The Cobb itself, its old wonders and new improvements… are what the stranger’s eye will seek.
On the southern coast of England, near the town of Lyme Regis, an ancient seawall rises from the water.
Like a great openmouthed serpent, its head reaches into the sea, its jaw acts as a quay, its body curves round to form a harbor, its tail stretches to the shore. Known as “the Cobb” for reasons lost to time, this man-made barrier more than half a millennium old is but a youthful newcomer to a wild, unstable coast where prehistoric creatures once dwelled.
Were it not for the Cobb, there would be no harbor, and were it not for the harbor, there would be no Lyme, for the rugged shoreline the seawall faces offers no natural protected anchorage. The construction of the wall proved the making of the town, their fates and fortunes entwined. From simple medieval beginnings, the Cobb, the harbor, and the village together evolved into a thriving port worthy of royal notice.
In this haven, ships were built and launched, trading vessels unloaded exotic wares, sailors returning from distant lands found welcome, and visitors invested hope and fortunes in the alleged restorative powers of seabathing—all sheltered by a mighty stone guardian from the caprice of the sea and the violence of Mother Nature.
In the summer of 1815, however, even the Cobb could not safeguard Lyme from the tempests of human nature.