit Cabin windows lures the moths from the water- side wild flowers ; music and laughter are heard above the lapping of water and the warblers' incessant songs. Now is the time when those who come to Broadland for rest and quiet leave the more popular- Broads and watfer-ways and explore the upper reaches and isolated Broads. There they find what they came here for. But in spite of the district's great popularity, there are hundreds of cruisers who know so little of SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 53 Broadland that they believe, when they have seen the main rivers between Norwich, Yarmouth,' Lowestoft, and Wroxham, , and the larger Broads, that they have exhajusted its ddights. A few know better, and it is i they who, when the main waterways are thronged with pleasure-seekers, retire on to the quieter and less accessible upper waters and tributaries, and enjoy delights to which the majority of the river-cruisers are strangers. Some pass under Beccles Bridge, and have the Waveney between Beccles and Bungay almost entirely to themselves ; others cruise up the narrow Chet, and visit the old-world hamlets near which it flows ; yet others, rietire to the upper Bure, where, around Coltishall and Aylsham, there. are enough fine old churches, ^Elizabethan and Jacobean halls, and pretty villages to occupy delightfully the time ' and attention of a visitor during the whole of a long holiday. Even the upper, reaches of the Ant have their regular patrons at this season, for in a neighbourhood noted for its quaint decayed towns and villages, and famous for its memorials of the Pastons, many hours can be spent pleasantly and profitably. On and around these quiet streams, which flow through remote but pleasant places, an old-world charm still lingers, and at iiight, when the rattle; of the mowing machines is hushed and the haymakers are gone home, one can know a peace that is very much akin to "The silence that is in the starry sky, ; The sleep that is dmongst the lonely hills." r I . ... The beauty and enchantment of a fine summer night in Broadland make a. lasting impression even on the least impressionable natures. The golden . glory of sunset fades into an amber afterglow, against which 54 THE NORFOLK BROADS windmills, farmsteads, and alder carrs are seen in striking silhouette. The breeze which all day has filled white sails and set green reeds whispering, dies away. Over Broad, river^ and marsh a sudden silence falls, broken only by the splash- of a leaping fish, the cry of some night bird, the rustle of a vole in the hovers, or the creek of a rowlock of some belated angler's boat. The fragrance of the waterside wild flowers becomes stronger than it has been during the daytime ; thousands of moths begin fluttering over river, rend, and dyke. In a copse near the river a nightjar begins churring — a weird, mysterious, haunting voice of solitude and night — and presently, like a shadow, a sombre bird- shape comes out of the gloom of the copse, and flies, now silently, now with flapping wings, along the copse border. For a few moments it circles in the open, where its widespre&,d wings are seen against the blue of the night sky ; then it vanishes, and again the strange churring, now loud, now subdued, makes the air seem vibrant and the copse haunted by some pha^tom of the night. When it ceases, the night seems " full of a watchful intentness " — ^Nature holds her breath while she waits to hear that haunting voice again. Presently the moon rises — rises above a horizon as level as that of the sea — and is seen at first through a fretwork of down-bent leaves in a scanty reed bed. Below the reeds, in the still, clear water, is another moon, which, sinks as the other rises, until it is lost in a lane of silvery light that lies across the water. On the edge of the water, where the silver sheen is bfoken into flakes by a jungle of reeds and sedges, creamy clusters of meadow-sweet are revealed, like little wisps of Suspended mist. But there is little mist abroad, and when the moon is a little way above SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 55 the reeds, its light falls so brightly on the pastures that the grazing cattle cast long black shadows on the grass. Even the nightjar casts a wavering shadow — the shadow of a shadow — and Uttle white moths rise to the surface of the river to meet those which midge- like touch the water. Eveiy minute something that has hitherto hidden itself in gloom is revealed by the growing light — the slender mast of a wherry that vanished when the light in its cabin was extinguished, the white wall of a cottage seen between the trunks of some bushy-headed willows, a pair of swans that come out of a reedy creek, and glide slowly and wraith- like across the river. Then a bird starts singing-rr- not the sedge warbler, the marshman's nightingale, but a blackcap, whose mellow music sounds sweeter now that the voices of the sun-inspired songsters are hushed. For a few minutes its fluting is heard at intervals ; then a plover cries like a lone, lost wanderer amid the marshes, and the blackcap goes to sleep again. But for the stranger in Broadland such a night as this is no time for sleeping. Rather it is a time to step aboard a dinghey and row round a Broad or along a river reach, or to land for a while and stroll along the riverside or some moonlit marsh wall. On the top of the river wall what little breeze is stirring feels like the touch of velvet to the cheek, so soft, warm, and humid is it. Here the outlook is wider : windmills, carrs, and farmsteads miles away are revealed by the moonlight. Marvellous are the reflections in some of the dykes, where willows and sallows seem to grow downwards towards a subaqueous sky. On clear, moonless nights the still waters reflect the stairs. So suspensive is the silence that every sound seems start-* lingly audible. A hare, suddenly frightened from its 56 < . THE NORFOLK BROADS form on the rond, scampers over the river wall and vanishes amid the long grass. A vole rustles among the sedges a moment, and. then enters the water with a '' flop " like a- dropped stone; a louder rustle among the rushes near a sallow carr may be made by an otter seeking a feast of bream. The. silence thus broken at. intervals suggests that the, wild life of the waterside is wakeful and listening intently. Often I have fancied that the eyes of unseen birds and beasts are fixed on me when 1 intrude upon their haunts at night, so seldom do the creatures I. know are there show their fear by taking flight. For thfey must be ablie to see man when he caniiot see thetti, and to judge, whether hisantrusion among them threatens danger. A faint gleam of lamplight on the reeds, .scarcely perceptible, so bright is the moonlight, betokens an eel-tatcher in his house-boat, ; keepiilg watch over his sett. He is seated in a little well at the stern of the boat, where he is glad to itiake room for a companion who will help him to while away his night vigil. iThe lamp in the cabin reveals an attempt to adorn its cramped interior. A photograph of the house-boat — the work, probably, of some cruising amateur — hangs above the empty stove, and is flanked by a couple of coloured : almanacs ' and a print of some distinguished British generals. But there is little room for ' such defeoration. A double-barrelled bFeechi-loader hangs in J a pair of leather slings nailed to the roof ; 'eel-liiies and liggers are suspended on little hooks on the walls, together with a fisherman's " oily " and a pair of marsh boots. At the 'fireside end of one of the lockers, which serve the eel-catcher for seat, table, and bed, stands a' little (oil stove . on whichi a kettle is boiling ; an open eupboard at; the bow end of the cabin contains crockery SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 57 bottles, bread, and a jar containing pickled bream. A wicker -bound water-bottle, a punt sail under- going repair, a frying-pan, a torn copy of an illus- trated weekly paper, and a pair of coloured blankets complete the inventory of the cabin's visible- Contents, but the' lockers no doubt contain other things useful to a water-gipsy. The bbat is a smack-boat, so old and leaky that it will no longer keep afloat, and is drawn up on to the land near the mouth of a sluice dyke. The eel-catcher is threading some hooks for an eel- line, but he raises his eyes from his work every few minutes to see if the approach of a wherry makes it necessary for him to lower his sett. Now and again he glances towards the sallow carr where the otter is lurking,' and vows to "hey that owd warmint afore long." He talks of " orters," and how he has known one to draw an eel-linei out of the water and eat the eels off the hooks. But that otter, as he saySj must have been a "werry hungry warmint," for otters are fonder of bream than of eels. He doubts whether they (the otters) are much scarcer than they were fifty years ago. Every year he hears of about the same number being shot or trapped. Badgers he has never seen, and does not believe there is one in Norfolk. Like most of the eel-catchers; he knows a good deal about the habits of fish and wild fowl, such knowledge being more or less essential to him ; but he scarcely knows the names of a dozen of the small birds of the meadows, woods, and waterside ; " they ain't no good to him " ! He has heard the boom of the bittern, and can remember the time when bitterns were not so very rare in Broadi- land; but he "can't mind as he ever seed one." Eels, he says, are nothing like so plentiful as they used to be ; anyhow, nothing like such large quantities are 58 THE NORFOLK BROADS taken in the setts as there were thirty years ago. He has worked a sett every year for nearly fifty years, so he reckons he ought to know. Towards daybreak the air becomes perceptibly cooler, but not. so much so as to cause any discomfort. Almost as soon as the eastern sky begins to brighten, some of the birds that have been silent since nightfall begin to sing ; and by the time the rosy flush of dawn has come, all Nature seems awake. The marsh folk are early abroad ; a cattle-tender is seen on one of the marsh walls, and the clinking of milk cans is heard in the neighbourhood of a marsh farm. A fresh breeze sets the reeds swaying and rustling, and some of the yachts leave their moorings and spread their white sails. Then the sharpening of scythes and the rattling of mowing machines begins again ; and before the sun is very far above the horizon the air is sweet with the scent of hay. Another day for cruising along quiet waterways, for seeing pleasant rural scenes and listening to pleasant rural sounds for restful jdeasuring and reinvigorating mind and body, has begun. But the beauty, the enchantment, the " primevalness," as some one has called it, of the night cannot be forgotteni Among the men who sail the yachts hired by visitors for summer cruising, there are some who seem to think that the chief object a visitor should have in view is to get from place to place as quickly as pos- sible. That this is not the case should be impressed upon such men at the coinmencement of a cruise ; for half the charm of Broadland is lost to those who let such boatmen have their own way. Time is often better spent in staying a day or two on such waters as Heigham Sounds and Barton Broad, or even in some unfrequented dyke or inlet, than in sailing along many o j a s H D O D a SPRING AND SUMMER IN BROADLAND 59 miles of river. Nor should the voyager confine his attention to the waterways. Broadland consists of much besides Broads and rivers. There is scarcely a marsh dam or footpath, ferry road or lane, but leads to some little hamlet with an interesting church or some picturesque straw or reed thatched cottage. Sometimes it is as well to look upon a yacht as simply a kind of movable hotel, that at any time can be made a convenient centre from which a district can be explored. In this way the delights of a holiday spent at some country farm or coast hamlet can be added to those peculiar to voyaging in Broadland. There are times when the necessarily cramped conditions of life on a yacht grow somewhat galling, when one tires of sitting still, even though new vistas are con- tinually opening in panoramic succession. Then it is very pleasant to step ashore for a while, ramble along the footpaths through the upland cornfields, see the crimson blush of poppies instead of creamy clusters of meadow-sweet, and inhale the fragrance of woodbine instead of that of water-mint. But summer in Broadland is so full of delights that it is needless to suggest them. There are pleasures to suit almost every inclination, and opportunities for the indulgence of almost every outdoor hobby. Those who care little for quiet nooks and the study of Nature find entertainment in the regattas or in occasional excursions to the thronged sands and piers of Yarmouth and Lowestoft. Artist, botanist, bird-lover, angler, entomologist, each goes his own way and enjoys himself in his own fashion. For each there is an ample field, and to each the long days seem only half long enough. Even the antiquary need not be idle, for in St. Benet's Abbey, Langley Abbey, Caister and Bungay Castles, 6o i THE NORFOLK BROADS and many of the Broadlahfl churches, he finds plenty to keep him interested and profitably occupied. Even men who have ino hobby or special inclination con- tinually come upon something in Broadland that interests them, for the district is unlike any other in England. In spite of the great change which has taken place in it in what is, geologically speaking, a brief period, it is still remarkable for 'its primitiveness ; like large heaths, or high mountain-'tops, some of the Broads seem unchanged since the world was made. On and iaround them men live primitive lives. By studjdng these men some of us leam what are the essential things of life. CHAPTER IV AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND Autumn SUMMER often lingbrs on into early autumn. During the last week of September and the early part of October there are still cruising yachts afloat ; at Wroxham, Oulton, and Potter Heigham' hardly a wherry, yacht, or launch is as yet dismantled. On those bright, warm October days, when the banded dragon-flies twitter ^ among the withering sedges, little flocks of goldfinches flit about among the down-topped marsh thistles, and the gyrating water^beetles are as active as in July, quite a' fleet of small sailing craft is seen on the rivers. The early mornings, however, are damp and misty ; the spiders' cobweb-hammocks, swung up by the dykesides and among the tall yellow grasses, are we^hed down by grey beads of moisture ; aiid even at midday a ramble on some of the marshes or a visit to an alder cart means being drenched with ' A' friendly critic has taken me to task for stating that dragon- flies "twitter." My dictionary tells me that to " twitter "is " to make a succession of small, tremnlou^ noises," and it seems to me that the word fitly describes the sounds made by the. large dragon-flies when their rapidly vibrating iWngs touch, as they often do, the blades of the sedge. - '■'.'-■' 61 62 THE NORFOLK BROADS dew. The blue haze that all day hangs over land and water is denser than it was in summer ; Nature drops a thicker veil over her fading face. When the reeds rustle in the wind, it is with a crispness of sound betokening that the reed-cutters' harvest is ripening and will soon be ready for his meag and scythe. But often for days together there is scarcely breeze enough to cause a whisper among the reeds and sedges ; sailing craft hardly make any headway ; the heat and moisture make the air more oppressive than it was during many days in July. The marshes perhaps are steeped in sunshine, but its light and warmth are not welcomed with birds' songs. Now and again a lark soars an# sings for a while, but soon drops to earth again, as though it had felt in its aerial flight the chill breath of coming wintet. Except for the larks and, perhaps, in the neighbourhood of a copse, hanger, or oak-i bordered driftway, a cheery robin, the feathered songsters are silent ; but the plovers are beginning to flock to- gether, and often break the silence of the lonesome marshlands with their mournful cries. Nearly all the bright-hued wild flowers that decked the riversides and dykes are gone. The tall willow- herbs have burst their long seed-pods and smothCTed themselves with clinging down ; the hemp agrimony is faded ; the dykes are full of withered water-parsnip, loosestrife, and plantain stalks ; and where the flowering rush flaunted its beautiful umbels, the dingy bur- marigold is almost the only flower in bloom. But on some of the damp margins the blue eyes of forget-me- not still peer from amid the horsetails and marshworts ; and although the bladderwort and the curious aloe- like water-soldier are sunk on to the ooze, the arrow- head still pierces the floating mantle of frogbit and p •I AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 63 duckweed. The meaxiow-sweet, in spite of its fragile appearance, here and there displays a cluster of blossom, the fragrance of which seems stronger now than in summer ; the mints, too, have not lost all their mauve florets, and a few yellow-rayed composite plants give a touch of bright colour to the sun-scorched rivet walls. The pasture marshes, on which the cattle arfe still browsing, are becoming tawny as heathlands with the sapless steins of grasses which sprung up after the hay was mown ; but the damp rush marshes are still green. There the beautiful grass of Parnassus, whose creamy cup-shaped blossoms seem made to hold the mist-drops, is in full bloom, amid blue devil's-bits, white umbels of angelica, and a few golden marsh marigolds, which are flowering for a second time in the year. One sadly misses the summer birds. The warblers are gone from reed-bed, carr, and marsh, the wag- tails from the dykeside, the whitethroats from the driftway hedgerow, and the wheatears from the heaps of, ooze and weeds which the marshmen have heaped up on the dyke banks ; and by the middle of October the swallows, swifts, and martins have followed them. Gone, too, are the redshank, 1 after spending a httle time on the Breydon flats ; and the black- headed gulls have abandoned their breeding haunts at Hoveton and Somerton. Other birds have come to take their places ; but none of them can be to us what the warbler and whitethroat were in spring, and the redshank and puit in June. Flocks of field- fares begin to arrive almost as soon as the last harvest waggon has jolted from the upland fields to the stack- yard ; their harsh cries are heard On the misty marshes. With them come redwings, to feed on the ruddy hawthorn 64 THE NORFOLK BROADS berries and in the stackyards of the marsh farms. Thousands of larks, too, have coirie to flock and feed with the home-bred birds in the stubble and on the marshlands; Since the middle of August great numbers of .goldcrests have made their marvellous oversea flight, and now the fir copses are full of them, clinging to the needles and creeping like mice about the branches. Then the bramblings are seen on the marshes near the coast. Migrant fowl are already working southward. Wigeon, or "smee," as they are known in Broadland, are to be met with on some of the Broads and river- side ronds ; so too are tufted duck. A little later the "pokers" or pochards arrive — in October, when the gunner is on the alert for golden plovers, flocks of which spread themselves over the marshes, where they feed with the green plovers ; and at night the homeward- bound marshman and belated wherryman hear them whistling overhead, as they flight to the uplands^ seeking a change of diet in the newly-sown grain. When the October gales begin to blow, seaguUs visit the marshes and herring gulls are seen on some of the Broads. So, although the summer migrants have taken flight to warmer climes, thousands and tens of thousands of other birds have come to Broadland. Marshmen working near the coast, and beachmen proWling along the seashore after the tide has ebbedi have seen some of them arrive, large and small companies ^ of weaiy- winged wayfarers, some of whom had scarcely strength enough left to reach the land when they had sighted it, and most of them were glad to alight on the bushes of sea buckthorn on the sandhills and even on the sand and shingle of the beach. But the men who see them come' in are fortunate to do so ; most of us AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 65 miss the wonderful sight of the small birds' arrival, and only see the rooks and crows, which for days to- gether come streaming in all along the coast, over town, fishing hamlet, and sand dune. Most of the rooks, after their long journey, make for the fields and marshlands ; but the grey crows, the " Kentishmen," often settle on the beach aiid on the Breydon flats, where they feed on the flotsam left stranded by the ebbing tide. All along the sands, where a dark stain of coal dust, crimson plocamium, and green bladder- wrack marks the limit of the flood tide, you may see the footprints of that careful scavenger, the grey or hooded crow. On these October days, when the air is heavily laden with moisture, and the sodden grass, swampy ronds, and stagnant dykes steam in the sun and exhale an odour of tide-wrack and rotting sedge, the smoke of the weed-burners' fires drifts down itom. the uplands, mingling with the blue, quivering haze, and streaming through the saUow wands and red-fruited hawthorns. The pungent smeU of the smoke from the smouldering weed-heaps is characteristic of a Broadland autumn day. So, too, is the sight of a solitary marshman dyke^drawing ; for many of the dykes are choked up with rank-growing water-weeds, which must be cleared out before the rains set in and the rain-water comes pouring down from the upland field-drains and " holls." From early morning, when a dense fog hangs over the marshes, until dusk, when the fog rises' again, the dyke-drawer is at work in the midst of the marshes, generally with no other companions than the rats and voles in the dyke banks and the snipe which come to feed in the hovers. Clad in a corduroy or moleskin sleeve-waistcoat or a fisherman's "gansy," corduroy 5 66 THE NORFOLK BROADS trousers, in each leg of which a telescopic tuck is taken by means of a leathern strap, heavy marsh boots, and a hat like that of a Tyrolean mountaineer, there is a primitive regard for essentials only about him which is peculiarly impressive. His appearance suggests a product of Nature in her sombre moods, a man shaped by solitude and rendered apathetic by isolation. He is slow of speech, lethargic of movement, and nothing excites him. It is difficult to believe that it was by the labour of such as he the wide marshlands were reclaimed and made to provide thousands of acres of rich grazing ground for cattle. Although there is nothing in his appearance to suggest it, he is in all probability a man with consider- able responsibilities. One such man I met had some- thing like four miles of dykes to clear, a drainage windmill to attend to, and frequently as many as two hundred " head " of cattle under his charge; The cattle— most of them fattening bullocks— ruecessitated his spending almost all his time on the marshes. In one week he had, with the assistance of other marshmen, to hg.ul five bullocks out of dykes into which they had waded until they were embedded in the mud. This same marshman had a curious tale to tell about a narrow escape he had one morning, while concealed in the reeds around a marsh pool, waiting for the flighting of the fowl. He had gone down to the pool before daybreak, and had floated a pair of decoy ducks on the water. They were wooden decoys of his own making, and to increase their resemblance to real fowl he had af&xed to them pairs of real mallards' wings. Just as day dawned he became aware of the presence of fowl near him, so he began to imitate the calling of a drake, an accomplishment upon which he rather 13 O O M p b o H a H AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 67 prided himself. Suddenly, while he crouched among the reeds, he heard the sharp crach, crack of a double^ barrelled breech-loader, and immediately his decoy ducks turned over in the water. In the grey misty dawnlight, another gunner, whose attention had been attracted by the marshman's quacking, had mistaken the decoys for real birds. The marshman's shouting so alarmed the gunner, who was lying on the side of a neighbouring marsh wall, that he nearly fainted, believing he had shot some one. "An' he pretty; nigh had," said the marshman ; "for I wom't mo^e'n a couple o' yards put o' line wi' th' decoy ducks from where he lay. But a miss wor as good as a mile." Such reminiscences are frequently to be heard by the dykesides on damp October days. The sunsets of the hmnid, sunny days of St. Luke's Little Summer are painted wdth the most gorgeous hues from Nature's palette. The low-lying clouds are edged with smouldering gold, radiant streaks of golden light flash gloriously across the heavens, and for a time after the sun has gone down feathery coral-pink cloud- lets float amid the amber afterglow. Broad and river reflect all the vivid hues of this cloudland glory ; but not for long, for the fog soon spreads over land and water,, blotting out river and dyke, marsh and mere. To be caught by such a fog in the midst of a maze of marsh dykes is an unpleasant experience. On an autumn night I had such a one on the marshes between the Acle new road and Breydon. In the afternoon I had sailed from Yarmouth to alittle creek on the north- west side of the estuary, having arranged to spend the night with a friend whose housp-boat was moored near a marsh : farmstead called Banham's Farm. I was to have had another companion ; but he had failed 68 THE NORFOLK BROADS to put in an appearance before I left Yarmouth, and just bfefore dusk I strolled across to the Acle road, in order to meet him should' he have come to Yarmouth by a late train and started to walk to the spot where the house-boat was moored. By the time I reached the Yarmouth toll-gate night had set in ; so, having seen nothing of my friend, I hastened back towards the shores of Breydon. I had not gone far before the fog came rolling across the marshes like a great cloud of white smoke, and when I turned off the Able road I could see no object that was more than a dozen yards away from me. Still for a while I had no difficulty in finding my way, for it lay beside a marsh dyke; but when I had crossed the railway I was soon at a loss to discover my whereabouts. For the footpath was so hidden by the grass which had sprung up since the hay was mown that I soon lost sight of it, and presently I found my way barred by a wide dyke. Having nothing else to guide me, I kept to the dykeside, hoping to find a plank bridge or gate which would bring me on to the path again. But although I found a gate I could see no path, and for an hour or more I wandered amid a labyrinth of dykfes, from time to time coming upon a gate which seemed familiar, because I had already passed through it once or twice in the course of my wanderings. The fog hung about me like a wet shroud, distilling soaking, chilling moisture. It covered my clothes with an aqueous dust, and whenever I closed my eyes mist-drops trickled down my face. On every side I was shut in by an impenetrable pall of fog ; yet when I looked up I could see the stars clearly. If I had been on a wide and trackless moor the stars might have helped me ; but here it was impossible to walk AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 69 more than a few hundred yards in any direction, for the dykes soon brought me to a standstill. Tired of trudging through the long wet grass, I stopped against a gate and listened for some sound that might guide me ; but all I could hear was the clamour of the black- headed gulls on the Breydon fiats, and now and again the laka, laka of a " saddle-back " or the cry of a flight- ing curlew. Once I thought I heard human footsteps approaching ; but it was only a bullock's hooves brush- ing through the long grass. Even the phantasmal company of that marshland bogle, the ghostly herdsman, who, when the "sea-smoke" drifted down upon the lowlands, used to drive the cattle into the morasses, would have been welcome to me ; but the only mist- wraith I saw resolved itself into a gnarled sallow bush by a dykeside. It seemed as though I were fated to spend the night on the marshes, and when I thought of the snug little house-boat, where supper was awaiting me, the prospect was anything but pleasing ; but help was at hand, though I knew not of its coming. For suddenly, when I was thinking of trying to find my way back to the railway, I heard some one shouting, apparently not far from where I was standing. At first I imapned it must be some one who, like myself, was lost on the marshes ; but when I gave an answering hail there presently emerged from the fog the burly form of Banham, the marsh farmer. " A rokey night, this here," was his greeting when he saw me ; and when he learnt that I had lost my way he assured me that I " wam't th' ftist by a sight " that had done so on the Breydon marshes. He thought it not unlikely that his wife might have some difficulty in finding her way home, for she had gone to Yarmouth, and should have returned by nightfall. It was for her he was looking when he 7d THE NORFOLK BROADS found me. He soon brought me on to the Breydon wall, which I followed until I saw a light -flickering like a will-o'-the-wisp. It was, however, no sUch " fickle and deceptive flattie;" but a lantern my friend had lighted and placeci on the roof of his house- boat. In a few moments it had guided me into the warmth and comfort of the house-boat's cosy cabin. But early aUtUmn is not all lingering summer days and chill, foggy nights. During October, when the Lowestoft yacht basin is filled with trawlers instead of yachts, and the docks, both at Lowestoft and Yarmouth, are densely packed with east coast drifters and luggers from Inverness, Banff, and Kirkcaldy, all busily engaged in the aUtumri fishing, there are often days of lowering clouds and wild weather. ■ Then the cruising yachts that have lingered late on the rivers disappear as if by magic, and at Oulton, Wroxham; and Potter Heigham the fleets of white-winged craft are rapidly dismantled; drawn up on to the "hard" or hauled into the boat- sheds, there to remain until next season. For the next eight months the wherrymen, reed-cutters, arid eel- catchers will have the rivers and Broads to themselves, and only enthusiastic rovers — '' wild, gipsy spirits^" some one has called them— ^will admit that during these months the lives of the natives is not all labour and sorrow. But even when the storm-clouds gather over river, marsh, and lone lagoon, there are intervals when the sunlight breaks through the wind-driven, dun- coloured scud, and rnakes luminous the " shadow^streaks of raiii." These wild' October gleams and glooms, these smiles and frowns of an autumnal April, together with the boisterous buffets of the October gales, must be seen and felt by every one who wishes really to " know " Broadland ; for the district is curiously sus- AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 71 cepitible, and owes much of its charm to the variability of its atmospheric environment. These chill and gusty days, often grey with a drizzling rain, when the willow wands wave wildly, and the heavy- gaited marshmen stumble over dense clumps of toad- stools and huge puff-balls which have sprung up during the warm, damp weather, are days when a striking change is wrought in the aspect of Broadland. Until they come, summer seems loth to leave us. Our native trees — the sturdy oaks, tough alders, and hardy willows^ — have hardly lost a leaf ; only such tender aliens as the horse-chestnuts have felt the chill of the autumn winds, and strewn the copse borders and driftways with a ruddy drift of withered leaves. But the October gales send the yellow birch leaves flying far and wide, blanch or stain the petals of the late-blooming wild flowers, and bring winter close upon the heels of summer. After the gales the withered leaves fall quickly ; in the quiet of the copses you may hear them distinctly tapping against the boughs and twigs as they fall. Even more noticeable is the fall of the beech mast, which, when once it has begun to drop, comes pattering down in showers. So too do the acorns and sweet chestnut burrs ; the copse footpaths are covered with a crunching carpet of them. The crimson of the hawthorn berries deepens, and the scarlet of the wild rose and bryony berries brightens ; the bracken on the Herringfleet Hills turns golden-brown. But the most vivid autumn colouring is seen in the dykes and by the dykesides, where the leavefe of the slender water-pepper polygonum (P. Hydropiper) are afire with vermilion and gold. Amid, all these signs of waning life and decay it is pleasant to see the tightly packed catkins already formed on hazel and alder, and to notice, when the elm leaves 72 THE NORFOLK BROADS begin to fall, the fretted edges of the twigs, where the young buds are appearing. One realises then that the old life is only making way for the new. October sees every eel-sett spread across the rivers ; for the eels,, which for some weeks have been making their way down-stream in small numbers, now begin to come down in shoals, and the eel-catcher looks for good hauls when he raises his pods. On Breydon, the two or three punt-gunners who are still to be found there are afloat before daybreak, and the loud booming of their big swivel guns puts to flight the gulls, curlews, and flocks of small wading birds — stints, knots, dunlins, and ringed plovers — which feed on the oozy flats. The flight- shooter, too, looks for some sport on the Broads and such river reaches and fleets as are crossed by the wild fowls' lines of flight. But colder weather will have to set in before the fowl come in such nmnbers to Broad- land as to provide work for the Fritton decoymen. " Ah, them 'coys ! " the old marsh and river gunners exclaim ; " there 'ont never be any quantity o' fowl for us while them 'coys is used." But there are few decoys now compared with the number there used to be, and in the days when they were worked at Horsey, Woodbastwick, Ranworth, and Bamby, as well as at Fritton, little was heard about scarcity of fowl. Better drainage of the marshes is no doubt accountable for the disappearance of several species that once bred in the district ; but I agree with an old Broadsman friend of mine, who reckons that it " ain't accountable for so much as some folks 'ud hev us belaave. What gunners want in Broadland is more room to shute in, an' th' right sort o' weather." Given the right weather, there is plenty of fowl. AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 73 Winter An enthusiast for Broadland cruising once deter- mined to spend a whole year on the Broads. He began his cruise in the middle of September, and for nearly three months all went well with, him ; but on nth December his yacht was " frozen up " on Oulton Broad, and there perforce it stayed until 2nd February. For about ten days he remained on board, watching the skaters dis- porting themselves on the ice, and listening to a Nor- wegian skipper, who was ori an icebound lugger near by, singing " Gamle Norge " to whUe away the time. On 20th December, however, he fled to London, where, as the reports that reached him from Broadland were unfavourable, he stayed until the middle of January. I well remember that winter. For six weeks navi- gation was impossible on the Broadland waterways. At Oulton, Wroxham, Beccles, and many an isolated marshland staithe, wherries lay ice-bound. During the greater part of that time the marshes were hidden under a white coverlet of snow. Skaters skated from Oulton Broad to Beccles and back for pastime ; wherry- men, old and young, lacking work to do, donned their " pattens " and played hockey on the ice. Some of the marshland and ferry inns — which, when the cruising season is over, rely almost entirely on the wherrjonen for custom— almost might have closed their doors to the public without turning away trade. Most of the small birds— the tits, finches, and pipits — seemed to desert the district, only a few of them being seen around the marsh farmsteads and in the shelter of the carrs and thick hedgerows ; the rest, no doubt, sought the neigh- bourhood of the towns, where food was to be found. 74 THE NORFOLK BROADS Even the hooded crows — the grey-backed Kentishmen whose raucous craas are heard So often in winter by the dykesides — flocked to the Breydon flats, or, in large numbers, sought the company of the ringed plovers and Sanderlings on the seashore. The winter migrants — the snow and Lapland buntings, the shorelarks, fieldfares, and redwings — came to us in great nurhbers, to find a chilly welcome and the hardest fare. From the middle of December until the end of January the atmospheric conditions and the outlook over the wide marshlands were arctic ; when the sun shone the dazzling whiteness of the snow-clad levels was almost blinding. In the snow the footprints of starving birds, stoats, and weasels made varied patterns, and one could trace them for long distances across the flats and along the walls. Otters left behind them a spoor by which a gunner easily might have followed them to their nests or lairs. How they lived during those bitter weeks it is hard to say. Thin ice is no obstacle to their fishing, but ice two feet thick will baffle a polar bear. No doubt the coots and water-hens provided what the frozen rivers denied. Such long speUs of frosty weather are comparatively rare. As a rule, the rivers are " open " to wherries during the greater part of the winter ; often there is no hindrance to voyaging all through the year. But when a spell of cold weather accompanied by heavy snowfall sets in, some of the marsh highways and byways soon become untraversable, and the aspect of the far-spreading lowlands is suggestive of a Lapland landscape or the' Siberian steppes. In a few hours I have seen the wind-driven snow heaped in drifts ten to twelve feet high on the willow-bordered dams and against the river walls, isolating the lonely homes of n o o AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 75 the marsh cattle-tenders, filling the frozen dykes, and forming great banks against the windmills, to which the millmen, if they Would enter them, must dig their way* To be caught in the midst of the marshes by a heavy snowstorm is, as many a marshman and gunner can testify, as discomforting an experiende as being overtaken there by a dense fog. Even at midday it soon becomes impossible to discern the familiar objects which serve as landmarks ; trees, mills, cattle-sheds, and marsh homesteads are obscured by the fast-falling flakes and the white snow-scud whirled from the rising drifts. The footpaths across the marshes, often hardly discernible even in fine weather, are soon obliterated ; sometimes only by observing the direction of the wind have men been able to reach the borders of the marshes. Such storms have been attended by tragedies, but to no greater degree in Broadland than in other districts in England where travellers may be worsted in a battle with the elements. Crouched in a comer seat of a railway carriage, journeying, say, from Lowestoft to Norwich j and scanning through the breath-dimmed window the lonesome marshlands stretching away to a misty horizon, the traveller who has had no closer acquaintance with the district may well wonder, at this season of the year, what constitutes the charm of Broadland. He sees the marshes tawny with withered grasses, rushes, and sedges, a few rooks or lapwings feeding on them or wheeling above them, leafless alders, willows, and sallows dotted here and there by the dykesides, and occasion- ally he gets a glimpse of a steely river, its surface, maybe, blurred and ruffled by an east wind. Once or twice, perhaps, during his journey he may observe a solitary marshman at work, or a wherry sailing betweew 76 THE NORFOLK BROADS banks fringed with yellow, grey-plumed reeds. Little else is likely, to attract his eye. Should the day be drawing to a close, and a fog gathering over the marshes, he will see only a grey misty waste, and probably he will be glad to turn his attention to the farmer who is talking about a forthcoming coursing match, or the garrulous " commercial. " who is explaining to a sleepy stranger what he would do if he were in charge of the War Office. Broadland, he will perhaps admit, may be a delightful district in summer ; but in winter — well, every one has a right to his own opinion, and his is that a man must be born in the district to appreciate it during the winter months. It were well if he could see some nook or comer of Broadland perhaps the following morning. A foggy evening has been succeeded by a frosty night — a " regular rimer," as the marshman calls it. The marshes are as white as if there had been a fall of snow. Every feathery reed plume, sharp sedge blade, and bending rush is coated with glistening ice-crystals ; the withering leaves of the great water-docks are like diamond-dusted shields ; on the dry stalks of the water-plantains, the brown marsh thistles, and the sapless stems of the willow- herbs, the frozen mist-drops hang in silvery settings and fairy-like festoons. In carr and copse the frost fays have been at work, gemming every pine needle, alder catkin, and slender birch twig with crystalline spray. When a bird takes flight from a bough, some of the spray falls in a powdery, scintiUating shower. The hedgerow borders of the driftways, last night bare and mist-drenched, are bedecked with frost garlands, rimy tangles of bramble, sparkling arches of briar, glittering embroideries wrought by the deft fingers of the frost sprites. Down by the river a musical AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 77 tinkling is heard— the tinkling of the ice-crystals on the reed stems ; every breath of breeze makes music, and the bearded titmice, as they take short flights above the reeds, utter at intervals their silvery, S3mi- phonic call-notes. A walk along one of the marsh dams^ at Acley Had- discoe, or elsewhere, on such a day is delightful. The keenness of the air urges one to a brisk pace which sets the blood coursing through the veins ; but one's progress is not so rapid that one fails to see the gleaming of the seagulls' white wings against the blue sky, the titmice creeping along the branches of the alders, and the field- fares — the most beautiful thrushes in the world, some one has called them — ^which have settled on a tree, but which are gone before one has time fully to appreciate their beauty. Starlings, — ^large flocks of them, — ^linnets, larks, and pipits are seen on the marshes, flying about restlessly, for their hard fare is hard to get when the ground is frozen and ever3^hing on it is stiff with rime. A snipe — the marshes seem full of them — is flushed from a dykeside, and flies off uttering a harsh, startUng cry. In the distance, where a marshman carrying a heavy, long-barrelled muzzle-loader is the only human being in sight, a flock of golden plover is flighting towards the uplands. In the dusk of evening strange bird- voices are heard crying in the gloom ; the weird whistle of the curlew sounds across the flats, and from high overhead comes the clanging of flighting geese. Walkmg is pleasanter than sailing in Broadland on such a day ; but at midday, when the sun shines brightly, it is worth one's while to go afloat on one of the wilder Broads and see what effect the autumn gales and frosty nights have! had on the rank aquatic viegetation which surrounds it. The upland fields are colourless, the 78 THE NORFOLK BROADS woodlands sombre, and the sandhills drear ; but where the reeds and sedges are mirrored in unruffled water, the autumn hues of withering leaf and yellowing culm are, in winter, intensified. A tract of swamp bathed in sunlight glows as though aflame, a reed bed is like a field of ripe corn, and a decaying dock leaf seems stained with ruby wine. Then the reflections of the storm- torn reed plumes, leafless stems, and bleaching tufts of water-grasses are so clearly defined,, that it is easy to imagine one might grasp them, so diffferent are they, to the shimmering, evanescent semblances to be seen on a breezy summer day. Effective drainage has rendered the marshes far less likely to be inundated by rain-floods than was the case at a time well within the memory of many living Broad- landers ; but even now Broadland provides the best skating to be had anywhere in England, except on the Carnbridgeshire and Lincolnshire fens. When Hickling Broad is frozen, skaters have an expanse of ice compared with which the Serpentine is a mere pond ; and when frosty weather sets in, marshes at St. Olave's and else- where are flooded with river-water, their owners being glad to earn a few pounds by providing ice on which skating can be indulged in without risk of dangerous immersion. Marsh ice, as a rule, is as clear and smooth as glass ; I have skated over acres of it, through which every grass-blade below could be seen. Broad ice, on the contrary, is often of unequal thickness and quality ; for Until it becomes too thick to break, the Broadsmen load their boats with it for sale to the Yarmouth and Lowestoft fish-packers. The rise and; fall of the tides, too, breaks the thin ice around the edges of the Broads, and it is only when a sharp frost has continued several AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 79 days that it is safe to venture on it. Even then, often there are spots where the ice remains thin or the water unfrozen ; these, the Broadsmen say, mark the position of , ever-flowing springs oozing up from the bed of the Broads. Still, I >have known winters when for weeks together it was possible to skate every day almost all over Oulton Broad, and I can well remember one winter when a sheep was roasted, on the ice there. That year we had skating by torchlight in various parts of Brpadr land, and strange and weird was the effect of the torches fhekering and flaring over the Broads, while the night- flying birds, lured by the lights, piped and cried in the darkness overhead. Occasionally there were false alarms ; the ice,; falling with the tide, would crack with a report like a gim, and the skaters would scurry towards the shore. But there was little to fear ; the ice,, for the most part, was over a foot thick, and the cr?.cks were dangerous only when a skater caught a skate^ blade in them, and came down with a '^hack that made him rub his knees and elbows ruefully. I have heard ancient natives of the neighbourhood of Berney Arms talk of the time when good skating was to be had on that part of Breydon now known as Burgh Flats. One old man could remember how, as a boy, he skated from Bemey Anus to Yarmouth to get for his mother a halfpenny-worth of yeast— a ten miles' journey, which he had to make twice, because just before he reached home he tripped over a boat's painter lying on the ice, and fell and broke the yeast bottle. In winter, some of the marsh farmsteads were, at that time, so inaccessible that there was no way of getting coal to them unless a coairladen wherry happened to be ice-bound somewhere near^ In Broadland it is only the townsman who attempts 8o THE NORFOLK BROADS figure-skating — an artificial performance which, Dr. Emerson remarks, reminds one of the antics of the " foolish harlequin of the pantomime." As in the case of his brother of the fens, the native skater's chief ambition is to outdistance every one else, even though to do so he may have to sacrifice grace: to spefed. Some of the wherrymen and marshmen are experts on " pat- tens," in so far as proficiency consists of an ability to attain a great pace ; the muscular development of their legs, attained by quanting the heavily laden wherries and trudging over rough marshlands, enables them to outstay most of their rivals. Skating matches, however, for some reason, are organised less frequently nowadays than they were twenty years ago ; the interest in them seems to have died out, or, at any rate, is very local. Long spells of frosty weather, welcome as they' may be to skater and gunner, are hard times for many of the marshmen, who, now pike-snaring is made illegal, and liggefing is permitted only on one or twb Broads; where the inhabitants of nieighbouring villages possess " ancient rights," sometimes are " hard put to " to find occupation and means of livelihood. Free shooting, except on Breydon and along the foreshores, is to be had only in very restricted areas ; eel-setts cannot be worked, and even if they could, it would be to little purpose when the eels have ceased " running " ; picking is impossible on the ice-laid rivers and in the frozen dykes ; dyke-drawing, wall-mending, and other similar marsh occupations are equally impracticable while the dykes are filled with ice and the ground is hard as iron. Open weather is anxiously awaited, so that reed-cutting may begin. Meanwhile, it is not surprising if some visitor, who during his summer voyaging hap- AUTUMN AND WINTER IN BROADLAND 8i pened to hint at the possibility of such a thing, receives by po^t a pair of bearded titmice from Broadland. For this the marshman caii hardly be blamed ; it is the connivance of the visitor that is reprehensible. For in winW the bearded titmice are a constant tempta- tion to the prowling gunner. At this season, absmdon- ing their restricted breeding haunts, flocks of these pretty little birds wander far and wide over the district, 5S!isiting most of the Broads and following the courses of the rivers. Among the yellow reeds you may see them creeping and swinging, and hear their caU-notes ; sometimes a dozen or more of them are visible together, and their chinging is as delightful bird-music as one can listen to. But while you are listening, maybe, the report of a