Saltburn Cliffs
Find a vantage point on the awesome
Hunt Cliffs to look down over Saltburn and Cat Nab, and the alum mines of our ancestors.
It was here, John tells us, that when a French Napoleonic ship threatened out
to sea, a band of local women dressed in red along the cliffs to make the
French believe that an army of redcoats was ready to welcome any attack.
Please
take care on the cliff walk and stick to the path, and
pick a calm day to visit.
This webpage
is still to be written but meantime you can visit the existing webpage on Saltburn by the Sea.
Huntcliff
On the
north of Kilton may be seen gigantic Huntcliff
rearing its hoary summit towards the clouds (John Farndale,
1864)
He wrote To the geologist and curious both Saltburn and Huntcliff offer great attractions. The latter place is one
of the boldest and highest promontories on the east coast, where the cormorant,
the gull, and other sea birds, in their cloud-caped habitations, unmolested
breed in vast numbers, unless scared away from their airy homes by some
adventurous sportsmen, when he awokes the echoes of
the rocks by the rude report of his deadly weapon.
How often here on a fine summer’s eve have I strolled to this
most retired and enchanting retreat, Huntcliff, with my gun, to enjoy a sport of
shooting the sea bird darting up the cliff over-head; an advantageous sport,
when an ordinary marksman need not fail to bag a brace or two. This retreat was
part of my Huntley Hall farm, and is only a short
drive from Saltburn-by-the-Sea. And on this retired place have passed many
hundred horse loads of smuggled goods; this was the private road of old. I do
not know any place equal for such an extensive view (if you step up to the
beacon above) of sea and land. Here you stand 150 yards above the level of the
sea, and here you stretch your eye on the German ocean from Whitby to
Tynemouth, Sunderland and Hartlepool; and you can here
view the counties of Durham, Westmoreland, and the Yorkshire hills; both sea
and land are most interesting with a glass. From this hill you look down on the
dark blue ocean below and you see a fleet of ships far and near, so near below
you as to believe them sporting on those dangerous rocks, when again they reach
away majestically, and you can hear and see the jolly tars, merrily employed in
their dangerous seafaring life, shifting sail and mainsail, on the great dee
below. You here stand on this mountain ridge apparently safe rom danger, yet danger is always near: even here I have
suffered loss of stock. Once a fine colt somehow trespassed near the cliff, and
fearful to say it bounced down this awful precipice twenty yards from the base
below, its bowels gushing out yards beyond. On these rocks how many a seaman
has found a watery grave, and many a fine ship has been wrecked.
You should not forget those rocks on
which iron stone was shipped to Middlesbro’ prior to the Eston mines. Here also
abound many kinds of marine animals, and sea-weed,
under which breed vast millions of shell-fish, and, as you walk along, you
destroy many thousands crackling under foot; there are frequently seen numerous
seals or sea-calves basking in the sun.
John Farndale
recalled an incident on Huntcliff at the end of the
eighteenth century. There was another servant of my father’s, named Ralph
Page, equally as singular as Willy Swales. As Ralph was once busily ploughing, a
French Privateer, threatening land at Skinningrove, fired into the town.
Those in the district who had guns assembled on the cliffs and fired a volley
in return. To intimidate the enemy the women mustered strong and attired in
red cloaks and shouldering sticks, to represent a body
of soldiers, they stood far away in the distance. Ralph took little notice
of the privateer, not bothering his head either with the French or the English,
only they let him be, when a young woman passing in haste, cried out “Ralph,
French is landing.”. Ralph, turning round, with the greatest coolness replied,
“Then run yam, and sup all’t cream,” and unconcerned
he ploughed away as though nothing was the matter.
The next
day the king’s cutter arrived, and the privateer and her had an engagement,
when the Frenchmen were beaten and the vessel taken, to the great joy of the
inhabitants of the surrounding district.
The incident
of the red cloaks described by John, is not unlike another incident in February
1797 when a small force of 1,400 French landed accidentally in Fishguard,
Pembrokeshire in an effort to burn Bristol. They
quickly surrendered after seeing a group of Welsh women dressed in red cloaks,
who they thought to be a Ridgment of
soldiers. Perhaps thousands of local Welsh women dressed in their
traditional scarlet tunics and tall black felt hats had come to witness any
fighting between the French and the local men of the militia. The by then
inebriated invasion force mistook them for Redcoats.
