s, the curious passages where
it is scarcely possible for two people to pass, and the little courts
which look like culs-de-sac but have a hidden flight of steps leading
down to another passage, seem to be purposely intricate and confusing.
For I can imagine a revenue cutter chasing a boat into Robin Hood's Bay,
and I can see the smugglers hastily landing on the beach and making for
the town, followed by the Excise officers, who are as unable to trace
the men as though they had been chasing rabbits in a warren. The stream
that made this retreat for the fishing-town is now scarcely more than a
drain when it reaches the houses, for, after passing along the foot of a
great perpendicular mass of shale, it rushes into a tunnel, and only
appears again on the shore.
It is strange that there should be so little information as to the
associations of Robin Hood with this fishing-village. The stories of his
shooting an arrow to determine where he should make his headquarters
sound improbable, although his keeping one or two small ships in the bay
ready for making his escape if suddenly attacked seems a rational
precaution, and if only there were a little more evidence outside the
local traditions to go upon, it would be pleasant to let the imagination
play upon the wild life led by the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon in this
then inaccessible coast region.
The railway southwards takes a curve inland, and, after winding in and
out to make the best of the contour of the hills, the train finally
steams very heavily and slowly into Ravenscar Station, right over the
Peak and 630 feet above the sea. On the way you get glimpses of the
moors inland, and grand views over the curving bay. There is a station
named Fyling Hall, after Sir Hugh Cholmley's old house, halfway to
Ravenscar. It was about the year 1625 that Sir Hugh to a great extent
rebuilt Fyling Hall, which is still standing; but he came in with his
family before the plaster on the walls was thoroughly dry, and the
household seems to have suffered in health on this account. Shortly
afterwards Sir Hugh lost his eldest son Richard, who was only five years
old, and this great trouble decided him to move to Whitby; for in 1629
he sold Fyling Hall to Sir John Hotham, and took up his residence in the
Abbey House at Whitby.
Raven Hall, the large house conspicuously perched on the heights above
the Peak, is now converted into an hotel. There is a wonderful view from
the castellated ter
|