gun startles you, and if you search the reed bed you find, lying on a blood-sprayed reed blade, a tiny bunch of ruffled feathers. I myself have seen such a sight ; and not all the stuffed birds set up in what the marshmen call " glassen boxes " seemed worth the death of the little minstrel who a few minutes before was clashing his C3n3ibals among the reeds. But the death of a bearded titmouse means, perhaps, dinners for the gunner's family for a. week, or a few hours conviviality for himself at one of the marshland inns. Even if it only mean the latter, I for one, knowing something of what the marshman's life is like in winter, find it hard to blame him : the cheery glow of the fire in the inn kitchen, the beer warmed in the pewter before being poured into the mug, and the congenial company assembled on the high-backed settles flanking the wide hearth, are to the marshman what to the city man is his club. Hobnobbing with other marshmen and with wherrymen from the river, listening to oft-told tales and joining in the choruses of familiar songs, he forgets for 6 82 THE NORFOLK BROADS a while the icy blasts of the frozen flats, the chill grey dawns, and the days spent in 'solitary toiling. The rector, when he goes by the inn, may shake his head when he hears the loud-voiced merriment within ; but no one knows better than he how little enjoyment the marshman can get elsewhere at this season of the year. Gld George the eel-catcher, when remonstrated with in the morning, admits that he was " a bit cherry-merry f last night; but he went to the Dog and Duck to see young Zack about a pick-head, and BUly Johnson was just home, "flush" with money, from the. autumn fishing. It was a cold night, he had been ice^breaking all day, the inn fire was very comforting, and one thing led to another, so maybe — well, he may ■ have had a dvop too much ; but seeing that Billy Johnson paid, and would not take " no " for an answer, what could he do ? But the hardest winters have an end, and when open weather comes, and the rafts can be towed or quanted up and down the rivers, reed-cutting provides employ- ment for many of the men of the marshes. And it goes on well into the spring ; in fact, until the appearance of the " colts " or young reeds puts a stop to the cutting. By that time the coltsfoot has pushed its way up through the dods on the river walls, the marsh marigold has bloomed by the dykesidesj and the warblers have come back to the amber reed-beds and budding carrs. CHAPTER V THE OLD-TIME BROADSMEN A VOYAGER on the Broadland rivers cannot help noticing, more especially on the Bure and its tributaries, the Ant and Thurne, the little ark- like house-boats of the eel-catchers. Most of them are very ancient, dilapidated craft ; some, indeed, are so leaky that they cannot be kept afloat in the creeks and inlets, and are dragged up on to the banks or ronds ; but nearly all of them are tenanted during the months when the eels are " running," and their occupants usually contrive to make themselves comfortable in their cramped little cabins. In another chapter I shall have occasion to refer again to these eel-catchers : I only mention them here in order to remark that they are almost the sole survivors of the passing race of real Broadsmen. In the " good old days," as the surviving Broadsmen call them, when no restriction was placed upon the taking of fish and slaughtering of fowl, the Broadsman's life was a happy one. The men who lived in isolated cottages on the lonesome marshlands, and spent days and nights on the rivers and fens, were of a freedom- loving and self-reliant t5^e. Leaving to others the waging of war, the tilling of land, the reaping of corn, they endured shivering fits of ague, scorching blaze of 83 84 THE NORFOLK BROADS summer sun, and numbing blast of winter wind, because the fascination of an unfettered life had cast its spell upon them. Busy with their nets, traps, and decoys, they were content to have no part in the doings of the world which lay beyond the horizon of their familiar marshes. For their life was far from being monotonous : every season, and almost every month of the year, brought them change of occupation. They were descendants of the men to whom the barons of old who held the Broadland manors looked for fish and fowl for their tables, and whom the abbots of St. Benet-at-Holm and Langley, when they entertained courtly guests with falconry, summoned to guide those guests to the haunts of the hernshaws. They knew every rush marsh on which the plovers nested, every inlet and dyke into which the bream and roach swarmed at spawning-time, every wild fowl by its cry or flight. Often for days and nights together they heard no voices but the wild- life voices of marsh and mere ; so that the " chucking " of the sedge warbler, the clanking of the coot, and the rustling of the voles and otters in the hovers became to them companionable sounds. Their methods of gaining a livelihood made them close observers of the habits of fish, bird, and beast ; the knowledge of natural history that was lost when an aged Broadsman died, would, if it had been printed, have made his name famous. They were flight-shooters, punt-gunners, eel- catchers, fish-netters, reed-cutters, dyke-drawers, and cattle-tenders. Frequently one man, in the course of twelve months, would be engaged in each aiid all of these pursuits and occupations. Mr, Davies, quoting from Manship's Book of the Foundacion and Antiquity e of the Town of Gt. Yarmouthe, gives us an interesting account of a dispute that arose THE OLD-TIME BROADSMEN 85 between the Yarmouth bailiffs and two representatives of the notable Paston family concerning the renting of certain eel-setts on the rivers Yare, Bure, and Waveney. From this account, which is one of the earliest references to the old-time Broadsmen, we learn that in the year 1576 there were thirty-eight eel-setts or stations, hired by fishermen at a nominal rent of a penny a year. Until the bailiffs superintended the letting of these setts, there seem to have been frequent disputes among the fishermen, though it was stated that they had " an onlye custome among them, used tyme out of mynd, that yerlie, on the day of S. Margaret, every fysherman that could that daye, after rysenge, first come to anye of the said ele settes in anye of the said ryvers, and there staye and pytche a bowghe at the said ele sett, the same fysherman should have and injoye the same ele sett that yere, without yealdinge or payenge anye thinge for the same." The bailiffs, however, after persuading the fishermen to leave to them the allotmerit of fishing stations, seem to have been anxious to make greater profit by the letting of the setts ; for Mr. Paston, who stated the fishermen's case before the Privy Council, charged the bailiffs with having conspired with a certain John Everist, one of Queen Elizabeth's ordinary yeomen of the chamber, to obtain from the Queen permission to demand for the " fishing places " a rental of thirty pounds a year, which, we are told, would have resulted in the taking away of the " whole lyvenge of the poor fyshermen." This, Mr. Paston urged, would have been against the interest of the general pubUc ; for it was by the fishermen's industry that "the citie of Norwiche and the countye of Norf. and Suff. had been plentifullie provided in their kyndes of fyshe in the comon marketts, and for reasonable pryces." The 86 THE NORFOLK BROADS fishermen appear to have won their case, but the Yarmouth bailiffs' claim to the conservancy of the rivers for ten miles upwards from Yarmouth was granted. The best description of an old-time Broadsman that I know of is that given by the Rev. Richard Lubbock in his Observations on the Fauna of Norfolk. It has often been quoted ; but it is so good, and so admirably summarises the Broadsmen's various occupations, that I cannot refrain from reproducing it here. " When I first visited the Broads," Mr. Lubbock writes, " I found here and there an occupant, squatted down, as the Americans would call it, on the verge of a pool, who relied almost entirely on shooting and fishing for the support of himself and family, and lived in a truly primitive manner. I particularly remember one hero of this description. ' Our Broad,' as he always called the extensive pool by which his cottage stood, |was his microcosm — his world ; the islands in it were his gardens of the Hesperides ; its opposite extremity his Ultima Thule. Wherever his thoughts wandered, they could not get beyond the circle of his beloved lake ; indeed, I never knew them aberrant but once, when he informed me, with a doubting air, that he had sent his wife and his two eldest children to a fair at a country village two miles off, that their ideas might expand by travel : as he sagely observed, they had never been away from ' our Broad.' I went into his house at the dinner hour, and found the whole party going to fall to most thank- fully upon a roasted herring-gull, killed, of course, on ' our Broad.' His life presented no vicissitudes but an alternation of marsh emplo5mient. In winter, after his day's reed-cutting, he might be found regularly posted at nightfall, waiting for the flight of fowl, or paddling after them on the open water. With the first warm days THE OLD-TIME BROADSMEN 87 of February he launched his fleet of trimmers, pike finding a ready sale at his own door to those who bought them to sell again in the Norwich: market. As soon as the pike had spawned, and were out of season, the eels began to occu'py his attention, and lapwings' eggs to be diligently sought for. In the end of April, the island in his watery domain was frequently visited for the sake of shooting the ruffs which resorted thither on their first arrival. As the days grew longer and hotter, he might be found searchihgi in some smaller pools near his house, for the shoals of tench as they commenced spawning. Yet a little longer, and he began marsh mowing — his gun always laid ready upon his coatj in case flappers should be met with. By the middle of August teal came to a wet corner near his cottage, snipes began to arrive, and he was often> called upon to exercise his vocal powers on the curlews that passed to and fro. By the end of September good snipe-shoot- ing was generally to be met with in his neighbourhood ; and his accurate knowledge of the iriarshes, his un- assuming good humour and zeal in providing sport for those who employed him, made him very much sought after as a sporting guide by snipe shots and fishermen ; and his knowledge of the habits of different birds enabled him to give useful information to those who collected them." Mr. Lubbock then goes on to say that the hardy fenmen were great supporters of an old Norfolk pastime called " camping " which required musde and endur- ance of pain beyond common limits, and " somewhat resembled the pancratium of the ancients, but was rather more severe." This game, which seems almost to have been confined to the eastern countieSi somewhat resembled Rugby football, but was far rougher, the 88 THE NORFOLK BROADS players often receiving fatal injuries. There were no rules to prevent what would now be considered foul play ; pushing, tripping, striking, and kicking of players were permitted ; and the game often ended in a free fight, in which the spectators joined. Villages were matched against villages, Hundreds against Hundreds, and counties against counties ; and so long as there was an equal number of players on each side, there was no limit to the number who took part in a game. Con- temporary writers maintained that it was a noble and manly sport, and remarked upon the " animated scene " presented by twenty or thirty youths, stripped to the skin, rushing " full ding " at each other, amid the shout- ing of half the population of the surrounding villages. When a large football was used, the game was called " kicking camp " ; if the players wore shoes, it was known as " savage camp." It must have been a game of " savage camp " that was contested on Diss Common between teams representing Norfolk and Suffolk. There were three hundred players on each side, and when the Norfolk men came on to the field they tauntingly asked the Suffolk men whether they had brought their cofl&ns with them ! . The Suffolk men, however, were victorious. Nine deaths resulted from this " game " within a fort- night. Camping fell into disrepute towards the end of the eighteenth century, on account of its frequent fatalities ; but I once met an old Breydoner who was present at a match contested at Burgh Castle. It was, he believed, the last camping game ever played in Broadland. His father was one of the players, and he feared every moment that he would be killed. But it is with the Broadsman's methods of gaining a livelihood rather than with his few pastimes that I wish to deal here. At the time when the Rev. R. THE OLD-TIME BROADSMEN 89 Lubbock wrote his description of a typical Broadsman, the Acts of ParUament existing for the protection of wild birds were seldom enforced, and though Norwich and Yarmouth claimed jurisdiction over parts of the rivers^ there were no useful regulations for the preserva- tion of fresh- water fishes ; the gunner could shoot and the fisherman net whenever and almost wherever they chose. True, so long ago as the end of the fourteenth century, it was enacted that " no manner of artificer, labourer, nor any other la57man " not possessing lands to the value of £10 a year shoidd hunt with dogs or use ferrets ; and in the reign of Henry viii. a law was passed which made it unlawful to destroy, except with the long-bow, " dukkes, mallardes, wygeons, teales, wyldgeese, and d3rverse other kyndes of wyldfowle," between the end of May and the end of August ; also it was by the same Act provided that between ist March and 30th June the eggs of " byttour, heroune, shovelard, malarde, tele," and other wild fowl should not be taken. But even if there had been a disposition to enforce the Acts, Broadland was a district in which they could be safely ignored. No water-bailiff, in silently gliding punt, haunted the waterways at night, and in the day- time hid among the riverside reeds. Under the eyes of every one who cared to watch him, the fisherman hauled in his draw-net full of roach and bream, and the gunner brought down mallard, wigeon, and teal. I have talked with men who remembered those days, — and who themselves shouldered the heavy, long-barrelled muzzle-loaders and spread the hundred-yards-long draw-nets,— and they spoke of them as though they were the golden age of their world — the Broadland. As one of them said to me, "We thought little then of catching a ton of roach and bream in a day, in the go THE NORFOLK BROADS Beccles or Norwich rivers (the Waveney or the Yare) ; and we often put back three parts of our catch because we could not sell so niuch fish. At the sluices of the mill-dykes we netted pike by the stone, or we caught them by means of copperrwire snares. Then the Breydon flats were often white with fowl, and a punt- gunner could get as many as eighty at a single shot of his big swivel gun. Now, in spite of protectin' an' presarvin' there ain't quarter the quantity of fish in the rivers nor nuthin' like sich flocks of fowl on the flats. On Oulton Broad alone there were seven nets used regularly when the fish were in season. And talkin' about fowl, I've seen two acres of Breydon mudflat wholly covered with them ; when they rose the whole flat seemed to rise. Some of the gunners got a bushel skep full at a shot. I myself have killed nineteen out of twenty-one stints at a single shot of a shoulder-gun. Large flocks of cormorants used to come to Breydon then ; but of course they wom't no good to the gunners, who only wanted fowl what would sell." During the first half of the nineteenth century fish were so plentiful in the Broadland rivers that few people cared how they were caught, or whether they were caught at all. Bushels of roach, bream, and rudd were left to rot on the river banks, or cast on to the land for manure, because no one would buy them, and the Broadsmen did not want them for food. But the fishermen kept on netting, and generally managed to sell the best of the fish they caught. Hundred-yard draw-nets were used in the Broads and rivers, " buskin " or bushing nets about thirty yards long were spread along the borders of the reed beds, out of which the fish were driven by beating the reeds with poles, and smaller, fine-meshed nets were used in the dykes. None of 2; o H a a a o X a u o t3 THE OLD-TIME BROADSMEN gi these liets, however, were of so fine a mesh as those used by the Breydon smelters : these were so fine as to cut the fingers of the women who mended them. Pike were not only netted, but taken on liggers or trimmers, consisting of small, tightly tied bundles of rushes, to which a short double-hooked line was attached, usually baited with a small roach. Abundant as were the fish, extensive and indis- criminate netting eventually resulted in a very noticeable decrease in the quantity of large and fair-sized ones ; and anglers, who foimd their " takes " gradually growing smaller, took exception to the fishermen's destructive methods. So long ago as 1857, steps were taken to regulate the netting, but with little success. Ten years later, after pressure had been put upon them, some members of the Norwich Corporation took action, and under the City of Norwich Act of 1867 certain restrictions were placed upon the fishermen. But Norwich only had jurisdiction over the Yare down to Hardley Cross ; and as Yarmouth's jurisdiction over the lower waters was only nominal, the new regulations had little effect. Under cover of night the fishermen netted the forbidden waters, carrying the fish down to Yarmouth for sale or despatch to market ; and though now and again some of them were proceeded against and fined, dodging the river-watchers was considered good sport, and the game went merrily on. Nor was anything effective done until about the year 1875. A well-known fish-poacher then, after a successful night's netting, carried his catch to Norwich, where it was conveyed through the streets in a hand-cart. The cart broke down, and the catch, chiefly consisting of roach and bream, fell out on to the road in the presence of a considerable number of people. This opened their eyes to the fact, hitherto 92 THE NORFOLK BROADS ignored except by anglers, that, in spite of the regulations, immense quantities of fresh-water fish were being caught almost daily, and efforts were made to obtain an Act which would make netting illegal. The late Mr. Frank Buckland, whom the Home Secretary had instructed to report upon the state of the Norfolk Fisheries, was approached and urged to inquire into the conditions and abuses existing in connection with the Broads and rivers. Mr. Buckland was too keenly interested in such matters to ignore such an appeal. He visited Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Norwich, and other places, and examined a large number of witnesses. He reported that not only the Broads but the rivers were extensively netted ; that the fish taken were sent to inland towns and sold for a shilling a stone, or used for manure ; that the rivers were usually netted at night, and tons of small fish taken during the spawning season. The Yarmouth town clerk told him that " there was no close time on the Broads, but they were fished whenever it was considered likely that a market could be found for the fish. There was no doubt that a large number of fry were thus destroyed, as the nets sometimes used in this fishing were of very small mesh. The Mayor and Corporation had no jurisdiction over the fisheries. No doubt in former years the Corporation assumed certain rights with regard to the river-fishing, but no such rights now existed." Another witness said " he frequently had seen as much as two tons of fish in the hold of one wherry ; they consisted of roach, bream, perch, pike, etc., of all sizes and ages." The evidence of other witnesses proved lamentable diminution both in the size and quantity of the fish. One man stated that he had known two tons of fresh-water fish to be sold for £7, los. a ton — not a THE OLD-TIME BROADSMEN 93 farthing a pound. Half these fish were thrown on to the land. One old man of ninety, who lived at Ludham, said that " formerly he could go out with his pole and tow (rod and line) and catch a rare mess of good fish in a couple of hours, and now there were hardly any left." A Lowestoft net-maker stated that the nets used by the river fishermen were of such small mesh that they would catch fish no bigger than an ordinary cedar pencil. At a meeting at Norwich, at which Mr. Buckland was present, it was resolved that legislation for the preserva- tion of the navigable waters was urgently required ; that this legislation should extend to the Broads, at least so far as to secure a close time during the spawning season ; and that all netting, except for eels and smelts, should be prohibited. Mr. Buckland agreed with this resolution, and recommended that the Home Secretary should announce an annual close time (ist March to 31st May) for aU fish in the Broads and rivers ; that a local Board of Conservators should be given power to make by-laws as to the mesh of nets, use of liggers, cutting of weeds, etc. ; and that trawling in the rivers (which had been carried on by some of the fishermen) should be put a stop to. In 1877 the Norfolk and Suffolk Fisheries Act was passed. Under this Act certain by-laws were made, but they did not put a stop to all netting. Some persons had urged that when fish had attained the weight of ij lbs. they should be taken for food ; so the use of nets with a mesh measuring three inches from knot to knot was permitted. Five years later, it was discovered that with a net having a mesh slightly under three inches from knot to knot a fisherman had succeeded in taking two tons of fish during a few hours' netting. As a result of this discovery, the by-laws 94 THE NORFOLK BROADS were altered, and netting, except for eels and smelts, was entirely prohibited. Smelt-netting was regulated, and only allowed in certain parts of the rivers. Pike snaring and spearing were made illegal. The passing of the Norfolk and Suffolk Fisheries Act, and the Acts of 1872, 1876, and 1880, for the protection of wild birds, made it impossible for the men who had hitherto existed almost entirely upon what they shot and netted to do so any longer. Only the eel-catchers and smelt-fishers were able to earn a little money by netting at certain seasons ; and in 1881 an attempt was made to do away with eel-setts, but this proved unsuccess- ful. The men who were thus deprived of their chief means of livelihood naturally did not at first take kindly to their altered circumstances, and for some time the water-bailiffs and police had much dif&culty in dealing with those who broke the new laws. As an example of the defiant attitude adopted by some of the fishermen may be quoted the case of one fish-poacher, who, since the passing of the Fisheries Act, has paid nearly £300 in fines, and admits that he has made as much as £74 in one week by illegal fishing. CHAPTER VI SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY NETTING, except for eels and smelts, having been made illegal, and wild-fowl shooting forbidden during certain months of the year, the men of the Broads and rivers had to turn to other occupations in order to gain a livelihood. A few of them, as I have said, continued for a while to defy the law ; but the inajority grumblingly submitted to the inevitable, cut up their draw-nets, and used them to keep the birds off their garden beds. Fortunately for them, there was other work to be done on the Broads, rivers, and marshes. Some of them became wherrymen ; others contented themselves with eel-catching and reed and rush cutting ; yet others found emplo5anent in cattle-tending, marsh- mowing, and "drawing" or clearing out the marsh dykes. And as Broadland became increasingly popular as a holiday resort, the demand for men who could sail yachts and pleasure wherries increased correspond- ingly; and during the simimer months the services of some of the old netters, who were used to boat-sailing and knew every nook and comer of Broadland, were engaged by Oulton, Wroxham, Norwich, and Yarmouth yacht-letters. Instances are also recorded of fish- poachers becoming water-bailiffs, to the delight of their poaching friends and dismay of their poaching enemies ; 96 THE NORFOLK BROADS but, with one or two exceptions, these appointments did not prove entirely satisfactory to the preservation societies. So it will be seen that there was a variety of employment awaiting the men who had to abandon fish-netting, and I do not think there is a single case on record in which the passing of the Norfolk and Suffolk Fisheries Act resulted in the pinch of poverty being felt in any humble Broadland home. Of course, even now there are men who grumble at not being allowed to shoot and net wherever and whenever they please ; but the majority of the natives of Broadland admit that protection and preservation of fowl and fish are desirable, and, so far as the fish are concerned, have had good results. Among the characteristic Broadlanders whom the visitor encounters, the wherrjmien are the most numerous and conspicuous. Cruise where you wiU, not only on the main rivers, but up the Chet to Loddon, the Thume to Hickling, and the Ant to North Walsham, and you find that wherever your yacht can go the wherrymsin has gone before you. Sometimes he is alone, for the Broadland wherry — a t5T)e of craft seen nowhere else in England — is so rigged that one man can sail it ; but generally he has a companion, sometimes a man or boy, sometimes his wife. Usually he is a man whose father was a whenyman before him ; but occasionally he is one who has been to sea in a Yarmouth or Lowestoft trawler or drifter, and has grown tired of a rough, seafaring life. All through the year he is afloat on the rivers, carrying cargoes of coal, corn, hay, and timber between the coast ports and the inland towns and staithes, and often his only home is his cramped little cabin aft of the long wide hold. There he cooks his food over a small stove, shelters when the weather is M O G 2 < a o 3 K w H o ft SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY 97 bad and' the wind against him, and sleeps when his day's voyage is done. But should the wind be favourable he often sails all night as well as all day ; for a head wind or a windless day often means many hours' hard quanting — that is, pushing the wherry along by means of a long pole. Only when the rivers are ice-bound does he take a holiday, and then, leaving his wherry frozen up at some staithe or marshside mooring, he disports himself on skates or " pattens," lounges over a fire in a riverside inn, or spends his time and money at the nearest town. But should the ice on the rivers be so thin that a passage can be forced through it, he will continue his voyaging ; and if his hold is empty he will sometimes fill it with ice for sale to the fish-merchants at the nearest port. On the upper waters of the main rivers and on the narrow tributary streams a wherry is perhaps the most awkward obstacle a yacht can encounter, for its wide hull and large sail seem to block up the whole chaiinel. But the wherryman is an expert at getting out of such difficulties, and as he is usually patient and goodr natured, a yachtsman generally does well to follow his advice. Of late years the native voyagers have had a good deal to put up with at the hands of unskilled navigators, many of whom had never sailed a boat uintil they came on to the Broads ; but one seldom hears of a wherryman treating a stranger with incivility or refusing to assist him when he requires aid. In return for this the least a yachtsman can do is not to hinder a wherr3rmart if he can help it, remembering that, as Mr. Davies has pointed out, the wherrymen are on the rivers on business, while the yachtsmen are there simply for pleasure. To the summer cruiser it may seem that the wherryman's fife is an enviable one. He sees him daily lounging at his tiller while he sails between sunny meads, musical 7 98 THE NORFOLK BKOAUb with larks' songs. Wild flowers of every hue deck the banks by which he glides, leaping fish make rippling rings around his wherry, the fragrance of water-mint or new-mown hay is borne to him on the breeze, and at the end of his day's voyage there is a cosy iim awaiting him ! But the summer voyager fails to look at the other side of the picture, to take into account the stormy winter days, when whirling snow-squalls hide the marshlands and heap high snowdrifts against the river walls ; when cutting hail smites the wherr5nnan's face and ice-coated ropes niunb his hands ; when the icy wind blears his eyes and the frost whitens his beard and fringes his eyelashes with beads of ice. Then the wherryman's lot is far from enviable, and few are the men, however mean their condition, who would change places with him. The wherry is one of the most picturesque features of the Broadland waterways, rivalling the dainty yachts in shapeliness and grace of movement. Sailing closer to the wind than any other vessel afloat, and easily handled, it is just the craft for navigating these narrow winding streams. Seen from a distance, it often seems to be sailing on a sea of meadow grass and wild flowers, and to make little headway ; but viewed from a river bank or yacht's deck its sailing qualities can be properly appreciated. Its curious wire-framed flag, which re- sembles those of the Scheveningen and Maasluis fishing boats seen at Lowestoft and Yarmouth at Christmas- time, emphasizes the Dutch aspect the windmills give the marshlands. Wherries are as much a part of Broad- land as are reed-beds and windmills. Even more interesting than the wherrymen to the visitor, if he have time and opportunity to make their acquaintance and study their methods, are the eel- SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY 99 etchers, whose quaint little arks are seen on all the rivers, but more especially on the Bure and its tributaries. These men usually live in the Broadland hamlets or in isolated cottages on the borders of the marshes, and they have several means of gaining a livelihood ; but during the summer and autumn they can be found almost every night in the neighbourhood of their house-boats, keeping watch so that their setts may not be damaged by passing yachts or wherries. In order that their method of eel-catching may be understood, it is necessary to know a little about the life-history of Anguilla vulgaris, the common eel. Until lately the reproduction of this common species was a great mystery. Even now there are marshmen and fishermen who will seriously assure you that eels are bred out of mud ; not so very long ago they believed that chopped horsehair would, if thrown into the water, turn into eels. Even the more enlightened of them will not credit the fact that the species is not vivi- parous : one old man, whom I know well, told me he had foimd yoimg eels or elvers inside larger ones which he had cut open. The presence of worm-like parasites in the eels no doubt accounted for this confident state- ment. Another old man, who is a well-known eel- catcher, said, "I don't believe the elvers come out of the sea at all. I beUeve they are bred out of the mud. You may see thousands of them going through Mutford Lock in April, and it's my opinion they come out of the mud in Lake Lothing. I've opened a good many hundred eels in my time, and I never saw a trace of spawn in any one of them." I told him that it was the opinion of naturalists that all the eels were bred in the sea. He replied, "If all the elvers are hatched off in the sea, how is it we get eels of all sizes in ponds right 100 THE NORFOLK BROADS away on highlands and in the middle of fields, where there are no dykes or drains to connect them with the rivers or the sea ? I know eels can get out of the water and crawl about on the land, because I've seen three of them lying on a marsh and the tracks they made when they came out of a dyke ; but I don't believe they can crawl across roads and fields to ponds a long way off any dyke or river." Biologists, however, are now satisfied that Anguilla vulgaris spawns in deep sea water. In an interesting paper published in the Trans- actions of the Norfolk and Norwich Naturalists' Society, Mr. T. Southwell, F.Z.S., draws attention to Dr. Grassi's discoveries in the Straits of Messina, where strong local currents bring large quantities of the larvse {Leptocephali) of the common eel to the surface, These larval forms, which were formerly regarded as those of certain kinds of marine fishes, gradually develop into the tiny eels or elvers which in spring swarm up from the sea into the rivers. Until a few years ago it was generally believed that there were at least three species of eels in the Broadland rivers ; indeed, some eel-catchers affirmed that there were no less than seven. But it has been discovered that the so-called broad-nosed eels, which were con- sidered to be a distinct species, are simply barren females of Anguilla vulgaris. These broad-nosed eels are hardly ever taken in the setts which are spread across the rivers for the capture of the sharp-nosed or silver eels when they are " running " towards the sea. A sett consists of a close-meshed net, the bottom of which is weighted and rests on the river bed, while the top is buoyed up on the surface of the water. In this network wall one or more openings lead into circular nets or " pods." The setts are used at night when the tide is H H H J W Z SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY loi ebbing, the network wall being then, by means of ropes and blocks, raised from the river bed (where it lies during the day) so as to form an impassable obstacle to the descending swarms of eels. The latter, on finding their passage obstructed, seek an opening in the net. They find that which leads into a circular " pod," from which, when they have once entered it, funnel-shaped circles of net prevent their escape. Fifty years ago, one hundred and ten stones of eels were taken in one night at Fishley on the Bure ; and Mr. Davies tells us he once met a man who had taken three hundred stones in four nights at Hardley Cross on the Yare. Apparently eels are nothing like so plentiful now, for the existing netters consider a catch of forty stones a remarkably good one, and a ten or fifteen stones' " take " is looked upon as satisfactory. Often, however, the setts are spread night after night and only two or three eels taken. The old eel-catcher whom I have just quoted recently had such an experience. But in his case it was not lack of eels which made his night's fishing unprofitable. Unknown to him, a sunken log prevented the lower side of his sett touching the river bed, and left a passage open through which the eels continued their journey down-stream. The eel-catchers do not rely entirely on their setts for the taking of eels. Small-meshed bow-nets are often baited and sunk in the rivers, and nets not unlike small setts are used at the sluices of the mill dykes. By the last-mentioned method seventy-four stones of eels were taken in one night out of Leathes Ham, a small pool or pond adjoining Lake Lothing. Eel-lines are often laid out in the Broads and rivers ; and in the springtime eel-spearing or "picking" is extensively practised, not only in the Broads and rivers, but in the marsh dykes. The spear or pick consists of a " head " of from four to 102 THE NORFOLK BROADS six long barbed teeth, fixed to; the end of a long pole. The teeth are set so close together that when the spear is thrust into the mud an eel caught between them seldom escapes, being drawn ashore or into the eel-catcher's boat. Yet another method is " bobbing " or " babbing," which is often indulged in as a pastime. A bunch of worsted-threaded worms is fastened to a line attached to a pole. Seated in a boat or by the riverside, the fisherman lowers the bunch of worms to the bed of the river, and then " bobs " it gently up and down. As soon, as an eel bites into one of the worms, its teeth become entangled in the worsted, and the " angler," who feels its tugging, carefully lifts it out of the water and lets it fall into a tub floating beside him. In some parts of Broadland it is no uncommon sight to see old men, with lanterns beside them, bobbing all night by the riverside. I had my first experience as an eel- bobber on the upper waters of the Waveney. My instructor was a marshman. He said, " When you feel a little pull at th' line jist hyst it up carefully an' drop th' worams inter th' keeler (tub). Ony you mustn't be too hasty about it, or you may shake him orf and luse him. Thas how I mean," he went on, as he brought up an eel wriggling on the end of his line, and knocked it off the bab by swinging it against the inside of the tub. " See, you ha' got one tu." I had unconsciously followed his example when he raised his bab, and had babbed my first eel. But the worker of a sett looks upon bobbing as simply playing at eel-catching, and it is to him you must go if you wish to see how eels are caught to supply the London and other markets. If possible, you should spend a night with him in his houserboat — it will not be a very costly experience — for then you can see him SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY 103 haul up his pods and empty them of his night's catch. You will gain some idea, too, of how such men as he spend many nights of the year, and of how comfortable and content he is in his cramped little cabin. If the night be chilly, he wiU probably light a fire in his stove, and the temperature of the cabin will soon become tropical ; but you are not likely to run such risk as did Farmer Oak in his shepherd's hut, for the jiouse-boats generally have a ventilator which will not wholly close, and most of the time the door will be open, so that your companion can keep an eye on his sett. And you will hear the rats rustling in the hovers, the pheasants crowing on the marshes, the fish leaping, and the water rippling along the keel of the boat — sounds that may lull you to sleep* to dream of pleasant pastures where the cattle stand knee-deep in the grass, and rivers winding between banks decked with mauve-flowered mints and yellow water-flags. If you succeed in keeping awake, you will hear from your companion much curious lore concerning the wild life of the rivers and marshes, and many strange tales about huge hauls of fish and great slaughterings of fowl. Maybe, if he be an old man, and you have won his confidence, he wiU entertain you with stories of old-time fish-poaching escapades, of midnight trips on the waters above Hardley Cross, which were the first to be pireserved, or of smelt-netting in a certain reach near Reedham where the smelts always seem to be more plentiful and of better quality than those taken at Burgh, but where the using of a smelt-net is strictly forbidden. Should he be in a mood for relating such reminiscences the night will seem only too brief, and when you leave the cabin in the early morning, and are greeted by the cheery little reed birds, you will feel that your novel experience has not been an unprofitable one. 104 THE NORFOLK BROADS Besides the eel-catchers, almost the only men who use nets in the Broadland waters are the smelt-fishers, a few of whom, during certain months of the year, spread their nets near the Burgh end of Breydon. Formerly a good many men were engaged in smelting ; but now there are not, I believe, more than twenty men and boys, though the average price they get for smelts] — two shillings a score — would seem fairly remunerative. Burgh is not easily accessible by land, so very few people have an opportunity of seeing the smelters at work. It is a lonesome place at which to moor at night. The deserted cement works and cottages on the shore, backed by a dark belt of woods and brooded over by that grim old Roman stronghold, the so-called castle, add to its dreariness. And the yachtsman who spends a night there need be sure that his moorings are secure, for when the tide ebbs, the outrush of the waters of the Yare and Waveney is strong and rapid, and if a yacht's moorings drag, its occupants may awake to find themselves stranded on a Breydon mud-fiat, or in collision with that awkward obstacle to navigation, the Breydon railway bridge. In winter, one of the most fariiiliar sights in Broad- land is a reed-cutter at work on a Broad or by the riverside. For the reed-cutter's harvest is a winter one, beginning about Christmas, when the blade is off the reeds, and lasting until March or April, when the appearance of the " colts " or young reeds puts a stop to the cutting. Eel-catchers, marshmen, miU- men, and the men who sail the cruising yachts, take part in this belated harvest, which comes at a time when there is little else for them to do in the day- time, and only wild fowl to be watched for at dusk and dawn. Scythe and meag are used in cutting the > < X Q a: o z o SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY 105 reeds, and the cutter works either in a wide, flat- bottomed marsh boat, or on a plank projecting from a boat or laid flat in a cleared space among the reeds. If, however, the reeds grow in shallow water, the men put on wading-boots and work in the water. The cut reeds are laid in the boat or on a large reed-raft, and rowed, quanted, or towed to the place where they are to be stacked. There they are tied in bundles or "shooves," five of which are supposed to have an aggregate circumference of six feet, and they are sold by the fathom, a fathom of reeds being five " shooves." They are used for various purposes, such as supporting builders' plasterwork, thatching cottages, park lodges, and ornamental boat-houses, and screening young shrubs and fruit trees ; but the demand for them has decreased considerably since the days when there were " scythe rights " on the reed fens and the reeds were carefully cultivated. But there are still many hundred acres of reeds in Broadland, and the cutting of them means a welcome addition to many scanty incomes. So, too, does the cutting and selling of "gladden" and a species of rush locally known as " bolder "; but turf or peat cutting, which formerly found employment for many of the marshmen, can hardly now be called a profitable business. Still, there are a few men who cut and dry the riverside hovers and the boggy surface soil of some of the swampy lands ; for peat is a good and cheap substitute for coal in the hearths of the marshmen's cottage homes. Should one wish to know the kind of life that is led by the natives of Broadland, one cannot do better than leave the rivers and Broads for a while; go and live on one of the isolated marsh-farms, and make the acquaintance of its occupier and any men whom io6 THE NORFOLK BROADS he may have in his employ. I have in mind a typical marsh farmer, a tall, fairrhaired, blue-eyed, ruddy- cheeked giant, who might have stepped out of the pages of the Saga of Burnt Njal. He passes his time very differently to the upland farmer, whose success or failure to make farming pay depend chiefly upon market prices and the weather. To the marsh farmer the price and progress of roots and cereals is a matter of comparative indifference : so long as he gets his hay carted and stacked without its being damaged by rain or flood, markets and weather do not trouble him. In fact, to call him a farmer is almost a mis- nomer. His occupations are almost as numerous as those of the Rev. R. Lubbock's typical Broadsman. True, he is a dairy-farmer — in a small way ; and he keeps pigs and fowls ; but he is also a fisherman and wild-fowler, reed-harvester and osier-grower. The presence of fowl on his marshes is, during the shooting season, always a sufficient excuse for his taking down his gun from its resting-place above the hearth, and leaving the farmstead to his wife's care for hours together. When the eels are " running," he sleeps during the day, and is to be found by the riverside or at some dyke-mouth at night, busy with a sluice-net or sett. In winter, when he drives his cart to the nearest market-town, it is as likely to contain mallard as to be laden with pigs and poultry. To the larger towns, where the upland farmer sends his milk, the marsh fanner sends his catches of eels. When he goes down on to his rush-marshes, it is more often in the hope of flushing snipe or finding plovers' eggs than to see whether the marshes are ready to be mown ; when he reaps his midwinter reed-harvest, his breech- loader always lies handy in his boat. Holding his SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY 107 nose between his thumb and finger, he can imitate the call of a drake so accurately as to bring wild duck to the flighting-ground where he is awaiting them. He knows the cries and call-notes of the wild fowl of the marshes as well as the upland farmer knows the cock's shrill clarion at dawn. The frosty weather, which holds the ploughshare fast in the furrow, brings him out of his bed long before daybreak, grey dawn finding him crouched in a reed-bed or on some river wall, waiting for the flighting fowl. His lonely life on the open, level marshlands teaches him self-reliance ; the nepessity for constant effort in order to " make both ends meet " compels him to make the most of opportunities. He seldom spends an idle day. Shooting, fishing, eel-netting, marsh- mowing, cattle-tending, reed-cutting and reed-stacking, rush-cutting, dyke-drawing, and wall-mending — these and other occupations leave him little time for listless lounging. As a rule, he performs nearly all these tasks unaided, but occasionally, as in the case of my Viking friend, he engages the services of a marshman. He is learned in the strange lore of the lonesome low- lands, where curious old customs and superstitions linger, and men live near to Nature, reading her secrets and understanding and forecasting her many moods. His speech is flavoured with quaint colloquialisms, learnt from his father and mother who lived and died among the marshes, or from the heavy-gaited, drowsy- eyed marshmen with whom, in his youthful, days, he fraternised while they worked with crome and dydle. He calls a marsh-fog a " roke " — a word which has come down to him from his Norse ancestors ; he talks of fish " roudding," meaning spawning ; a sudden wind-squall he describes as a " rodger's-blast " ; and io8 THE NORFOLK BROADS when he takes his dinner with him to the dykeside, he carries it in a "frail" slung on a " crome stick." Strange old saws and rockstaffs suggest themselves to him as naturally as they did to the marshlanders of a century ago* When a wart appears on his hand, he lets a " dodman " (snail) crawl over it — an infallible cure ; and he never receives a piece of gold without spitting on it — for luck. He usually has some curious catch-phrase which he interjects into his conversation. In the case of one man I know this phrase is, " As the boy said." I asked him the distance from his house to a certain windmill. He replied, " About a mile an' a half over wet aft' dry, as th' boy said." Appar- ently that boy had forestalled him in making most of his remarks and replies. " Like master like man " is a saying which has obvious application to the marsh farmer I have men- tioned and his man, " Owd Bob Owdham." Setting aside a difference in age — Owd Bob is about fifteen years older than the farmer — they are so much alike in tastes, habits, and conversation, that a stranger, even when he has spent days in their company,' has difficulty in determining which is master and which is man. In the end he probably decides that Owd Bob is niaster, for his manner of addressing the farmer is frequently dictatorial. I overheard him thus talking to his employer : " Well, bor, yow may say what yow like, but yow ont niver make me belaave as how this ain't a sight better sleeve-weskit than th' one what yow browt home from Yarmouth last Martinmas. Bor, I woun't chenge wi' yow, not if yow give me yar cord Iwitches as wull ; blow me if I would ! I don't belaave yow know what's gude moleskin an' what ain't, dang me if I du ! " Lengthy arguments concerning SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY 109 the working of the farm are as frequent between Owd Bob and the farmer as between the latter and his wife, and Owd Bob generally has the " best " of them. In fact, I think he considers his age entitles him to his own way. But he is always on the alert to further his master's interests. I heard him .bargaining with a thatcher about the roofing of a shed. The difference between them as to what the charge should be only amounted to half a crown ; but they argued about it nearly a whole morning, and in the end Owd Bob got the thatcher to agree to his (Owd Bob's) terms. He accomplished this by threatening to " du th' job hisself." To strangers who approach him, Owd Bob is the embodiment of reserve and taciturnity ; but when he has "summed up" a man, and the result satisfies him, he gradually admits him to his confidence. He reveals himself possessed of a keen sense of humour, and an insight into the foibles of marshland humanity which makes him the delight and terror of those wilji whom he fraternises at the nearest alehouse. Loutish youths have such a wholesome dread of the sting which often lurks in an apparently innocent interrogation, that they avoid him as carefully as they do the village policeman ; whUe his quickness at turning the tables on a rustic jester has made his tongue more feared than his burly master's fist. The natural gift of correct observation and deduction, which serves him so weU in his deeilings with men, is little less useful to him when he studies the habits of the wild fowl of the marshes, concerning which he possesses a knowledge the more valuable in that it is acquired from Nature instead of from books. True, he often identifies birds by names unfamiliar to the average ornithologist; no THE NORFOLK BROADS but if you ask him to show you a reed warbler's nest or a stream where you may see a kingfisher, he will soon find one for you. He lives in a thatched cottage in the midst of the marshes — lives there alone ; for he is a bachelor, his only living companions being a rusty-brown retriever and a wing-clipped hooded crow. About half a mile from the farm to which Owd Bob devotes his time and exceptional abilities, there is a marshland staithe where wherries moor and wherrymen land to spend an hour or so at a neighbouring inn. It is always a puzzle to me how the landlord of that inn manages to exist, for his only customers during eight months of the year are the wherrymen and the few marshmen and gunners who occasionally come to be ferried in a marsh boat across the river. I made his acquaintance one day when he was helping Owd Bob and the farmer at their marsh-mowing, and it was he who told me that " in his young time " jack-o'-lanterns, or " lantern men," as he called them, were hot in- frequently seen flickering over the boggy marshes. This is a phenomenon it has never been my good fortune to see ; but Lady Cranworth of Letton, in Norfolk, records, in the Eastern Counties Magazine, that an old horseman on the Letton estate has " seen them scores of times running about." There is a belief among the men of the marshes that lantern men are dangerous ; anyhow, the wherrymen used to be afraid of them, and would discharge guns at them to disperse them ; and Lady Cranworth states that an old man's advice con- cerning them was this, " If the lantern man light upon you, the best thing is to throw yourself flat on your face and hold your breath." At Syleham, a parish on the upper ^vaters of the Waveney, will-o'-the-wisps were formerly numerous, and were known as the SOME BROADLAND FOLK OF TO-DAY in " Syleham lights " ; but they are not seen now. The old innkeeper had " heerd tell " of a ball of flame being seen floating across the marshes, which, when it reached the river, seemed to cling for a while to the mast of a wherry — a story I have seen in a httle book dealing with the natural history and phenomena of Broadland, and which reminds one of the seamen's corposants. It is only, as I have sufi&ciently emphasized, by mixing with the wherrymen, eel-catchers, reed-cutters, and other marsh folk that you can attain any satisfactory know- ledge of the inner life, the thoughts, beliefs, customs, and methods of the typical inhabitants of Broadland. By simply watching them while theypursue their various call- ings you will not learn very much ; you must gain their confidence, see them not only on the rivers and marshes and by the dykesides, but also in their humble homes. You must not approach them with that marked con- descension which is as irritating as it is ridiculous -, if you do, you will find yourself vainly knocking at a closed door. But if you will help to tow a reed-raft, haul ashore a gun-punt, share a frugal meal, part with a portion of your day's angling " take " to help provide a dinner, and, above all, occasionally try to quench an apparently insatiable thirst, you will often be well rewarded. For the native of Broadland, unless he be a hired boatman or yachtsman, is, like the Romany, some- what suspicious of undisguised curiosity in strangers, whose interrogations only result in his displaying an amazing but entirely fictitious ignorance. CHAPTER VII THE YARE AND ITS BROADS ALTHOUGH not, from the pleasure-seeker's point of view, the best of the Broadland rivers, the Yare is, and has been for many centuries, the chief Norfolk waterway, and before the days of railways it was by means of its trading wherries and keels that the largest and most important town in East Anglia was supplied with its imported goods and despatched its considerable exports to the coast. The scenery of, its upper waters is in many places delightful, quaint old villages, pleasant parks, and flower-spangled meads bordering many miles of its course ; but, unfortunately for the cruiser in Broadland, these upper reaches are unnavigable except to rowing boats, and yachting parties have to confii^e their attention to that part of the river which lies below Norwich. Yet even below the fine old cathedral city the shores and waters of the Yare are not without charm, and between Norwich and Brundall there are several spots where the love- liness of reed-mirroring reaches and wooded uplands tempts summer voyagers to linger. For it is not until Brundall is passed that the upland bounds bordering marshlands recede to such a distance that the cruiser cannot appreciate their beauty ; above that point, picturesque farms and the country homes of 112 THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 113 Norwich citizens, village church towers, and the varied foliage of birch, beech, elm, and fir are part of the land- scapes of which the winding river, with its green reeds, yellow water-flags, silvery-leaved sallows, and white poplar scrub is the chief feature. And even below Brundall tiiere is Rockland Broad, the Wild primitive aspect of which has a certain charm Idckmg in some of the lovelier Broads, suggesting as it does the vanished meres of Fenland. Many a pieasure-seekerj, acting on the advice of a boatman whbSe great anxiety it is to make a speedy voyage from Norwich to Lowestoft or Yarmouth, neglects to enter his dinghey and row up the half a mUe or so of dyke leading to Rockland, and so misses seeing what is, to my mind, one of the best of the Norfolk Broads. Norwich is not the least beautiful of the cathedral cities of England ; the view of its church towers and sylvan surroundings, seen from its castle battlements or the high ground of Household Heathy is very fine. Its inhabitants have called it the " City in an Orchard," and the sylvan scenery of some of its outlying parishes justifies the name. But often in summer, when a scorching sun makes the street pavement hot to the feet, and even in the quiet Close and the shadow of the cathedral walls the air is oppressive, a vision of green meadow, cool wood, arid bree;ze*rippled stream comes to lure the gazer at Norman arches, ancient quaintly-gabled houses, and mediaeval carvings, away from old-world relics to a world where Nature reigns supreme and speaks to her worshippers with wild-life voices like those with which she greeted men ages before they took to heaping stones on stones and shaping them into strange designs. At such times even the " City in an Orchard " seems much like other cities 8 114 THE NORFOLK BROADS where men toil within walls which keep out the pure air and sunlight, and the call of the birds, the streams, and the wind among the trees becomes almost irresistible. Then it is that the man whose eyes are weary of the streets' monotonous vistas gladly leaves the stifling city and inhales the fragrance of water-mint and dew- drenched meadow grass. Ljang back in the stern of a boat, which, like a sea-bird, spreads white wings to waft itself over the water^ he lets his gaze rove over meadowi stream, and woodland, listens to the -rustling of reeds, the singing of birds, and the rippling of water, and says to himself — " Oh, this Ufe Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a bribe. Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk ! " At no season of the year are the river reaches immedi- ately below Norwich without beauty ; but in summer, when only the tower of Whithngham's ruined church is visible, so dense is the foliage of the wooded hUls bordering the river, there are few more delightful bits of scenery in Broadland. Norwich folk have for a long time made this part of the Yare one of their chief holiday resorts ; the water frolics held here in the early years of the last century were so picturesque as to have provided a subject for one of the most inter- esting pictures in the Museum Gallery. With Crome, Cotman, Vincent, Stannard, and other famous Norwich artists, it was a favourite haunt ; in the days when the Norwich school of artists flourished, much good work was done along the river banks. But the Norfolk angler, who looks upon the Yare as the best river for bream and roach fishing, seldom cares to linger on its loveliest reaches. Hastening past the long wood- THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 115 crowned hill called Postwick Grove, alnd also, unless he be out after pike, the Wood's End Inn at BramertoUi with its pleasure gardens, he cruises on to Brundall, where, in the neighbourhood of those famous fishing centres, the Yare Hotel and Goldham HaU, he moors his boat to stakes at stem and stem, and prepares for some of the best coarse fishing to be had in England. As a rule, if he has chosen his time well, he enjoys good sport ; but even if his most tempting baits fail to lure the monster fish which are known to inhabit the Brundall and Surlingham waters, he, if he be a true disciple of Walton, cannot fail to recognise compen- satory circtunstances. As the old Treatyse of Fysshynge says, he can enjoy the " swete aire of the swete savoure of the meede floures, that makyth h5nn hongry. He hereth the melodyous armony of foules. He seeth the yonge swannes, the heerons, ducks, cotes, and many other foules wyth their brodes, whyche me semyth better than alle the noyse of houjldys, the blaste of homys, and the scrye of foules that hunters, fawkeners, and fowlers can make." But " yf the angler take fysshe, surely thenne is there noo man merier thanne he is in his spyryte," But the voyager to whom the waters of the Yare are new will probably, when he reaches Brundall, be indisposed to angle until he has seen Surlingham, a smaU reedy Broad which is best •explo^'ed in a rowing boat. A long time ago, Surlingham was a fairly large Broadi but the rank luxuriance of its aquatic growths — its sedges, reeds, and swamp flowers — has reduced the open water to a few narrow channels and small pools, while the decay of this lacustrine vegetation has provided an oozy bed for creeping roots and scattered flower seeds. So that now, when the cruiser enters ii6 THE NORFOLK BROADS Birch Creek,! a channel a little way above the Yare Hotel, he finds himself shut in by dense reed jungles. These occasionally afford shelter for a flight-shooter, and are frequently "beaten" by entomologists in search of the insect life abounding in them. It is on such Broads as Surlingham, where there are alders growing just beyond' the reed-beds, that the dotted footman, that peculiarly Broadland moth, should be looked for in August, and many rare beetles and hemip- teras are found among the water plants of the sedgy and reedy margins. But it is for the hsonenopterist that the neighbourhood of Brundall is a " happy hunting- ground," for it was here that rare bee, Macropis labiata, was discovered and several other entomological prizes were first taken. A notable feature of Surlingham is the old ice- house that stands by the waterside. During severe winters this old sharp-gabled building used often to be stored with ice gathered from the BroAd. At one time ice-gathering was quite a business with the Broads- men and marshmen, who, when they had filled their boats, emptied the ice into a wherry bound for Yar- mouth or Lowestoft, to be sold to the fish-packers on the markets. At Oulton even now it is no uncommon sight during frosty weather to see old hulks and smack- boats passing through Mutford Lock and down Lake Lothing, laden with cargoes of gleaming ice from the frozen "hams" or inlets of -Oulton Broad'; but the ice manufacturing and importing companies are now in the habit of lowering their prices when Broad ice is procurable, so the ice-gatherer's occupation is scarcely a remunerative onei ' Surlingham Broad is one of the chief spawning-, grounds of roach and bream, but the fish do not spawn THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 117 here in such numbers as they did formerly, Mr. Davies states that some years ago the Broad usied, for a few days^ in springs to present: an interesting sight. The breiam and roach would swarm up into the Broad in such vast numbers that the water was " a moving mass of fish, so that it seemed as if a boat could hardly be rowed among them. On a fine hot day the backs of the huge bream could be seen breaking the surface in every direction ; and in the stillness of the night the splashings and suckings and wallowings, the shak- ings of the reeds as the monsters rolled through them, and the cries and twitterings of the reed sparrows, were striking in the extreme." On a moonlight night a man remarked that the Broad " reminded him of a StUton cheese all alive with maggots " — an observa- tion which, as Mr. Davies says, proves that the man was not the possessor of a poetical temperament. The Rev. Richard Lubbock also noticed the great shoals of bream and roach which visited this favourite spawning- ground, and remarked that almost every instant small roach were raised half out of the water by the passage of larger ones. > There is a wild-fowl decoy at Brundall, but it is seldom used, and as I shall have occasion to deal with deco5dng in a later chapter, I will only say here that Surlingham is no longer frequented by such large flocks of fowl in winter as it used to be. Snipe, it is true, are often fairly plentiful ; but the hammering which goes on at the boat-builders' yards at Brundall drives away the fowl that settle on the Surlingham pools^ The warblers, however, have less reason to fear the presence of man, and in late spring, summer, and early autumn the reed-beds are full of them. Little grebes, too, have not wholly forsaken the Broad ; in ii8 THE NORFOLK BROADS frosty weather they are often seen on the open water. But the flocks 6f fowl which the Breydoners put to flight when they begin firing their punt-guns in the early morning more often make for Rockland than Surlingham, though even there, in that wild waste of reeds and water, they find no sanctuary* The Rockland gunners know when and where to expect them, and, except during the close season, invariably give them a warm reception. A little way below Surlingham Broad, on the same side of the river, is Coldham Hall. This is a very popular inn with anglers, whose other resorts on the Yare are the Yare Hotelat Brundall, the Ferry Inn at Buckenham, the Red House at Cantley, and the Ferry Inn at Reedham, at each of which boats can be hired for a day's fishing. But the angler must bring his own bait and tackle. These, however, are matters I can safely leave to my friend Mr. Rudd, who knows the Yare as well as he does London Street, Norwich. For my own part, whenever I am in the neighbourhood of Coldham Hall, I always start sooner or later for Rock- land, where I am sure to find " Scientific " Fuller, one of the few men who manage to gain a livelihood much after the fashion of the old-time Broadsmen. I once visited Fuller on a January morning when the dykes were frozen. When I started along the ferry path from Brundall a fog hung over the marshes, but it was not dense enough to hide the willows and alders beside the footpath, though it magnified some fieldfares till they looked almost as big as wood pigeons. The smooth, steely surface of the river reflected its fringing reeds, withered willow-herbs, and slender sallow wands with the faithfulness of a brightly bur- nished mirror. From a distant reed-bed the call-notes o fa THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 119 of some bearded titmice came like the clashing of fairy C3mibals across the water ; from the misty marshes came the plaintive wailing of peewits and harsh cries of startled fieldfares. At the clanging of the Goldham ferry-bell a flock of starlings rose with a loud whirring of wings ; but a little black-capped reed bunting, which the sharp weather had not yet driven from the riverside to the farmyards, darted to and fro undisturbed among the brittle, bladeless culmS. The chief and only really navigable waterway to Rockland Broad is a dyke about a mile and a half below Coldham Hall ; but on that January morning I walked from the inn to the Broad. The road from the river soon became a narrow field path, bordered by copses which seemed full of birds. Half an hour's strolling brought me to Rockland village, an isolated hamlet with a small staithe at which the wherries moor, and a narrow chaimd connecting it with the Broad. With its swampy osier groimds, yellow reed-stacks, and thatched cottages, it is a typical Broadland hamlet, and the majority of its few inhabitants are more or less dependent on the Broad for a livelihood. A man who is an excellent shot and expert fisher- man cannot live any great length of time near one of the Broads or rivers without attaining something of a reputation, so it is not surprising that Fuller, who possesses both these qualities, and has spent about fifty years on and around Rockland Broad, is well known to Broadland gunners and anglers. Like most men of his type, he is more at home afloat than ashore ; and though his cottage stands within a stone's-throw of the Broad, he spends most of his time in his " gun- boat." In winter he is abroad and afloat each morning before the first gleam of dawn tinged the eastern sky, 120 THE NORFOLK BROADS so that sunrise finds him crouched in the shelter of some leed-bed, on the alert for mallard or wigeon. During the day he may be seen laying out his " liggers " or trimmers, or rowing silently up and down the dykes which connect the Broad with the river, his gun beside him, ready to bring down anything from a snipe to a wild goose or swan. In the evening, when the mist begins to drift like smoke across the water, and alders and sallows assume spectral shapes in the gathering gloom, he is abroad again, on the watch for flighting fowl. Biting blast nor nipping frost, drenching rain nor whirling snow-squall, will drive him to seek the shelter of his home if there be a likelihood of an open-air vigil being rewarded ; the lee side of a reed shoal or sallow carr is all the sheltel? the flight-shooter needs. Fuller appeared from behind a reed-stack just as I was knocking at his cottage door, and in a few minutes we were afloat in his gun-punt. In the dyke leading from the cottage to the Broad there was open water ; but the Broad, in spite of two days' thaw, was partially covered with ice, through which Fuller had broken a channel for his boat early that morning. Here and there, however, there were open pools where the swans from the river were searching for succulent water-weeds. Over these pools we passed quickly and quietly ; but for the most part ours was a rather curious progress, made by puUing the boat along with a boat-hook, or scraping our oars on the ice. Yet even this was not so strange as a method Fuller adopts when the Broad is wholly " laid " and hard frozen ; for then he fixes runners on to the bottom of his punt, hoists the sail, and glides over the ice as thotigh he were in an ice-yacht. Speaking of this relninded him of a winter when the Broad was frozen for several weeks. Then a number of skater^ THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 121 disported themselves on the frozen shallows where the swans were now feeding, and one of them, seeing Fuller skatmg with his gun undeir his arm, challenged him to shoot, while skating at full speed, a puit (black-headed gull) which was wheeling over the Broad. Fuller, like most of the Broadsmen, despises the wanton "gull- plugger " ; but on this occasion, feeling his reputation to a certain extent at stake, he accepted the challenge. Holding his gun in both hands, he waited until the gull wheeled above him. He then skated after it, soon abandoning his usual stroke for that rapid run on skates which the Broadsman resorts to when he wishes to attain a considerable speed. Then his gun went quickly to his shoulder, and a moment or two later the gull dropped almost at his feet. But gulls are "no-account " birds from the Broads- man's point of view, and Fuller's reputation rests on far more precious spoils. He has shot quite a score bitterns, several spoonbills, goosanders, smews, and not a few of the rarer kinds of duck. With a swivel gun which he occasionally uses in his little slate-coloujred punt, he has miade bdg bags of fowl ; his boat, filled to over- flowing with a morning's spoils, was made the subject of a picture called "The Wildfowler," the work of a well-known Broadland artist. Well acquainted with the habits of the wild fowl which frequent the Broads and marshes, he knows that, with a favouring wind, the fowl alarmed by the Breydoners will, about twenty minutes after the reports of the Breydon guns reach him, arrive at Rockland, which is distant from Breydon six or seven miles " as the crow flies." So, when he hears the big punt-guns booming on the estuary, he is soon afloat in his punt and rowing into the cover of the Rockland reeds. But he does not often use his heavy 122 THE NORFOLK BROADS swivel gun, for when fowl are plentiful there are other gunners besides himself on the Broad, which, unlike Breydon, is not large enough to permit of the use of such guns with safety. Two or three snipe were flushed from the swampy ground bordering the Broad ; from a " wall " on which a marshman had heaped a mound of dyke-dredgings several hooded crows took wing. When he landed we found that the crows had been feeding on large brown fresh-water mussels and a dead gull. But we were in no hurry to land. On the misty Broad we could, in spite of the ice, move more silently, and so were able to approach within a few yards of a swimming grebe without alarming it. Not a breath of wind was stirring ; the amber reeds and bleaching gladden were motionless ; a suspen- sive stillness brooded around us. When a coot moved among the sedge, it seemed startled by the sound of its own movements, and became motionless again ; even the voles in the hovers appeared influenced by the atmospheric lethargy, for when an oar suddenly creaked in its rowlock a couple of them dived " flop " into the water within a yard or two of our boat. The withered reeds, rushes, and sedges, star-topped angelicas, and towering brown burdocks each had a reflected counter- part in the creeks that were free of ice ; a rugged alder, on which a flock of starlings settled, was as clearly out- lined in the pale blue water as against the pale blue sky. Although most of the marsh dykes were frozen, Big Sallow Dyke and Rockland Fleet, two of the channels leading from the Broad to the river, were navigable, the rise and fall of the tides having kept them open. While we rowed up the Fleet, which is the main channel used by the wherries bound for Rockland Staithe, my com- panion fell into a reminiscent mood. .So long had been THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 123 his acquaintance with the Broad, that almost every reed and gladden bed, sallow carr, creek, and dyke, reminded him of some gunning experience. In one reed jungle he had shot a bittern ; near a certain sallow bush a big dog otter, with whos,e traces, in the shape of half-eaten bream, he had long been familiar, had made its last meal ; here, a spoonbill, driven from the Breydon flats, had met with the fate from which it had fled ; there, he had stood in his boat all one morning, bringing down duck almost as fast as he could load his gun. Some of his recollections were gruesome, notably those of a trip taken with two companions, one of whom, in raising his gun to aim at a heron, had shot the other dead. That, and one or two similar occurrences, had made Fuller very careful how and where he laid his gun down in his boat. Once he had been caught in such a blinding snow-squall that he could not find his way across the Broad, and had to land and trudge across the marshes to his home. But not one in every hundred visitors in Broadland sees Rockland in winter, when the alders are white with rime and ice-crystals tinkle among the reeds. The aspect most familiar to cruisers is its summer one, when the reeds are already several feet high, the sedges have shaken off their pollen-dusted anthers, and swallows and swifts are insect-hawking over shore and water. Then there is much to tempt one to row up the Fleet, for the banks between which one's boat glides are like gardens of wild flowers. Purple spikes of loosestrife, tall wiUow-herbs, towering cat valerians, and creamy clusters of meadow-sweet, almost hide the snipe-haunted swamps which lie beyond them ; and when the Broad is reached, such a scene is presented as gives one a fair idea of a Fenland mere in the pre-reclamation days. 124 THE NORFOLK BROADS On almost every side the water is bordered by reeds, whose sibilant song — a whispered welcome to the summer breeze, soothing as the voice of a wind-swept cornfield-^ goes on unceasingly. Beyond the reeds, the land for the most part is low ; even Rockland village, which is close by the waterside, is scarcely seen until the channel is entered which leads up to the staithe ; so the charm of the Broad is of that subtle kind which appeals to the ear rather than the eye. The rustUng reeds, the hum of insect life among the swamp flowers, the " splash " of leaping fish, the bleating of snipe, and the " slap " of the water against one's boat's side, combine to create this charm, which grows upon one rather than wanes through familiarity. And in the opinion of many people Rockland has an advantage over some of the more popular Broads, in that its being unnavigable to the larger kinds of river craft prevents its ever being so alive with humanity as are Wroxham and Oulton during the greater part of the cruising season. Its low, swampy shores, too, help it to retain its primitive aspect, and there are no neighbouring heights on which villas can be built to overlook its peaceful waters. As it is with the Broad so it is with the inhabitants of the village of Rockland. On a June day, when the green gladden was waving its long leaves, and the Broad was so covered with the white flowers of the water- crowfoot that it seemed to be ice-laid and covered with a thin coating of snow, I chatted with the rector of the parish about his parishioners, and learnt much that was interesting and surprising. He assured me that even now there were men and women in Rockland and its neighbourhood who sought the aid of " wise women " and " cunning men " when a child was lost ; who would not allow their relatives to be buried on THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 125 the north side of the church; and who could not be brought to reject the idea that it was unlucky to disturb the swallows which nested in the church roof. There are old people living in the village who can remember the strange circumstances which attended the burial of a reputed witch. As the hour fixed for the interment approached, a storm arose, which so increased in fury that at the time when the coffin was being borne to the church, and from the church to the grave, the bearers could scarcely keep their feet. So long as the witch's body was above ground the storm continued to rage ; but the moment the coffin was lowered into the grave the storm ceased, " and there was a great calm." When, some years ago, Dr. Jessopp rfelated his experiences among the dwellers in his delightful Arcady, and affirmed that a belief in witchcraft survived among them, there were persons who could scarcely credit his assertion. For the superstitious folk who still cherish strange old beliefs and resort to primitive means of divination are chary of speaking of such things ; you may live for years among them and know little of what is going on around you. But now and again some chance remark, curious action, or inquiry into the origin of a rustic's nickname, gives you a glimpse into what lies behind a mask of taciturnity, aiid by patient and careful investigation you may dis- cover how tenacious is the hold superstition has oii the dwellers in out-of-the-way hamlets of Broadland. Cruisers on the Yare and other main rivers of Broad- land cannot help noticing the narrow channels or dykes leading up to the village staithes. Some of these channels are not wide enough to allow two wherries to pass each other, and are so shallow that only small rowing and sailing boats arid wherries can ascend them. 126 THE NORFOLK BROADS Yet it is by way of these dykes that the farmers whose lands lie sdong the borders of the marshes send away large quantities of their corn, and receive cargoes 6i coal for their homes and oilcake for their stock. For centuries these dykes, which, unlike the ordinary marsh and mill dykes, are " walled " like the main rivers, have been the waterways to isolated hamlets, whose inhabitants, until a comparatively recent date, knew little of what was happening even in towns so near as Yarmouth and Norwich except what they learnt from the wherr5nnen. They were, and some of them still are, the tentacular arms by which the river gets in touch with out-of-the-way places ; like the branch lines of the great railways, they bring remote places in touch with the centres of commerce. One of these channels, Langley Dyke, branches off from the Yare about two and a half miles below Rock- land Broad. It is bordered on one side by marshes, on the other by a small plantation of alders, poplars, and birches ; and it is worth ascending (in a small boat) because it leads to the ruins of Langley Abbeyi These ruins are not very interesting at first glance, but a close examination reveals that they are not so fragmentary as to be entirely uninteresting. Like several other monastic houses in Norfolk, this abbey now forms part of some farm buildings ; but while many may object to its being turned to such usage, it cannot be denied that in this instance it has resulted in the preservation of interesting work ■ that otherwise would have vanished or fallen into decay. As it is, some of the old doorways retain their original form and mouldings. A gloomy crypt, a spiral staircase, and some good arches remain almost intact ; and enough of the walls is left standing to enable the G THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 127 antiquary to reconstruct for himself the greater part of this ancient Premonstratensian house. The history of the abbey is unexciting. It was founded in 1198 by Sir Robert Fitz-Roger Helke, who assumed the name of De Clavering from his lordship of Clavering in Essex. He was sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk during the third and fourth years of the reign of Richard i., and was a wealthy man who endowed the abbey with the greater part of the revenue of his estates. The first abbot and fifteen canons, for whom there was accommodation here, came from Alnwick Priory, in Northumberland, and Langley was called a " daughter of Alnwick " for that reason. Its church was a favourite burying-place with Norfolk knights and their dames, the names of some sixty of whom are given by a Norfolk historian, who concludes his list with the remark, " Good heavens ! what a number of noble personages are here deposited — ^in hopes of a joyiul resurrection." That the monastery was a rich one is shown by the same historian, who proves that it possessed nineteen Norfolk manors and land in several towns in Norfolk and Suffolk. The bene- factors of the abbey were so numerous, he adds, that it "would fuUy employ the clergy of that day to remember (them) in their prayers." The abbey grounds extended down to the riverside, and if the river was as full of roach and bream then as it is to-day, there was plenty of fish for the refectory on fast days. No doubt the Langley monks had " big-fish " stories to tell to, and notes to compare with, their Augustinian neighbours at Herringfleet, when they rowed down to Reedham, crossed the marshes, and were ferried over the Waveney by Sireck, who kept the Herring- fleet ferry. Maybe, too, they were able to catch herrings 128 THE NORFOLK BROADS occasionally, for the herring shoals, we are told, came up the rivers a long time after the abbey was founded, and the herring fisheries were a source of considerable income to dwellers among the marshes. Fowl, too, were plentiful, and Rockland and Surlingham fowlers would often, with shoulders bent under a burden of teal and mallard, find their way to the abbey gate. They were fortunate monks who dwelt beside the waterways of Broadland. Langley Abbey is not a "show place." When I visited it on a bright and breezy May day, I reckoned myself favoured in encountering among the ruins a charming young guide, who seemed, as no doubt she was, as much at home among them as though she had known the abbey in its prime. She it was who pointed out to me an old stone coffin which may have been that of one of those noble personages who were buried in the abbey church, and it was from her that I heard of other discoveries made within and around the crumbling walls. I remember our discussing the possibility of that old salad herb. Good King Henry {Chenopodium Bonus-Henricus), which grows freely among the ruins, having been introduced there by the Premonstratensians ; but I forget — ^perhaps because my attention was too much taken up with a bright red tam-o'-shanter — what conclusion we arrived at. But I know we stood before a fine old medlar tree, which may have furnished fruit for an abbot's dessert, and that all around us were fruit trees in the full beauty of bloom ; and I know how the whole mystery of life and death became more complex to me when I saw youth and beauty treading light-foot over the dust of long-dead knights and dames. And when, as the sun was sinking beyond the border of the marshes, THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 129 I bade farewell to Langley's ruined shrine and made my way back to the river, a red tam-o'-shanter and a pair of laughing eyes came between me and my visions of the monks of old. About two miles below Buckenham Ferry, — where, on account of the number of anglers who come to share in the good roach-fishing to be had in this part of the Yare, a new inn has arisen on the site of the old one so well remembered by some cruisers on the river, — is Hardley Cross, where the little river Chet branches off south-westward. This stream is generally described as navigable up to Loddon ; but even small yachts often have difficulty in reaching the pleasantly situated little town, and the last time I made the voyage I found four wherries " huiig up," as the wherr5mien call it, one near the mouth of the river, the others a short distance below Loddon Staithe. But my little gun-punt, which, according to the Broadsmen, is a craft that can be sailed or rowed wherever there has been a heavy dew, met with no more discouraging obstacle than an occasional patch of clinging water- weeds ; and it is in such a boat, or in an ordinary rowing boat, that the Chet should be navigated. And although there is little in the river or along its banks, where the scenery ig simply pastoral, to arouse enthusiasm, I would encourage every one who can do so to make the voyage ; for Loddon is, to my mind, a very charm- ing little place, and a saunter through it, a game of bowls on the old green at the back of the Swan Inn, a glance at some of the pictures the inn contains, a visit to the church, and then to Chedgrave Church or the quaint old-world hamlet and Hall on Hales Green, are a sufficient recompense for any difficulties encoimtered on the river. 130 THE NORFOLK BROADS Concerning Hardley Cross and its significance I have written in an earlier chapter ; but before saying something more about Loddon and its neighbourhood, I would like to quote some curious information given by the Rev. W. Hudson in a paper read to the members of the Norfolk and Norwich Archaeological Society when they made a voyage down the Yare and visited Langley Abbey. He said that it was not known when a cross was first erected at the junction of the Yare and Chet, but he had discovered that a new one was put up in the year 1543. It was made, he said, of timber, and a carpenter was paid 3s. 4d. for making it. A certain Nicholas Maryes then devoted eight days to ornamenting it with a crucifix and the arms of the City of Norwich, also with a finial and other " antikke" work, for which he was paid 4s. 4d. Another artificer then received 2s. 8^d. for cleaning the embossed work ; after which a certain Tuttel made a frame to set into the ground, into which frame the cross was to be morticed. It was then oiled and varnished for is. 4d., and some " spekyngs " were made for the feet and hands of the crucifix, and per- haps for affixing the city arms. The " spekyngs " cost id. each. Then a boat was hired, and two rowers conveyed the cross, with two carpenters and two labourers, to Hardley, to which place the chamberlain and sheriffs of Norwich rode on horseback to see the cross set up. This cost 3s. 6d. The only other expenses were 2d. for rowing the chamberlain from the village to the mouth of the Chet, and 6d. for a firkin of beer for the carpenters and labourers ; so that the total cost of the cross erected in 1543 was 19s. o|^d. The existing cross is a stone one. It appears to have been erected in the seventeenth century, and THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 131 has been restored several times by certain mayors of Norwich, whose names are on it. Some idea of Loddon may be gathered from the fact that it is a little country town about four miles from the nearest railway station. How it is that no tentac- ular branch line has yet extended itself in this direction, I cannot say ; but I can affirm that to all appearance the inhabitants of Loddon are quite content to remain in comparative isolation. The town is little more than a village, where the restful quietude of the average village is intensified. Business seems to be practised during the day as a preliminary pastime to that resorted to every evening on the Swan bowling-green, where the tradesmen meet in friendly rivalry so long as day- light lasts. There is an old water-miU near the staithe which is one of the three most picturesque mills of its kind in Broadland, those at EUingham on the Wave- ney and Horstead on the Bure being the others. The church, said to have been built by Sir James Hobart, attorney-general to Henry vii., stands in a good open position, and is noted for its fine but mutilated font. It also contains some interesting screen panels, a curious old iron-bound ahns-box, one or two good tombs, and an old painting in which are represented the church and an imposing bridge that formerly spanned the Waveney at St. Olave's. From an archaeological point of view, however, the church at Chedgrave or Chetgrave, about five minutes' walk from the water-mill, on the opposite side of the river, is more interesting, for it possesses two very fine Norman doorways, one elabor- ately ornamented, and some good stained glass brought from Rouen Cathedral at the time of the Revolution of 1797. This church, which is a very quaint little building, has picturesque stirroundings, 132 THE NORFOLK BROADS and the view from the churchyard is a charming one. A pleasant stroll is that from Loddon to Hales Green, a little hamlet reached by way of the Beccles road and a byroad branching off to the right, a distance of a little more than two miles. It is a stroll worth taking, not only on account of the picturesque Green with its scattered cottages and farmsteads, but because it brings the rambler to Hales Old Hall, the old home of that Attorney-General Hobart who built Loddon Church. The Green is a little bit of rural England of the past — of England as it was in the days of the highwa5anen, of stage coaches and romance of the road, of almost im- passable byroads, and of rural isolation. The byroad, when it reaches it, comes to an end except in so far as it is continued by a rough waggon track leading to one or two of the bordering farmsteads. I walked down this road on a June day, and found the hedges around the Green, and the thickets beside the ponds on the Green, garlanded with wild roses and exhaling the strong scent of flowering elders. On every side of the Green, but not so numerously as to break appreciably the continuity of its leafy bounds, were clusters of old cottages, unaltered in outward aspect since the day when the dwellers in them played camping matches and danced about the Maypole on the expanse of common land which lay before their doors. I fancied that if the attorney-general who once lived in the ruined Hall at the top of the Green could revisit his old home, he would find that very Uttle had changed on the manor of which he was lord ; and while trying, with the aid of my recollections of the rude portrait of him in Loddon Church, to picture him to myself, I stood before his crumbling Hall. It is not a place where one can " walk :^ o PS H O o o 9i THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 133 alone a banquet-hall deserted," and see portraits of the knights and dames who long ago feasted and pledged each other there, for the remaining portion of the house is still tenanted, and its interior has been altered to suit the convenience of its occupiers, with the result that little or nothing is left of the decorative work that once adorned it ; but the old gateway remains intact, and here and there are traces of the foundations of what must once have been a stately home. On the banks of the moat are masses of crumbling masonry, and a portion of one of the courtyard walls is still standing ; so, too, is the Hobart's old barn, one of the largest in the county. But the dwellers in the Old Hall know nothing of its history. AH the information I gained from them was that it is a " perishin' " place in which to live in winter, when deep snowdrifts are heaped up on the Green and icy blasts rattle the crazy casements of the rooms in which the Hobarts lived and died. From Hardley Cross it is only about half a mile to Reedham Ferry, and a mile and a half to the waterside village of Reedham. Here the Danish chieftain Lodbrog is said to have landed when he was storm-driven in a small boat across the North Sea. According to the monkish chroniclers, Lodbrog was out hawking one day along the coast of his native land, when his hawk, in striking down at some water-fowl, fell into the sea. Hoping to save the bird's life, he launched a boat and went to its rescue. Before he could return to shore, a storm arose and carried him out to sea. After tossing helplessly about for several days, his boat was driven into the mouth of the great eastern estuary, and he landed at Reedham and was taken to the court of Edmund, King of the East Angles. Apparently the king was much impressed by his involuntary visitor, 134 THE NORFOLK BROADS for he not only allowed him to remain at his court, but showed him such marked favour as excited the jealousy of Bern, his chief huntsman. Bern's jealousy increased when he found that Lodbrog excelled him in aU field- sports ; and one day, when they were out hunting together in a wood, he slew his rival and concealed his body in a thicket. The behaviour of Lodbrog's dog led to the discovery of the body, and Bern, whose guilt was proved, was sent adrift in the boat that had borne the Dane across the sea to England. As the story goes, the boat was again driven across the North Sea, and Bern landed in Denmark, where he told Inguar and Ubba, Lodbrog's sons, that King Edmund had slain their father. On hearing this the sons vowed to avenge Lodbrog's death, and during several years they made a series of raids on Eastern England, captured Edmund, and, tying him to a tree, had him shot to death by Danish bowmen. The story of Lodbrog is probably legendary. If it has any groundwork of fact, the monkish chroniclers have undoubtedly invented a good deal that is marvellous in it to add to the fame of the canonised Edmund. Yet, as a Norfolk geologist pointed out nearly eighty years ago, the objections to it based upon the difficulty in reconciling its main incident with the present topography of the district are without weight if we accept the state- ment of geologists, that at the time of Lodbrog's adven- tures the Broadland valleys formed an arm of the sea. It has been gravely argued that it is impossible a boat should have been driven several miles up a narrow river before its occupant could effect a landing ; but, as Mr. Robberds in his Observations on the Eastern Valleys remarks, there is " nothing very surprising or impossible in what befel this Dane, if we consider that THE YARE AND ITS BROADS 135 the whole level of marshes and meadows, from the present coast up to Norwich, was at that time covered by the waters of the ocean. A vessel driven by a north- east wind into the entrance of this arm of the sea, near Caister, would be taken, equally by the direction of the gale and the current of the tide, in a straight course towards that point where Reedham now stands." And he adds further that, admitting the story to be entirely fabulous, the author of it would not have selected Reed- ham as the spot on which to land his shipwrecked hero " if from the form of the coast such an event had been as destitute of probability then as it would be at the present day." Even a legendary tale, he urges, must not be entirely at variance with physical conditions. There is very little for the voyager to see at Reed- ham unless he be interested in bird Ufe, in which case it is worth his while to visit the heronry in a carr not far from the church. The entrance to the New Cut, connecting the Yare with the Waveney, is seen just below the railway bridge. It provides a channel by which wherries and yachts can reach Oulton Broad, Lowestoft, Beccles, and Bungay without having to go round by Breydon and enter the Waveney there. Below the village the Yare flows between wide marshlands dotted with windniiUs, and, in summer, with cattle ; where the only human habitations are those of the cattle-tenders and marshmen ; where the heron fishes undisturbed for hours together, and a man may wander all day and hear no voices save those of sedge warblers, larks, and meadow pipits. Now and again a yeUow wagtail is seen making a " dipping " flight along the dykesides, a heron utters its harsh " frank " as it flies heavily over marsh and river to the Breydon flats or its colony in the Reedham woods, or the strange 136 THE NORFOLK BROADS laughing cry of a black-headed gull breaks the brooding silence ; but save for the wild-life voices there is little for the voyager to note until he reaches Breydon, unless — as may be the case after a day's cruise down the Yare — ^he should happen to reach these lower waters just at the time when the sun is sinking beyond the far-off level horizon. Then it is not unlikely that he may witness a Broadland sunset, not only gorgeous but awe-inspiring and indescribable. And he will sail across Breydon, or moor for the night at Berney Arms or Burgh, conscious of having seen a spectacle than which Nature can show nothing more sublime or more calculated to make a lasting impression. CHAPTER VIII THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, AND OULTON BROAD THE Waveney, although there is connected with it one of the twelve Broads each having an area of over a hundred acres, will never be so popular with pleasure-seekers as the Yare and Bure, for the scenery of its navigable waters cannot compare with that of the other two main rivers of Broadland ; and though the places of interest adjoining it are rather more numerous than those of which the Yare can boast, the distances between them are considerably greater. While, however, the scenety between Breydon and Beccles is, for the most part, monotonously flat, it is possible, by landing at certain points and strolling a little way beyond the borders of the marshes, to dis- cover villages, lanes, and woodlands almost, if not quite, as delightful as those adjoining the Bure and its tributary streams ; while above Beccles there are some pleasant but little-known reaches, and in the neighbourhood of Bungay there are spots where the scenery is almost equal to that of Constable's dearly'loved Vale of Dedham. If, however, in writing of this river, I evince an interest in and affection for places that to strangers appear to possess little to commend them, I, perhaps, may be forgiven ; for it was on the Waveney that I first felt 187 138 THE NORFOLK BROADS the charm of Broadland life and scenery, and on its banks the greater part of my life has been spent. At a time when Wroxham, Hickling, and Rockland were only names to me, I knew many miles of the Waveney valley almost as well as I did the river reach seen from the windows of the house in which I was born ; long before I saw the reed-cutters at work at Oulton, or had even seen an eel-sett, I was at home among the haymakers in the Waveney water-meadows, and the men who, from strange and wonderful seaports, brought the wherries up to Bungay Staithe. Assuming that a yachstman starts from Yarmouth to explore the Waveney, he sees, as soon as he has crossed Breydon and entered on the lower waters of the river, the ruins of that fine old Roman stronghold, Burgh Castle. This great camp, undoubtedly the strongest in which the Romans established themselves in the district now known as Broadland, commanded the entrance to the two chief navigable waterways up which a hostile fleet might have attempted to win its way into the heart of East Anglia. Its construction is attributed to the Roman General Publius Ostorius Scapula. It was occupied, we are told, by a cavalry force under the command of the Count of the Saxon Shore. It was in touch with other settlements at Caister, Reedham, Burgh St. Peter, Caistor, and Tas- burgh, and it was a convenient spot for the mooring of galleys. So far as can be deduced from its extensive remains, it was protected on the north, east, and south sides by massive walls ; but its west side was open to the estuary, which it overlooked from the crest of a steep slope, leading down, perhaps, to an impassable morass. Whether this stronghold be, as Spelman and Camden state, the Roman Garianonum, is doubtful, THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 139 some antiquaries being disposed to place that important post at Burgh St. Peter or Bergh Apton, which were on the hne of a vicinal road called the Portway. The lack of space on the island of Lothingland for cavalry manoeuvring seems to be the chief reason for assigning elsewhere the position of the headquarters of the Stablesian Horse. One can hardly envy the Roman soldiers whose lot it was to occupy and defend this bleak and isolate post. Newly come, maybe, from some eestiva overlooking the blue waters of the Mediterranean, this Burgh camp, exposed to the piercing sea-winds, that swept un- tempered over the wide waste of the estuary, must have seemed to them a dreary spot, and often they must have longed to return to their native land. Pacing at night outside the ramparts, or keeping watch from the top of the round towers at the angles of the camp, the sentries could scarcely help contrasting the shrill song of the wind among the reeds with its soft murmur among the long-familiar myrtle-groves ; the wild cries of the sea-birds and mazy dance of the marsh fires would be a sound and a sight of dread. Men who felt no fear when brave Icenic warriors flung themselves fiercely upon them, would feel a chill at their hearts when the wraith-like wreaths of mist drifted up from dismal Breydon. When the loud clangour of some flighting flock of unknown fowl came startlingly out of the night gloom, even the knowledge that death was the penalty of desertion would hardly keep them at their posts. Even the men who had seen seventy thousand of their countrymen slaughtered by Britons driven to frenzy by the outrages on Boadicea and her subjects, would prefer risking a like fate to what was little better thari exile in a bleak, unfriendly land. But the commands 140 THE NORFOLK BROADS of the propraetors must be obeyed, and many of the Roman horsemen not only spent long and dreary days in this isolated stronghold, but died here, and were buried in the little graveyard just beyond the walls of the camp. Even now Burgh is a lonesome spot, and its outlook over the wide marshes often somewhat dreary. The dilapidated old cement works by the riverside have long been idle ; some of the cottages in which the workmen lived are untenanted ; and the smelt-fishers who net the waters below the camp are seldom seen abroad in the daytime. A dark drapery of ivy enfolds the massive ramparts that have crowned the slope for nearly two thousand years ; looking upwards from the river, one sees nothing of the green or gold of the cornfields that lie beyond the slowly crumbling walls. At night the strange churring of the nightjar is often heard from the gloom of the grove which hides the church ; the piping and wailing of the Breydon fowl sound as weird to-day to belated cruisers as they did to the Roman soldiers whose dust is disturbed by the farmer's plough. On still autumn nights the falling of leaves can be heard distinctly, and wisps of the fog that, like a fleecy paU, covers the wide marshlands, drift up the slope and through the gateway of the camp, distilling rain-like drops of moisture on the stubble of the neighbouring fields. But on a bright summer day the view from the camp is not unpleasing. For miles the course of the rivers can be traced by their bordering windmills, which, with the dark-sailed wherries, white-winged yachts, and countless cattle on the marshes, help to make such a scene as is to be found nowhere else in England. From the top of Burgh church tower many churches can be seen, and on a clear day, and with a good glass, the THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 141 spire of Norwich Cathedral, So, after all, there were some grounds for Bede's assertion that "by reason of woods and seas together " Burgh was " a most pleasant castle," and not an unfitting site for that small monastery that the Irish monk Furseus, brought here by Sigebert, King of the East Angles, is said to have built in the midst of the Roman camp. The four or five mUes of river between Burgh Castle and St. Olave's Bridge call for no description. They are bordered by marshes like those through which the Yare flows between Reedham and Breydon, and only botanists in search of marsh orchids, rare sedges, and other plants that " partake the nature of their fenny bed," care to land and explore the levels lying beyond the river walls, But a mile or so below the bridge, near an old windmill and a marsh cottage occupied by the millman, I often leave the river for a while and ramble across a stretch of heath! and bordering the green road from Belton to Herringfleet. There, where adders sometimes lurk amid the tall, waving bracken, pretty little sand-lizards bask on the footpaths, and that curious amphibian, the natter- jack, or rtuming toad, may be seen running like a mouse among the heath and ling, the rambler seldom hears other voices than those of wailing peewits, bleating snipes, and the whinchats, that utter their strange call-notes from the tops of the gorse and bramble bushes. Beyond the heath, along the borders of the green road,— which, in spite of the neighbouring railway, is in spring and summer the haunt of innumerable sweet-singing birds,^ the dainty bumet rose decks the hedgerows, and the air is fragrant with sweetbrier. Turning to the right when this road is reached, it is not far to that which leads directly from the river to Fritton Lake, the loveliest of all the inland waters of Broadland. 