In the late
eighteenth century, the Skinningrove coastline was raided by an American
privateer captained by Paul Jones. Privateers were privately owned armed ship
which could be commissioned by a Government to plunder
its adversaries. Some owners were little more than legalised pirates. In 1779
America was at war with England, seeking independence. Paul Jones was a
Commodore in the American navy, born in Scotland. After raiding the Cumberland coast he moved on to plunder Whitby,
then a wealthy port. He appeared off Skinningrove, fired into the village and then
sent his men ashore on a raiding party before heading for Whitby. His ship was fired upon by soldiers
who manned a battery above where the Spa now stands, but the Whitby cannon exploded and hurled two
soldiers to their death onto the rocks below.
Further
along the coast on 20 September 1779 he raided Scarborough with hostile squadron of
ships, Bonhomme Richard, Alliance, Pallas and Vengeance,
and attacked a merchant fleet, protected by two men-o'-war, the Seraphis and Countess of Scarborough. The Seraphis was more manoeuvrable than Jones' Bonhomme
Richard and as criowds watched from Filey cliffs
the two ships came together amidst hand to hand
fighting and close cannon fire. Jone managed to take the Seraphis and he allowed his own ship to sink.
John
described another incident involving a Stokesley
captain called Richard Hornby in 1744. The incident occurred off the coast of
Holland. Here we notice the heroism of Captain Hornby, almost without a
parallel. He was the master of a merchant ship, named the Isabella, of
Sunderland; when a French privateer attacked him, eight times his number, both
in men and guns, beside 300 small arms. The Frenchman, in abusive language,
commanded him to strike his colours, calling out in a menacing tone, “You
English dogs, strike.” Hornby challenged him to come on board,
and strike his colours if he dared. The Frenchman then threw in twenty
men, who began to hack and hew into his close quarters, Hornby then dispatched
a blunderbuss, which made the invaders retreat. The privateer tacked about, and made another attempt on the starboard side.
Captain Hornby and his valiant mate each shot his man, and the Frenchman once
more commanded him to strike. The brave Britain returned another refusal.
Twenty fresh men entered, and made an attack at close quarters, when Captain H.
and his brave crew obliged them again to retreat, the two vessels being at that
time lashed together, the enemy with small arms pouring vollies
in close quarters. At length Captain H., seeing them giving way, fired a double
loaded blunderbuss, when it burst and Captain H. fell
as dead – it made terrible havoc with the enemy. The gallant Hornby then fired
his two starboard guns into the enemy’s stern, and the indignant Frenchman soon
returned the compliment, the conflict was renewed, and after seven hours of
hard fighting, the enemy again summoned Hornby, with dreadful menaces, to
strike his colours, which animated his gallant crew to resistance, and the
enemy’s crew refused to renew the dangerous task to board. Captain H. resolved
to salute the Frenchman with one parting gun, which entered the magazine, and
the ship blew up instantaneously; thirty five were
killed and wounded, thirty five drowned, and three saved. The engagement lasted
seven hours. Captain Hornby received from the King a large gold medal
commemorating his heroism.
In 1826, the
350 ton Whitby Waler, the Esk,
was returning home after a whaling expedition north of Shetland, during which
four whales had been caught. In 1816 the same ship had survived being trapped
in ice on a voyage to Greenland. Her Captain Dunbar passed Hartlepool as a gale started to drive her
towards the shore. The morning of 6 September 1826 was marked by strong winds,
mist and crashing surf. The Esk’s sails were soon shredded and
she became grounded at the low water mark off Marske on Sea. The crew fired
guns and burnt a distress light, but at dawn, she went to pieces. Within
seventeen hours she was a total wreck and her
riggings, timbers and cargo came ashore along miles of coastland. Only three
members of the twenty seven strong crew survived. A
memorial service was later held at St Mary’s Church, Whitby and 3,000 folk attended and took a collection for the bereaved
families.
In October
2023, Storm Babet spewed a mysterious wooden structure that is thought to have
been the missing whaling boat.
Chris Scott Wilson
has written more about the tragedy.
Looking
down over Saltburn by the Sea
or
Go
Straight to Chapter 17 – John Farndale and the Industrial Revolution