by her kindness to them the Winchelsea men took to active sea
piracy, which de Montfort encouraged. In 1266, however, Prince Edward,
who disliked piracy, descended upon the town and chastised it bloodily;
while on February 4, 1287, a greater punishment came, for during another
storm the town was practically drowned, all the flat land between Pett
and Hythe being inundated. New Winchelsea, the Winchelsea of to-day, was
forthwith begun under royal patronage on a rock near Icklesham, the
north and east sides of which were washed by the sea. A castle was set
there, and gates, of which three still stand--Pipewell, Strand and
New--rose from the earth. The Grey Friars monastery and other religious
houses were reproduced as at Old Winchelsea, and a prosperous town
quickly existed.

New Winchelsea was soon busy. In 1350 a battle between the English and
Spanish fleets was waged off the town, an exciting spectacle for the
Court, who watched from the high ground. Edward III., the English king,
when victory was his, rode to Etchingham for the night. In 1359, 3,000
Frenchmen entered Winchelsea and set fire to it; while in 1360 the
Cinque Ports navy sailed from Winchelsea and burned Luce. Such were the
reprisals of those days. In 1376 the French came again and were repulsed
by the Abbot of Battle, but in 1378 the Abbot had to run. In 1448 the
French came for the last time, the sea having become very shallow; and a
little later the sea receded altogether, Henry VIII. suppressed the
religious houses, and Winchelsea's heyday was over.

She is now a quiet, aloof settlement of pleasant houses and gardens,
prosperous and idle. Rye might be called a city of trade, Winchelsea of
repose. She spreads her hands to the sun and is content.

[Sidenote: THE ALARD TOMBS]

Winchelsea's church stands, as a church should, in the midst of its
green acre, fully visible from every side--the very antipodes of Rye.
Large as it now is, it was once far larger, for only the chancel and
side aisles remain. The glory of the church is the canopied tomb of
Gervase Alard, Admiral of the Cinque Ports, and that of his grandson
Stephen Alard, also Admiral, both curiously carved with grotesque heads.
The roof beams of the church, timber from wrecked or broken ships, are
of an integrity so thorough that a village carpenter who recently
climbed up to test them blunted all his tools in the enterprise.

[Illustration: _Sedilia and Tombs of Gervase and Stephen Alard,
W