142 THE NORFOLK BROADS Fritton Lake is not a Broad as the term is understood in Norfolk, where it means the " broadening out " of a river, but is a land-locked lake almost wholly surrounded by woodlands. In the days when the entire level of the Broadland valleys was an arm of the sea, Fritton formed part of that large estuary ; but the lowlands between the lake and river are now, for the most part, reclaimed, and only a narrow unnavigable dyke represents the channel through which the sea tides ebbed and flowed. Around Fritton Lake there are none of those swampy lands such as border Rockland, Barton, and Hickling, and the depth of water in the lake is far greater than that of the real Broads. Scanty fringes of reeds there are here and there, and the sedge warblers visit them as regularly as they do those around the Broads ; but elsewhere the gnarled boughs of woodland trees overhang the water, and the nightingale's song and the wood- pecker's laugh are as familiar here as the chitty, chitty, cha, cha of the little brown bird of the reeds. Pheasants are as abundant in the Fritton woods as are wild fowl in sharp weather on the Fritton waters ; woodland and waterside wild flowers here bloom side by side. And all the varied green of oak and birch, larch and fir, goes to the making of a sylvan setting for a mirror that reflects the ever-changing aspects of shore and sky. To pleasure-seekers the waters of Fritton Lake are accessible only during the summer months ; in winter they are strictly preserved, on account of the wild fowl that flock to them and are lured into the Fritton decoys. As you row round the lake you can see the arch-shaped entrances to the tunnel-like decoys that are stUl used when the fowl come southward ; but to gain any real knowledge of this curious method of wild fowl capture you must accompany a deco3anan when THE WAVENEY, FRITtON LAKE, ETC. 143 he goes down to the waterside to work his " pipes." To gain permission to do this is no easy matter, for, as the Rev. Richard Lubbock says, " Procul, 0, procul esie, profani" is the cry of most of the men who own or have charge of decoys ; yet there are means of persuasion — they will readily suggest themselves — which some of the decoymen cannot resist. That there are such men at Fritton I wiU not affirm, for the Fritton decoys are the property of the owners of the lake and woods, who work them for "sport" rather than profit. I will only say that decoying is no longer so mysterious a business as it used to be. At the beginning of the last century there were a score or more places in Norfolk and Suffolk where wild-fowl decoying was carried on every winter ; in Broadland alone there were, not so very long ago, decoys at Winter- ton, Waxham, Ranworth, Mautby, Acle, Woodbastwick, Hemsby, and Flixton, as well as at Fritton. Nearly all these decoys are now, for some reason or other, fallen into disuse, and it is at Fritton only that they are worked regularly on favourable occasions. To make clear the worker's methods, it is necessary first to describe a decoy pipe. It consists of a semicircular tunnel of wire netting and network arched over a shallow dyke curving inland from the shores of a Broad, lake, or pool. This network tunnel is the " pipe." It is usually about twenty feet wide at the mouth, narrows as it curves inland, and is about a hundred yards long. It terminates in a long bow-net not unlike the " pot " or " pod " of an eel-sett, which can be disconnected from the rest of the pipe when the fowl have been driven into it. Along both sides of the pipe reed screens are erected obliquely ; behind these the deco5nnan conceals himself, and, through small peep-holes, made by turning thin strips 144 THE NORFOLK BROADS of wood sideways between the reeds, scans the open water in front of the pipes, and watches the progress of the decpying. The fowl are lured by^means of tame decoy ducks and a trained dog known as the "piper." The decoy ducks, which are usually birds whose plumage closely resembles that of the wild ducks, are trained by judicious feeding to answer to the low whistle the decoy^ man gives when he wishes them to enter the pipe. Sometimes it is unnecessary to whistle, the appearance of the piper, which, at a signal from his master, leaps over the low boards called dog-jumps, placed between the screens, being sufficient to attract them to the pipe. What strikes the stranger as the most wonderful thing about decoying, is the curiosity displayed by the wild fowl at the appearance of the deco3mian's dog. Instead of taking flight as soon as it commences to leap to and fro over the " jumps," the fowl at once evince great interest in its movements ; and when the tame ducks, beside which they have been feeding on the pool, begin swimming towards the mouth of the pipe, they follow them. As soon as they are weU within the pipe the deco3mian, who until then has kept himself carefuUy conceciled, and perhaps has carried in his hand a piece of smouldering peat so that the keen-scented fowl may not become aware of his presence, shows himself in front of the screens but behind the fowl, and by wavingbis arm or handkerchief frightens them so that they rise from the water and fly swiftly up the narrowing pipe. He follows them and drives them into the bow-net, which he piromptly disconnects from the rest of the pipe, and the fowl are caught. He then takes them out one by one and wrings their necks. When wild duck, wigeon, and teal are plentiful, immense quantities of them are o o o o O 2; THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 145 taken in this way. The Rev. R. Lubbock knew of three hundred mallard being taken in one morning, also two hundred and twenty teal. The average " take " of a decoy at the present time is said to be about a thousand fowl in a season ; but this can scarcely apply to Broad- land, though fourteen hundred fowl were, I believe, taken at Fritton in one week during the winter of 1899- 1900. The difficulty in preserving that absolute quietude essential to the successful working of a decoy is one of the chief reasons why so many of the old pipes have fallen into disuse ; and it is only at Fritton, where the land surrounding the lake belongs to the owners of the decoys, and fishing, shooting, and boating are prohibited during the winter months, that this old-time method of wild- fowl capture can still be resorted to with any likelihood of success. From the time when the larches and birches first fleck the woods with a green spray, until the golden and brown leaves spread a rustling carpet on the wood- land paths, Fritton is the loveliest lagoon in Broadland ; but even when one has rowed from shore to shore, seen the sunlit waters gleaming between the holes of birch, oak, and beech, wandered through groves where the paths seem a flickering fretwork of sunlight and leaf shadow, inhaled the fragrance of the old-fashioned flowers in the Old Hall garden, and listened to the drowsy droning of the bees among the blossoms, one can have only a faint idea of the charm Fritton has for those who have known it long and known it well. The cruiser on Broadland waterways can seldom spare the time necessary to become acquainted with all its beauties; he can only imagine what the lake is like when its bordering woods are white and gleaming with hoar-frost, and every breath of breeze sets ice-crystals tinkling 146 THE NORFOLK BROADS among the reeds. This is an aspect of Fritton with which only a favoured few are familiar ; but a decoyman will tell you that there are times when, in the excite- ment of watching the wild fowl paddling up the pipe of his decoy, he can feel neither the nip of the frost at his finger-tips nor the chill that is creeping into his bones. And if you ask him, he will say that it is in winter, and in frosty weather, that Fritton is seen at its best ; for the sight of the wild fowl swarming on the lake is far more pleasant to him than the singing of nightingales and reed birds and the shimmering of green leaves in the sun- light. Of the Augustinian Priory of St. Olave, that stood near the ferry which crossed the river where St. Olave's Bridge now stands, there are only scanty remains, and these are of little interest ; but if the voyager, after seeing Fritton, has an hour or two to spare before resuming his cruise, he may like to traverse the long willow-fringed dam leading to Haddiscoe, and visit Haddiscoe Church, which has the finest Norman round tower in Norfolk. There he can decipher the curious epitaph to an old stage-coachman, caxved on a stone afhxed to the outside of the churchyard wall. But unless he is interested in Church architecture it will hardly be worth his while to cross the dusty marsh dam ; he had better board his boat again and continue his voyage to Oulton Broad. At Somerleytdn he will pass under another railway bridge, near which he may land and stroll up to the model village of Somerleyton, grouped around a pleasant green ; and if he be there on a day when the gardens of Somerleyton Hall are open to the public, he cannot do better than see them and the fine Hall, which stands on the site of the old seat of the " Lords of the Island of Lothingland." THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 147 When Fuller, in the seventeenth century, visited " Summerley Hall," he said that it was a place " well answering the name thereof : for here Sommer is to be seen in the depth of Winter, in the pleasant walks beset on both sides with fir trees, green aU the year long." But the HaU to which Fuller refers, and that is said to have been built by a member of the Jerningham family, whose seat is now at Costessey, is demolished, and the present house, erected by Sir Morton Peto, has had no such exciting episodes in its history as had the old one, to which, we are told, on 14th March 1642, Colonel Cromwell's and Captain Fountayn's troops, and divers others, to the number of one hundred and forty, came, and, in addition to commandeering a large quantity of com, carried away with them a quantity of arms and £160 in gold. For the Hall was then occupied by Sir John Wentworth, a Royalist, to whom the Lord Genercd subsequently sent peremptory orders that he should " ungarrison " the place or it would be demolished with its fortifications. But when the Commonwealth ended, and King Charles came to the throne, his coronation was celebrated by the Somer- leyton folk in a very festive style ; for we read that barrels of beer, " duzzens " of bread, " tobacko," pipes, sugar, and " prunes " were purchased for the entertain- ment of the villagers, and a large quantity of faggots, broom, and firewood was provided for the building of a " bone fire." Between Somerleyton and Oulton little is to be seen save marshes, and here and there an old wind- mill or an eel-catcher's house-boat< As these are objects with which the visitor to Broadland soon be- comes familiar, he may be glad to know that there is an overland route to Oulton. Leaving the road to 148 THE NORFOLK BROADS Somerleyton station on the right as he returns from the village, he soon finds himself in a pleasant leafy lane running along the crest of the uplands where they slope downwards to the marshes. For some distance this lane, which is bordered by rose-garlanded hedge- rows, except where it becomes a footpath across a small furzy warren, keeps to the uplands ; but opposite the first cottage in the sparsely populated parish of Flixton there is a bylane or " driftway," as it is locally called, leading down to the marshes. At the marsh end of this holly-bordered driftway there is, a little way to the right, a rush marsh where sundews, bog pimper- nels, marsh heUeborines, and the beautiful grass of Parnassus grow freely, and even the dusky marsh cinquefoil, rare marsh pea, and marsh fern may be found ; but the Oulton path is to the left, along the border of the marshes. This path leads to a foot- bridge over a narrow streamlet draining Flixton Decoy, a small, strictly preserved lake hidden by its surround- ing woods. Crossing the footbridge, the path, still keeping to the marshes, brings the traveller, by way of a short lane where the scent of honeysuckle is often overpowered by the disagreeable odour of white-starred ramsons, to a little hamlet called Fisher Row. This hamlet, which contains nothing of special interest, is soon left behind, and the path, after passing by a small marsh farmstead, should be abandoned at the point where a driftway comes down to it near Oulton Church, seen on high ground to the left. Another footpath, branching off from the driftway just opposite the churchyard gate, leads to a little colony of new houses overlooking the Broad. One of these houses stands on the site of George Borrow's Oulton home, and the summer-house in which Borrow THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 149 wrote Lavengro and the Bible in Spain, and sometimes entertained his Romany friends, is still to be seen on the verge of a lawn, overshadowed by the firs among which he loved to hear the wind make mournful music. Apart from this old octagonal summer-house, which remains in much the same state as Borrow left it, there is little of interest in this particular neighbourhood ; for the red-brick villas and castellated houses that have sprung up on this side of the Broad have, with some huge and ugly malt-houses at its Carlton end, robbed Oulton of what little beauty it once possessed. Some fine old black poplars at the bend of the road connecting this unsightly modern settlement with Carlton Colville are, with the church and summer-house, all that would remind Borrow, could he revisit Oulton, of the scenes with which he was long familiar. The old tithe-bam, through whose tileless rafters the red light of sunset used to glow so gorgeously that the barn looked like some charred timber framework left by a receding conflagration, is gone ; and the spot which in Borrow's day was so isolate that it was said to be more approachable by water than by land, is only too easily accessible. The smoke of the Romany's camp fire is no longer seen like a blue haze against the dusky background of firs ; and, as Dr. Jessopp says of other places that were once parts of Arcady, the face of the land wears a smirk rather than a smile. Not only is the tithe-bam gone, but the old Wherry Inn no longer stands near Mutford Bridge, its site being now occupied by a large modem hotel. Oulton Broad is now a place for water frolics and regattas rather than communion with J^ature, During the holiday season every train from Lowestoft discharges a flannel-clad crowd of pleasure-seekers on to the plat- 150 THE NORFOLK BROADS forms of Oulton Broad and Carlton Colville stations ; and it is only before the Lowestoft season begins and after it ends that the Broad enjoys peace and quiet. For three months in the year its boat-yards are thronged with yachting parties starting on or returning from Broadland cruising. Usually a little fleet of yachts, launches, and pleasure wherries is at anchor near Mutford Bridge. For Oulton is so near Lowestoft that many cruising parties do not trouble to take their yachts down the unattractive channel of Lake Lothing and moor them in the harbour yacht-basin ; they visit Lowestoft by road or rail, and return to the Broad at night. The road from Oulton to Lowestoft is far prettier than the river way, and the railway journey is one of only five minutes. But although Oulton lacks such beauty as has made Wroxham and Barton famous, it is a fine sheet of water for sailing ; and when regattas are held on the Broad under favourable conditions, some good racing is seen. The water is deep ever57where except near the shore, and by way of Oulton Dyke, which is also wide and deep enough to admit of the passage of the largest craft which navigate the Broadland waterways, a day's cruise can be pleasantly extended up or down the Waveney. A popular trip with local folk who cannot devote much time to boating, is to the little staithe near the curious church at Burgh St. Peter ; but very few of the cruisers who land at the staithe and visit the church know that the latter is said to stand on or near the site of a Roman camp. For all traces of the camp which, it is stated, could be seen a century ago, when the enclosure was said to bear " a striking resemblance to the form of those Roman towns whose outlines may still be traced in THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 151 this country," have vanished ; and though an ivy- grown fragment of an old chapel, which formerly exempted the parish from the payment of tithes, still stands on a small mound which has been called the pnetoriiun of the camp, a vivid imagination is necessary to reconstruct upon such evidence what may have been the Roman Garianonum. But the church tower, if ugly, is certainly unique, and the presence of Roman bricks in the church walls suggests that the statements of antiquaries concerning the early importance of the place are not without foundation. Human remains, too, have been unearthed in large quantities near the river bank ; but whether, as is said, they were those of the slain in a battle fou^t near the staithe, is entirely a matter of surmise. At Oulton, as in the neighbourhood of other large Broads, Broadsmen of the old type may be encountered, — men who still manage to exist on their scanty earnings as reed-cutters and eel-catchers. One of these men has a handy little sailing house-boat in which he spends the greater part of the winter, and in its cosy if some- what cramped little cabin I have sat with him and chatted about the *' good old days " when milk was a penny a pail, fresh butter ninepence a pound, and new coimtry cheese threepence-halfpenny. Poor folk, he told me, could live then. His father had the " run " of the Acle new road across the marshes for his horses and cattle, which grazed on the grassy borders between the road and the dykes ; but " they maint du that now " ! Protecting and preserving had compelled him to abandon all his old methods of livelihood except eel-catching ; and if it had not been for the yachting folk, who found work for him in the summer, he did not know how he could have lived. I gently suggested 152 THE NORFOLK BROADS that though the stopping of fish-netting may have entailed some hardship to such as he, trawling for fresh-water fish was calculated to spoil the rivers for the draw-netters as well as the anglers ; but he vehemently assured me that the trawlers caught nothing but eels, and when I ventured to doubt this, quoting the evidence of the witnesses who saw the fish landed at Yarmouth, he more than hinted that he had been in a better position than any one else to know what was caught. His house-boat, when I last saw it, was moored in the only quiet and unspoilt creek the Oulton waters now possess, and I thought it characteristic of the old man who had so great a love of the river life, that he should have chosen the one spot retaining its primitive aspect and charm. The Waveney between Oulton Dyke and Beccles is wide and deep, and with a fair wind a passage is soon made to the little town, whose massive church tower can be seen many miles across the marshes. Indeed, a speedy passage is generally considered desir- able, except by those cruisers who are content with the beauty of waterside wild flowers and water-mirrored reeds and rushes ; for this part of the Waveney presents few striking vistas, though it has some pretty " bits " here and there, where an alder carr has its jimgle of towering willow-herbs, cat valerians, and marsh thistles, or a marshman's cottage stands close by the riverside, half hidden by willows and sallows. But even these marsh-bordered reaches are often remarkable for the wealth of colour they reveal. The green of the summer reeds, the lavender tint of the water-stained rush beds, and the ruddy hues of the sun-scorched , leaves of dock and meadow-sweet — each, perhaps, with its counterpart in the unruffled water — give infinite variety to the low, ,5 THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 153 level banks. On calm evenings, after the sun has set, the river is often like a sheet of glass ; to look down into it is to see a sub-aqueous sky flecked with cloud- drift or gemmed with stars, and to feel a sensation of floating in space. And when, after a hot summer day, the river banks are veiled with mist, one must look westward, where the upland's edge shows dark against the afterglow of sunset, to be assured that the extent of the stiU waters is not as vast as it is indefinable. Beccles, apart from its fine Perpendicular church (which formerly belonged to the Abbey of St. Edmunds- bury) and the view to be had from its churchyard, is chiefly of interest on account of the picturesque character of much of that part of the town which slopes down to the banks of the river just beyond its road and railway bridges. Here, the old malt-houses, boat- yards, gardens, brightly painted wherries, some fine old trees, and two or three houses of quaint styles of architecture, make a series of riverside pictures worthy of an old Dutch town and a painter of the Dutch school. Not one in a hundred Broadland cruisers sees Beccles from above the bridges ; the majority of visitors, after stroUing through the town, carry away with them the impression that it is perhaps the least attractive in the district. Nor in the course of the season do many people explore that part of the river which lies between Beccles and Bungay, though it is, as the lock-keeper at Geldeston main- tained when he last opened the lock for me, " uncommon pretty," and the river below Beccles not " in it " when compared with it. Several things unite to make it unpopular with yachtsmen. One of these is its shallow- ness ; another, its mazy windings, which not only 154 THE NORFOLK BROADS make sailing a matter of difficulty, but are in places so tortuous as to convey an impression that little or no headway is being made. Then there are the locks at GeldestOn, Ellingham, and Wainford, two of which the cruiser must open for himself ; while, early in the season, before the cutting is done, the water-weeds almost choke up some of the reaches. But in spite of these drawbacks the trading wherries manage to get up to Bungay all through the year, and those pleasure-seekers who follow in the wake of the wherries are well rewarded for the difficulties they encounter and overcome. For they usually have the twelve miles or so of waterway almost entirely to themselves, they are all the time in the midst of a district where the marshes are nowhere so wide as to make access to the uplands difficult, and at the end of their journey they reach as pleasant and picturesque an old country town as is to be found in East Anglia. I made this voyage not long ago in my little gun- punt, the Gipsy, having for my companion the artist with whose work this book will make the reader well acquainted. We had reached Beccles about six o'clock on a mid-June evening, and were tempted by the fine- ness of the weather to continue our cruise. The breeze that had brought us quickly up from Oulton died away just before sunset -, but the subtle charm of the dark woods and misty meadows in the twilight, the revelation of beauty at every bend of the stream, the cries of redshank, snipe, and plover, and the songs of the reed birds, made our slow progress on the dusk- darkened waters very pleasant. So clear was the water, that even after the sun had gone down we could see the bright green weeds, and some of the little inlets THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 155 were so covered with tiny white blossoms of water- crowfoot as to give them the appearance of being white with frost. The thick-stalked water-lilies were just showing their yellow heads above the stream ; thicker- stalked hemlock often brushed the sides of our boat — for the weeds were as yet uncut ; the air was filled with the aromatic odour of sweet sedge. A sense of complete isolation soon possessed us. After we had rowed a mile or so from Beccles, we did not pass even a rowing boat, and until ten o'clock, when we reached Geldeston Lock, we saw no sign of any kind of sailing craft^-not even a wherry. But in a dyke near the lock a cheerful glow of light from a yacht's cabin indicated that other pleasure-seekers than our- selves were taking an early-season cruise on the upper Waveney. In the lock-house, which is also an alehouse, the landlord lock-keeper was entertaining half a dozen rustics, and after they were gone home we chatted with him for an hour or so about river and marsh life. We learnt that when he was a young man the Geldeston marshes, like those at Burgh Castle, were a favourite place for prize-fighting, the reason being, as in the case of Burgh, that the pugilists, if interrupted by the authorities of one county, could cross the river and resume hostilities in another, where the disturbing element was absent or had no power to act. Con- cerning King, Mace, and some noted Romany bruisers he discoursed in a way that would have moved George Borrow to many lamentations that the days of the pugilists are gone ; so vividly did he describe an encounter between a famous prize-fighter and a local celebrity known as " Blazer " High, that I, who could remember High only as a comparatively peaceable vs^eelwright 156 THE NORFOLK BROADS in my native village, found myself regretting that I had not been born soon enough to witness just one of those stirring contests. But it was growing late, and we had not solved the difficulty of finding beds, so we were compelled to turn the conversation in another direction. There was no room for us at the lock-house, nor was it likely we could find accommodation in the village ; and the last trains to Beccles and Bungay were gone. The prospect of having to walk to one of these towns did not please us, so, on learning that we had the alternative of sleeping in a big boat moored in a boat-house near the lock, we agreed to accept it. Laden with an old sail, a large rug, a couple of sacks, and an old horn lantern, we sallied forth from the inn into the dark night, and made our way to our draughty lodgings. By the faint lantern light the interior of the boat-house looked uninviting ; so, after depositing our heterogeneous assortment of bedclothes in the boat, we extinguished the lantern and went for an hour's stroll across the Shipmeadow marshes. By feeling the firmness of the turf rather than by sight we kept to the footpath until the harsh " crek, crek " of a land- rail tempted us to leave it, and we almost trod on the skulking bird before it rose from amid the long marsh grass. The path brought us to a lane into which, as we soon discovered, the waters of a ditch had been diverted, and after a brief experience of this oozy b5^way we returned to our quarters for the night. The old boat-house was open towards the river, and, after two or three hours' sleep, we awoke to find the eastern sky radiant with a brazen dawn-light. A boisterous wind, increasing in force, was blowing, and some young poplars on the opposite bank of the river were bowing before it. The air was filled with o THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 157 the storm-song of tossing reeds, willows, and sallows ; along the riversides the sedge rustled loudly, white umbels of wild parsley waved wildly, and the brilliant blossoms of the water-flags were torn by the sharp- edged sedge blades. The unmown marsh grass rose and fell in green and grey waves, over which the bright yellow buttercups spread a tremulous golden haze. When a sedge warbler rose above the reeds it seemed as helpless as a wisp of thistledown, and was swept back into the reeds again. The sky was full of flying clouds, but every wind-gust blotted out their reflections in the water, which was constantly being dimmed like a breath-blown mirror. For an hour or so we loitered about the lock-house, hoping that the wind, which was dead against us, would moderate ; and the lock-keeper, to entertain us, showed us a clever drawing given to him by an artist-angler, some stuffed birds, a couple of fine sea lampems taken in the lock, and a perch weighing five pounds two ounces — the largest, he said, that had been taken in the river. But we were anxious to con- tinue our cruise ; so, after admiring the lock-keeper's treasures, we boarded our punt, passed through the lock, and began the toughest bit of rowing we had had for many a day. At times we found it impossible to make headway; the wind, if it did not force our boat into the bank, held it so fast in midstream that if it had not been a flat-bottomed punt we might have believed it aground. Yet we could not stop rowing, for once, when we paused a moment to watch a mole that had taken to the water and was swimming' like a vole across the river, its little pink snout raised just above the surface, we drifted backward far faster than we had gone forward. The three miles of river between 158 THE NORFOLK BROADS Geldeston and Ellingham seemed by far the longest miles of our cruise, and when we reached the fine old water-mill, which is the most picturesque feature of this part of the river, we had had, although it was only eight o'clock in the morning, enough rowing for that day. So we moored under the lee-side of a granary near the miU, and my companion, who was anxious to reach Bungay, set out for Ellingham station. Two miles above EUingham is Wainford Lock, adjoining which are huge maltings and a flour-mill. This is a very ancient place, for here was a ford on the Roman road from Venta Icenorum (Caister St. Edmund) to the coast at Sitomagus (Dunwich), and here, in a later period, the Hundred Moot of Wangford or Wainford was held. The road ran to the east of the malt-houses, where Roman relics have been unearthed ; and Dr. Raven, in his History of Suffolk, suggests that if the mUl were pulled down valuable discoveries might be made ; but only learned archaeologists can find, in the narrow byroads between Ditchingham station and Mettingham, traces of the Stone Street of the Romans. However, a ramble from the lock to Mettingham, where there are some ruins of a castle built by Sir John de Norwich, one of Edward iii.'s vice-admirals, is weU worth taking ; as is that to Ditchingham village and the Bath Hills which border the Waveney, where it makes a horseshoe bend round Bungay Common. But as these are places which can be visited as esisily from Bungay, most voyagers on the Waveney prefer to complete their upward cruise before exploring the neighbourhood of that old Norman town. This they can soon do, for it is only about a mile from Wainford to Bungay Staithe. Above Bungay Staithe the Waveney is unnavigable THE WAVENEY, FRITTON LAKE, ETC. 159 to sailing boats ; but that part of the river which from the water-mill near the staithe makes a bend round the town and its large, breezy common, is worth exploring. The road over the mill-bridge leads to a footpath along the riverside and the Falcon Inn at Ditchingham, an old coaching inn far more famous a century ago than it is to-day. Here, boats suited to the shallows of the upper reaches can be hired, and the voyage upstream continued. For about a mile the river winds through marshes ; but above a low wooden footbridge, beneath which, when the river is swollen by heavy rains, boats pass with dif&culty, there is, on the Norfolk bank, the loveliest bit of scenery on the Waveney. A steep wooded bank or hanger, known as the Bath HUls, here slopes down- wards to the very edge of the water, so that woodland wild flowers, such as anemones and bluebells, grow dose beside the brilliant waterflags and dainty pink ragged robins, and the bright green leaves of that curious- looking plant, the setterwort, are seen within a few yards of patches of pink-spiked orchids. The water is so clear that the waving streamers and succulent stalks of the water-weeds are ever5rwhere visible ; and so sheltered is it that its surface is seldom rujBfied, and reflects the overspreading horse-chestnuts, ashes, planes, and rowans like a mirror. For years this lovely reach was my favourite haunt in idle hours, and I was never tired of watching the shoals of fish darting by my boat, the brilliant-hued dragon-flies poising in films of vibrating wings, and listening to the wood doves crooning among the tree-tops. I remember that it was just by the old rifle butts, behind which the wooded slope forms a natural bank, that I first found the beautiful yellow archangel or weaselsnout in bloom, and near by Daphne Laureola and the acrid lettuce, three plants rare enough i6o THE NORFOLK BROADS in Norfolk to make the finding of them here an interesting event in a botanist's life. As a boy, I loved to scramble up the precipitous path behind the rifle butts — Shaving first made sure that the local volunteers were not using the range, for the bullets often went wide of the target — for that steep path leads to a clematis-garlanded lane along the crest of the hills — a lane so embowered with trees that in summer it is a leafy cr3^t. But there are places where glimpses may be had of the wide common with its golden gorse, and beyond it the red roofs and church tower of Bungay town. It is a lane for idle hours and day-dreams, and I know that often, when I looked down on the river slowly winding through the cattle-dotted marshlands, I dreamt of the days when sea tides came flooding up the Waveney valley, bringing with them the Viking ships of the Norse raiders, whose raven banner was of such ill omen to the Saxon dwellers on the borders of the vale. For I had heard of the finding of ships' anchors and strange weapons in the peat of the marshlands, and had read of the Danes' ravages on our eastern shores. And all the romance of the red-roofed town, with its Norman castle and the mysterious under- ground passage which I firmly believed connected it with the castle at Mettingham, was brought near to me when I saw the town from this leafy height, and could detach myself from the familiar scenes I daily witnessed in its quiet streets. And when I read somewhere that the parish of Earsham, whose sky-pointing church spire I could see to the right of the town, had formerly paid a yearly sum towards the maintenance of the sea-walls at Lowestoft, which kept the sea from bursting in upon the marshes stretching away from the foot of the hills, the picturing of such an inrush of the sea afforded me mental THE WAVENEY. FRITTON LAKE, ETC. i6i diversion for hours together. The fact that centuries had elapsed since the ocean's pulse was felt beating so far inland, only gave the imagination wider scope for the spreading of its wings. This leafy lane, which is in places so narrow that the path is almost hidden by ferny parsley leaves and droop- ing brome grasses, skirts the borders of Mr. Rider Haggard's Ditchingham estate, and it is on a part of the slopes, known as the " Earl's Vineyard," that the scene is laid of a tragic episode in the early chapters of the novelist's romance, Montezuma's Daughter. Readers of that stirring story easily recognise here, too, other scenes described in it, and when they return to Bungay, and climb the steep street leading to the market-place, they find much in that quaint and quiet little town unchanged since the time with which the story deals. The round towers of the Bigods' castle, flanked by huge earthworks, stiU frown down on the smiling pasture lands of the lush-grassed vale, and amid the crumbling but massive walls a shaft leads down to a grim, dark dungeon into which dayUght has not penetrated for eight hundred years. Not far away stands a fine old ichurch, originally that of the Benedictine nunnery which lost one of its abbesses through the ravage of the Black Death ; a little beyond it, the churchyards only separated by a street of almost sylvan aspect, an older church retains its Norman tower. In the market-place, nearly opposite the old Tuns Inn, a dome-roofed market- cross has handstocks still affixed to one of its piUars ; and in St. Mary's Street, facing the church, is a sixteenth- century house with richly carved corbels, the guest- house, some have said, of the nunnery whose precincts it once adjoined. But for the rest, the town is com- paratively modem, for in 1688 it was almost entirely i62 THE NORFOLK BROADS destroyed by an incendiary fire, which gave rise to the local saying, " As big a rogue as (burnt Bungay." Yet it is not so very long since it was discovered that it possessed another relic of its past even more ancient than the earthworks amid which its Norman castle stands ; for when an old windmill beside the Flixton road was pulled down, its foundations were found to rest on a tumulus filled with human bones. I remember how the Bungay folk stood and wondered when it was seen that the skeletons lay in a circle, each with its feet towards a common centre, and how an interested townsman possessed himself of a fine set of ivory-while teeth! The town is as charmingly situated as any in Broad- land. No matter by what road you leave it, it is one more likely to lure you onward than make you think of [retracing your steps. The best road is that leading to Mettingham, for, in addition to the delight of ramb- ling through charming rural scenes, you have a definite object in view in following it. For it leads to the ruined castle I have once or twice referred to. This castle has no historical interest, but its lofty walls rising amid fine old trees make a striking picture, and its fine gate-tower is well preserved. From Mettingham a lane and field footpath lead to the verge of the uplands bor.dering the Waveney valley, and the view from the uplands' edge is one of great charm and loveli- ness. To the right many miles of the vale lie revealed, with the river like a wavy silver thread in a cloth of green ; to the left the picturesque promontory on which Bungay stands juts out into the lowlands ; and through the midst of the vale the dark-sailed wherries glide along the serpentine reaches, like vessels that have lost their way. From the point where this pros- THE WAVENEY, FRItTTON LAKE, ETC. 163 pect can be viewed it is not far to the road leading back to the town and Bungay Staithe. Not long ago, when the waters of the Waveney were checked in their downward How by narrow-arched wooden bridges at Becdes and Bungay, floods were of fiequent occurrence in the Waveney valley. Dwellers amidst and on the borders of the marshes often saw the swollen river overflow its banks, and for days together many miles of marshland were submerged. If these inundations occurred in winter, they were of little consequence except when they rose so high as to flood the lower rooms of the marsh-folk's houses ; indeed, when frosty weather accompanied them, the submerged levels afforded excellent skating for the inhabitants of the towns and villages in the valley ; but a summer flood was a more serious affair. Once in the month of July it rained heavily on several suc- cessive days, and the river rose rapidly. Still the marshes were not flooded until one night about a week after the rain began, and even on that night there was no water on the levels when the marsh-folk went to bed. But about midnight it swept across the valley, and from that hour until daybreak lights were burning in and around scores of cottages between Beccles and Bungay, where cottagers were hastily conveying up- stairs the contents of the lower rooms, and removing pigs and poultry to places of safety. When day dawned the green marshlands had become a waste of waters, stretching in some directions almost as far as eye could see ; and down the river was drifting a procession of haycocks which had floated off the meadows. The marsh dams at Ditchingham, Earsham, and Gillingham were impassable to foot passengers ; to the houses bordering Ditchingham Dam the postman rowed in a i64 THE NORFOLK BROADS boat. Farmers whose hay crops were ruined, and women whose household goods had suffered, looked depressed and disheartened ; but to the children the flood was a novel and welcome experience. The marshes were transformed into an unexplored Pacific, an untraversed main, and as many of the lads as could get boats set out on voyages of discovery — voyages attended by dangers in the shape of submerged tree- stumps. For four days scores of marsh-folk were compelled to keep to the upper chambers of their houses ; but at the end of that time they saw the cucumber frames in their gardens emerge, like welcome Ararats, from the flood. Since wider-arched bridges have been built over the river there has been no serious inundation. CHAPTER IX THE BURE AND ITS BROADS A LARGE number of the yachting folk who visit Broadland confine their cruising to the Bure and its tributaries, some because lack of time prevents their exploring the Yare and Waveney ; others because, as they often urge, the Bure and its tributaries bring them in touch with the best of the Broads and every kind of Broadland scenery. So long as the influent Ant and Thume are included with the main stream, I am quite ready to admit that the Bure should be considered the chief river of Broadland and the best for loveliness and variety of charm ; but, at the same time, I think that no one who knows the district intimately wUl deny that the more frequented and popular reaches of the Bure do not possess that unique and weirdly impressive beauty which is to be enjoyed at its best and subtlest on such wild wildernesses of reeds and water as Hickling Broad and Heigham Sounds. The most popular part of the Bure is that which lies between Acle and Wroxham, and embraces some of the best-known Broads ; but I am not alone in thinking that while Wroxham, Ranworth, Salhouse, and South Walsham Broads are as^pretty as it is possible for little lakes to be, and in late autumn and winter are undeniably lovely, they are lacking in that primeval, 165 i66 THE NORFOLK BROADS isolate beauty — I had almost written sublimity — characteristic of those Broads and river reaches which lie in the midst of wide level marshes and tracts of sedgy fen. Compared with Heigham Sounds at dawn or sunset, and Horsey Mere when the sun lights up the sandhill ridges of Horsey and Waxham, Wroxham and Ranworth seem to me simply pretty — as pretty as it is possible for wood-girt waters to be, no doubt, but not particularly impressive. But such comparisons are uncalled for. Degrees of beauty are hardly defin- able, and the appreciation of them is a matter of mood and temperament. On the Bure and its tributaries, and in the district surrounding them, there is scenery to satisfy almost every one, and interest enough to occupy the mind of a visitor for a far longer time than most people can devote to it. The lower waters of the Bure — that is to say, the reaches between Ade Bridge and Breydon — are often described as uninteresting and featureless. Taking at random the opinions of three writers, I find one saying that " the landscape is singularly unin- teresting, being composed of water, mairshes, and sky, with very little to break the monotony " ; another, that the country hereabouts is " lacking in pictur- esqueness " ; and a third, that the banks are unlovely and the scenery beyond them very unattractive. But I have cruised on the lower Bure in company with an artist who maintained that almost every bend of the river presented a picture well worth painting. The ferries and ferrymen's houses, the windmills^ andi the marsh farmsteads and millmen's houses, withi their long, low, thatched or red-tiled outbuildings, seen, as they generally are, with no other background than the sky, but with the gleaming river and perhaps an O H Pi H Z O U THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 167 eel-fisher's house-boat moored in a creek in the fore- ground, form charming subjects for brush^ or pencil. Be5rond the river walls, too, there are, during several months of the year, innumerable cattle-pieces worthy of the genius of a Paul Potter or a' Sidney Gooper— hundreds of cattle often being visible between the- walls and the far-off, mill-dotted sky-line. Runham Church alsoj with its shapdy, slender-pinnacled tower rising from amid a grove of treesj makes a pleasant picture as seen from Herringby Staithe ; and: so does Stokesby as you approach it from Yarmouth, and see its fine windmill whirling its sails above the red roofs of the waterside cottages ; whUe as for Yarmouth, as it ap- pears for several miles beyond its bridges^ Joseph PenneU has shown us what can be made of such a subject. Scenery possessing such features as these cannot justly be called tame, monotonous, and lacking in picturesqueness, especially when, as is the* case with this part of the Bure, these features often group themselves into strikingly effective combinations. That there is abundant colour in these wide flat land- scapes no one who sees the marshland studies which illustrate this book can doubt; the loveliest colour effects are to be seen on the marshes and along the river. But unless the voyager can find pleasure in marsh- land scenery, there is little, I must admit, to tempt him to linger on the lower Butie. The churches at Runham and Stokesby are in no way remarkable, and all that is worth seeing in the villages can be seen from the river. At Acle, however, there is an interesting church about a mile from the old single-arched bridge spanning the river ; and visitors with antiquarian inclinations can amuse themselves with tr5nng to dis- i68 THE NORFOLK BROADS cover the site of Weybridge Priory, and so settle a matter of dispute among local antiquaries. For there was formerly a priory at Acle, an Augustinian house founded by^ one of the Bigods, Earls of Norfolk ; and that it stood somewhere near Acle Bridge, which was formerly called Waybrig or Weybridge, is suggested by the name given to it in old documents.