Down the Rabbit Hole

Where Wreckers Reigned

By day, Seaford Beach is a picture of coastal charm—waves rolling gently onto the pebbled shore, the cliffs standing watch over sunbathers and seagulls alike. But in the 16th century, this peaceful stretch of coastline had a far more sinister reputation under the surface. Back then, Seaford was a town of wreckers—locals who saw shipwrecks not as tragedies, but as opportunities.

According to legend, some particularly … resourceful (?) Seafordians didn’t leave wrecking to chance. The infamous Shags of Seaford were said to deliberately mislead ships by placing false lights along the cliffs, tricking sailors into believing they were navigating safely. Instead, the vessels would crash into the treacherous shores, spilling their precious cargo into the hands of eager townsfolk.

And when the inevitable cries of drowning sailors echoed through the night? Well, it’s said that Seaford residents slept with their windows open—not out of sympathy, but so they wouldn’t miss the sound of opportunity knocking (or rather, wailing). Goods were salvaged, wealth was shared, and the town’s reputation as a wrecker’s haven was set in stone, not unlike the ones ships crashed into.

These days, the only lights on the cliffs are those of lighthouses, warning ships away rather than luring them in. The town has swapped shipwrecking for sun-seeking, and the only treasure washing ashore now is driftwood and the occasional lost sandal. But Seaford’s past remains a salty, shadowy whisper in the sea breeze—a reminder that history is sometimes best left buried beneath the waves.

Written By: Ellie Hoffman

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