FOOTNOTES

£ s. d.

Vicarage of Lowestoft 0 8 8

Rectory of Blundeston 1 6 8

Rectory of Somerliton 1 4 0

Rectory of Lound 0 16 0

Rectory of Belton 1 14 8

Rectory of Burgh 0 13 4

Rectory of Bradwell 2 16 0

Vicarage of Gorleston 0 13 4

Vicarage of Yarmouth Parva 0 8 8

Rectory of Oldton 1 9 4

Rectory of Gunton 0 8 8

£11 19 4

Benefices of 12 merks or under, which did not pay this tenth, and on which the Rectors or Vicars kept personal residence, were Flixton, Fritton, and Ashby.

Why Herringfleet, Corton, and Hopton came to be omitted, does not appear.

This, though apparently a small sum, was in fact, a very considerable one, for thirty pounds now is scarcely an equivalent in value to five pounds at the time of Henry VI.

It is probable that the passage cut through the cliffs at Lowestoft, a little to the north of the town, called the Cart’s Score, and also the foot-path between that Score and the northern light-house, were designed, originally, for the convenience of a communication between Lowestoft and the adjacent country, and the haven’s mouth when situated near Corton: and there are several other passages, similar to the above, between Lowestoft and Yarmouth, which were also formed for preserving a communication between the country and the haven’s mouth, according to the several situations which the haven afterwards had.

Trinity House, London, January 19th, 1782. This corporation having lately caused a survey to be taken of the Stanford, in which was found only three fathoms, in the best of the channel, at high water; it is recommended to all masters and pilots to be very cautious in navigating ships of a great draught through that channel.

To give one instance of the fluctuating nature of the sands off Lowestoft; it is observed, that that part of the sands where the church and chapel bore on each other the fishing boats, a few years ago, used to sail over, at their going out to sea and returning again into the roads: this part of the sand is now become perfectly dry; and at low water, when the weather is fine, extends to a considerable distance; and may, possibly, afterwards become the foundation of a new town.

By a special pardon granted to the men of Yarmouth, 10 Edward I. it appears, that they were fined £1000 for damages which they had done upon the western coast as far as Shoreham and Portsmouth. And in the 31st of that king it appears, that Yarmouth had sustained damages by the portsmen to the amount of £20,138, an enormous sum at that time. This, probably, is what Hollingshed alludes to in his Chronicle, where it is recorded, that in the 25th of Edward I, “That king passing into Flanders, to the assistance of the earl thereof, being no sooner on land, but the men of the ports and Yarmouth, through an old grudge long depending between them, fell together and fought on the sea with such fury, that, notwithstanding the king’s commandment to the contrary, twenty-five ships of Yarmouth and their partakers were burnt, etc.” But Manship observes, “That in the town’s Record of that year he did not find that so many were burnt; but by a complaint and presentment made to his majesty it appears, that thirty-seven ships were greatly damaged by the portsmen, 171 men killed, and goods to the value of £15,356 were spoiled and taken from them;” of which (says he) a grievous requital was not long after made by the men of Yarmouth against portsmen. The late disputes seem to have originated from the mistaken idea which each of the parties had conceived of their own importance from their newly-acquired grants, and for want of having their respective privileges more clearly ascertained.

From the prison at Constantinople, 22nd November, 1663. Dear Father, In all duty I do send you salutations, with my loving mother; having yet place left me to mourn for your sorrow for me in your old age and grey hairs, when usual comfort is expected from children; but it is the Lord’s hand, let him do with me what pleaseth him. For six months past I have had but little rest. I was chained in the galleys by the leg, and also both hands together, besides a chain to my back, as the other slaves; with all which I was forced to row. My allowance is bread and water; and I am exposed, naked, to the extremity of both heat and cold. I write you the truth, but not all; it would wear out a pen of brass to do it. Now that you may know the occasion of our falling into this calamity, I shall observe to you, that upon Whitsunday last, in the morning, we saw thirty sail of galleys coming into the bay towards us; we weighed and towed about two miles, it being calm where we lay. The galleys coming within us, cast themselves in a half moon, and began with us. I was laid on board by the Bassa himself; the remainder of his squadron, with his nephew, forming the body of his strength, laid round me. Five laid me on board, and three of them thrust their prows [a kind of boltsprit at the head of a row galley, on which is fixed a large gun] into our ports. The general or bassa, once; the admiral another; and one more. The others laid upon their oars, discharging their prows, and boarding us with great clamour. Our ship was on fire all over our heads, which happened on his boarding us, from a wad out of his cursed piece, which shot a bullet of thirty-two pounds. We cleared ourselves of the galleys, supposing to have overcome the fire, otherwise they should have perished with us. At last I caused a barrel of powder to be brought and placed abaft the mast, on the gun-deck; then drawing all my men to the fore part of the ship, I caused it to be fired, and so blew up all, that the enemy might enjoy nothing. The fight continued from eight or nine in the morning till twelve or one in the afternoon, the half of which time they were on board us. Amongst the greatest of my afflictions, this stands first before me:—my care at home. My two boys are forced to turn Turks, to my infinite grief. I do beseech you, show love to my wife and children, by which (if I do live to see) your great love will be shown to me. Committing you to the protection of the Almighty, I rest, your dutiful son and poor captive, William Wilde.