^ But not a trace of it remains, unless some slight depressions in the grounds adjoining the Angel Inn mark the posi- tion of its chief buildings, and the skeletons which have been unearthed there are those of the monks of Wey- bridge and the knights and dames who were buried in the Priory church. All through the summer a good many yachts are moored above and below Acle Bridge, and on regatta day a lively scene is presented around the well-known Angel Inn. When I come to Wroxham I will try and describe one of these Broadland regattas ; for the present I will only say that the water festival held at Acle towards the end of July is by no means the least popular, and when the river is thronged with all kinds of craft, and yachts afloat and flagstaffs ashore are a-flutter with bunting, the neighbourhood of the old brick bridge is one to be either sought or avoided — this, again, is a matter of temperament. Some cruisers prefer it when only a few wherries are moored at the staithe below the bridge, urging that the wherries are more in harmony with the weather-beaten bridge and inn than are the dainty yachts of the pleasuring folk. The average Broadland wherry gives plenty of colour to any scene of which it is a feature. I remember an evening when two of them were moored near the bridge. ' The Rev. Dr. Cox, F.S.A., tells me that the priory stood near the church. THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 169 They were remarkable for their brilliant hues. The top of the mast and the sides of the hold of one were painted Pyrenese green ; the square wooden chimney of the cabin was bright red, as were the rigging blocks and tabernacle ; the cabin door was dark blue relieved by yellow bands ; and the top of the tiller and its handle, the gaff and flag-frame, were white. The other wherry, which had only that morning left a ColtishaU wherry-builder's yard, where it had been repainted, had red, white, and blue bands round the top of the mast, and beneath them was a two-feet band of burnished brass ; flag, tabernacle, blocks, and cabin roof were vermUion, and the tiller and cabin door were royal blue and yellow. Both wherries were "light," and one showed something of a white, the other of a pale green keel. AH these colours were reflected in the water, where they shimmered and melted one into another whenever a breath of wind or a passing boat sent ripples running towards the shore. Above Acle Bridge the scenery of the Bure becomes more varied, but there is nothing to tempt any one to land until Thurne Mouth is passed and the ruined gateway of St. Benet's Abbey is seen close by the river- side, on some slightly elevated ground — once a kind of fen isle — among the Cowholm marshes. At first glance it may seem that there is little besides the gateway to call for attention ; but a stroU along the riverside below the gateway, and a visit to the crumbling walls on the highest point of the old island, reveal much that is interesting. Close by the waterside the foimda- tions — " groundsels " the marshmen call them — of several of the vanished monastery's buildings can be traced, while on the high ground are considerable remains of the walls of the cruciform abbey church 170 THE NORFOLK BROADS in which the famous Sir John Fastolff of Caister Castle was buried. Distinctly traceablci too, are the founda- tions of the boundary wall, whieb extended from the riverside near the gateway a^long way into the marshes, and returned to the river again some distance below the abbey church. This wall was buttressed, as can be seen from what remains of it ; and it appears to have been' bordered by rows of hawthorns and black- thorns, the stumps of which can still be seen. Appar- ently there were small towers at the angles of the wall, for there are some foundations suggesting this at the lower point where the wall reaches the riverside. Of the scanty ruins, however, the gateway is the most interesting portion. Its outer arch has a shield in each spandrel, a complete but empty niche on the right-hand side, and remains of another on the left. On the left side, too, are eighteen steps of a spiral staircase, over which are restored pointed arches. A good many years ago a brick windmill was built within and upon the gateway ; and within the tower, which is all that is left of this miU, is another arch with good mouldings, the inner foliated, having in the spandrels some fairly well-preserved carvings. There is also some vaulting with three bosses, and a piece of wall attached to the gateway : the latter probably formed part of the refectory. Until a few years ago the cattle that grazed on the neighbouring marshes could enter the gateway, but now it is surrounded by a railing which prevents their stumbling among and rubbing themselves against the crumbling masonry. But nothing has been done to protect the river bank, where the bones of the old monks of St. Benet's are often scoured from their unmarked graves. According to the old chroniclers, the land on which THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 171 the monastery stood was, in the eighth eentury, given by a local prince to a recluse named Sunemanj who, with other religious men, dwelt on it peaceably until the Danes ravaged East Anglia, demolished the hermit- age, and killed its inmates. A century later a certain Wolfric followed the example of Suneman, and retired here ; but when the Danes attained undisputed pos- session of the country, King Canute founded for the Benedictines the monastery of St. B'enet-at-Hblm. This monastery was a fortified house, and when the Conqueror sent a force against it, the monks, aided, no doubt, by the men of the neighbouring hamlets, were able to hold out for some time against the besiegers. But through the treachery of a captured monk named Ethelwald, the Normans eventually succeeded in entering the great gate and gaining possession of the monastery. As a reward for his treachery, the monk had been promised the abbacyi and in fulfilment of this promise the Normans arrayedi him in an abbot's robe^ placed a mitre on his head, and went through the ceremony of installation. Then, disgusted with the man's conduct, they had him hanged above the gateway.^ Subsequent to this siege the history of the monastery is unexciting. Many wealthy knights and nobles endowed it with lands and money, and when they died were buried in the fine abbey church ; distinguished guests were often entertained by the abbots^ who amused them with falconry on the surrounding marshes. At the general suppression in 1537, the abbot at that time, William Rugge, was translated' to the see of Norwich, to which the revenues of the abbey were also transferred. He and his successors retained the title of Abbot of St. Benet-at-Holm, by right of which dignity the present I It must be remembered that these stories are legendary. 172 THE NORFOLK BROADS Bishop of Norwich has a seat in the House of Lords. Previous to the Dissolution, the abbots had a residence or " grange " at Ludham, where parts of it are still embodied in the Hall Farm. This grange afterwards became a country seat of the Bishops of Norwich. The Hall Farm can be reached by a marsh wall or causeway connecting the abbey gateway with the road leading to the farm. Almost opposite the gateway is a mile-and-a-half- long dyke leading to South Walsham Broad. There are few more enjoyable things than a quiet row or a sail in a small yacht up this and other similar dykes in summer. True, the tall reeds on either side hide the marshlands beyond them ; but this prevents one's attention being distracted from the wild flowers — the loosestrifes, willow-herbs, and hemp agrimonys — which deck the banks, and the birds which haunt these narrow water-courses. It was while sailing up. South Walsham Dyke that I saw a snipe standing on a post close to the water, and I shall never forget the perfect picture it made, nor the absolute disregard of human intrusive- ness with which it looked about it from its elevated perch. During that cruise I particularly noted how frequently snipe and redshank were to be seen occupy- ing similar positions, chosen probably because of the extended outlook they afforded. Swallow-tail butter- flies are often plentiful on the marshes bordering South Walsham Dyke, and some of the little creeks, inlets, and cuttings made in the dyke banks by winter flight- shooters are fuU of treasmres for the entomologist. Although rather small, and by the luxuriance of its aquatic growths divided into two sheets of water, South Walsham is a very charming Broad, particularly that part of it entered by way of a narrow channel called ^ THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 173 the Weirs. It is a private Broad, but until recently it was generally supposed that the public had a right of way across it. For some time, however, there were occasional disputes between a riparian owner and the people of Ranworth, an adjoining village, as to whether this right of way extended to the inner and prettier portion of the Broad, and on Whit Monday of 1901 these disputes culminated in a rather lively scene. On that day, on hearing that some of the Ranworth people proposed making a public demonstration in support of the right they claimed, certain persons, presumably acting on behalf of the riparian owner, moored a large house-boat broadside across the narrowest part of the Weirs, blocking the channel leading to the Inner Broad. This in itself was a formidable obstacle for a fleet of smaU boats to encounter ; and it was made the more so by having small band fire-engines placed at its bow and stem, while from under the canvas of the house-boat a long glistening barrel was extended, resembling, according to an eye-witness of what took place, a Vickers- Maxim gun : in reality it was a long telescope from which the glass had been removed. During the after- noon several hundred people, among them the Vicar of Ranworth and the chairman of the Parish Council, assembled on the staithe, where they were approached by the riparian owner's agent and a Norwich solicitor. The former requested the crowd to leave the staithe ; but the chairman of the Parish Council protested that the staithe was a public place, and until late in the day the villagers remained in possession of it. A good many uncomplimentary remarks were shouted to the persons on board the house-boat, but no attempt was made to force a passage through the Weirs. Subsequently the riparian owner established in a court of law his claim to 174 THE NORFOLK BROADS the staithe ; but when I visited South Walsham Broad a few weeks after the Whit-Monday ,proGeedingfi, I found the Weirs open, and no attempt was made (to stop me from sailing round the Inner Broad. Across the Outer Broad, which is entered by way of South Walsham Dyke, there is aright of way to South Walsham Staithe, from which the churches of St. Mary and St. Lawrence, both standing in the same churchyard, are distant about a mile. St. Lawrence's Church was partly destroyed 'by fire in 1827, and its tower is in ruins. Quarter of a mile above St. Benet's Abbey is ;the mouth of the Ant, a river to be dealt with in the next chapter. Another mile or so, and the dyke is reached which leads to Ranworth Broad. To boats drawing no more than four feet of water this dyke is usually navigable ; but cruisers in yachts of deeper draught generally continue their voyage to Homing Ferry, where they can land on the opposite bank to that on whidh the Ferry Inn stands, and stroll to Ranworth by the -pleasant road leading down to the ferry. Between St. Benet's Abbey and Homing Ferry there are two or three very pretty reaches ; that which Homing Church overlooks from the left bank being perhaps the most charming up ito that point. In this neighbourhood a few marshmen may occasionally be seen cutting peat by the riverside. The peat, locally called turf or hovers, is cut into square blocks, which are sold at a shilling a hundred. Rafts Jaden with these blocks often pass the Ferry Inn. Ranworth is not the least delightful of the Broads lying between Acle and Wroxham ; but the parish is more Ifamous for having in its church one of the finest and best-preserved rood-screens in the county. Indeed, THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 175 the committee of the Society of Antiquaries assert that as a whole there is " nothing of the sort remaining to equal it in England." " East Anglia," the committee's report states, " still contains a considerable number of painted screens, some of much merit, in its churches, but for delicacy and richness of detail that of Ranworth is unsurpassed. The beautiful diapers on the robes of the saints and apostles painted on the panels, and the elaborate flowerwork which adds to and heightens the effect of the architectural features, make the whole composition suggestive of a great initial page of some splendidly illuminated manuscript." The paintings are said to recall the school of Meister WUhelm of Cologne, and it is thought they -may have been theiwork of German artificers who settled in Norwich during the fifteenth ceatury. Especially to be noted are the figures of St. Lawrence and St. Michael, and the details of the vest- ments of many of the saints. The church has recently uadergone a much-needed restoration ; but, needless to say, the screen, which is as remarkable for the delicacy of its carved work as for the beauty .of its paintings, has not been interfered with. The Broad, like South Walsh am, is private iproperty ; but there is a right of way across the eastern portion to the -village. The western portion, which is divided from the other by reed beds, is a wild-fowl preserve and strictly private ; formerly it was a noted iplace for fdecoying, very large quantities of duck, teal, and wigeon being captured during severe winters. The chief charms of the Broad in summer are its isolation, picturesque surroundings, lovely white water-lilies, and the glimpses one iget-s of yellow reed-stacks and .old cottages and fermfilteads on its shores ; but it is seen at its best in autumn, when its reeds have attained their full height. 176 THE NORFOLK BROADS and the leaves of its bordering trees have changed from green to crimson and gold. While walking on a June day through Woodbastwick on my way to Ranworth, I came upon some marshmen reed-stacking close beside the road leading down to Homing Ferry. It was rather late in the year for such work to be in progress, but I learnt that the reeds had been a long time drying, or they would have been stacked before. It was a characteristic Broadland scene, of which the chief features were the wide flat reed rafts being quanted up a dyke, the stacks with their light and dark layers of reeds, and the marshmen clad in clothes of a russet hue which harmonised weU with the yellow reeds. On every side were flat, fenny lands, where the purple-headed meadow thistle, dusky marsh cinque- foil, pale green marsh fern, sweet gale, water-flag, and ragged robin grew amid young reeds, brown bents, and tawny and green rushes. I got into conversation with the reed-stackers, and learnt that in the neighbourhood of Woodbastwick the cutters reckon six sheaves to go to a fathom of reeds ; while at Barton and elsewhere a fathom consists of five sheaves, the difference being due to the varying quality of the reeds. Ninety fathoms went to the making of a Woodbastwick reed-stack, so that each of the stacks which were being heaped up by the dykeside consisted of five hundred and forty sheaves. The neighbourhood of Horning is one of the chief haunts of the Broadland flight-shooters, and some good bags have been made on the river between the ferry and St. Benet's Abbey. Some of the rare birds which have been shot in this district are in the Castle Museum at Norwich ; but one of the finest cases of bitterns I know of is to be seen at the Ferry Inn, where is a splendid male bird shot by the landlord, and a female which fell o c Ed THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 177 to another sportsman's gun. A century ago the booming of the bittern was a familiar sound in Broadland ; but in the Rev. R. Lubbock's time, the locally breeding bitterns had considerably decreased in numbers. The reed- beds of Hickling Broad, Heigham Sounds, and CatMd were the favourite haunts of the species ; but in the middle of the last century it also bred at Ranwoiih, where one was shot in the act of feeding its young. Upton, near Acle, is believed to have been its last Norfolk oestmg-place, for there two eggs were taken in 1868, and since then there is no trustworthy record of a uest having been found in the county. The marshmien used to call the bitterns " buttles " ; and Dr. Emerson met an old man who had shot three in five minutes in Catfield Fen, where, the old man said, they used, like the herons, to alight on the trees. Almost every year I hear of bitterns being shot in Broadland, for these birds are early breeders, and the few which visit the district usuaEy arrive before the close time begins. But even if they came a little later their fate would be the same. In the neighbourhood of Homing there is no escape for them, for in the shooting season the picturesque old Ferry Iim is frequented by almost as many gunners as there are anglers to be met there in siunmer. There are some giopd colour effects among the cM bouses of that part of the village of Horning which is passed about half a mile above the ferry^ wihere the river takes a sharp bend to the left ; but the impres- sion they make upon the voyager is forgotten as soon as he enters upon the first of the delightful reaches extending from this point up to and beyond Wroxhara Bridge. Above Horning the river banks are in many places well wooded, and dose beside the river are several Broads. The presence of the first of these Broads 12 178 THE NORFOLK BROADS is betrayed, when Horning is passed, by the clamour of the black-headed gulls, which have a colony on Hoveton Little Broad. This Broad, which is about eighty acres in extent, contains several small islets and some large beds of reeds, upon and among which the gulls assemble in spring, make their nests, and rear their young. But without special permission it is impossible to witness the interesting sight presented when the little guUs have been hatched off, for the Broad is strictly preserved, and the little fluffy birds are never disturbed while they swim about the edges of the open pools and creep among the rushes and sedges. Even a finer sight is presented by Hoveton Great Broad, which extends from opposite the lower end of Wroxham Broad to a point about a mile farther down-stream ; for there a much larger number of gulls breed yearly. But this Broad also is preserved, and there are chains across the entrances to it from the river. Yet even this colony is nothing hke so large and interesting as that at Scoulton Mere, near Watton in Norfolk. There — where they are known as " Scoulton puits " — I have seen the guUs rise from the water in such numbers as to whoUy blot out the trees behind them, and the clamour they make is almost deafening. Beautiful birds are these wild-crying puit-guUs, and their presence constitutes one of the charms of Broadland. Whether seen circling above a Broad, flying tern-like over a reed-bed, feeding on a Breydon flat, or floating on the still water, they are delightful to behold ; the gleam of their white wings against the blue of the summer sky is a joy and an inspiration. Not far from Hoveton Little Broad, on the south side of the river, at a point where it turns sharply south- ward, is Decoy or Woodbastwick Broad, which, like THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 179 the Hoveton Broads, is private water. It can scarcely be seen from the river — ^nor, as a matter of fact, can any of the Broads in this neighbourhood — on account of the riverside reeds, sallows, and alders. I have seen it suggested that it is a good plan for the visitor who is sailing in a large yacht to seat himself on the gaff of its mainsail, so that he may obtain a wider view of his surroundings ; but not every one can enjoy the outlook, however picturesque it may be, from such an elevated and unsteady position. Nor is it necessary to climb so high to appreciate the loveliness of the river between Woodbastwick and Wroxham ; while as for the beauties of Salhouse Broad, which yachts can enter by an opening on the left about a mile and a half above Hoveton Little Broad, they can be enjoyed at leisure. For Salhouse, though its fishing is preserved, is open to the public in so far that there is a right of way across it to the vUlage. Connected with this Broad by a dyke is Salhouse Little Broad, a very pretty pool, where the fishing is also preserved. From a hill above the Little Broad the best view of the cluster of Broads in this neighbourhood can be enjoyed, not only the two Salhouse Broads, with their sylvan surrotmdings, but the Hoveton Broads and distant Wroxham, gleaming like a gem in a sylvan setting, contributing to the making of a scene of surpassing loveliness. It is easy to understand how it is that so many pleasure-seekers are content, when they have once seen this part of the river, to confine their cruising to the Bure. There is charm and interest enough m a lovely little pool or " pulk " which hes about a quarter of a mile below Wroxham Broad to content the eyes and mind of a visitor all through a long summer i8o THE NORFOLK BROADS day. The surface ©f the pool is almost coyered with the flowers and leaves of white and yellow water-lilies, and close to the bordering rushes and sedges are pink patches of persicaria, so beautiful that even the chaste loveliness of the glorious nymphseas fails to distract attention from them. From among the dark green rushes coots and water-hens steal out at intervals, and swim to and fro until some involuntary movement betrays human presence and they disappear, the coots with a commotion that makes a drowsy warbler start singing as though in derision of the water-fowls' fright. Then a reed bunting appears, and from the top of a reed-stalk sings, with uplifted head, its plaintive but rather unmusical song. Brilliant dragon-flies^ " like winged flowers or flying gems," some blue, others green, and yet others with black-tipped wings, poise above the water, wrapped in a film of wing-beats; perhaps a red admiral pays a fleeting visit to the wild flowers blooming around the pool, and then, as the Ettrick Shepherd says, " floats awa' in its wavering beauty ... to some other nook of her ephemeral paradise." Now and again a yacht or wherry glides down the river, its white or dark sail showing for a few moments through the foliage of the trees ; but apart from this there is nothing about the pool to suggest that all the world is not contained within its sylvan and lacustrine fringe of trees and reeds. Only a short distance away, beyond the river, the marshlands are perhaps exposed to the full blaze of a summer sun, just as when " A summea: stillness held the land— The ■windmill drooped its idle, sail — Trembling with heat, the crystal air 'Quivered and glistened, as it were ' A silver voven veil " ; o O I THE BURE AND ITS BROADS i8i but over this shady pool a cool wind seems to breathe, and on its banks a firing freshness and fragrance to linger. Around Salliouse Broad alone there are a score of subjects for an artist. The banks with their wild flowers and brown-topped reed-maces, the rustic boat- houses, the inlets with their coots and grebes, the reed and hay rafts, the staithe with a wherry moored along- side, aU tend to make the Broad what it is — one of the most delightful and picturesque on the Bure. And if the voyager should land and stroll through the lanes and cornfields to the village church, he finds it hard not to envy the dwellers in this lovely district. Inside the church, which has a detached embattled tower, he finds, too, something of interest, for it contains an old hour-glass stand, and there is a small and ancient sanctus bell attached to the rood screen. After enjoying the beauties of South Walsham, Ranworth, and Sal- house, such a stroU is a pleasant break in a Broadland cruise, and the voyager returns to the river better able to appreciate Wroxham, which some have called the " Queen of the Broads." So much has been written about Wroxham Broad that it is with diffidence I set down some of my im- pressions of it. As I have already suggested, it is not my favourite Broad ; but I can quite understand how it is that thousands of visitors to Broadland cannot find words to express its beauties. Its moods are ever changing. One day it is as smooth as glass, mir- roring every bird that flies over it and every flower that blooms along its reedy verge ; the next its reeds are wildly tossing their feathery plumes, and the water is in such turmoil that a small boat is hardly safe upon it. And then, after a day of storm and drenching i82 THE NORFOLK BROADS rain, comes an evening when the wind dies away into a gentle breeze that scarcely makes a whisper among the reeds, a glorious glow of amber radiance in the west lights up the Broad, and the night that follows is one of enchanting beauty. But before daybreak grey clouds overspread the sky, and in the dawnlight the surface of the Broad looks like a dull silver shield. Soon, however, the clouds begin to disperse, and some fine cloudscapes are reflected in the Broad as the rolling masses of white vapour are driven before the wind. By midday all the clouds are gone, and the water, where it is not agleam with sunlit ripples, is as blue as the sky. And of all the Broads Wroxham is, I think, the best on which to appreciate the changes the seasons bring — in spring, the fresh green of the woodlands on its western shore ; in summer, the varied foliage of the trees and the luxurious aquatic growth of the swampy tracts between the Broad and the river ; in autumn, the glorious hues of the withering leaves ; and in winter, the leafless reeds, golden as sun-ripened corn. Of its many aspects I hardly know which is the finest. If I have any preference, it is for that it shows on a calm November day when the sky is clear but a faint mist hangs over water and shore. Then the winter hues, which are often too hard and garish to be wholly pleasing, are softened and blended into something weird, mystic, and indescrib- ably beautiful. Wroxham Broad is about a hundred acres in extent ; its length is about a mile and its breadth about three hundred yards. Although a decrease in its depth has become noticeable of late years, it is still deep enough to permit of the largest Broadland yachts sailing on it, and except near its shores there are none of those THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 183 awkward shallows which make cruising on Hickling and Barton so difficult. On entering it from the river by the lower entrance — the only one now open — the voyager finds that on the west side the Broad is bordered by rising ground, for the most part well wooded, but here and there revealing a green lawn in front of some half-hidden house ; while on the east side a narrow tract of swampy ground, fringed with reeds and overgrown with sallow and alder scrub, separates the Broad from the river. According to a decision of the Superior Courts, the Broad is private property ; but although a charge of half a crown a day is made for fishing — the money, I believe, going to the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital — and the riparian owners object to yachts being moored on the Broad except on regatta days, sailing and rowing are at all times freely permitted. During the last week in July, when the cruising season is at its height, a slow procession of all kinds of Broadland craft makes its way up the Bure. At Acle and Horning regattas are held, in which not only regular racers but cruising yachts compete ; then the whole fleet of wherries, pleasure-yachts, racers, and launches starts for Wroxham, where the most important regatta of the season is usually held on the first and second of August. At nine o'clock in the morning of the opening day, the Broad presents a gay and lively aspect. By that time most of the cruising craft are moored and decked with bunting ; but all day long small sailing boats keep arriving on the scene. Given fine weather, every one, from the chairman of the regatta committee to the juvenile occupants of the dilapidated marsh-boat which invariably gets in the way of the racers, is in good spirits. Yachtsmen don i84 THE NORFOLK BROADS their whitest iiannels and ladies wear their prettiest dresses ; music is heard above the whispering of reeds and the fluttering of flags. In the neighbourhood of Wroxham Bridge a hke gaiety prevails. Every train from Norwich, Yarmouth, and Cromer brings its load of yachting folk, whose yachts are ready to take them down to the Broad ; blue-jerseyed crews stagger under the weight of well-filled hampers ; trading wherries for a time become pleasure-craft, and are thronged with holiday-makers, each of whom is bent on enjoying himself to the utmost. In fact, every one realises that this is the great day of the Broadland season. Only the angler who, forgetting it is regatta day, has come to Wroxham for a quiet day's fishing on the Broad, and leams that there is not a rowing boat to be had " for love nor money," carries about with him a gloomy face. At eleven o'clock the first race begins. Probably it is a race open to yachts of any rig or rating belong- ing to the local clubs. With a good sailing breeze, the yachts get away well together. The course is ten times round the Broad, and the winning of the race generally depends as much on skilful sailing as on the good qualities of the winner. One or two competitors usually drop out before the race is over : one gets her main sheet jammed ; another, after lagging hopelessly astern for an hour or more, vanishes through the entrance to the Broad. A certain yacht completes' the ten rounds in about two hours ; but as her time allowance is fourteen minutes twenty-one secolnds, ninety-nine of every hundred spectators know not whether she be the winner until they read a report of the regatta in a newspaper next day. Then some of the cruising yachts have their turn. Great interest in THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 185 this race is displayed by the cruisers in the competing crait, whose maaiifest glee when they are winning and depression when they are being badly beaten is often amusing. After a match for racing yachts, some of the wherries compete. This is a race which usually arouses some excitement ; but in the 1901 regatta only two wherries entered for the first day's race, some idea of which can be gathered from a report which appeared next day : " The starting gun fired at 4.15, and Fawn got away first. Dauntless was cruising about the top of the Broad, apparently in blissful ignorance that such a thing as a starting gun was required. She got off at last, but of course had no chance." The day's racing programme concludes with a dinghey race, for which there are usually a good many entries. Not infrequently, however, the start is made too late in the day, and the wind drops before the race is half over. When dusk comes down on the Broad a pretty scene is presented ; many of the yachts are illuminated, while rowing boats, carrying coloured lanterns, row in procession round the Broad. Across the still water come the tinkling of banjoes and the music of voices blended in merry choruses. Late into the night lights are burning in many of the yachts' cabins, and often the sounds of revelry cease only when the light of dawn is seen in the eastern sky. The second day's pro- ceedings resemble the first. Races for racing and cruising yachts, wherries, dingheys, and open and half- decked boats, make up the programme, which is seldom completed until nightfall. It is interesting to know that the very ancient ceremony of " beating the bounds " stiU survives at Wroxham. On a certain day in the year, the over- seers, carrying willow wands decorated with milkwort, i86 THE NORFOLK BROADS the rogation flower, and the heraldic colours of the parish, walk or " beat " round the parish boundaries in order to see that no encroachments have been made and the old landmarks are still traceable. The " beaters " have the right to cross any lands, and pass through any garden or house through which the boundary lines run ; and they are accompanied by two lads, whose heads are knocked against several trees, posts, and other solid landmarks in order that they may remember them. When this ceremony was performed in 1901, the " beaters " succeeded in discovering an acre of land which for several years had been lost to the parish, and it was estimated that the expenses of the day's outing, which come out of the poor rate, were more than met by the rates recovered with this lost acre. Just above Wroxham Bridge, opposite the King's Head Inn, is a small Broad, permission to visit which can be had at the inn ; but it is of little interest, and need not delay any one who is bent on exploring the navigable upper reaches of the Bure. From Yarmouth to Wrox- ham Bridge the Bure is, as East Anglian rivers go, a fairly wide stream ; but above the bridge it narrows considerably, though not so much as to make sailing very difficult. The scenery of these upper reaches is decidedly pretty, and between Wroxham and Coltishall the banks are, from June to September, decked with the loveliest of waterside wild flowers. After sailing some distance from the bridge, a stranger may well be sur- prised to hear that the church he sees standing on a hill by the riverside is Wroxham Church ; but the mystery is explained when he is told that a considerable portion of what is generally known as Wroxham is situated in the parish of Hoveton St. John, and that the parish of Wroxham really lies west of the bridge. The church. THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 187 embowered by trees, makes a very charming picture as seen from the river, and is worth a close inspection on account of its good Norman south doorway. It was while sailing up the reach which the church domi- nates that I noticed, one June day, the air filled with white down the wind had blown from the saUow catkins ; ever5^where little wisps of this down were drifting before the breeze, and the water was covered with them. Almost opposite the church is a small sheet of water called Belaugh Broad, the last of the Bure Broads, and one possessing no distinctive or remarkable features. Not far above Belaugh Broad is a channel, on the left, called the Marl Pit Dyke, across the mouth of which a chain is usually drawn so that yachts cannot enter it. This dyke leads to a very pretty spot known as Little Switzerland, which until a year or two ago was open to the pubhc, but is now private. Next, on the opposite bank, comes the village of Belaugh, with its church standing on the summit of a steep bank sloping down to the riverside gardens. In one of these gardens I was pleased to see a notice-board that was in striking contrast with those prohibitory ones which are so unattractive a feature of the Bure's shores and Broads, for it stated that "Any one is welcome to come into this garden." It seemed to me that a great many of the riparian owners in Broadland might, without experiencing any great annoyance, learn a lesson from the owner of a pretty little garden in humble Belaugh. The church, which a zealous Roundhead once said, referring to its position, was " perked like one of the idolatrous high places of Israel," contains a painted screen adorned with figures of the twelve apostles ; but the faces of the apostles were i88 THE NORFOLK BROADS obliterated by a "godly trooper," to whom, as to- his brother Roundhead, they gave offence. The emblems held by the apostles are a shell and staff, a ship, two fishes, a chalice, a sword and casket, keys and a book, a lamb and book, a knife, a spear, a waUfet of money, a ftdler's bat, and a cross. The font is good fifteenth^ century work,; and there is an interesting brass (date 1471) to Sir John Curson, who is represented in full armour. ColtishaU, about two and a half miles above Belaughj is in many respects a delightful place : undoubtedly it is the most picturesque waterside village in Broad- land. Unlike Wroxham, it has not been spoilt by the erection of unsightly modern houses for the accom- modation of visitors ; for, in spite of its attractiveness, only a very few yachting parties extend their cruising above Wroxham Bridge. In its fine church, quaint old inns, houses with rounded gables, wherry-builders' yards, old malt-houses, charming gardens, well-wooded river reaches, cottage-bordered greens, fine old water- mill, and weather and water-worn locks, it contains just the features calculated to enhance the charm of a village pleasantly situated by the riverside ; and in its neighbourhood are enough places of interest to tempt a stranger to make it a centre from which to set out on summer rambles. The river flows dose beside most of its jricturesque buildings and delightful lawns and gardens, and pursues such a winding course that one might imagine it loves to linger in such a pleasant spot. One cannot help envying its inhabitants, even the humblest of whom has much to make him content, if not in love, with life. And even so long ago as the reign of Henry in. the ColtishaU folk were eminently favoured, for that king " granted to all THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 189 men, women, boys or girls born, or to be born, in this village of Couteshall, that they should be free from all villemage of body and blood, they and their families in all parts of England ; and that they should not be forced to serve in any offices, for any one, unless they liked it ; and that all frays or transgressions of bloodshed, bargains, and all quarrels and suits con- cerning the town of Couteshall should be determined every year before the king's officers at the letes there, and the natives of Couteshall should be free from toll by water and land in all fairs and markets throughout England, and from all stallage, poundage, and picage, being the king's tenants." The granting of this manu- mission to the thirteenth-century inhabitants of Coltis- hall was a great favour, for in those days most of the men, women, and children in English villages were villeins or slaves of the lords of the manors, who had the right to dispose of them to whomsoever they pleased. That Coltishall was a place of some importance even in Saxon times, is indicated by the fact that a church was built here before the Conquest. The present church, which is chiefly of the fifteenth century, has two small pre-Norman windows in the nave, some Early English work in the chancel, and an Early English font. The oft-repeated figure of a chahce in the tower panelling, both in the base and battlements, is the emblem of St. John the EvangeHst, to whom the church is dedicated. The lai^e water-mill near the locks is not really in Coltishall Irut in Horstead. It is a fine old buildiing, almost as pictur^que as Constable's famous one at Flatford on -the Stour ; but, like all the Norfolk water- mills, it has a hidden undershot wheel, the force and fall of tiie Norfolk rivers not being sufficient to work an overshot wheel. A riverside footpath leads from the iQO THE NORFOLK BROADS locks to Coltishall Bridge, from which Horstead Church, remarkable only for its ancient font, is distant about half a mile. In another direction, beyond the water- mill, a pleasant road leads to Heggatt Hall, a fine old Tudor house. Other roads lead to Tunstead, where the church has a curious raised platform behind the altar ; and to Stratton Strawless, where, in the midst of wood- lands, is one of the most interesting churches in this part of Norfolk. It contains some interesting memorials to members of the Marsham family, among them a fine black marble monument and a cross-legged mail-clad figure supposed to be that of Sir Ralph Marsham, who died in 1250. Above Coltishall very few yachting parties care to go, for the eleven miles of river between Coltishall and Aylsham, though pretty, present no feature not to be found on the upper waters of most small streams ; and before Aylsham is reached three locks must be passed through and yachts' masts lowered for passage under no less than seven bridges. Should these obstacles fail to daimt the voyager, he finds at Oxnead some traces of the magnificent Hall which Sir Clement Paston buUt during the sixteenth century. This Sir Clement, a distinguished naval commander in the reign of Henry VIII., and one who faithfully served Queens Mary and Elizabeth, is described as having been " a man of great stomach and courage," who " took a French galley, and in it the Admiral of France, called Baron St. Blan- card, whom he brought into Englande, and kept him at Castor (Caister) by Yarmouth till he paid for his ransome seven thousand crowns over and beside the spoUe of the said galleye ; where among other things he had a cuppe and two snakes of goulde, which were the said Baron St. Blancard's ; the which, during his THE BURE AND ITS BROADS 191 life, he did upon high daies weare ; and after left the same as a monument to his name." He is buried in Oxnead Church, where his marble tomb and alabaster effigy can be seen, also a long inscription in verse setting forth his remarkable quahties and brave deeds. He built Oxnead Hall in the reign of Queen EUzabeth. In 1676, when it was occupied by Robert Paston, Viscount Yarmouth, King Charles 11. journeyed to it from Norwich and was lavishly entertained, an immense banqueting hall being built specially for the occasion. Aylsham, which can be reached far more easily by road or rail than by river, stands in the midst of a district that has been called the " Garden of Norfolk." Formerly it was a place of considerable importance. Not only was the court of the Duchy of Lancaster held within it, but it was, in the reigns of the second and third Edwards, the chief centre of the linen manufacture. Its church, reputed to have been built by John of Gaunt, is of some interest ; but from an antiquary's point of view cannot compare with those of Cawston and Salle, two fine Perpendicular buildings that can be visited from Cawston station. Both these churches have very fine and richly decorated roofs, curious tower galleries, and much heraldic carving. When he has seen these churches, especially noting at Salle a good brass, dated 1440, to Geoffrey Boleyn, the visitor can make a pleasant return journey to Aylsham by way of Blickling, where, on the site of the Bole3ms' old home, is one of the finest Jacobean houses in England. The building of this fine old Hall was begun by Sir Henry Hobart, a Lord Chief Justice in the reign of James i. ; it was finished by his son. The front of the house, as seen from the road, is very striking, its decorated entrance, surmounted by a clock-tower and flanked by square turrets, being led up to by a wide 192 THE NORFOLK BROADS drive bordered by limes and clipped yews. It now belongs to the Marquess of Lothian, who on one day of the week (the precise day can be ascertained at Aylsham) admits the public to the chief rooms in the HaU and also to the park and gardens. Access can thus be had to a fine library of books selected by Mattaire, and containing many very old works and rare editions. This Ubrary is in a long gallery with a splendid Jacobean ceEing. Huge oak statues of Anne Boleyn and Queen Elizabeth, some good tapestry presented by the Empress Catherine of Russia to the second Earl of Buckinghamshire, and some portraits by Gainsborough, Reynolds, and Lely, can also be seen ; and in the gardens are some fountains and statues from the Pastons' old home at Oxnead. So there is something to rewardyvoyagers who ascend the Bure so far as it is navigable ; but as there is the return voyage to be considered, and all yachting parties do not care to confine their Broadland cruising to the Bure, it is, as I have suggested, often better to make the journey from Coltishall to Aylsham by rail. A day can then be devoted to visiting the places of interest just mentioned, and on the following morning the river can be descended as far as the mouth of one of the important tributary streams described in the two ensuing chapters. And after a few days spent on the pretty reaches of the Bure and among the many lovely nooks of the Bure Broads, cruisers wiU be the bettia: prepared to appreciate the more unique and primitive charms of the Broads connected with the Ant and Thume. CHAPTER X THE ANT AND ITS BROADS THE Ant is a river that many yachting parties are unable to explore on account of its shallowness and the small arches of its bridges, so hundreds of pleasure-seekers who cruise in Broadland leave the district without seeing Barton Broad. As Barton is one of the loveliest Broads, this is to be regretted ; but there is no help for it tmless cruisers content themselves with the accommodation of a yacht drawing no more than three feet of water. Even then, if not careful, they are in danger of being " hung up," for Barton is very shallow except in the wherry channels, and the Ant, which is a very narrow stream, has, even below the Broad, some shallow reaches. When I cruise on this river, I much prefer to do so in my little flat-bottomed gun-punt the Gipsy, in which I can sail safely over the Barton shoals and explore many charming nooks in- accessible to even the smallest yachts. But the smallness of a Broadland gun-punt, and its lack of sleeping accom- modation, prevent this type of boat being of use to the average cruiser. It was in the Gipsy that I made a cruise on the Ant not long ago. Starting from Coltishall in the early morning, I loitered some hours among the Bure Broads, so that it was nearly dusk when St. Benet's Abbey came 13 194 THE NORFOLK BROADS in sight, and I turned into the narrow river I had set out to explore. But on summer evenings the daylight seems loth to leave the open levels ; for a long time after I had passed under Ludham Bridge there lingered an afterglow against which the windmills and distant rising ground were clearly defined. My progress was slow, for the many windings of the river seldom gave me, for more than a few minutes, the advantage of a light breeze that was dying away with the day. Above the bridge the only craft I encountered was a marsh boat, in which two lads were crossing from a riverside cottage to a neighbouring miU ; the marshlands were deserted except by the grazing cattle ; cottages and farmsteads were so few and far apart as each to suggest almost complete isolation ; often the only sounds I heard were the rustling of the voles in the hovers and the harsh cries of the restless water-fowl. Gliding silently along, I watched the white mist rising from the water, the white moths fluttering amid the sedges, and the bats — the marshmen's " flittermice " — flying waver- ingly along the banks and around the windmills. In a little creek I noticed a clump of reeds gemmed with glow-worms ; not far from Irstead Church, which stands near the river bank a little way below the entrance to Barton Broad, I heard a nightjar churring among the trees. In the deepening night-gloom little could be seen of the small flint and stone church ; but it is worth visiting in the daytime, if only on account of its associations. For it was of this out-of-the-way parish on the verge of the marshes that William of Wykeham was rector, and a stained glass window to his memory has been put up in the church. In the days when he ministered to the spiritiial needs of the Norfolk marsh- r p THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 195 landers, whose homes were then being devastated by the ravages of the Black Death, the tall, gaunt Hamp- shire priest was an almost unknown man ; but when he died, after founding Winchester School and New College, Oxford, the world lost one of its best and greatest men. Fuller writes of him, " He was called Long from the height of his stature, though since it may apply to the perpetuity of liis memory, which will last as long as the world endureth." He stayed but a few years in Norfolk,^ for there was more important work for him to do than could be done here ; but Norfolk people are glad to beheve that he learnt something of the needs of the nation while he dwelt in their county, and they do well to cherish his memory. For, as Dean Kitchen says, " very few are they to whom God has granted the happiness of being able to achieve so much in their time." A nineteenth-century rector of Irstead, the late Rev. John Gunn, was a noted geologist, who made the so- called Forest Bed his special study. The rectory formerly contained a fine collection of fossils taken from that ^remarkable deposit, which comes to the surface along the East Anglian coast. This collection is now in Norwich Castle Museum. Irstead is the only village closely bordering on the Ant between the Bure and Barton Broad. The entrance to the Broad is a little way above that part