Lil

I purchased a print of the scene a long time ago on one of my younger visits to Whitby and it's a photograph that I can stare at for hours. Sutcliffe's candid photographic style that tells a story with every shot is so unexpected for the era that I almost feel like if I look hard enough at the scene I'll be able to see the characters moving and the story will play out in front of my eyes.

The sepia photograph conveys the aftermath of the destructive power of the storm. A ship rests tilted at an angle on the beach beneath a shelf of the East Cliff, with the tombstones of St Mary's Church are just visible above.

The sepia photograph conveys the aftermath of the destructive power of the storm. A ship rests tilted at an angle on the beach beneath a shelf of the East Cliff, with the tombstones of St Mary's Church are just visible above.

Its masts and rigging lay in a broken pile in front of it like so many snapped twigs, while the small figures of people swarm around it, clambering on and over the broken timber. The figures are slightly blurred.

Its masts and rigging lay in a broken pile in front of it like so many snapped twigs, while the small figures of people swarm around it, clambering on and over the broken timber. The figures are slightly blurred.

They were likely moving during the relatively long exposure time required for Victorian plate photography, and the movement evokes a sense of frenetic energy and a frisson of excitement that would have doubtless accompanied the unexpected event.

They were likely moving during the relatively long exposure time required for Victorian plate photography, and the movement evokes a sense of frenetic energy and a frisson of excitement that would have doubtless accompanied the unexpected event.

I can't help but feel that the photograph helps to blur the line between fact and fiction, as this feels like something that could have come straight out of Mina's collection of newspaper cuttings pasted in her journal. I'm almost disappointed not to spot a large black dog in the photo, scampering off up the cliff. And what of that great black dog?

I can't help but feel that the photograph helps to blur the line between fact and fiction, as this feels like something that could have come straight out of Mina's collection of newspaper cuttings pasted in her journal. I'm almost disappointed not to spot a large black dog in the photo, scampering off up the cliff. And what of that great black dog?

Well, that brings us to another chunk of Whitby's lore and legend that Stoker cleverly worked into his story.

Well, that brings us to another chunk of Whitby's lore and legend that Stoker cleverly worked into his story.

The name Kettleness likely comes from the Old Norse language, kettle meaning pot or cauldron, and thought to refer to the cauldron of water around the point, whilst ness means headland, or more literally, nose, very appropriate for the rocky, jutting nose of Kettleness Nab.

The name Kettleness likely comes from the Old Norse language, kettle meaning pot or cauldron, and thought to refer to the cauldron of water around the point, whilst ness means headland, or more literally, nose, very appropriate for the rocky, jutting nose of Kettleness Nab.

This reminds us of the Danish invaders we encountered in our first episode of the series, who landed at Whitby and sacked the Abbey. But before that, the shore was at risk of invasion from Saxons, and we touched on this too when we explored the possibility of Whitby's East Cliff once being the site of a Roman signal station.

This reminds us of the Danish invaders we encountered in our first episode of the series, who landed at Whitby and sacked the Abbey. But before that, the shore was at risk of invasion from Saxons, and we touched on this too when we explored the possibility of Whitby's East Cliff once being the site of a Roman signal station.

Sturdy, defensive lighthouses built in chains along the sections of the English coastline exposed by the North Sea to raiders as well as traders.

Sturdy, defensive lighthouses built in chains along the sections of the English coastline exposed by the North Sea to raiders as well as traders.

We may never know if one of these signal stations existed at Whitby, but we do know that a Roman signal station did stand at Kettle Ness, just inland between the Knab and the small hamlet of Goldsborough, likely surviving due to its more inland location having saved it from disappearing off the cliff edge and into the sea via coastal erosion, as may have happened at Whitby.

We may never know if one of these signal stations existed at Whitby, but we do know that a Roman signal station did stand at Kettle Ness, just inland between the Knab and the small hamlet of Goldsborough, likely surviving due to its more inland location having saved it from disappearing off the cliff edge and into the sea via coastal erosion, as may have happened at Whitby.

From discoveries at nearby Ravenscar in the 18th century, antiquarians realised that there was probably a string of these forklets all up the Yorkshire coast. And in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, historians and early archaeologists set about hunting them down.