At ten o’clock on a sweltering summer morning in Rye, a mutinous, black-hearted band of rogues, renegades and freebooters gathered on the Gun Terrace. There was shouting and growling, the crack of gunfire, and no shortage of pirate shenanigans, mischief and mayhem. It could only mean one thing: Rye Pirate Day had arrived.
As we wandered through the town’s ancient cobbled streets, cutlass-wielding, salt-crusted buccaneers emerged from every alleyway and hidden corner, making their way towards Ypres Tower. Before long, the terrace was packed with a noisy pirate crew as the steady beat of drums echoed through the air, sea shanties rang out across the town and bloodthirsty cries spread through the growing crowd.
Rye under siege
The Town Crier and the Mayor did their best to call the townsfolk to order (with a worthy crack about pie-rates – you had to be there), but Rye was firmly under siege by pirates, smugglers and privateers. Waving flags, brandishing cutlasses and answering every proclamation with cheers and good-natured heckling, the assembled crew looked as though they had sailed straight from the Caribbean.
With the summer sunshine blazing overhead, the atmosphere was infectious. Pirates had travelled from across the South East and beyond, each seemingly trying to outdo the next with increasingly elaborate costumes. There were magnificent tricorn hats, weather-beaten coats, striped waistcoats, pistols tucked into belts, fearsome beards, eye patches, parrots perched on shoulders and even a few peg legs. Wide-eyed children swung their legs from their perch on the cannons as the ungodly crowd continued to swell.
The ceremonial opening reached its climax with the thunderous crack of gunfire from the top of Ypres Tower. The sound echoed across the rooftops of Rye, drawing cheers from the assembled crowd and signalling that the day’s siege (or adventures) were truly underway.
Cobbled streets, buccaneers and the King’s men
Soon afterwards, the pirate procession set off through Rye’s narrow streets. Winding its way over the famous cobbles and between centuries-old timber-framed buildings as the heavy beat of the drums rattled old buildings and bones and buccaneers marched, danced and snarled their way through the town. Flags fluttered overhead, the drums maintained a steady rhythm and the pirate procession drew cheers.
Smugglers’ wares and a washed up ship
The parade eventually reached Strand Quay, where yet more pirate entertainment awaited. A pirate ship lay moored alongside the quay, sitting dramatically aground as the tide retreated, while a chained skeleton and the ubiquitous pirate flags kept an eye on the crowds. Nearby, visitors wandered through the Smugglers’ Market, while a one-legged pirate accompanied by his faithful parrot, told increasingly outrageous tales of life on the high seas.
Call to arms
Down on the Green, sea shanties echoed across the burnt grass while the King’s men attempted to capture the pirate crew. Swords clashed, muskets fired and spectators cheered as the battle unfolded. Despite the best efforts of the authorities, the pirates proved more than a match for their opponents, triumphing in suitably theatrical fashion.
A great day out
What makes Rye Pirate Day so special is not simply the programme of events but the way the entire town embraces the occasion. Rye hardly needs much imagination to transport visitors back through the centuries. Its medieval streets, ancient inns, historic harbour and rich smuggling history already provide the perfect setting. Add hundreds of enthusiastic pirates, stirring music, booming gun fire and a healthy dose of theatrical storytelling, and it’s easy to believe that the town really has been reclaimed by buccaneers for the day.
For one glorious summer’s day, Rye had belonged to the pirates once again – and judging by the smiles on the faces of those who attended, nobody was in any hurry to hand it back.
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