of the river known as Irstead Shoals, where the bed of the stream is firm and pebbly. On the moonless night when the Gipsy gUded on to the wide waters of the Broad, it was so dark that the channel posts were hardly visible, ' I leave these remarks as they appear in the first edition ; but there is considerable doubt as to whether Norfolk saw very much of William of Wykeham, who, I am told, was a great pluralist, and may never have seen Irstead Church at all. 196 THE NORFOLK BROADS and sailing close" to the fringing reed-beds I often heariS the water-weed^ which cover the shallows brushing against the sides of my boat. There were few stars to be seen, for clouds had drifted up from the west since sundown ; a mist that was almost a fog hid the fenny shores. None- of the landmarks— the trees, mills, and church towers — which in the daytime serve as guides to cruisers were visible ; shoal water was only distin- guishable by its dark patches of weeds and sparse growth of rush and sedge. But the little Gi^sy sailed safely over the shallows,, hfted her sharp bow over the. matted water-weeds, and skirted the reed-beds like some large water-fowl seeking shelter for the night;i* Once she paused a moment, when some stout-stemmed rushes pressed close against her sides ; but she dragge^ herself from their embrace and soon had a clear course again. I had hoped to have run up Stalham Dyke and found lodgings for the night at a Stalham inn, but in the darkness I passed the mouth of the dyke withoilt- seeing it, and entered uidsnowingly the channel leading to Barton Staithe. A glimmering light tempted' me to draw up at one of the landing-stages, and, stepping ashore, I found a group of marshmen aiid wherrymeMj, congregated on the settles outside a little " out-license#:'*'! alehouse, which, however, was closed for the night. Knowing little about Barton — or Barton Turf, as the village is called, presumably on account of its having' been largely concerned in the turf-cutting industry — '■ I was uncertain as to whether I should find in the village a bed for the night ; but my mind was soon set. at rest. For, in response to my greeting and anxious] inquiries, there stepped out of the darkness a genial wherryman, who offered to conduct me to his brother's THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 197 jM)tise- Gladly accepting, I |eil|ip,)piJ^im up the road from tbe>;^^)6tithe to the village. Half an hour later I was sleeping soundly in as comfortable rquarters as I have discovered in Broadland. ? I awoke to find the sunlight flooding into my room ,^aiid the fragrance of flowers stealing in at the window. ^trolling down to the Broad, I could hardly believe that a few hours before I had lost my way on it. But a Barton villager whom I encountered assured me that I was by no means the first person who had done so, and that he himself, after an evening's eel-babbing, had been overtaken by a fog and compelled to spend a night on the Broad. For a fog magnifies a small ^lump of sedges until it looms as large as a reed-bed, and familiar landmarks seen through the mist assume strange and deceptive forms. On that bright summer morning Barton Broad was seen at its best. A strong breeze had; blown away the night mists and was making the reeds and gladden bow before it, while wetting their green blades with splashes of spray. Two or three wherries were drawn up at the staithe, which with its old wooden sheds and reed, rush, and log stacks in the foreground, and a Ss>ttage or two among trees in the background, looked jvery facturesque. There was a group of marshmen Sutside the alehouse, where they often stay all day ; for a marshman by working three days in the week often leams as much money as a farm-hand who works seven, aad he prefers to divide his week into equal portions ior labouring and lounging. So, at any rate, said the irhenyman who had come to my aid the night before, Ind the loungers did not contradict him. And they ,only grinned when he went to remark upon the fact that although when the marshmen went out babbing igS THE NORFOLK BROADS they invariably grumbled about the small number of eels they caught, there was always a large quantity missing when an eel-box was broken open in the night ! Freed from her moorings, the Gipsy was soon scudd- ing across the flashing waters of the Broad, and for an hour or more I enjoyed a most exhilarating sail. There were two or three smaU yachts cruising up and down the channels, and it seemed to me I was rather envied by their occupants when they saw my little boat skimming safely over the shallows and along the edge of the reed-beds. A heron seemed indignant at my intrusion into one of bis favourite haunts, for when I turned into a little inlet where the white water- crowfoot was in full bloom, the handsome bird rose suddenly within a few yards of me, greeting me with a loud, harsh cry. Then I headed again for the open water, where little wavelets slapped the Gipsy's sides and washed over her forward deck. But she shook the water from her like a water-bird after diving, and seemed to revel as much as I did in the freshness of the breeze. In Stalham Dyke, which I entered after this inspiriting sail, the water, in spite of the strong breeze, was scarcely ruffled, for the reeds were well " up," and in places grew so densely as to keep off the wind. So my progress became a more leisurely one, and I had ample time to admire the lovely white water-lilies for which the dyke is famous. There are people, whose knowledge of Broadland is confined to the more frequented Broads, who assert that the white water-lily is becoming rather rare in the district on account of its being so often gathered by visitors; but should they enter Stalham Dyke at any time during June or July, they will have no further fears as to the fate of this lovely flower. For among the large beds of reeds and rushes which THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 199 now represent the "grown-up" Sutton Broad, there are acres and acres of water covered with white hhes, presenting a scene of floral loveliness not easily to be forgotten. Growing amid the smooth dark rushes, the lilies bloom in a green twilight, and the purity of their snowy petals is preserved far longer than is the case when they are exposed to the glare and heat of the sun. It is said that the white water-lily is seen nowhere in greater perfection than in the neighbourhood of Oxford ; but I doubt whether even there it attains the size and beauty it does on Sutton Broad. Much of the land bordering Stalham Dyke has only recently been reclaimed, and even now there are swampy tracts where it is hardly safe to set foot. On these quaking fens the sweet gale grows, and with it some lovely orchids and the graceful marsh fern. Formerly the royal fern was also to be found here in abundance ; but I fear that it has met with the fate which some have dreaded for the white water-lily. As at Wicken Fen in Cambridgeshire, there survive in these swamps many of the old fen flowers that soon disappear from lands drained sufficiently to be used as grazing-grounds, and with them linger certain entomological rarities that favour such localities, and which, there is every reason to believe, will be lost to the country when the last of these fenny tracts is reclaimed. On hot summer days little clouds of midges hover over the reeds and sedges ; gnats with antennae twice the length of their frail wings alight on the decurrent reed-blades ; and butterflies and dragon-flies are seen fluttering and poising everywhere. And the wild flowers that these insects and the moths fertilise flourish— the creamy meadow-sweet, the tall cat valerian, the hemp agrimony, the giant willow-herb, the purple and yellow loose- 200 THE NORFOLK BROADS strifes, the meadow rue, and the strangely shaped orchids whose pink and purple spikes pierce the ruddy and golden bog mosses. But such swamps as produce these flowers in rank luxuriance are rare, and in a few years, unless the sea again break in upon the low-l5dng levels of Broadland, there will be none of them left. Sutton Broad is now a Broad only in name, and several of the Broads marked on old maps of the district have wholly disappeared. Over the sites of some of them the mowing machines pass, cutting down hay crops where the reeds used to wave in the wind. As time goes on the reed and rush cutters will find their occupa- tions gone, and they will have to seek other means of livelihood. This wiU be no easy matter, for the men of the rivers and marshes do not take kindly to changes. " A Norfolk Lament " ^ in the Eastern Counties Magazine well expresses the views of one of them. In it an old marshman is made to say — " They're a sluggin' an' widenin' miles o' the deeks ; I reckon the whool mash 'uU sewn ha'e to goo ; An' us old mashmen 'uU fare like the freeaks I see last summer at Bamum's shoo. Paarson say, ' Bill, yew dew narthin' but growl ! ' Well, bor I I reckon theer's plenty o' rayson. Whass become o' the flightin' fowl ? I never see fifty the whool o' last sayson. Whass become o' the gre't deeak eeals ? Shillun a stoon we wuz glad to get for 'em. Gone I with the mallards an' snipes and teeals I If ye want any now yew ha' got to sweat for 'em." Here we have a like complaint to that which the fenmen made about the reclaimers two or three centuries ago. At present, however, there is plenty of reeds and ' By Mr. James Blyth. THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 201 rushes around Sutton ; early in the year the dry banks are almost covered with stacks of them, and laden reed- rafts are continually being towed or quanted up and down the dyke. In the little town of Stalham there is not much to interest the visitor, but it is a convenient place for Broadland cruisers to take in stores. About a mile from the town, however, is the fine church of Ingham, which contains some good tombs with effigies. Formerly it possessed some very fine brasses, but they were stolen nearly a century ago. This church is of interest because it was at one time made collegiate in connection with a college or priory of the order of Mathurines. This order, which was founded in the twelfth century, possessed only four houses in England, and the largest of these was attached to Ingham Church, where some ruins of it can still be seen. Its sacrist lived in the parvise over the south porch. The greater part of the church was rebuilt by Sir MUes Stapleton, who also built the priory, and whose tomb is in the chancel. In an arch on the north side of the chancel is the tomb and effigy of Sir Oliver de Ingham, who under Edward iii. was Constable of Bordeaux and Seneschal of Gascoigne and Aquitaine.^ From Ingham Church it is about half an hour's walk to Hickling Broad, which, although not more than three miles from Stalham by road, is a great distance by water. When, the wind having died away, I rowed down Stalham Dyke to Barton Turf, I found, just before entering the Broad, an eel-sett spread across the dyke. The eel-catcher, who was seated in the stem of a small house-boat drawn up on the bank, prepared to lower a part of his net so that the Gipsy could pass over it ; 1 See page 335. 202 THE NORFOLK BROADS but being in no hurry to get back to the staithe, I landed and chatted a while with the lonely fisherman. It was early in the season for sett-working, and very few eels were "running" ; but so long as there was a chance of catching any the old man was quite content to spend the greater part of the night by the dykeside. But he was glad to have company ; and finding that, like himself, I was a Norfolk man, he soon grew confidential. We talked about wiU-o'-the-wisps, or " lantern men," as he called them, and he said it was ten years since he last saw one ; but he could remember the time when they were often seen dancing over the swampy lands bordering the dyke. They were, he assured me, a kind of " morth " (moth), and he knew a man, who lived " up Wayford Bridge way," who had shot one, " but he never found it ! " In this he was less fortunate than a Barton Turf villager whom I subsequently met, for he had seen one in the daytime, and it was like a " devil's coach-horse " beetle ! The end of its tail was its luminous part, which it turned up after the fashion of a scorpion ! But I fancy that vUlager was confusing will-o'-the-wisps with glow- worms. The eel-catcher had seen his " morths " flying about over the marshes. Though not a very old man, he had known the time when Sutton Broad was open water, and he had often heard bitterns booming among its bordering reeds. And again I heard the familiar complaint that there " worn't no fowl to speak on nowadays, an' sune there wouldn't be eels enow in th' rivers to make it wuth while to use a sett." But, in spite of aU the marshmen say, there are plenty of gunners on the marshes in winter, and I fancy there are quite as many eel-setts worked now as there have ever been. I learnt that there were still some Hewitts among the THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 203 Barton Turf marshmen. This interested me, for in Lubbock's time the Hewitts of Barton Turf— that is to say, the men among them— were all fishermen and gunners, gaining a livelihood by methods Protec- tion and Preservation Acts have now to a large extent made illegal. It was, according to Lubbock, one of the Hewitts who discovered a new way of taking tench. He had noticed the sluggish nature of these fish, especially in sultry weather, and believed he could take them with his hands. He tried to do so, and succeeded. First he rowed his fiat-bottomed marsh boat towards the weed-beds where the lusty fish lay close to the surface of the water. Generally there was a small shoal of them, and as he approached they darted away in all directions. Marking the spot — a bubble bursting on the surface of the water would indicate it — ^where one of them stopped, he slowly drew near it, then, baring his right arm to the shoulder, gently moved aside the weeds and peered among them until he saw the fish. Having found it, he carefully placed his hand under it, raised it gently but rapidly, and lifted it into the boat, where, says Lubbock, who loved to record such practices of the Broadsmen, it " often remains motionless for full a minute, and then begins apparently to perceive the fraud practised upon it." The main thing to be avoided in this method of tench-taking is, he adds, the " molesting " of the fish's tail. An experienced " feeler " for tench would easily capture five or six dozen fish in a day ; he himself had seen fifteen or sixteen good-sized fish taken in a short time. Hewitt's success induced other Broads- men to follow his example, with the result that many of them soon got to prefer using their hands rather than a net in taking tench in shallow waters. Some of them do so to-day ; but whether because they so capture 204 THE NORFOLK BROADS the largest fish, or because, as Lubbock asserts, the bow-nets are sometimes " examined " (!) before the owner takes them up, I caimot say. Next morning I returned to the Bure, but on other occasions of my visiting Barton Turf I have spent more time there. The village is a very charming one, as a few outsiders have discovered, for they come and stay there every summer, and its church possesses a screen which some consider superior to that at Ranworth. On its panels are painted sixteen figures ; but these, apparently, are not all by one hand, for some are much better done than others. Among the saints repre- sented is St. Osyth, an East Anglian saint seldom seen on rood screens. She was, according to the monkish chroniclers, a daughter of King Frithwald and Wilburga, daughter of Penda, King of Mercia. She was educated by St. Modeven, who afterwards placed her in one of her nunneries. Exceptional Divine interest was soon mani- fested in her, for, being sent one day with a message to St. Modeven, and being drowned on the way, the spot where her body lay was revealed in a vision, and she was restored to life after being dead three days. Forced by her parents to marry Sighere, King of the East Saxons, she seized an opportunity of taking the veil ; and her husband, finding her bent on living a reclusive life, built her a nunnery at Chirk, now St. Osyth, in Essex., This nunnery was plundered and destroyed by the Danes, who, failing to make St. Osyth abjure her faith, cut off her head. Immediately this was done the. wondrous martyr took her severed head in her hands and walked to a neighbouring church, where, having knocked at the door, she fell down dead. She was afterwards looked upon as the patron saint of house- keepers, and on the Barton Turf screen is represented THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 205 carrying keys. St. Apollonia, the dentists' saint, is also represented ; and on a fine screen in the south aisle are depicted the royal saints Olaf, Edmund; Edward the Confessor, and Henry vi. In the vestry two interesting brasses with Enghsh inscriptions are preserved. At Beeston, a neighbouring village, the church has a good screen on which, as on that at Belaugh, the twelve apostles are portrayed. The western arm of Barton Broad extends to the bounds of the estate of Beeston Hall, for many generations the seat of the Prestons. Among the heirlooms of this family is an emerald ring given to Jacob Preston by Charles i. just before his execution. Most writers of Broadland guides have hesitated to advise cruisers to ascend the upper waters of the Ant — that is to say, that part of the river l3dng between Stalham Dyke and North Walsham — and although the country between Barton and North Walsham contains much that is interesting, and its scenery is, in places, exceedingly pretty, I can commend their hesitancy. For since the railway came to North Walsham and took much of the carrying trade out of the wherrymen's hands, only a few wherries have regularly used the river, and parts of it have become almost unnavigable. Even when its channel was quite clear, only small yachts could sail up it ; and it has always been so narrow and winding that cruisers on it have generally found either rowing or quanting the speediest method of pro- gression. There are, however, signs of improvement. Wayford Bridge has been rebuilt and its arch span widened. Dilham with its lock and bridge, and Honing with its leafy long lane leading to the church, are among the pretty villages the cruiser on the upper Ant can 2o6 THE NORFOLK BROADS visit ; but Worstead, about a mile from Briggate Lock, is more interesting than either of them. For Worstead was once an important town, the centre of a manu- facture to which it gave its name, and its church is one of the finest in Norfolk. It was built during the most flourishing period of the town's history, and dates from the latter half of the fourteenth century. Its fine tower, 120 feet high, is in the Late Decorated style of architecture, and has some very interesting sound- holes with good tracery. The nave, which is Perpen- dicular, has a wide hammer-beam roof, and is divided from the chancel by a carved oak screen adorned with paintings of saints. The font is Perpendicular, and has an elegantly carved tabernacle cover surmounted by a floral finial. Across the tower arch extends a very fine and perfect gallery, erected at the beginning of the sixteenth century ; the chancel screen is a century older. The screen at the west end is adorned with modern paintings, copied from pictures by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The south porch, which has a parvise, is well carved and groined, and the north doorway is interesting. Apart from the church, there is little in Worstead to suggest its former prosperity. It is now a village — a very pretty one, but, except for its church, in no way remarkable. Daniel Defoe, however, when he visited this neighbourhood in 1722, was much im- pressed by it. Between Cromer and Norwich, he wrote, " are several good market towns and innumerable villages, all diligently applying to the woollen manu- facture, and the country is exceedingly fruitful and fertile, as well in corn as in pastures ; particularly, which was very pleasant to see, the pheasants were in such great plenty as to be seen in the stubbles like cocks and hens — a testimony, though, by the way. THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 207 that the county had more tradesmen than gentlemen in it ; indeed, this part is so entirely given up to industry, that what with the seafaring men on the one side, and the manufactures on the other, we saw no idle hands here, but every man busy on the main affair of life, that is to say, getting money." In North Walsham, too, there is a fine church, which, like that at Aylsham, bears the arms of John of Gaunt. It is a Perpendicular building ; but its tower, which, with its spire, rose to a height of 147 feet, is now in ruins. The font has a good tabernacle cover with a pelican for its iinial ; and some screen panels, discovered in 1844, when the church was undergoing restoration, have been placed across the aisles and chancel. On the north side of the chancel is the tomb of Sir William Paston, who died in 1608. The effigy on this tomb, the work of a London mason, was set up during Sir William's lifetime ; it represents him in full armour. He was the founder of the local Grammar School, at which Lord Nelson and Archbishop Tenison were scholars. Several of the Norfolk churches contain memorials to members of the famous Paston family, but the finest is in Paston Church, about four miles from North Walsham, where is a remarkably good monument, the work of Nathaniel Stone, to Catherine, wife of Sir Edmimd Paston, who died in 1628. In the sculptor's diary the following entry has reference to this tomb : " In 1629 I made a tomb for my Lady Paston, and set it up at Paston, and was very extraordinarily entertained and pay'd for it £340." Another Sir William Paston, a judge in the reign of Henry iv., is also buried in this church. Other monuments by Stone are to Sir Edward and 2o8 THE NORFOLK BROADS Sir Edmund Paston, and there is a brass bearing this inscription — • " Here Erasimus Paston and Marye his wyffe enclosed are in claye Which is the restinge place off fleache untill the latter daye Ofi sonnes thre & daughters nyne the Lord them parents made Ere cruell death did worke his cruell spite or fykell ly^fi did fade." Of the Pastons' old home, from which many of the famous Paston Letters were written, the only trace is an old farm bam. The house stood not far from the coast, which in the fifteenth century seems to have been exposed to the attacks of pirates ; for we find Agnes Paston writing to her son that the pirates " have thys weke takn iiij vesselys of Wyntyrton, and Hapis- borough, and Ecles. Men be sore aferd for takyn of me for ther ben x grete vesselys of the enemyis. God give grace that the see may be better kepte than it is now, or ellys it shall ben a perylous dweUyng by the se cost." A short distance from North Walsham, on the Norwich road, stands an old stone cross erected to commemorate the Litester insurrection of 1381. But North Walsham and its neighbourhood can hardly be called a part of Broadland. When Barton Broad has been crossed, no Broads of any size or importance retard the seaward flow of the narrow, winding Ant. True, there are a few little pools — all that is left of what were once wide expanses of water — but they in no respect differ from those that vary the course of nearly every lowland stream. Antingham Ponds, in which the Ant has its source, are so shallow and " grown-up " that they are not worth visiting, even if the channel leading to them were navigable. THE ANT AND ITS BROADS 209 At no time were they largely visited by Broadland cruisers, and the time cannot be far distant when even so crazy a craft as that in which Mr. Christopher Davies adventured upon them will hardly find open water enough to sink in. 14 CHAPTER XI THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS COMPARED with the Ant, the Thume is a wide river, between Kendal Dyke and Thume Mouth so deep that the largest Broadland craft can cruise on it. Flowing through one of the wildest and least populated districts in Norfolk, it is undoubtedly the best river for such voyagers as come into Broadland for a restful holiday, and they may well be content to devote the whole of their time to its pleasant waters, fine Broads, and the wild, lonesome seaboard lying a little way beyond the borders of Horsey Mere. If Broadland consisted only of this river, Hickling Broad, Horsey Mere, and Heigham Sounds, it would be a district unique within the borders of Britain ; for while the beauty of the famous Bure Broads is of a kind not confined to Broadland, the charm and loveliness of Heigham Sounds, and its wide, wild marshes, are such as cannot be enjoyed elsewhere in England. In Heigham Sounds we have, as at Rockland, a Fenland mere in its primitive state, such as Whittlesea was ere the reclaimers came and transformed its reedy waters into pastures and cornfields. Almost unchanged in aspect from what it was a thousand years ago, secrets of the early world seem to be whispered still among the reeds ; and there are times — as when dusk comes down on land and water 210 THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 211 — ^when it seems no hard matter to read them. Sur- rounded by scenes whose beauty man has done nothing or little to mar — where the handiwork is all Nature's— it is easy for the solitary cruiser to become a primitive child of Nature, a " summer-saturated heathen," and in so mingling his identity with hers, to drink in delight from the fountain-head of pleasure. After a few hours spent amid such scenes, he may become conscious of a return to primitive simplicity of thought and inchnatiori, of an ability hitherto, even if possessed, unexercised, to distinguish the essential from the superfluous, and to rest content with such things as nearly every man can claim as his own. And unless he has lost one of the greatest gifts bestowed on man, it is possible for him, in a little while, to understand what Thoreau, meant when he wrote that he had " never found the companion who was so companionable as solitude." To a district where such untarnished loveUness and such primevalness survive, there could hardly be a more fitting portal than the mediaeval bridge spanning the river at Potter Heigham. Up to this point, and for a mile or so beyond it^ the voyager's course lies between the widespreading marshes of the West Flegg and Happing Hundreds. On a decUvity near the mouth of the river, on the east side, is the little village of Thume, which gave its name to the stream. The church, stand- ing on the top of the hiU, is a building in mixed styles, remarkable for containing one of the few existing bells made by William de Norwyco, a fourteenth century bell-founder. A good view of the ruins of St. Benet's Abbey can be obtained from the tower, in which there is a round hole, formerly, tradition says, used as a "look-out," through which signals were made to and received from the inmates of the abbey. The 212 THE NORFOLK BROADS nave Jias a good hammer-beam roof with carved bosses/ On a map of Norfolk by Tacden, issued in 1797, a Broad as large as that at Ouiton is marked as being situated near the village : it was called Thume Broad. AU traces of it have disappeared, and Womack Broad, once a fairly extensive sheet of water on the opposite side of the river, seems likely at no very distant time to become equally indistinguishable. Not very long ago, Womack Broad, which is con- nected with the river by a long dyke, was of fair size • now there is little more than an acre of it — a widening of the channel by which the wherries reach the village of Ludham at its north end. But it still has some pretty nooks and comers where marshmen's boats are moored or a cottage stands near its banks ; and it is worth visiting not on this account only, but because Ludham Old HaU, once a residence of the Abbots of St. Benet's Abbey, can easily be reached from Ludham Staithe. Very little of the original building is left, for in 1611 it was almost destroyed by fire ; but a brick chapel, which Bishop Harsnet built when the house came into the possession of the Bishops of Norwich, is stiU stand- ing, and is used as a bam. The village church is a Perpendicular building, chiefly interesting on account of its weU-carved screen and font. Between Womack Dyke and Potter Heigham are two or three fine old windmills, good specimens of the picturesque stractures whose work, it is to be feared, will, at no very distant date, be done by ugly brick or corrugated iron housed steam-pumps. A spare half- hour may be well spent in examining one of these old mills, especially if the millman be present to explain the working of it. The interior is often an eerie place. THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 213 badly lighted, and care is needed in climbing the steep, ladder-like flights of steps connecting the floors; but the view from the top of the mill repays one for the climb. The machinery consists of little besides a long perpendicular shaft and some large cogwheels ; but the latter look very formidable, being usually without any protective casing, and the racket made by some of the mills as soon as they are set going is simply deafening. Even on calm nights strange noises are heard in the dark chambers — faint sighings, creakings, and groanings, rats scampering over the floors, and birds fluttering among the roof beams ; so it is easy to understand why some of the mills are believed to be haunted. Some, too, have tragic histories ; for lone millmen, compelled to stay all night in them when a strong wind was blowing and the dykes were filled with flood-water, have been caught and crushed in the great cog-wheels. And tales are told of mills near Horsey and Hickling having been used as storehouses by the smugglers who ran cargoes on the East Norfolk coast. Potter Heigham Bridge has been for a long time a favourite subject with artists, but its surroundings have changed greatly of late years. For Potter Heigham has become a popular yachting centre, and along the banks of the river, both above and below the bridge^ there are now innimierable boat-sheds. The old Water- man's Arms has been puUed down and a new inn built, and it will not be surprising if before very long some- thing is said about building a new bridge. But to remove the old structure would be a great pity, for Potter Heigham Bridge, with its rounded central arch and pointed flanking ones, is a fine example of mediaeval bridge - building. A few years ago the village was almost as mediaeval as the bridge. Then it was 214 THE NORFOLK BROADS that the curious gate-sign of the Falgate Inn bore the lines— ^ " This gate hang high But hinder none. Refresh and pay And travel on " — now, I regret to say, an inscription repainted and, by being made grammatical, made commonplace. But this was at a time when weight was attached to the sayings of old Mrs. Lubbock of Irstead, a kind of " wise woman" or Mother Shipton, who said, "Blessed are they that live near Potter Heigham, and double blessed them that live in it." She was an uncanny old woman, this Mrs. Lubbock, for most of her prognostications were of wars and rumours of wars. She it was who stated that " the town of Yarmouth shaU become a nettle-bush " ; that " England , shall be won and lost three times in one day, and that principally through an embargo to be laid upon vessels." " There is to come," she added, " a man who shall have three thumbs on one hand, who is to hold the King's horse in battle ; he is to be born in London, and be a miller by business. The battle is to be fought at Rackheath-stone Hill, on the Norwich road. Ravens shall carry the blood away, it will be so clotted. The men are to be killed, so that one man shall be left to seven women, and the daughters shall come homp and say to their mothers, ' Lawk, mother, I have seen a man ! ' " Broadland, cruisers may find comfort in her forecast that " bridges shall be pulled up, and small vessels sail to Irstead and Barton Broad " — a prophecy which seems to point to the removal of that awkward obstacle to navigation, Ludham Bridge. But nowadays Potter Heigham moves with the times, and its " wise women " are those enter- THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 215 prising village housewives who, as they significantly, tell you, " take in " visitors. . A little way above the old stone bridge another bridge spans the river— an ugly iron one, over which runs the coast railway from Yarmouth to Cromer. Then, on the right, a short distance back from the river, the tower of the ruined church at Bastwick; is seen. From this point onward to Kendal Dyke the scenery is, for the most part, a repetition of that of the lower waters of the Thume ; but the natural grouping of the waterside cottages and windmills is, in one or two places, even more picturesque than any to be seen below the bridge. In little inlets in the banks several house-boats are moored ; but these do not all belong to the eel-catchers, some being moored here for the convenience of their pleasure-seeking owners. The eel-catchers, however, are much in evidence, and the setts between Potter Heigham and Heigham Sounds are considered to be by far the best situated in the Broadland rivers. For when the eels are " running," immense shoals of them leave Hickling Broad, Horsey Mere, and the Sounds, and on their way to the sea they must all pass through Kendal Dyke and down the Thurne. Kendal Dyke in itself differs in no way from many other dykes and chaimels in Broadland ; but there are many men, lovers of wild Ufe and wild beauty, to whom it is, as it were, a water-path leading to a natural paradise. It is a waterway along which, if it were possible, every fresh voyager in Broadland should pass unconscious of what is before him ; the impression made upon him by a glimpse of Heigham Sounds would then be un- influenced by previous surmises and imaginings. For it is impossible for either the artist in colours or the 2i6 THE NORFOLK BROADS artist in words to do anything like justice to this wild wilderness of reeds and water, and so convey a definite idea of it to one who has never seen it. To attempt to do so is trying to describe the indescribable : one can only give One's own impressions, and these, it seems to me, unsatisfactorily. For the average man has no opportunity of coming in contact with the absolutely primeval in Nature ; and when he sees something that in a way suggests it, he is at a loss to find words or other means to give expression to his feelings. He has been born too late to have known what England was like before it became, what an American writer has called it, " a well-groomed country " ; too late to have known it as a land of wide forests, heaths, and fens. So, when he is Suddenly brought into the midst of a district still wearing an aspect borne by a great part of his native land centuries before he became a dweller in it, and that strikes him at first as being crude, un- tamed, and as it were unorthodox, it takes him some time to get in harmony with his surroundings and adapt himself to their moods. In Heigham Sounds we have left to us a typical Fenland mere of the pre-reclamation days. In all there are something like 125 acres of water ; but at first glance it is hard to believe it, for some of the reed- beds have so increased in size of late years that much of the open water lying beyond the largest pool, through which a channel runs, is hidden. To estimate the size of such a sheet of water is difficult. On almost every side the reeds, during the greater part of the year, confine the cruiser's outlook, and there are no neighbour- ing heights to command a good view of the Sounds. Beyond the reeds is a low, flat, fenny country, where rushes and sedges are almost as pleiltiful as meadow THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 217 grass. Here and there is a solitary windmill, guardian and preserver of its surrounding iliarshes. In one direction only is the outlook varied ; there a fir copse shows its blue-green foliage above the reeds and against the sky. Ever37where else reeds and water, reedmace and fen sedge ; for of such are Heigham Sounds. Little enough to rave about, some may say ; and if they come to the sounds expecting to find a pretty Broad, like Ranworth, Salhouse, or South Walsham, they wiU be disappointed, for there is nothing pretty about the Sounds. But there is beauty, fascination, charm ; and one who stays long enough on this watery wilderness wiU in time become enthralled. For he will find that almost every day it has a new aspect, a different mood, and that almost every hour aspect or mood undergoes a subtle change. Colours such as he never even dreamt were to be found on Nature's palette, will be spread over the rippling water and wiU dye the quivering air-films which veil the whispering reeds. Mirages, evanescent and beautiful, will bewilder him at noontide ; mist-wraiths, vague and mystic, will haunt him at dusk and dawn. For him the wind among the reeds will make weird music, and at times whisper strange secrets of the early world in his ear. If he have any imagination, he will see visions and dream dreams. He will see not only coots, grebes, and herons, which are always around him, but the buzzards hovering over the fens and the ruffs dancing before the reeves among the sedge ; and he will hear not only the " chucking " of the reed birds and the " chinging " of the titmice, but also the booming of the bittern and the creaking of the black tern. In the eel-catcher rowing his punt towards his sett he will see an old-time Broadsman spreading his hundred-yards-long draw-net and hauling 2i8 THE NORFOLK BROADS it in so laden with roach and bream that he can hardly get it on board his boat again. Broadland as it was in the past, before Wild-Fowl Protection and Fisheries Preservation Acts altered the lives of the men of the rivers and marshes, will become as real to him as the Broadland of to-day. For it was on and around Heigham Soimds that the characteristic wild life of Broadland was most abundant in those bygone days, and it is here that even now it can be studied under more favourable conditions than anywhere else in the district. The bitterns are gone, the black terns are gone, and so too are the avocets and spoonbills, the ruffs and reeves ; but coots, water-hens, and grebes abound, and among the reeds can still be found that rare and handsome little fen bird, the bearded titmouse. This little bird, it is sometimes feared, will one day be numbered among England's lost breeding birds, for slowly yet surely its favourite haunts, the reed-girt marshland meres, are disappearing, and now that it has become very rare, the gunner, in spite of the legal protection afforded it, seldom spares it. Mr. J. H. Gumey, who has written a valuable and interesting monogr^iph on this species, estimates that there were in 1898 not more than a hundred of these birds left in Broadland, and that of these the greater number fre- quented Heigham Sounds, where about half a dozen nests were reported to have been built in the spring of that year. In the spring and summer of 1901 they appeared to be fairly- numerous among the reed-beds of the Sounds ; every time I was there I heard their musical call-note and saw them taking short flights over the rustling reeds. Once or twice in the springtime, before the yoimg reeds were "up," I caught a glimpse of one of them hanging first sideways and then almost Q Z; O THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 219 head downwards on a last year's yellow reed-stalk ; but for fear of disturbing them I did not try; to find a nest. It was a sight worth seeing to watch the Uttle acrobat going through his performance. Mr. Gumey says that " in its nest and all that con- cerns the bearded tit the protective colour may be traced. The old cock's black moustachios . . . are like the dark comers in the reeds, and his tawny colouring harmonises with the brown tints of autumn. Nowhere is the harmony of Nature better seen than in the blending colours of the birds, insects, and flowers of Norfolk Broads, where ever3rthing seems made to suit its sur- roundings. Push your boat into the reeds and lie still, and then a more beautiful object than a cock bearded tit, clinging tail uppermost to a tall reed-stem, gently waving in the wind, it is diificult to imagine. Except in the vicinity of their nests, or when curiosity gets the better of them, they are decidedly shy, and inclined to hide low ; but by their nests they are better to be seen, as they flit restlessly across one mown open space after another, and sometimes in their anxiety for their eggs betray their whereabouts. They become more un- suspecting when they have young, their care for whom causes them to defy danger and go straight to the very nest in the presence of spectators — yet they have instinct enough to creep to it rather than to fly. If there is the least wind, the reed pheasants, as they are called by the natives, are not very likely to show themselves, for, strange to say, what will wave the tops of the reeds will keep them at the bottom. I have been surprised when walking with an old marshman, an experienced egger, to notice how often he heard their note when neither of us could see the bird, long experience in looking for them having sharpened his ear; but it is 220 THE NORFOLK BROADS not loud at any time, though described by some persons as shrill, and by Stevenson as ringing and silvery. In- deed, Lord Lilford, who was fond of the Norfolk Broads, says its note once heard can never be mistaken for that of any other Emropean bird by a good ear, which no doubt he had. Several authors have alluded to the clear ringing of their call-notes, which an admirer (Crespon) compares to the sounds produced by the cords of a French mandohn." I shall not soon forget a summer evening I spent on Heigham Sounds. A day of wild weather — ^of racing clouds, scanty sun-gleams, and sudden rain-squalls — was drawing to a close. The wind had died away, and hardly a ripple disturbed the water's reflections of the reeds and sedges. My boat was moored in a little inlet among the reeds, where my outlook was towards Whites- lea, beyond which some yachts' masts and two windmills stood out clearly against the sky. On the opposite side of the Sounds a pair of swans had fallen asleep, lulled, as it were, by the soft whispering of the reeds. All around, among the reeds, coots were calling harshly ; from the marshlands came the crying of some unseen curlews ; once a great crested grebe stole out of a reed- shoal and dived within a few yards of my boat. Cuckoos were calling in the old carr where the herons used to build, and were answered by others in a copse towards the Hickling end of the Sounds. As the hour of sunset approached, the coots crept from the cover of the reeds and swam out on tO' the open water, where they dived for food, undisturbed until the clanking of a rowlock sent them scurrying back to the reeds. Close to the reeds the bream were lurking, sending up little air- bubbles, which burst when they reached the surface of the water ; at times a fish leapt half out of the water THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 221 and sent a gleaming ring of ripples widening towards the shore. As the sun sank behind a long, low doud- bank, another sun seemed to rise towards it out of the depths of the Sounds ; but both rising and setting sUns soon vanished, leaving on sky and water an amber glow, darkened here and there by grey-green wisps of cloud. Across this band of amber light three herons, which appeared from the direction of Horsey Mere, went slowly winging westward, calling "frank, frank" as they went. Presently another heron came in sight, flsring low over the reeds and water, and in the middle of the Sounds alighted on one of the channel posts, where it stayed a few moments, clearly outlined against the sky. Whiteslea, though formerly a large sheet of water, is now little more than a fairly wide channel or reedy pool connecting Hickling Broad with Heigham Sounds. The entrance to it is at the western end of the Sounds, a little way to the left of the posts which mark the mouth of the old Meadow Dyke leading to Horsey Mere. But 1 Hickling, though its area has decreased of late years, is still the largest of the Broads. Not so very long ago, Hickling, Whiteslea, and Heigham Sounds together formed a Broad about 650 acres in extent ; but the " growing up " of Whiteslea has resulted in Hickling with its 460 acres and Heigham Sounds with its 120 acres becoming distinct Broads. Hickling at first glance seems even larger than it really is, so low and flat are its shores j when mist hides its bordering reed-beds its waters appear limitless. The channel across it, from Whiteslea to Hickling Staithe, is marked by a lomg line of posts, which yachts must keep to star- board ; but there is a branching cha:nnel leading westward to Ca,tfield Staithe. Yachtsmen who are familiar with the Broad take care to keep close to the posts ; for the 222 THE NORFOLK BROADS width of the channel varies, and not even the wherrymen are always sure how far from the posts it is safe to venture. Except in the channel, the depth of water is hardly an37where more than three feet ; even small yachts, drawing not more than two feet, often find their progress checked by shoals and matted masses of water-weeds. Lacking the wild beauty of the Sounds, Hickling Broad has' little to recommend it to summer cruisers. But in the neighbourhood of the staithes there are some picturesque nooks^ and corners where wherries and old flat-bottomed reed-rafts and marsh boats are moored in dykes and inlets gay with brightly blooming wild flowers. The small sailing boats, too — which are the handiest boats for exploring this Broad — look very dainty little craft when they spread their white sails and race or tack across the wide waters. Sometinies you may see what look like small haystacks — one, per- haps, with a sail hoisted above it — floating down the channel ; these are reed-rafts laden with hay, which the marshmen are quanting or sailing from the banks of the Old Meadow Dyke to Hickling Staithe. But these characteristic craft are more often afloat in winter, when the reed-cutters are at work on Hickling, Whiteslea, and the Sounds ; then the reed-rafts are continually passing, laden or empty, up and down the Broad. But when sharp weather sets in, and the Broad is frozen, as it sometimes is, for weeks together^ the rafts disappear, and even the heavy wherries cannot break their way through the ice. Instead, one or two ice-yachts are seen, and maybe a marshman's gun-punt mounted on wooden runners. These glide with amazing speed over the^mooth ice, where there is ample room for tbem, and skaters, as a rule, are few. At such times other r. Vl ~~~-«5 THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 223 bird-voices than the famiUar ones of coot and grebe are heard among the reeds— the voices of wild fowl driven southward from the frozen North. But the " Hickling Skater," the ghost of the young soldier who used to meet his sweetheart on the Swim Coots inarsh on the Heigham side of the Broad, no longer startles the belated skater by dashing past him on the ice ; for that strange wraith has not been seen for many years. About three quarters of a mile from Hickling Staithe is the village of Hickling, where there is little of interest except the church. Of the Augustinian Priory founded by Theobald de Valoins in 1185, some scanty remains can be seen attached to a farmstead about half a mile north of the church, but the walls have almost dis- appeared. Formerly Hickling was a place of some importance ; it was a market town, and in the reign of Henry iii. was granted an annual three days' fair. Catfield, where is the nearest railway station, is a village about two miles from Hickling Staithe. Its church, a restored Decorated building, contains some good work ; but more interest attaches to the rectory, which was for some time the home of the poet Cowper. Stal- ham is about four mUes from the Staithe, and can be reached by way of Ingham, where are the fine church and the priory ruins referred to in the chapter on the river Ant. An isolated pool called Calthorpe Broad is situated about a mile north of Hickling Priory ; but it is scarcely worth while for a stranger to go out of his way to obtain the special permission necessary before he can see it. Indeed, the visitor whose time is limited does well if he contents himself with a sail across Hickling Broad and then returns to Heigham Sounds. For if he has come straight away from Potter Heigham he 224 THE NORFOLK BROADS will not yet have sailed up the Old Meadow Dyke and seen Horsey Mere. The Old Meadow Dyke is one of those navigable channels which in several cases connect Broads with the rivers or with other Broads. It is about a mile and a half long, very narrow, and branches off in a north-easterly direction from the Sounds, near the point where another channel leads from the latter into Whiteslea. In many respects it closely resembles the waterway between the Bure and South Walsham Broad, but it is rather deeper than that dyke, and its course not quite so tortuous. Its water is usually very clear, so that its subaqueous weeds,— narrow and broad leaved pond-weeds, matted th3niie-weed, and dark bunches of homwort, — which grow luxuriantly, can easily be seen and identified. On both sides of the dyke are wide stretches of marsh, rather more fenny than those bordering the main rivers. On these marshes, and by the waterside, some rare sedges are to be found ; also some fine tall water-grasses, among them the taU fescue {Festuca elatior, Sm.), the aquatic meadow grass, and the purple reed grass. During July, when the meadow rue, willow-herb, and flowering rush are in full bloom, the dyke banks are very beautiful, and the fragrance of the meadow-sweet on sultry days is almost overpowering. In places the waterside flowers attain such a height as to conceal the haymaJsers at work on the marshes ; they have to be cut down with scythes before the reed-rafts can be loaded with hay. Where such a clearing is made, cruisers on the dyke get a wide view, and see the stalwart marshmen swinging their scythes among the long grass, exposed to the scorching blaze of the summer sun. For on marsh nor dyke is there shelter from the sun-glare, except THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 225 where the reeds rise high around some narrow inlet, or a reed-thatched cattle shed stands in the midst of the grass and flowers. As the voyager approaches the Horsey end of the dyke, he becomes aware of the presence of a rare feature in Broadland scenery. Before him, ia the distance,, he sees a long, ragged ridge of maram-hills, the sandy sides of which, when lit up by the sun, stand out in striking contrast to the green of the marshlands in the foregroimd and the blue of the sky beyond. When he reaches the Mere, he finds these sand-hiUs clearly outlined on the horizon, but little else, except perhaps the salt savour of a sea wind, to suggest that he is within a rmle and a half of the sea. The Mere, though smaller than HickHng and Barton, is wider than Wroxbam, the beauty of which, compared with that of this lovely lagoon, seems somewhat commonplace. Like Heighani Sounds, it continually reveals fresh loveliness and weaves new spells of enchantment. It is an almost circular Broad, fringed with reeds, beyond which, in one direction, is a narrow belt of woodland. Innumerable coots nest among the reeds, and their cries are often the only sounds that break the silence of the placid waters ; for yachtsmen, daunted by the difficulties of the Old Meadow Dyke, seldom visit the Mere, and the only rowing boats seen on it are those belonging to its owners. With the exception of a private fishing-house on a little wooded promontory almost opposite the mouth of the Old Meadow Dyke, hardly a human habitation is visible from the Mere ; and as a rule the cruiser who visits it finds no one afloat on its waters. This was the ease when, in the twiUght of a summer evening, I sailed on to Horsey. The httle Gipsy, gliding before a dying breeze, crept slowly through the water, which, although 15 226 THE NORFOLK BROADS the sun had set and the sunset's glories faded, still had the sheen of a silver shield. A pale mist almost hid the bordering reeds and magnified the coots on the open water so that they looked like the large gulls seen at night on the Breydon fiats. Above the mist, in the direction of Hickling, a tall windmill loomed like a phantom guardian of the Mere. The coots were silent ; not a whisper was heard among the reeds, which the failing breeze scarcely stirred ; not a sound came from the hidden village behind the trees, not a murmur from the sea. The Mere slumbered like a lake in Dreamland, over which the night was drawing a dewy coverlet, white and smooth except where a little islet of sedge and sallow ruffled its filmy folds, and the Gipsy's white sail, slackly waving from the mast, swept aside the ethereal gauze. There was something suspensive in the stillness and silence : earth, sky, and water seemed to be breathlessly watching and waiting. Such absolute quietude was almost weird. One could fancy the world so waiting, hushed and awed, for the final cataclysm. But it was only the calm before the storm. Next morning, when, with little more than the peak of my punt's sail showing above her decks, I ventured out on to the Mere, a wild wind was whipping the surface of the water into white-crested wavelets, and robbing some of the alders and sallows of their as yet green leaves. The sun was shining brightly, except now and again when, for a few moments, a fl3dng cloud darkened it and cast a shadow on the distant sandhills. Not a coot was to be seen where the evening before there were a hundred ; but over the flashing water some seagulls were wheeling, their white wings gleaming in the sunlight. On the marshes the tall grasses tossed and gleamed amid a foam of meadow-sweet, the sheen THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 227 of their slanting stems suggesting the spears and lances of a hidden army of fays. From every side came the varied notes of the wind's song — from the grasslands a sibilant "sishing," from the reed-beds a shriller symphony, from the sallows a whistling of lashing wands, and from beyond the sandhills and the deep-breathing woodlands the incessant roaring of the surf on the shore. Landing near the entrance to the Old Meadow Dyke, I strolled along a marsh wall leading to the nearest windmill. At times, when wind-gusts swept down upon me, I could hardly make headway ; at every stile and marsh gate I was glad to rest a while and regain breath. Nowhere along the footpath was there shelter from the furious blasts ; and at length I abandoned the path and trespassed on a swampy marsh lying a few feet below the wall. There, as there was no chance of further cruising until the storm moderated, I wandered amid waving tufts of white cotton-grass, and sought for sundews on the brilliant-hued patches of bog-moss. I could not find them ; but there were beautiful little pink-belled bog pimpernels trailing over the moss, adders' tongues sending up their slender spikes, thistles nodding their purple heads, and mone5^worts creeping amid the grasses and sedges. FragUe eyebright hid amid the long grass, where, too, the tiny starwort lurked ; but the straggling purple-blue marsh pea was conspicuous in several places, and there were signs that the lovely grass of Parnassus would soon be in bloom. Among the fragrant spiraeas a swallow- tail butterfly fluttered, and innumerable five-spotted bumets were abroad in spite of the wind ; but most of the insect life of the swampy marsh lurked among the sedges, grasses, and bog moss. There, in a dense jungle of stems, blades, leaves, and blossoms, thousands 228 THE NORFOLK BROADS of minute beetles and ephemeral midges were living their little lives, never venturing out of the green twilight of their marish underworld. They had their enemies, animal and vegetable, but the wild wind left them as undisturbed as it did the inhabitants of the depths of the sea. Returning to the waU, I met a marshman on his way to the mill. Talking of the weather reminded him of the November gale of 1897, when the sea broke through the sandhills and overflowed the Horsey marshes. " If yow'd ha' sin th' sea come in," he said, " yow'd ha' thowt we wor all a-goin' to be drownded. It come in acrost th' Warren for nigh three hours — tUl th' tide went out ; an' if it hadn't ha' bin for th' deeks bein' pretty nigh empty at th' time, I don't know what would ha' happened. An' mind yow," he went on, " sich a thing never owght to ha' happened. There's th' Com- mish'ners ; it's their bisness to luke arter th' merri- mills, an' if they'd a-done it as they should ha' done, th' sea 'ud never ha' got tru. Kapin' th' sea out ain't a one-man-an'-a-boy job, as some o' th' Commish'ners fare to think 'tis. Why, there was one Comniish'ner he say tu me, ' What's wantin' is plenty o' faggots.' Says I to him, ' Sir, there wor faggots enow aU riddy to be used long afore th' storm come, but no one was towd to use 'em.' 