Welcome to Whitby – a small Yorkshire coastal town. Throughout its history, Whitby has been (among other things) an important religious centre, one of England’s most prolific shipbuilding ports, and a favoured haven for smugglers. Today, in 1895, its main industries are Whitby jet, fishing, and above all - tourism. Its quaint streets and harbour, jet shops and sandy beach draw hordes of vacationing families every summer, while a great many novelists, painters and photographers find inspiration in the town's beautiful surroundings, the seemingly idyllic lives of the close-knit fishing community, and the ruins of the Gothic abbey towering dramatically above the harbour on the East Cliff.
 
It is November, 1895. Most tourists have returned to their dreary lives elsewhere. The Scottish herring fleet, that visits the harbour in late summer, has left to follow the ‘silver darlings’ further south. The sea is growing more treacherous and the local population prepares for another cold and wet winter. But they spare no efforts to keep life interesting. The Whitby Gazette has dutifully reported on the scandals blighting rich and poor families alike. Murder, elopements, shocking lies revealed – there is no need for Whitby’s locals to fear a boring winter. Meanwhile the recently reinforced Whitby police is trying to tackle Whitby’s growing crime rates, but whether they are successful? I’d check my pockets if I were you. Two recent fires too. And then there’s all those bikes that keep disappearing...


Photograph by: Frank Meadow Sutcliffe (1853-1941)