I fished a clay pipe out of the shallow ocean surf west of Egypt Beach a few days ago. Because it was intact, I thought it was not likely to be old, but on the other hand it was doubtful that a surfcaster had recently dropped it in the sea. Plain and rather streamlined in shape, it had the letters T and D notched into the bowl and two smaller letters impressed on the stem.
Some online research gave me information on the manufacturers who made these pipes for centuries, but not the exact age. Richard Barons, the executive director of the East Hampton Historical Society, estimated it to be from abut 1830 when I brought it to him, so I gave it to the historical society for their collections.
My guess now is that the pipe had been contained all these years in a shipwreck or something protective in the ocean, and had been loosened and freed in the recent rough seas. It had only just washed ashore, I think, since it could not have been rolling around in the waves—unbroken—for very long. I’m glad it now has a secure home on Main Street.
This pipe, so elegant, is considerably longer and a bit older than the one I found. Wainscot, tightly fitted jacket, ruffled cravat, breeches, an elongated clay pipe,and, out of sight, perhaps a glass of Madeira. I aspire to this eighteenth century look.