'Ah,' he say, ' that was werry wrong ; it owght ter taach us a lesson.' Says I, ' Some folks take a daal o' taachin',' an' he larfed ; but, thinks I, it ain't no lariin' matter. But he didn't own no land out this way ; his property wor all out Norwich way. Another man what come to hev a luke round when th' mills wor a-clearin' th' deeks fared a sight more consarned about th' fish bein' killed by th' salts than he did about anything else. ' Shockin',' he say, ' shock- THE THURNE AND ITS BROADS 229 in' ! ' ' That 'tis, sir,' says I ; * some o' us mash folk stand a gude chance o' bein' drowrided if sufi&n' ain't done.' ' Ah,' he say, ' that 'ud be werry sad, but I wor a-thinkin' about th' fish ! ' " After leaving the marshman, I rowed back across the Mere, having a hard struggle to reach the entrance to the narrow reedy dyke leading to the staithe and the big turbine pump-mill. I then rambled down to the village, formerly, before the road to Somerton was made, one of the least accessible by land on the East Norfolk coast. The church, which is only a few minutes' walk from the Mere, contains a fifteenth-century screen and some old poppy-head benches. Shortly after midday the gale moderated, but there was a strong breeze blowing when I again crossed the Mere and entered Waxham Dyke. This dyke, some- times called the New Cut, is a very narrow channel leading from the north side of the Mere northward to Waxham and Palling. Until lately it was in a very neglected state, owing to the wherries having temporarily ceased trading with Palling ; but a revival of the carry- ing trade has led to its being bottom-fyed, and it is now possible for shallow draughted yachts to follow in the wake of the wherries. When I last sailed up the dyke, however, the bottom-fying had not been completed, and just beyond a rough driftway leading to the hamlet of Waxham a dam was placed across the dyke, barring further progress towards Palling. So, leaving the Gipsy in the hands of a millman whose miU and cottage stand on the bank near the bottom of the driftway, I set out for a stroll towards the coast. At Waxham the sandhills rise to an impressive height, constituting a barrier through which it seems impossible for the sea to break. Standing on their 230 THE NORFOLK BROADS summit, one sees stretching towards Horsey on the one hand and Palling on the other, a long serrated ridge of sand hillocks, rising in places to a height of fifty or sixty feet. But high as is this ridge, its breadth, compared with that of the denes or dunes between Yarmouth and Caister, is inconsiderable, and so in- substantial are its sandy slopes, that every exceptionally high tide scours away tons of sand. Inland lie wide levels of marshland, shimmering in sun haze or checkered with light and shade. They have been won from the sea — won by a process largely natural — but the sea seems bent on winning them back again. For the character of the coast has changed since the days when the lowlands were reclaimed. Then, the wearing away of cliff promontories to the northward resulted in the forming of natural sand barrieris lower down the coast ; now, the promontories are gone, and the wave-scour is felt to the southward, where, whenever a strong wind from the westward swells the sea tides, the sand- hills are weakened. Old landmarks are disappearing ; Eccles church tower, which a few years ago stood amid the sandhills about two miles from the Town Gap at Happisburgh, is gone, just as the village went that once clustered about its walls. Thousands of acres of land, too, are gone into the sea, which, unsated, continues its incessant siege. Sea Breach Commis- sioners make feeble attempts to withstand this siege, but the enemy is far too strong for them. Their suc- cesses in the past were chiefly due to the assistance of natural forces ; their failures in the future — for everything seems to point to failure — will be through lack of that assistance. Lyell, in his Principles of Geology, suggests that the protection afforded by the sandhills can be only temporary, " Hills of blown ►J s D 55 K O < a p ►J o a X " The " footbaull " at which this unfortunate man was injured was probably a camping match played on a Sunday. Another entry states that a certain woman had two children at a birth "which, through the mistake of two or three good old women, were baptized Edward and Robert, when the aforesaid Edward was a daughter and Robert a son." CHAPTER XII ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY BROADS IN the days when those Norse Viking raiders whom the early EngUsh historians indiscriminatingly call Danes established a considerable settlement in that East Anglian district now contained in the Norfolk Hundreds of East and West Flegg, there lay, between what are now the Hundreds, a large arm, extending northward and eastward of the estuarine valley of the Bute. Into that wide arm or bay the Norse- men brought their ships, leaving them safely moored on it or drawn up on its shores, while they founded a little colony in the neighbourhood by taking possession of the homes and holdings of the Saxon dwellers on that isolate island tract which lay to the north of the entrance to the great East Angliem estuary. They had little difficulty in subduing the land. The Romans, who had built a strong fortress to guard the mouth of the estuary, were gone ; the Saxons of this part of East Angha, probably few in number and knowing little of warfare, were unable to resist invasion. To a seafaring folk hke the Norsemen the district offered many attractions. In every direction bays or inlets ran up into the land, not unlike — though very much smaller than— those which fretted the rugged coasts of their native land. On the banks of these inlets 238 Ik ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY 239 they could easily establish themselves, exist on the fish that abounded in the estuary and the wild-fowl that flocked to its swampy shores, and disregard the threats of any Saxons who may have been able to retain possession of the higher lands in the heart of East Anglia. They were practically secure against attack ; when they manned their warships and set out on raiding expeditions into the interior of the countries of the North Folk and South Folk of East AngUa, it was scarcely necessary to leave any of their fighting men to guard the homesteads they had built or seized. That they held the island district of the Fleggs some considerable time, seems probable, for they have left their mark upon it — the names they gave their settle- ments are borne by the Flegg hamlets to-day. In the names Rollesby, Mautby, Thrigby, and others, are embodied those of Norse sea-kings ; and Ormesby is in all probability derived from the Norse " orm," a serpent, a name the Vikings often gave their ships. I When the mouth of the great estuary narrowed and the swampy lands of the Broadland valleys became comparatively firm and dry, the " orms' bei " or ships' bay was separated from the main channel of the Bure valley waters except in so far as it was connected with it by the dykes that drained the new lands formed between Stokesby and Flegg Burgh. As in the case of Fritton, the bay became a land-locked lake, which gradually decreased in size until its area was less than a thousand acres. It then stretched from the borders of Thrigby to those of Hemsby, spreading out arms in several directions, and in places narrowing and shoaling so that horsemen could ride through it. In course of time, bridges, led up to by raised causeways, were built over these narrow shallows, and the lake 240 THE NORFOLK BROADS was divided into what are practically three distinct Broads. But although the northernmost of these Broads is called Ormesby, the southernmost Filby, and the middle sheet of water Rollesby, even the natives of the district, not excepting the owners of the Broads and the lands adjoining them, can give no definite information as to their precise limits. Indeed, some writers affirm that there are in reality seven Broads adjoining one another, namely. Old Burgh, Filby and Burgh, Filby, Water Lily, Rollesby and Ormesby, Waterworks, and Hemsby Broads. But if every inlet or arm were to be called a Broad, and every sheet of water were to receive a different name from each of its adjoining parishes, the list of Norfolk Broads would be a. formidable one. For years it has been the dream of; certain Broadland cruisers that " one day some one " will make the Muck Fleet navigable, and so make it possible for yachts to sail from the Bure to Filby Broad. But year after year passes, and nothing is done ; nor is it likely that the riparian owners will ever consent to a scheme which, if it were carried out, would result in Ormesby becoming as popular with yachting folk as Oulton and Wroxham are to-day. In all probability visitors to Ormesby, Rollesby, and Filby wiU always have to content them- selves with journeying to these Broads in the prosaic manner of road and rail travellers, and when they go afioat on them it will be in the somewhat antiquated rowing boats on hire at the inns. The scenery of these .Broads is pleasantly varied. The shores are well wooded ; there are quiet creeks not unlike those of Barton, islets fringed with fen sedge, willow herbs, and purple-topped marsh thistles, swampy tracts redolent of water-mints and bright with purple ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY 241 and yellow loosestrife, underwoods garlanded with honeysuckle and white bells of the great convolvulus, gardens where handsome peacock butterflies flutter among Canterbury bells and hollyhocks^ and bays beautiful with white water-lilies. : The reed and rush beds are matiy acres in extent ; their varied green in summer and amber and tawny hues in winter are among the^ most striking effects visible from the open water. Coots and grebes are a:bimdant on Filby and Rollesby ; the woods are full of crooning pigeonsj and during the summer months the reeds are musical with warblers. In winter, large numbers of wild fowl visit the Broads, especially Filby ; but the shooting is preserved. To explore the Broads in one of the boats on hire for the purpose is somewhat difficult, for the bridge- spanned channels connecting them are very shallow, often , having less than six inches of water in them ; and the boats are too heavy to be easily dragged under the arches. Attended by suioh difficulties, a day's pleasuring becomes tedious and wearying. Less laborious and far pleSsafltei' it is to content one's self with seeing one of the Br6a:ds. The visitor who does so misses little, for the three chief Broads possess no marked distinctive features ; having seen one he may rest assured that he loses nothing by leaving the district without seeing the others. Unless he be an angler, he is unlikely to become enthusiastic over either Rdlesby, Ormesby, or Filby. For the Trinity Broads ^as they are sometimes called — lack that wild beauty which is the great charm of Barton, Heigham Sounds, and Horsey, and their prettiness, when all has been said about it, is of too commonplace a kind to help to extend the fame of Broadland. 16 242 THE NORFOLK BROADS Perhaps the most enjoyable way of spending a day in this district is to devote an hour or two to the Broads and the rest of the day to exploring the neigh- bouring hamlets. If the visitor does this, his time will be i pleasailtly i and proiitably occupied. Most of the villages bordering the Broads are picturesque and primitive. The churches of some Of them are of con^ siderable interest ; and at Caister, about midway be- tween Yarmouth and Ormesby, there is a ruined castle, which, in spite of the ravages of time and the vandalism of Yarmouth trippers, remains a fitting monument to, one of Norfolk's famous men. From Ormesby Broad it is not far to the church of Ormesby St. Michael, or Little Ormesby — a building in mixed styles, standing beside the road leading to the station. This church is perhaps the least interesting in the district ; biit the parish can boast that, among several families which, about the year 1630, left it for the New Hampshire and Massachusetts settlements, were the ancestors of the famous American statesman, Daniel Webster. The church of Ormesby St. Margaret, or Great Ormesby, is more worthy of attention ; for, in addition to having some curious bosses on its roof, it contains a brass to Alice, the second wife of Sir Robert Clere and aunt to Queen Anne Boleyn. For a long time this brass was kept in the parish chest ; but it is now, I believe,, refixed in the matrix of its original stone,, lately discovered in the chancel. There are frequent references to the Clere family in the Paston Letters, for the Cleres held several manors in this neighbourhood, at the time when the Fastens held Caister Castle. Sir Roljert Clere's tomb,:whiGh is without an inscription, is near the north window of the church ; and some traces of the family's coat of arms can be seen on the font. The south idoor- ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY 243 W3,y is good Nornlan work. The manor on which th6 Hall stands anciently belonged to the Ormesby family, a member of which, Gunnora de Ormesby, was the mother, of Alice iPerrers, the mistressVof Edward iii. Great Ormesby village is prettily grouped around a tree-shaded green. It was formerly a place of some importance, — a market town whose inhabitants were exempt from serving on juries, from contributing to the maintenance of knights of the shire, and from " theolony, stallage, cumrage, pontage, pennage, picage, murage, and passage." But in spite of all these privileges it is now a comparatively unimportant village. Where there were at one time five churches there is now only one. ; A by-road branching off southward from the Ormesby road where it skirts the village green leads to Mautby, a parish bordering on the Bure. Here again we come in touch with the Pastons ; for Margaret Paston, whose letters are the most delightful in the fdmous collection, was a daughter of John de Mauteby, who held the manor in the middle of the fifteenth century: Unde- niably, it is Margaret Paston who . g^ves life to the Letters, whichj although invaluable to students who would acquaint themselves with the conditions of Hfe in England during the reigns of the kings of the houses of York and Lancaster, would be somewhat dry reading if it were not for her love for her lord and careful guardianship of his interests. Her fond love for her children, too, is often mainifested, though there are times when we may think her mercenary if we fail to understand the customs of the age in which she lived. For instance, : she writes to her " right worshipful husband" as follows: "I was at Norwich this week to purvey such things as needeth me this winter ; and 244 THE NORFOLK BROADS I wa^ at my mother's, and while I was there, there came in one Wrothe, a kinsman of Elizabeth Clere, and he saw your daughter, and praised her to my mother, and said that she was a goodly ybung woman ; and my mother prayed him for to get for her a good marriage if he knew any ; and he said he knew one. . . . the which is Sir John Cley's son, that is Chamberlain with my Lady of York, and he is of age eighteen years old. If ye think it be for to be spoke of, my mother thinketh that it should be got for less money now in this world than it should be hereafter, either that one or some other good marriage." From this epistle it might be imagined that Dame Margaret considered mutual love an unessential adjunct of matrimonial contracts ; but elsewhere she reveals a kindly interest in a love^sick maiden. Writing to her son. Sir John Paston, who was probably with King Edward iv. at Pomfret at the time, she says, " I would you should speak with Wekis [Wykes, an usher of the King's Chamber], and know his disposition to Jane Walsham, She hath said, since he departed hence, but [unless] she might have him, she would never marry, her heart is so sore set on him ; she told me that he said to hei* that there was no woman in the world he loved so well. I would not he should jape her, for she meaneth good faith." But, like a careful matchmaker, she is anxious that her young friend's matrimonial prospects should not be entirely marred by this usher who loved and rode away, for she adds, " If he wiU not have her, let me know in haste, and I shall purvey for her in other wise." Then the careful mother shows herself, for she goes on to say, "As for your harness and gear that you > left here^ it is in DaUbeney's keeping ; it waS' never removed since your departingy because that he pi H W H < U H a H O o K H ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY 245 had not the keys. I trow it shall get injured unleSs it be taken' heed to betimes. . . . I. sent your grey horse to Ruston to the farrier, and he saith he shall never be nought to ride, neither right good to plough nor to cart; he saith he was splayed, and his shoulder rent from the body. I wot not what to do with him." This letter was conveyed to hfer son by the rector of Filby, as appears from a postscript: ." I would you should make much of the parson of Filby, the bearer hereof, and make him good cheer if you may." De- lightful Dame Margaret ! Her gentle wraith seems to, haunt the meads of Mautby and the ruins of her Caister home. She was buried in Mautby Church, in accordance with the instructions of her will, in which she desires to be interred " in the aisle of that church at Mawteby, in which aisle rest the bodies of divers of mine ancestors," and that under a " scutcheon of arms " should be inscribed the words, " God is my trust." Her tomb has vanished with the south aisle in which it stood ; but there is still to be seen in this early fourteenth century church a marble tomb and cross-legged e£&gy of Sir Walter de Mauteby, one of her ancestors, who died in 1248. Within the bounds of the parish is a boat ferry on the Bure. It is called Mautby Swim, being one of the spots where cattle used to swim across the river to and from the marshes. Adjoining Mautby is Filby, a village on the main road from Yarmouth to Norwich. Its church, which has a fine tower, with figures of the four Doctors of the Church for pinnacles, overlooks Filby Broad, and is only a few minutes' walk from Filby Bridge. It is chiefly a fifteenth century church, but with a good deal of late fourteenth century work, including the small quatrefoil lights over 246 THE NORFOLK BROADS the aisles. The pulpit, dating from about 1500 ; a belfry door with seven locks, some painted screen panels, and a fine west window, are its most interest- ing features. Nearly a hundred acres of Rollesby Broad are situated in the united parishes of Burgh St. Margaret and St. Mary, now known as Flegg Burgh. St. Mary's Ghnrch is in ruins, and of little interest ; but St. Margaret's contains some good Norman work. The lordship of Burgh St. Margaret was granted by King John to Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent — that same Hubert whom, in Shakespeare's play, the king, when he would have him murder the youthful Prince Arthur, addresses thus : — " O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor. And with advantage means to pay thy love : And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom, dea,rly cherished. Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,^ — But I will fit it with some better ' time.. By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd To say what good respect I have of thee." Adjoining Flegg Burgh is Clippesby, where the church contains two good brasses, one of which Cotman calls "one of the best and most pleasing" in the county. It is on the tomb of John and JuHana Clippesby, and is dated 1594. The other brass is to Thomas Pallyng, who died in 1503. A piece of its mutilated inscription has been nailed to the north door. But the historical interest of the neighbourhood of the Trinity Broads chiefly attaches to the ruins of ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY 247 Caister Castle. This castle, one of the oldest brick houses in England, was built by Sir John Fastdlff, the cost of its building, it is (very incredibly) said, being defrayed by the ransom money received for a French noble Fastolff captured at Verneuil or Agincourt. Its builder was a Norfolk knight; a famous soldier, and a much-maligned man. He was a prominent leader in, the wars of the reign of Henry v., and for his gatllant conduct at Harfieur, Agincourt, and Verneuil had honours heaped upon him ; but he was called a coward beeausei at Pataye the troops under his command, panic-strickdn by \^hat they had heard of the supernatural powers Ascribed to the Maid of Orleans, fled in disorder before the Frenchmen. " From this batteU," sa^s Holinshed, "departed without anie stroke stricken, sir Jdhn Fastolfe, the same year for his vaUantnesse elected intb the order of the garter. But for doubt of misdealing at this brunt the duke of Bedford took© from him the image of St. George and his : garter ; though afterward, by means of friends and apparent causes of good excuse, the same were to Mm againe deliveryd against the mind of the lord Talbot." Shake- speare, in King Henry r/., makes a messenger from the battlefield of Pataye say that, through the bravery of Talbot, the battle would have been won by the English. " If sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the, coward: He being in the vaward, (pjac'd behind. With purpose to reheve and follow them,) Cowardly fled, not having' struck one stroke." And agaih, by Talbot, Fastolff is charged with being a " dastard " ; while the king calls him " stain to thy countrymen." Holinshed based his charges on ?48 THE NORFOLK BROADS Monstrelet's account of the battle, and Shakespeare credited Holinshed's statements ; byt in the Chroniqw 4'Angleierre, written by Waurin, who was present at Pataye, it is confidently asserted that the battle was lost through Talbot's foolhardiness, and that Fastolff fought until it was plain to every one the English were defeated. The Fastolffs held lands at C^ister early in the fourteenth century ; but we hear nothing of their having a residence here before the reign of Henry vi., when Sir John built Caister Castle.^ He was then an old man ; but iie seems to have lived in great state in his new home until 1459, when he died, and was buried in a chapel he had founded in connection with St. Benet's Abbey. At his'death the castle came into the possession of John Paston ; but Thomas Mowbray, the powerful Duke of Norfolk, asserted that " Sir John had given him Caister, and that he would have it plainly " ; and in 1469 he laid siege to the castle. Its defenders numbered only twenty-eight, but they seem to have made a gallant defence. In the end, however, " from sore lack of victual and gunpowdeir," they were compelled to surrender, Lengthy legal proceedings ensued, Margaret Pastop, in a letter to her husband, writes, " My Lord of Norwich said to me that he would not abide the sorrow and trouble that you have ' abyden,' to win all Sir John Fastolff's goods," But the duke retained possession until his death, when the king confirmed John Paston's right to the estate, and until 1599 the castle was the chief seat of the Paston fainily., In that year they removed to the fine Hall Clement Paston had built at Oxnead. Sixty years later the castle was sold to William Crowe, a ' Undoubtedly they had a house here before the castle was built, for Sir John was born here. ORMESBY, FILBY, AND ROLLESBY 249 son of the builder of a fine old house at Yarmouth, now. the Star Hotel. Crowe, who was a wealthy merchant, is said to have used it as a country residence. After his death it was allowed to fall into decay. In its original state it was a large quadrangular building, containing, besides the state apartments, twenty-six large rooms. It was surrounded by two moats, the inner containing the greater part of the buildings of which there are ruins remaining, the outer a college, which, though founded by Fastolff, was not erected until the Pastons' time. The chief entrance — a square, ornamented gateway — was on the west side. The principal remaining portions are the north and west walls, and a circular tower, about ninety feet high, at the north-west comer of the quadrangle. These ruins are surrounded by the inner moat. Of the outer moat there are no traces ; but some walls and a small round tower embodied in a house adjoining the ruins undoubtedly formed part of the castle, and, with the college buildings, were contained within the outer moat. Visitors' scrawlings on the walls have done much to disfigure the ruins ; but in spite of this Caister Castle is one of the most interesting ruins in Norfolk. Seen as it is against a background of fine trees growing beyond the moat, its tower and walls are strikingly picturesque. Caister formerly had two parish churches, but of one of these only a portion of the tower remains. The other, a building in mixed styles of architecture, stands just outside the village, beside the road leading from Yar- mouth to the Castle. It is of little interest except for the fact that its churchyard contains the tomb of Sarah Martin, the philanthropic seamstress to whose memory 250 THE NORFOLK BROADS a window is erected in Yarmouth parish church. Of the Roman settlement no trace reinains ; but its site is pointed out on a hill north-west of the church, where a Roman kiln and pavement and several skeletons have been unearthed. o fa D O H D CHAPTER XIII WILD LIFE ON BREYDON By Arthur Patterson ISTORY, more or less traditionali has handed down to us the probable fact that, so recently as the time of the Romian occupation of Great Britain, the site on which Great Yarmouth now stands was entirely submerged, and that on a great: arm of the sea, lying between the high lands of Caister ^nd Burgh and known as Gariensis Ostium, Roman war- galleys sailed right up to Norwich. But an accumu- lation of alternate layers of moor and silt gradually pushed back the waters from the great alluvial flat, until all that remains of the estuary now exists in the Broads connected with the rivers Yare, Bure, and Waveney. With one exception, all these Broads have become freshwater lagoons, and it is a ra:re occurrence for freshets during neap tides to make them even brackish, though occasionally roach, pike, and carp are drawn down by the ebb and caught weakly struggling on the surface of Breydon, the krgest sheet of Broad- land water, which, being estuarine, naturally becomes charged with the salt tides. The surrounding afea, now carefully ditched and drained and more or less dry, constitutes a vast level of rich marshlands, on which 251 252 THE NORFOLK BROADS thousands of cattle are fattened during the summer months, and good crops of hay are produced. What this great tract was like before the raising of the " walls " to shut in Breydon and the rivers — especially when a high tide converted it into an immense lake, dotted with islets and swarming with wild fowl — one can only conjecture. The processes of reclamation must have been slow and frequently hindered by inundations. An extensive series of " walls " — long, zigzagging, triangular-shaped mounds, following the trend of the rivers and Breydon — were thrown up above the level of high water, and facpd on the inrier or water side with a sloping frontage of large flints. The dykes or ditches, formed where the soil was dug up for making the walls, constitute drains for the marshes. They are fed by innumerable cross-cut dykes, and their surplus water is discharged into the tidal waters beyond the walls. The accom- panying diagram illustrates the way in which protection and reclamation have been carried out together. The picturesque tower pump-mills stiU in use in many parts of the district date back to the early part of the eighteenth century ; formerly there were many of them around Breydon, Their modus operandi is simple. A large water-wheel is set in motion by the miU-sails, and the water thrown into a dammed-up receptacle separated from the river or the short ditch which intersects the rond between the wall ajid the river ; a sluice gate, fixed in a brick archway in the wall, is opened at the iaU. of the tide to let out the accumulated water. Steam, however, has largely super- seded this slow and uncertain method, and drainage goes on independently of the caprices of the winds. The marshes have naturally settled and solidified, WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 255 to the great detriment of^the many species of birds which used to leave Breydon and feed on the molluscan and crustacean life of the marshes whilst the mud-flats were covered by the tide, and flock back again when the water fell. "> The Breydon walls have to be carefully tended, mended when occasion demands, and kept to a necessary height. Certain " sets " of the tide have to be watched, and especial protection afforded at times by relaying and renewing the flints, and, if need be, by adding a rough stuccoing of concrete. The weQIs are sufficiently wide at the apex to form a footpath, and during the gr^iter part of the year a ramble along them is an interesting experience. Beside them the Sea Southern;- wood (Artemisia maritima) grows luxuriantly, whilst the Scurvy Grass {Cochlearia officinalis), the Sea Aster {Aster tripolium), and the Sea Milkwort {Glaux maritima) are found in abundance, large tufts of the first men- tioned often springing up among the jagged flints lapped by the tide. Very rarely, when severe gales have created imusually high tides, breaches have been made in the wall, and miles 6i marshland flooded. Such an inundation occurred at the upper end of Brey- don in December 1894, when there were two flood- tides without an ebb ! Myriads of worms perished ; and on the abatement of the flood, early in January, enormous flocks of Lapwings and GuUs assembled on the marshes. From the walls jutting out into Breydon are a nimaber of ronds, or irregular and broken patches of original swamp, covered with coarse saline grasses. Scurvy Grass, and the Jointed Glasswort {5fl/iJcom?a herbacea). These ronds are being slowly but surely broken away by the constant lapping and beating 256 THE NORFOLK BROADS of the waters ; crumbling, they help to make the great stretches of mud-fiat still wider and higher, and tend towards the gradual " growing-up " of Breydon. There is little doubt that these ronds and the marshes beyond the walls were formerly united, though tO^day thei former are slightly higher than the drained area. Taking a look down Breydon from the upper end, at Berney Arms, when the tide is in, one sees a noble lake bisected by two parallel rows of posts Or "stakes," red on the one hand, and white on the other- Between thfese posts is the navigable channel ; beyond them the water shallows abruptly over the mud-flats. The view is extensive and often interesting, with sometimes quite a fleet of laden wherries, with huge^ gracefully swelling, high-peaked sails, coming up on a fair wind, or tacking and quanting against a less favourable breeze. Here and there on summer days are snow- white yacht-sails j whilst the punts of the eel-catchers are seen at intervals gliding about the deeper runs among the fiats. At other times the blustering nor'- westers fling down sombre shadows from cloudland, and the darkened surface of the water is churned into white-crested waves ; it is then wild and bleak by day, and the curtain of night falls upon a dreary and depressing scene. Breydon's aspects, indeed, are many and various. There are to be seen the most wonderful sunrises and the grandest sunsets. The outlook changes every hour. On fine days, even at low water, when the flats are bare, amazing colourings— vivid greens, gold, and brown — are seen at dawn and sunset ; and with the seasons the dense matted masses of Wigeon Grass (Potamogetdn pectinatus) on the flats change from pale green to bi-own. But the sunsets are the most mag-* O 3i WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 257 nificent spectacles — when the sun, after seeming to draw nearer and nearer to you, sinks out of sight just beyond the farthest mud-fiat, flinging long bars of radiance into the sky and a wide lane of liquid fire along the water. And then the moon comes up, and her silver light reveals the Gulls quarrelling over their lessening resting-places on the flats. You hear their wild scream- ing, the wail of the Curlew, the shriU pipe of the Sand- piper, the harsh croak of the Heron ; and at times you are startled by the boom of a wUd-fowler's punt- gun. Even in winter, when the sky is overcast, and snowstorms rage, and ice spreads from the channel to the walls, Breydon has its fascination, for then the wild-fowl alight in the opening wakes, or settle be- wildered on the water, and the Hooded Crow is seen, vulture-like, searching for dead or d5dng birds which the gunners have been unable to retrieve. But Breydon is not as it was in the earlier half of the last century. Then, some of the flats which now are barely covered at high water, were easily sailed over by deep-keeled wherries ; while others, now dry on the ebb, were almost always under water. And there are drains and runs and channels which have opened in late years and deepened several feet in a remarkably short period : twenty or thirty years ago they did not exist. In the days referred to, a semi-amphibious fraternity, provided with boats, nets, and guns, earned a liveli- hood on Breydon all the year round. There was always a sufficient depth of water for them to work their nets or get within reach of wild fowl. To-day Ducks often sit in safety, for the gunner, with all his manoeuvring, fails to get within shooting distance of them. Grey Mullet used to tumble and splash among 17 258 THE NORFOLK BROADS the Wigeon Grass hour after hour, wisely timing their return to deeper water when the tide went down. Various Ducks and allied species of fowl came in their season to feed ; but now the drying and hardening of the flats have killed off much of the food for which they came. The fiatSj however, are still alive in places with ragworms and Nereidce, and for these the long- billed waders search and probe. MoUusca are commonly met with, but in decreasing numbers. The Common Winkle abounds, and often with it is found its relative, Littorina neritoides. Small Cockles are sparingly found a few inches below the surface, also quantities of the Clam {Mya arenia) and the smaller Scrobiculana piperita. At low tide, tiny jets of water ejected by these molluscs may be seen squirting from the holes everywhere dotting the mud : the Curlew knows well their meaning, and profits by them. The Mussel, now condemned by the local authorities as unfit for food, is abundant, and if it were not for the sewage, might be cultivated on the Bouchet system with profit to many. The tiny Hydrobia uIvcb dots every Potam- ogeton blade in dozens, and, with small Winkles, pro- vides a welcome food for many wild fowl. In one or two comers or small bays in the walls, locally known as " shell corners," are considerable deposits of sheUs of these species, accumulated by eddying currents — a process precisely analogous to that which formed the Crag, which so long puzzled geologists. In the glare of the sunlight, the muds in places, viewed aslant, are seen to be all " on the work " ! Close inspection reveals myriads of Corophium longi- cornis, the long-homed crustaceans so industriously gathered by Dunlins and the smaller waders. Let the water but rise sufficiently, the keen eye of the WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 259 naturalist will discover that almost transparent Opossum Shrimp, Mysis chamceleon, scurrying around every pooli pile, or weed-clothed flint stone. For these and the Common Shrimp, Flounders and smaller fishes, such as Gobies and Blennies, eagerly hunt ; and left among the stranded flotsam and under the seaweeds Gammarus marinus gives the Turnstone or " Tangle- picker " profitable employment. The Sandhopper (Talitrus locusta) is also plentiful. The Common Shore Crab {Carcinus manas) literally swarms among the weeds and under the edges ; of the ronds, affording a rich and never-failing supply of food for various fishes and birds. While at liberty this scavenger of the waters does good service in clearing away subinerged carrion ; failing which, he scrambles after Shrimps and any little fishes he may overtake. The Large White Prawn {Palcsmon squilla) also occurs. The fish life of Breydon has decreased considerably in recent years. The Salmon has but casually ascended this basin for a century or two, although one was dis- covered on a flooded marsh near Norwich a few years ago, and Sir Thomas Browne (1662) refers to fifteen being taken at Trowse Mill. The Salmon-trout may rarely be seen throwing itself out of the water in summer, probably disliking the flavour of the sewage-tainted flood. Until about the seventies more ambitious Brey- doners boasted the ownership of a Mullet net, a long seine with pocketing meshes on either side. In the earlier half of the last century large catches of Mullet were made, occasionally of several pounds' value. The sport was exciting, and at times disappointing, when one bold fish, awaking to the situation, would leap the nets, followed by others. An outside net a few feet 'beyond the first would often effectually 26o THE NORFOLK BROADS baffle them. It was for love of the Mullet that Cor- morants used to frequent Breydon. The older gunners speak of a Cormorant perched on every stake as quite an ordinary matter. But since the destruction of the Fritton colony some years ago these birds have been rara aves on Breydon. The rare sub-variety of the Mullet, Mugil septentrionalis, has once been taken, and a record Mullet weighed nine pounds in weight. No one now goes fishing specially for this species. Flounders, locally " Butts " (Pleuronectes flesus), are still common on Breydon, although by no means so plentiful as formerly. Three decades ago the practice of staking nets across the fiats at high water, and gather- ing in the spoil at low water, was not an uncommon or unremunerative business. In August the " grass- fed " fish were in excellent condition. In January, when the larger examples came up, " darting " was much practised. A Butt dart consists of a rake-like appliance with barbed teeth placed vertically ; it is securely attached to a slim pole perhaps twenty feet long. " Darting " is simply jobbing with this implement, and transfixing with the tines any unlucky fish that may come in its way. In frosts, these fish are very sluggish. Young Flounders, next to the Eels, are the quest of the Herons which frequent Breydon during the greater part of the year. Butt-darting and Butt- picking are now only sporting exercises. The latter is carried on in summer, when the Flounders have drawn off the flats into the narrowing runs. The pole is light and comparatively short, and the tines are made of straightened cod-hooks. The fish chiefly sought for on Breydon is the Common Eel, which in summer is captured in great numbers. During the time it is on the " run " considerable quan- WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 261 titles are taken on the " bab " — a bunch of worms threaded on shoemakers' hemp or worsted, and weighted with a leaden sinker. The Eel-babber usually fishes by night, though occasionally by day, on the flood by preference, and drifts down-stream on the ebb to dispose of his catch. He fishes from an old punt or, preferably, from a low-built, "double-ended" open boat — a much better adapted craft to drop the Eels into from the bab than the small-welled punt. Babbihg ' consists of bobbing the bait up and down. When the Eels bite it is difficult for them to disentangle their small teeth from the hemp, and before they can do so the fisherman deposits them in the boat. Formerly there were more Eel-babbers than now, and in summer they made a good living. In winter those that remain drop the babbing-pole and take up the Eel-spear, and work the muds in which the Eels burrow on cold days. Generally alone and exposed to all weathers, the men are hardy, taciturn, and unambitious. Occasionally, how- ever, they may be persuaded to spin yarns ; and their experiences, usually savouring of the marvellous in natural history, are often worth listening to. For instance, two or three of them were smelting up Breydon on one occasion, and an object, at first thought to be a floating bush, was curiously approached. It proved to be a Sturgeon resting on the water. Cautiously a noose was prepared and slipped over the tail of the fish, which, on feeling restraint put upon its movements, dashed off and succeeded in freeing itself. Becoming again quiet, once again it was stalked, and a surer noose afiixed to it. Again it dashed away, towing the boat about a hundred yards ; but the men eventually stunned it by smashing its head with an iron bar. It weighed eleven and a half stones, and some difficulty was experienced in getting 262 THE NORFOLK BROADS it into the boat. On another occasion an Eel-catcher named Jack Gibbs struck a Conger^eel with his pick and secured it, the fish weighing no less than thirteen and a half pounds. These are fair examples of the unusual experiences of Breydoners. Some half a dozen men are in the habit of laying a few Eel-pots in the Breydon channel and in the river, and catch occasionally some good Eels. The pots are long, funnel-shaped structures of wickerwork ; the bait consists of a few pints of Shrimps, themselves taken in a small trawl-net on Breydon. Only one or two men to-day practise this latter method of fishing, the catches having fallen off so much as to be unremunerative. Years ago fine Soles and several other species of fish were taken in this way. Down to a comparatively recent date great shoals of Codlings came up on the flood, and large hauls were made by netting. At such times local anglers by the score, commandeering aU available boats, made famous catches of these bold- biting fishes. In October the species was regularly looked for. Singularly enough, young Pollack turned up for a year or two ; in May 1887, indeed, they were very numerous, since when they have been exceedingly rare. The capture of one other fish, the Smelt {Osmerus eperlanus) keeps a few men employed in the season. This fish, which ascends to the fresh waters of the upper rivers to spawn, occurs abundantly in Breydon. Smelt nets are finely meshed and of various lengths, from eighty yards upwards. The net is a miniature seine, locally termed a draw-net. The fish are surrounded, one man remaining on a flat while the other rows the boat and drops the net in a half-circle. Both ends of the net are then gradually brought together, and its o o. b4 o WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 263 contents are shot out on the mud. Sometimes several score Smelts of various sizes are taken ; occasionally the catch is varied with a few Flounders, an Eel or two, many viviparous Blennies (locally "Eel-pouts"), and a number of small Herrings. Now and again a quantity of Atherines {Atherina presbyter), locally called " Smolts," are netted ; also Crabs galore, and at chance times a stranger in the shape of a Five-bearded Rockling {Motella mustela), a Fifteen-spined Stickleback {Gasiero- steus spinachia), or a Sand Launce {Ammodytes lanceo- latus). Small shoals of Whiting occur occasionally. But it is for its bird life that Breydon is chiefly famous, for there is not another spot of its size in the British Isles where a larger variety of birds has been seen or so many rare species have been taken ; indeed, on its muds have occurred several species not previously known to occur in Britain. Each period of the year sees a continuous arrival of different species, whilst atmos- pheric conditions limit the numbers or account for large influxes. In spring — in May especially — many birds " in the red," or other striking attire of their nuptial state, call here for a rest and feed on their northward journey ; with a fair wind their numbers may be large. Bar- tailed Godwits, Knots, Curlew-sandpipers in russet plumage, are met with in lesser numbers than of yore ; but so sure is the time of their coming, especially in the case of the Godwits, that a very ancient saying— ".Twelfth of May — Gddwit Day " — ^is a famihar one with the local gunners. Certainly some are seen before and after that date, but on that day the "rush" is stiU looked for. But the days are gone when the " lumps " — the highest parts of the flats left bare by the rising tide — were hidden by closely packed 264 THE NORFOLK BROADS flocks of these birds, with which the Grey Plover in its livery of black and grey, the Turnstone, the Ringed Plover, and the Dunlin associated. Still these species regularly appear. The Godwit and Knot will feed almost under your boat's prow ; the Dunlin, streaked with greys and browns above and with a horseshoe patch of black on its breast, runs nimbly ahead of you, feeding as it goes, but ready to flit to some distant flat the moment the more suspicious Ringed Plover takes alarm and noisily wings away ; along by the flint walls the Common Sandpipers flit in twos or threes, while the wary Whimbrel (locally " Half-curlew " or " May-bird ") utters its clamorous pipe, and the Greenshank joins in with its clear, bell-like fleu pleu. Not less noisy are the Redshanks that come to nest on the neighbouring marshes. But he is a fortunate man who chances to detect the Kentish Plover {Mgialitis cantiana), the Pectoral Sandpiper (Tringa maculata), or the Little Stint {T. minuta) among the commoner species ; and equally to be envied is he who gets within easy sight of a couple or more of Avocets or a small party of Spoonbills fishing in the shallows. Yet it is more than probable that in the springtime the Spoonbills will be found here. Then, too, we look for the passing of the Black Terns and Lesser Terns, among which may occasionally be noted the rarer Caspian Tern (Sterna caspia), or the even rarer White-winged Black Tern (Hydrochelidon nigra). Then, too, there are the various Ducks — Wigeon in particular — in their fine spring plumage. The Wigeon, with which consort the Shoveller, the Pintail, and the Tufted Duck, comes in large flocks, and spends days together feeding on the tender stalks of Pota- mogeton. Gulls, Black-headed and Black-backed, are WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 265 also plentiful, and, as the tide serves, may be seen flying or running, picking up their food; while the Turnstone, tossing over the tangled bunches of weed to get at the crustaceans beneath, the Curlew and Whimbrel, probing in the mud for worms, the Shoveller spooning for small molluscs, the smaller birds snapping up GammaridcB, and the handsome Herons, standing thigh-deep in the water, seeking for Eels and flat fish, provide abundant interest for the naturalist. Fortunately the close season for a time prevents the birds being disturbed by the loud boom of the punt-gun and the sharper crack of the fowling-piece. Yachtsmen, while their yachts are passing up or down Breydon, sometimes shoot at birds flying by or resting on the flats — a reprehensible practice, which, it is hoped, will ere long become a thing of the past. All through the spring and summer the watcher skims around in his httle punt, or from the cabin of his quaint ark-like house-boat scans the flats with a view to detecting delinquents and preventing illegal gunning. The local gunners, to their credit be it said, respfect the close season. In August the birds begin to return on their southern migration. Species such as I have already mentioned are then seen, the young birds of the year invariably arriving before their lagging progenitors. For a month they are unmolested, and during this time many Terns, Sandpipers, Plovers, and the like pass safely southward ; but in September the walking gimner perambulates the walls, and the punt-gunner glides about the drains and runs, whilst a few — a very few — Breydoners lay aside bab and Eel-spear in order to devote their attention to the Ducks and shore-birds. Success depends largely on wind and weather. Long spells of westerly and 266 THE NORFOLK BROADS southerly winds prevent the arrival of many birds, which undoubtedly migrate alofig the eastern side of the German Ocean ; but south-easterly winds bring in the Plovers and " stir up " other birds. As winter approaches, the Wild Ducks of various species drop in, and then it is the wild-fowlers display that hunting instinct and cunning which is often inherited. Slowly and stealthily, sculling with one oar astern, the wUy gunner gradually gets within range of the feeding fowl. Sometimes the latter will bunch up and sus- piciously eye the floating object coming towards them. Occasionally they take flight ; but often they unwarily allow a near approach. Then the fowler, poising his huge gun, takes his " sights " and knocks his foot on the floor of the punt. The startled birds take to wing in a compact flock, and are hardly above the surface of the water ere the gun pours forth its deadly pound of shot, cutting a lane through the midst of the flock. The victims drop dead or wounded on the tide. Those within reach the gunner speedily gathers, rowing after the badly wounded, and with his shoulder gun killing those that are wildly fluttering beyond his reach. In snowy and frosty weather wild fowl are often abundant, hundreds of birds that have been sheltering on the Broads then making for the open waters off the foreshores or for Breydon. At such times Swans, Geese, Pochards, Wigeon, Scaup, Teal, and many others are looked for. Among the species which have been met with here are the Whooper, Bewick's Swan, and White-fronted, Pink-footed, and Bernacle Geese. " Hard-weather " fowl, too, become numerous, among them the Scaup, Tufted Duck, and Golden Eye ; and, unable to stay longer on the frozen Broads, hundreds 1 o WILD LIFE ON BREYDON 267 of Coots wander up and down the shallows, feeding on the decaying Wigeon Grass. Among the rare birds which have been shot on Breydon are the White-taUed Eagle, Osprey, Purple Heron, Black Stork, Siberian Pectoral Sandpiper {Tringa acuminata), Gull-billed Tern (Sterna anglica), Mediterranean Herring-gull {Larus cachinnans), Medi- terranean Black-headed Gull (L. melano-cephalus), Sabine's Gull {Xema sabinii), and the Iceland Gull {Larus leucopterus). The late Mr. E. T. Booth ob- tained many of the choicest birds in his collection (at Brighton) on Breydon. To review briefly the Mammalia whose claims to being Breydonian may be allowed : an occasional Seal {Phoca vitulina), and, in one instance, a Grey Seal (Halichaerus grypus) may be mentioned ; Common Bats {Vesperugo pipistrellus) and the Noctule (F. noctula) flit about on summer evenings ; the Weasel sparsely inhabits the banks, where it finds abundant prey in the shape of Brown Rats. On several occasions Porpoises have been observed wallowing in the shallows. A few words may be added about the men who, in decreasing numbers, frequent Breydon. Next to the eel-babbers, the wherr3mien are the most con- spicuous. Formerly they had much of the fisherman and sportsman in their composition ; but the keenness of the competition between the wherries and the rail- ways now necessitates their being simply wherrymen. The race of Breydon wild-fowlers is almost extinct : the late John Thomas may be said to have been the last of the professional gunners. His father and grand- father were fowlers before him. Many of his adventures and experiences were exciting and entertaining. That his profession is not unattended with danger, the fact 268 THE NORFOLK BROADS that he, at different times, sustained a broken collar- bone, had fingers blown off, and received other injuries, will testify. On one occasion he possessed a worn- out punt-gun so weak in the lock that it often missed " cracking the patch " twice running, and sometimes had to be exploded by means of a blow from a piece of iron kept handy for the purpose ! He made some big shots, once securing over a hundred Dunlins after one discharge of his punt-gun. Avocets, Spoonbills, Swans, and Temminck's Stints also fell to his gun ; for in the old days he shot all the year round. His big bag of Dunlins, however, was not so profitable as a bag made by his grandfather, the following account of which appears in Pagets' Sketch of the Natural History of Great Yarmouth (1834) : " A remarkable case (of bird-slaughter) occurred to an old man named Thomas, who one morning, on awakening in his boat on the flats, saw not far from him a number of wild-fowl sitting in a crowd close together on the ice. From his boat being nearly covered with snow, he had escaped their observation while they were collecting in the night. He immediately fired (his gun carrying about a pound of shot), and with those killed outright and the wounded, which he and his dog caught before they could make their escape, he secured no less than thirty couple of wild-fowl, consisting principally of Wigeon and Teal." PART II CHAPTER XIV BIRD LIFEi By the Rev. M. C. H. Bird, M.A., M.B.O.U. IN writing on the above subject, it may be best to commence with some of those birds which are especially characteristic of the district, and as such the Bearded Tit {Panurus biarmicus) stands pre-eminent. A few years ago it was, I believe, in- cluded in a list of " Lost British Birds " ; but although at one time it seemed to hover on the verge of extinc- tion, it has now reasserted itself, and, in spite of much and constant persecution on many Broads, attained such a firm foothold, that, with the aid of legal and local protection, I see no reason why it should not continue to be with us as long as the Broads them- selves. It is nevertheless a curious fact that, although within the past decade this species has certainly in- creased in numbers, there has been no regularity in that increase year by year ; the increase in one year has not necessarily been followed by a still greater • A list of the birds of Broadland appears at the end of this book. 269 270 THE NORFOLK BROADS increase in the next season. Taking the two years last past, for instance, there were not so many nests around the larger Broads in igor as there were in the previous spring, and yet there were no apparent anomalies of weather or of persecution to account for the noticeable drop in numbers. 1900 was a bonus year with Panurus biarmicus, but what became of the surplus ? It is the same with all birds. One good Partridge season, for instance, does not argue that a better will succeed it ; the doubtful friends of the Rooks go so far as to say that a colony of these birds will decrease unless some of the young be slaughtered. Reed Pheasants, as Bearded Tits are called by the Broadsmen, have everything now in their favour except the greed of collectors. They are very secretive in their habits, and double-brooded — ^if, indeed, they do not sometimes attempt to rear more than two clutches in a year. In fact, I know that this was the case with one pair of these birds in 1900, and a nest of eggs on i8th July 1901 is also suggestive. During the month of August and up to Christmas small roving parties may be met with at some distance from their breeding haunts ; tit-like, they are ever on the move, but it is very doubtful whether any actually migrate,^ and this residency makes the Reed Pheasant to be at the present time the most interesting bird we have, since all the other rarer birds that ever breed, or attempt to breed, here now are migrants (such as the Ruff and Spotted Rail, Harriers and Garganey), and therefore less liable to extinction so far as our locality is concerned. An up-to-date monograph on this gem of the Broads appeared in the Zoologist for 1900, from the able pen of ' One was observed at Lariguard Lighthouse in February 1887, and H. Gatke mentions several occurrences in Heligoland. BIRD LIFE 271 Mr. J. H. Gumey. Their metallic call-note ping! ping ! often betrays their whereabouts ; but when dis- turbed they have a habit of dropping down amongst the rank vegetation, and creeping mouse-like from one reed to another, and so escaping , observation. Con- spicuous in the hand, at liberty they are protectively coloured, especially when winter has changed the tints of the reeds and the wind has blown away the leaf ; then their rufous or tawny plumage harmonises perfectly with the dead and djdng vegetation. Even their slightly curved tail blends in shade and conforms in shape with the bending reed stem, heavy with the added weight of the three or four drachms of this bright speck of bird life. In fact, to those who know their note at any rate, — and once heard it can never be forgotten or confounded with that of any other bird,— they are more often heard than seen. But, like all other birds, when once seen, they will, to the practical observer, soon betray their nesting site, although the actual nest (built almost on the ground, and composed of reed leaves lined with reed bloom), large and somewhat clnmsy though it be, will take some looking for. From babyhood these birds are beautiful to prying eyes, although the beauty is concealed until hunger opens the nestling's mouth, when upon the roof may be seen four rows of oayx spots set in deep pink camelian. The adult birds are hardy enough ; but in severe winters, when the reed-beds are frozen, loafing gunners take advantage of the ice and stalk the Reed Pheasants. In 1890 and 1895 several thus suffered- A recent contribution to ornithological literature, the second edition of Harting's Handbook of British Birds; gives a novel method of imitating the ringing call-note of the Bearded Tit, namely, by balancing a 272 THE NORFOLK BROADS penny on the middle finger of each hand and striking the edges together. The Great Crested Grebe, once nearly as scarce hereabouts as the Bearded Tit, has increased even more abundantly. Shy and wary as a lone Curlew, it will admit of no near approach, diving noiselessly upon the sHghtest alarm, and not coming to the surface again until almost out of sight of the naked eye. Unless one is " in the know," whoever would take that lump of rotten weed to be a Loon's nest ? Arid yet, perhaps^ within two seconds of your finding it, the old bird was incubating, and at the moment of your arrival she not only glided off into and under the water, without raising a ripple on its surface, but also, with. a right and left movement of her beak, covered up her eggs before leaving them. I have watched these actions, and at close quarters they are so rapid that the eye can scarcely follow them. The jerk, too, with which the Grebe regains her position on the nest is peculiar ; her clawless feet are placed too far behind for her to climb on to it, nor does she ever attempt to fly to and then alight upon it. A fresh-laid Grebe's egg is a very different object to one that has rested for weeks on and in a miniature hotbed of decaying vegetation. The newly hatched young birds, as in many other species, differ much in appearance from their parents, their neck and head being zebra-striped, and the pates adorned with a pinky shield. The old bird's loud and deep honk ! honk ! bears no comparison with the soft, musical babbling of the young. Schooling soon commences, and the first lessons in diving are taken on the parent's back. I have a couple of neck feathers of an old male, taken from the mouth of a youngster less than a week old : they gave way u o u w < BIRD LIFE 273 after affording the little one beak-hold for a more than two-htindred-yards' dive ! Grand and handsome birds, indeed, the adult males are in breeding plumage, with their frills and ear-tippets well up and their iris fully coloured. When pursued they seldom rise ; but if they' do, their flight is both ' peculiar and graceful — straight as an arrow and seldom much above water level. They trust chiefly to their rapid swimming and diving powers ; just before the latter means of progression is taken advantage of, the body is mysteriously submerged ere the neck is bent, the head inclined and the final plunge taken. When danger threatens, a Grebe will never swim into the bush, but always dives when within some thirty yards of the reed ; and when once the reed-bush is reached not even an otter could catch him. In summer, any time after 4 p.m.,' a lookout may be kept for a sight of the Short-eared Gwl, a few pairs still riemainihg to nest on, and fatten on the voles which abound in, the rough marshes around the Broads. A grand sight it is to watch the powerful, buoyant, long- sustained, and noiseless flight of Otits brachyoius — a different thing altogether to the forced and la^y flapping of the foreign representatives of this species that, breeding farther north, come here to winter with us, and to be now and then flushed whilst we are out after Snipe in the marshes, Rabbits on the sandhills, or even Partridges in the swede-fields. Woodcock Owls we call them then, because they and Scolopax rusticola often arrive here simultaneously. And there are many more such Owls here in winter than in summer ; but in the former season they do not show themselves, whereas the breeding birds, having perhaps a family to provide for, brave the sunlight in seeking for food. I had a very enjoyable 18 274 THE NORFOLK BROADS evening some few years agohuritirig for an Owl's nest. A friend had fixed the whereabouts, and we concealed ourselves in. the nearest sallow bush. Fori hours we watched the male bird alternately flying and resting-^ going away beyond the range of our glasses, then coming back within a few yards ofius ; flying high and strong for half an hour or more, until my eyes were tired of following him ; now hunting for prey, now toyingiup in the air and joyfully clapping 'his wings over his back like a pouter pigeon. Every now and then he dipped down amongst some marsh stuff, and several times we sallied forth from our ambush, thinking we had learnt his Secret, but only to return disappointed. We knew a nest was near, but little suspected how near; we believed that incubation had commenced, but did. not anticipate that it was over. The failing light compelled us to relinquish our watching. Leading. the homeward way, I had not gone a score yards when the female Owl rose at my feet, betraying six young ones, all in the ascending scale of development. The eldest, fully fledged, drew himself up, and, with bead thrown back and glaring amber eyes, snapped his beak menacingly.; the " pitman," ^ with sightless eyes and body bare of feathers, stretched out his neck and, compressed his body to the ground, trusting; to perfect stillness for con- cealment. Meanwhile the cock bird dashed up and down close to our heads, and the heU, throwing her- self down on the ground, rolled and flapped about Partridge-like, trying to distract our attention from her young. I. ,.,,.:-: It was a delightful picture of parental solicitude, and how could any nature-lover further disturb such a family ? The prime mistake we unwittingly made was, ' Petit man or cad — the smallest of the clutch. BIRD LIFE 275 of course, selecting a site for our stipposed concealment too near to the position of the nest, which was within two hundred yards of a public water-course. Local marshmen say that the first hatched nestlings fre- quently devour their youngest brothers and sisters, but this I cannot vouch for. Another bird characteristic of the district, and more abundant than is generally supposed, is the Grasshopper Warbler (Locustella ncevia). The ability to catch the sound made by a bat's membranous wing has been suggested as a test of good hearing. I have accbiiipanied more than one visitor to f Broadland whb was unable to hear, at a little distance, the peculiar reel of the " Scissor-grinder." Were it not if or its distinctive note, the bird would probably escape notice altogether, its crepuscular habits and small size rendering it, in the rank marsh stuff, most' difficult to locate ; the reeling, too, is, like the voice of the Landrail, somewhat ventriloquial, and unless the songster himself be seen, his exact whereabouts— at many yards' distance, at any rate — is difficult to determinate. A rough marsh, with a few sallow bushes and brambles growing here and there, is its favourite haunt ; but the nest is seldom found except by the most experi- enced " eggers," though several are annually cut out by the msirsh mowers. A year or two ago I saw one that had been so discovered : it contained five eggs, and was placed on the ground amidst grass and candle rushes {/uncus effusus) only, so that when this, covert was cut the nest was left quite open. The man to whom the swathes belonged, thinking that there was no likelihood of such a naturally shy bird returning, under such circumstances, to finish the process of 276 THE NORFOLK BROADS incubation, with his shut-knife^ cut out the perfect nest and the grass sod containing it. Noticing that one egg was broken, he picked it out and threw it on one side, putting the nest down out of harm's way whilst continuing his mowing. In a few moments the male bird came and carried away the broken eggshell in his beak. Taking this act as an evidence of continued parental solicitude, Nudd, the marshman, replaced the nest, and a few days afterwards I was invited to witness the unusual sight of a Grasshopper Warbler sitting on her newly-hatched young on a marsh as level and bare as the palm of one's hand. The fledglings subsequently flew in safety. I have notes of several Sedge Warblers' nests being successfully moved ; but this bird is of a much more confiding nature than the Grasshopper Warbler. Parental instinct is very highly developed in the wildest animals, and by taking advantage of this instinct, with the help of our reasoning powers, we are enabled now and then to discover and peep into the secret cradle of a rare bird, situated though it be in the midst of a thousand acres of marshes, every square yard of which is to the untrained eye almost exactly Mike, and to hunt aU over which, without watching the birds and appreciating their moods and movements, ^would be an utter waste of time and trouble. The ubiquitous Coot may certainly be said to be characteristic of the avi-fauna of the Broads. It has increasied tenfold within the last decade, and though in summer a pair or two are to be found in every Broad, Hickling is par excellence their winter rendezvous, as well as their favourite breeding haunt. Careful •Shut or 'shutting knife = pocket knife, aS opposed fb a table br case knife. BIRD LIFE 277 protection during the springtime, and perhaps the dedrease of the egg-devouring Harriersy has tended to this desirable result. Giant Pike, too, are not quite so numerous as oi yore. These voracious freshwater sharkis, being able to accommodate many downy mites in their capacious maws, doubtlessly used to levy toll on the young of all water fowl. In spite of their commonness, how few people have any idea of the peculiar beauty of a baby Coot, not all dingy black, as the old birds mostly are, but with head and neck adorned with bristles of yellow and scarlet, the filaments tipped with white ! They are hatched in a large and conspicuous nest composed almost entirely of, and always hned with, the leaves of the previous year's feeds. The eggs are never covered when the old bird leaves them, nor need they be. for they are protectively coloured, being of a groimd colour assimilating to the leaves on which they rest, and, like them, peppered with small black dots and markings — the work, in the reed foliage, of a parasitic fungus. Let me here confess that my oft companion on many a harmless ramble, Alfred Nudd of Hickling, most observant of marshmen, ctdled my attention to this mimicry years before I ever saw it chronicled it print. For a full and perfect description of a local Coot shoot, I must again refer my readers to the work of our county ornithologist, Mr. J. H. Gumey having contributed such a paper to the Transactions of the Norfolk and Norwich Naturalists' Society, The eggs of the Coot differ very much in size, as indeed do those of all other birds. Measurements alone are of little value for purposes of identification ; but the larger the egg of the species the more noticeable 278 THE NORFOLK BROADS is the variation, and the greater i the series examined i the more such variations are found. But with the Coot there seems every season to. be two types of egg, . one large and the other small, the latter scarcely exceed- . ing those of the Moor-hen in, bulk. In fact, I have seen examples quite as diminutive, and for two years in succession I have come across a cliitch of Moor-hen's^ as large as the typical Coot's; Two sizes of Coots, too, appear in the winter gameJTbags, one weighing a third more than the other. We may conclude, there- fore, that the smaller are not a distinct race — as in the case with the home-brfed and foreign Mallard tiiat occur here in winter — and that the local marshmen are right in describing those eggs laid by the smaller Coots as " pullet " eggs, i.e. those of birds under two . years old. Although Coots are generally seen on water, and procure most of their food therefrom, they also eat grass, and tread on land. Moor-hens are, of course, abundant round the Broads, but not being so sociable are neither so numerous nor so much in evidence as the Coots. Their unlobated feet betoken their adapt- ability to less watery localities ; by night they stray far inland, , and at such times their loUd and distant thuck ! thuck J has '. puzzled many an observer of bird notes. They frequently roost in trees by day, and I have found their nests elevated ten feet above. land or water ; but I have never seen their eggs covered when the parent leaves them either before or during incubation, not even on such much-frequented rivers as the " Backs " or " Freshman's " at Cambridge, much.lesff sci in > our reed bushes, marshes, coverts, or wayside ponds. Water Rails (RalluS' aquatiaus) stni lay their delicately tinted eggs in "slads" away from the open Broads; Pi g 5 < K O < H ■z O S BIRD LIFE 279 the nest, though large, is well concealed, but not difficult to discover when one knows the likdy spots or listens in the evening for the " sharming " of the birds. ' The Montagu Harrier, still annually occurring as a. spring migrant attempting to nest, may as yet be included as lending character to our extensive marshes. There can be no doubt that this beautiful bird would be at any. rate as plentiful as the Kestrel, were it not, for the fact that it is also a hawk, and, moreover, a rare hawk, I and therefore looked upon not only as deleterious to game and gamekeepers, but also vEiluable to shooters and collectors. I must not teU all I know about either the depreda- tions made by or upon this bird, or I shall perhaps damage both its chances and its character. I will therefore merely attempt to describe some few hours passed not many years ago in its company. At one time I had three Montagus, and a pair of Marsh Harriers in view, with a Short-eared Owl or two also within ken. Rails "sharming" and Snipe drumming and bleating around. Redshanks incessantly uttering their monotonous, plaintive, but musical whistle in the distance, whilst more of the larger Gulls than I ever remember before noticing together at that season of the year were washing and slaking their thirst in the mere near by. The advent of a passing Heron lent diversion, and several YeEow Wagtails and now and then a Swallow-tail Butterfly added colour to the scene. Ere our quest was over a little: party of Lesser Redpolls visited the young birch trees on the marsh wall adjacent to our hiding-place, and an unexpected Kingfisher — one of a pair, as I subse- quently ascertained, that were breeding not far away^ alighted on the " ligger " which spanned the nearest 28o THE NORFOLK BROADS dyke. Added to which, Swallows, Martins, and, to- wards evening, several Swifts hurried to and fro over our heads, whilst countless - Sedge and Reed Warblers " noised " incessantly on every side of us, and Wood Pigeons cooed with contentment within earshot. Nor must I omit the Cuckoos, especially numerous that year, which, two at a time, were now and then perched motionless for minutes together upon the same stunted thorn bush about a hundred yards away, apparently taking no notice of one another while resting ; but if one started off the other followed, and they chivied one another, chuckling and clucking meanwhile, but whether in love or anger who shall say ? Meanwhile the sky was cloudless, the sun intensely powerful, flies were immensely irritating in the shade, and the gnats at " shutting-in-time " even more so. Nudd undertook to watch the three Montagus, whilst I was intent upon the two Marsh Harriers. I watched ilntil my eyes were weary of watching and my arms tired oi holdiiig up the glasses. When the birds crossed one another, we became sometimes a bit mixed in the species. Sometimes we lost sight of one bird for many minutes together. The male, say, would suddenly disappear behind the tall reed to the right, and then suddenly reveal himself far away on the left ; or one would alight on the bare marsh wall, on which mud had recently been thrown and was now baked and cracked by the sun ; here another bird would bring it food. Next one of the Marsh Harriers would be " mobbed " and suffer persecution at the hands of two of the Montagus; but the Marsh never attacked the Montagu, from which we argued, and rightly, as subsequent events proved, that the larger birds had not yet nested, and that the smaller had already; laid. BIRD LIFE 281 For hours, however, we could make nothing out for certain ; but shortly before sunset a female Montagu was suddenly lost to sight, and one of the males was viewed away to the distant sandhills. Just as we were beginning to think it were no use staying longer, a speck appeared in the azure, the male returned, and hovered over where we had last lost sight of his mate. " Uick ! uick ! gluee ! gluefe ! " he cried, as he apparently dropped some prey ; and the female, rising a few yards, caught it in the air. Nudd threw up his cap for joy. Waiting a few moments to let the hen bird settle herself, "Now you may go," says Sam Harmer {alias Captain Hanks) ; and away we went, all excitement, to the spot — carefuUy marked before starting ; and so true was the long line taken, that without deviating a yard Nudd came within a few feet of putting his feet on the sitting bird, which, until we were too near, trusted to stillness for escaping obser- vation. There were four eggs in the nest, the first I had ever seen in situ ; but I regret to say that neither they nor subsequent clutches laid in the same district within the past five years were allowed a chance of hatching off, although report has it that one young bird at least was successfully reared a year or two ago in a neigbboiuing parish. Rival eggers try to shoot the male of any bird whose embryo offspring they desire to secure ; for should the female have commenced, she generally will go on laying, or at any rate sitting, without her husband to attend upon her, his attentions frequently betra5dng the whereabouts of her sanctuary. Local observers state that Harriers tread in the air, and should one of a pair of birds be killed; early in the season, the other will go away and soon bring 282 THE NORFOLK BROADS back another pairtner. I have also heard, it said that male' Harriers appear first, and select a nesting site, if not actually commendng to build, before bringing the female to inspect and approve and complete their preparations. Nudd aforesaid and poor old Sam, Harmer — now, alas ! ending his days in the workhouse — can bear witness that the aforegoing is no overdrawn picture, but the sinlple truth as to what passed before our eyes whilst we were sitting in one spot, of at any rate not moving more than ' a dozen yards from it, in half as many hours ; although it may have fallen to the lot of few to see, as I have seen, the nests of both' Marsh and Montagu Harriers in one day, and to find those of the Montagu and the Short-eared Owl on the same marsh. The Marsh Harrier's nest, commenced but never finished, was ' placed about a foot off the ground in the midst of a large and dense bed of that rare rush, Cladium jamaicense. StUl characteristic of the Broads, for some few — several in spring and one or two in autumn — stiU annually visit us, the Ruff and Reeve must now, I fear, be included in the list of lost breeding species. Both in 19001 and 1901 a lone Reeve stayed very late and raised the hopes of some of us that what had bfeen would, to a certain extent, be again ; but since 1889 no Reeve's nest has, to my knowledge, been fourid.^ It is not necessary that a pair should be seen to ensure nidification, for the Ruff is polygamous, and troubles himself not with parental cares. Within the last decade I took a local friend over to Hickling on the chance of seeing some of these curious birds, and we were successful beyond our highest anticipations: It ' In Harting's Handbook of British Birds, 2nd ed.,'p. 184, a nest is reported in 1897, near Hoveton Broad. BIRD LIFE 283 was a bright May morning, the wind was right, dnd as we neared Swimcoots wall our worthy quanter, glasses in hand, spied a party of Ruffs and Reeves come and alight inside the marsh. Promptly lying down at the bottom of the boat, we let her drift towards land, and ere she grounded, some ten yards from the shore, first- a Reeve, then a Ruff, and then another Ruff, came over the narrow foot and grassy slope, until we had counted eight different and distinctive plumages of the almost adult males. For nearly half an hour we watched them, until, for some xmaccountable reason, they took wing, and fled rapidly away to the right of us, over to the hovers in the Warbush.^ Whilst we, held them in view on Swimcoots we saw no serious fighting. Now and then two males would play the game-cock ; but more often than not they would set at and challenge one another without even attempting to spar, and when a feint was made it ended there, and if an actual blow was struck it never told, and the striker was the first to move away and commence feeding again. In fact, they were difficult to wa,tch, for they were incessantly on the move. Some of the Ruffs, none very white or yellow in the frill, were in very nearly full feather ; but we saw no attention paid to the three Reeves accompanjnng them. Terns — Common, Lesser, and Black — occur regularly on spring and autumn migration ; the last-named used to breed here, but have now quite ceased to do so. The last egg at HickUng was laid upon a Ivunp of weed drawn up by the sun when the water was low ; and the last pair that probably intended to nest at Rollesby were shot. The rare White-winged Black , 'So called because men used to hide here from the press-gangers. 284 THE NORFOLK BROADS Tern has been procured at Hickling several times, and also at Barton. Amongst the Ducks, the Shoveller has increased;' but the Garganey, or Summer Teal, retains a very, doubtful hold as a breeding species. Within the past ten years the Spotted Rail reared a brood in the parish of Brunstead. Very late in August, a cousin, a steady old retriever, and I, tried ineffectually our best: to catch some of a clutch^ unable or unwilling to rise, although one— as thin as the proverbial rail — passed between my legs as I stood knee-deep in water, mud, and marsh stuff. There was no. case of mistaken identity, for I hid already shot one of the parent birds before thinking, much less knowing, that there were any young about ; the note and behaviour of the other old bird left no doubt in my mind as to the species of herself or the little ones accompanpng her. Never but once have I seen either of the smaller Crakes or Rails, and then not near enough to distinguish it. We were after Duck and Snipe, when my old bitch flushed it some ten yards ahead of me, and in its low, short, backward flight it covered first her and then my right hand companion, and as he was on the ontside and coming round upon the beat, I had not a chance to shoot ere it alighted between us ; and although there was too much water for it to get its feet to the ground, the thick vegetation gave it ample foothold, and in spite of careful and prolonged hunting, and much snufi&ng and tail-wagging on the part of our canine accomplice, we never flushed that tiny mite again. The Norfolk Plover has ceased to breed in the hollows amongst the sandhills within the last twenty years : I can remember the time when they might be seen night after night taking the same line of flight at Winterton. BIRD LIFE 285 Here, too, on the upland fields, the Dotterel used regularly to. appear at turnip-sowing 'time : one or two are now and again still taken on Yarmouth Denes, and I have a couple which, in different yfears, killed themselves by colliding with telegraph or telephone wires.i This bird is one of the exceptions tending to prove the ornithological rule, that where the female only incubates, there she is protectively and less highly coloured than her mate ; here the male alone sits, and therefore has to be contented with less conspicuous attire. There are so many birds that a visitor is almost sure to come across whilst cruising on the Broads, that it is difficult to summarise. In spring and early summer the Redshank will not allow itself to pass unnoticed, nor is the phonetic Peewit much less shy in forcing: itself under observation ; and the unbird-like wing soimd of the Smruner Lamb ^ is sure to betray the downward flight of the Common Snipe. The great gaunt Heron, too, suddenly disturbed from swallowing an edible frog, perhaps, on the banks of Deep Dyke, will slowly sail across the ronds, uttering his loud frank ! frank ! as if his size alone were not sufficient to attract attention to his huge wings, long rudder-like legs, flowing crest, and old-world tout en- semble. In autumn time, I have counted as many as forty of these " arrangements in grey " resting or fishing for eels in Swimcoots big slad. But sudi an assembly is as nothing to the great bunches of Wigeon which come to us in May en route for their more northern breeding grounds, or to the hundreds of Pochards which precede the winter's hard frosts. I have seen Somerton Broad, both north and south portions of it, one day so 1 So called from its peculiar wing sound at breeding- time. 286 THE NORFOLK BROADS thickly covered with Red-heads that it would have been impossible to put down a punt without touching one, and the next day the; water was "laid," and the "Pokers" had perforce departed. But even such a gathering is outnumbered frequently by the clouds of chattering Starlings which in autumn assemble to roost amongst the reeds, and in their eagerness for supremacy, and i to gain the highest perch,' do much damage to the thatching stuff, breaking down acres of the reed by their weight and flutterings. Sometimes, too, the water is literally alive with Gulls. Never shall I forget sleeping in an op6n boat in the midst of a local breeding colony of Scoulton Cobs ! A pretty picture they makie in ;daylight, and a pretty noise, too, at daybreak ! Here, as nowhere else in England, — away from the coast, at any rate, — may annually be seen, sometimes in good-sized herds, the stately Whooper and more Goose-like Bewick Swan, driven hither, probably, by gathering ice in more northern regions : each species upon such emergency frequents the more expansive Broads. On the approach' of winter, — as early as mid-October, sometimes, — 'attracted by their Mute relatives, perhaps, Swans of equal size with thenl, but with full wings, straight necks, and beaks carried at right aingles thereto, may be observed. These are the Great Wild Swans, come in here for rest and fresh water ; and wild indeed they are, at any rate so long as the Broad keeps open. The carriage of the head and neck betokens their distinc- tion horn. Cygnus olor, and this at a distance at which the different disposition of black and yeUow on the beak cannot be noticed. Their smaller size and more lumpy appearance on the water sufficiently identify the Bewicks. The latter birds keep much closer together on the water BIRD LIFE 287 than the Whoopers, and appear to be more sociable. Both species frequently have head and neek feathers tinged with rufous red, probably from feeding in waters saturated with iron sulphatCj or " that old sulphur," as the marshmen call it. An old male Whooper I have weighed, up to twenty- two and a half pounds ; an adult Bewick scaled ten pounds less — both in excellent condition. The double- walled keel to the breastrbone of each I have now in front of me. Between the two walls the ; windpipe passes and returns ere it enters the lungs, — a provision of nature foi: warming the air for breathing whilst the birds are feeding in water below freezing-point, perhaps ; for when "ground " or " mare's ice " is forming on the Broads^ the whole volume of water is of a temperature below 32°, and only kept from consolidating by the action of the wind. Thus is the rare phenomenoa of a Broad freezing up to leeward accounted for. I have had the nose of my quant a knob of ice, and brought up ice-covered weeds at every shove, whilst the surface of the water was unfrozen. On the qther haiid, the sudden- ness with which the iqe on Hickling breajks up may be judged from the fact that I once helped to push a punt across the Broad in the morning, laid in a wake on the other side all day, and came home in open water after fiighting-time. The power of the huge sheets of ice, crashing against and running over one another, can be gauged by the fact that their striking against the steam-driven posts which, iStake-Qut the channel is sufficient, in a few hours, to lay the posts at an acute angle with the water. But such is not a, day on which to admire the Whoopers ; a bright, cri^p day, ;W^th blue sky and still waters, is the time to see and admire the majestic wing-sweep and dazzling white plumage, hear 288 THE NORFOLK BROADS the distinctive honk / CQngk / and observe the final wedge - like formation of some forty long - necked strangers, ^- a fofmation which, after being once or twice put up, they assume to ease their aerial passage seaward, until departing daylight or early dawn may (should the weather threaten) tempt them, to return inland. Under certain conditions, the immediate vicinity of the Broads seems — not counting game — ^a veritable Avemus ; but when once skaters and ice-boats have cleared away, and the prolonged frost has broken up for good, how great and sudden is the change in bird life ! — right on, then, until next mid-November at the earliest, every acre of marsh, reed-'ground, and quiet open Water is alive with ever-varying feathered forms. Not that we can now boast of so numerous an avi-fauna as the pages of even so recent an historian as Lubbock tells of ; but since he wrote, some new species have been added to our local list, whilst others, that had dwindled down towards extinction, within the last twenty years have increased in numbers. In former days, when Ornithology had not been made quite such an exact science, the immigration of many waifs and strays and storm-driven strangers was allowed to pass unrecorded, if not unnoticed ; but within later times Shore Larks and Little Auks, Sand Grouse and Blue-throated Warblers, have put in more 'frequent appearances, whilst the Turtle Dove and Tree Sparrow, Great Crested Grebe and Woodcock, more than hold their own as breeding species. The Stock-Dove is certainly decreasing on the sandhills, and the Common Plover on the marshes. A good many Redshank and Snipe still nest with us ; but never again, pethaps, will it be possible for one gun in Broadland to kill thirty-three couple of the latter in a BIRD LIFE 289 day, and one hiindred and sixty-six couple in a season, as my father did at Somerton in 1868. Some estimate of the present-day wealth of bird life in Norfolk may be arrived at by comparing the British list with that of the county. The latest schedule of British birds published with authority is found in the new (1901) edition of Harting's Handbook, in which four hundred and twenty-eight species are enumerated, sixty-iive of which are marked as doubtful. Up to January 1899 (and I know of no later additions), Messrs. Gurney and Southwell, in the Transactions of the Norfolk and Norwich Naturalists^ Society, credit our county with three hundred and eight representatives, and make mention of eight other uncertain ones. The length and position of our coastline, facing the east and shouldering round to the north, with saltings adjoining, our many fresh-water Broads, marshes, and reed-beds, together with the far- famous Breydon mud-flats, and extensive game coverts in close proximity to the shore, — all these taken together form an attractive network of decoys for any species of bird that may chance to come within sight of them. So sharp an outlook is now kept for varieties, that probably not a single avian stranger stays more than a day to rest here without its presence being detected, even if its skin is not secured. Some of the scarce and tiny Warblers may, indeed, escape observation during the summer months ; but it is practically impossible for any larger bird to defy detection, so many trained and eager eyes are always and everywhere on the lookout for something to annex, or to report upon. No other county, probably, has, for the last thirty yeats at least, been more thoroughly and systematically worked, both for birds and eggs. 19 290 THE NORFOLK BROADS Upon the local ornithology of the past I need not dwell. Suffice to say, that up to 1542 the Crane is supposed to have bred here, and until 1671 the Spoonbill. The Cormorant ceased nesting in the county about 1825, and the Avocet at about the same time. The last Black-tailed Godwit's egg was taken at Reedbam in 1857. Probably the Black Tern and Bittern wiU never again rear their young in Broadland ; the Reeve seems disinclined to stay ; and the Harriers are certainly doomed, in spite of Protection Acts and prohibited areas. The Garganey Teal seems to be mysteriously vanishing as a breeder ; the Spotted Rail retains a doubtful foothold ; nor does either the Short or Long Eared Owl tend to increase. The recent rise in price of litter has caused more marsh stuff to be cut between haysel and harvest ; this is detrimental to nidification in general, although favourable to snipe-feeding and snipe-shooting, and affording more playground to the Ruffs. A few years ago I heard a marshman give as one reason for the Ruffs' and Reeves' absence nowadays, that they had nowhere to alight upon, — one of their most favoured haunts not having been mown for six or seven years. Now London 'bus and cab horses have absorbed that ancient herbage, and yet the Ruifs and Reeves do not linger long, although a nest was reported at Hoveton in 1897. Lost as breeding birds are the Spoonbills and Godwits, with some dozen other species which formerly bred here ; but the animaux implumes that now annually visit the Broads are of greater value to the greater number, and with less species we have more numerous benefits. The ague has departed as well as the Avocet, and bullocks now batten where the Bittern once boomed ; but in spite < R K BIRD LIFE 291 of egging and shooting, steam drainage and other inventions, we still possess a richer avi-fauna than any other county in England. Eleven species, at least, in the British list were first noted in this favoured district. CHAPTER XV A SKETCH OF THE GEOLOGICAL HISTORY OF THE BROADLAND By F. W. Harmer, F.G.S. Membre Associd Etranger de la Socidti Beige de Giologie ; Membre de la Societi Geologique de France, etc. THE Zoology and the Botany of the East Anglian Lakeland are each of them full of interest, but when these have been studied, it may still be useful to inquire why the natural features of this region, to which the special character of its fauna and flora are largely due, differ so widely from those of other parts of Great Britain. For this purpose we must learn something of the strata by which it is underlain, and of the physical changes which, in past ages, it has undergone. The subject is a large one, however, and can only be dealt with here in the most general way. One can only attempt rapidly to show, as by the shift- ing scenes of a panorama, the conditions of the district at some of the more important stages of its geological history.^ ' Those who desire to study the geology of the district more seriously are referred to an admirable resumS of the subject recently published by Mr. H. B. Woodward, F.R.S., in the Victoria History of Norfolk. A GEOLOGICAL SKETCH 293 The principal strata which occur at or near the surface, or are known from borings, are given in the following schedule, their stratigraphical relation to each other being shown in the section (Fig. i). Tertiary or Kainozoic Recent Pleistocene Pliocene . Miocene . Oligocene Eocene . /Blown sand, marine bea