The Smugglers of Old Saltburn
Stories of smugglers, led by my four
times great grandfather known as the King of the Smugglers, and the undoubted
involvement of our forebears
You could
begin with some sea shanties from the Saltburn Smugglers’.
|
Smugglers of Old Saltburn Podcast This
is a new experiment. Using Google’s Notebook LM, listen to an AI powered
podcast summarising this page. This should only be treated as an
introduction, and the AI generation sometimes gets the nuance a bit wrong.
However it does provide an introduction to the themes of this page, which are
dealt with in more depth below. |
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Rudyard
Kipling’s vision. |
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If you
wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet, Don't
go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street; Them
that ask no questions isn't told a lie. Watch
the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by! |
Five
and twenty ponies, Trotting
through the dark - Brandy
for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces
for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch
the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! |
Running
round the woodlump if you chance to find Little
barrels, roped and tarred, all full of brandy-wine, Don't
you shout to come and look, nor use 'em for your
play. Put the
brishwood back again - and they'll be gone next day
! |
|
If you
see the stable-door setting open wide; If you
see a tired horse lying down inside; If your
mother mends a coat cut about and tore; If the
lining's wet and warm - don't you ask no more! |
If you
meet King George's men, dressed in blue and red, You be
careful what you say, and mindful what is said. If they
call you " pretty maid," and chuck you 'neath the chin, Don't
you tell where no one is, nor yet where no one's been! |
Knocks
and footsteps round the house - whistles after dark - You've no
call for running out till the house-dogs bark. Trusty's
here, and Pincher's here, and see how dumb they lie They
don't fret to follow when the Gentlemen go by! |
|
'If You
do as you've been told, 'likely there's a chance, You'll
be give a dainty doll, all the way from France, With a
cap of Valenciennes, and a velvet hood - A
present from the Gentlemen, along 'o being good! |
Five
and twenty ponies, Trotting
through the dark - Brandy
for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Them
that asks no questions isn't told a lie - Watch
the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! |
|
The Smuggler’s
Song, Rudyard
Kipling, 1906
Smuggling
at Skinningrove and Cats Nab, Old Saltburn
As a result
of the government’s imposition of Customs and Excise duties on gin, brandy,
tea, tobacco and textiles, the smuggling trade grew more and more profitable
from about 1745 and the running of contraband from coastal inlets to local
villages continued for the next 70 years.
In 1763, a
30 ton sloop went aground at Saltburn
after the crew had gone ashore and left a boy on board the anchored vessel. It
was carrying contraband including over one thousand gallons of brandy and three
hundred gallons of gin. Two men from Skelton, Tommy Tiplady and
Bill Richardson, were to help unload it. The Customs and Excise tax on a gallon
of brandy was over 5 shillings, which was the equivalent of a week’s wages and
some thought the high profits to be made were worth the risk of the heavy
penalties if they were caught. Apart from the tax on wine and spirits, a duty
was levied on imported tobacco, tea, coffee, linen and even some household
items. The event was recorded in Ralph
Jackson’s diary in October 1763. Sunday the Second, a prodigious stormey day, much Rain, & Wind excessive high at N.E: I
went to Church in the forenoon, and ab 3 o’Clo. took
Jack wth me to Marsk, to meet Mr Wardell at Mr
Smith’s, but the former did not come, & the latter was upon the Land
attending 2 vessels that are drove on Shore, one, a small Sloop with Mercht’s Goods from Hull to Stockton, the other a Smugler Sloop, - I return’d
without alightinge.
Saltburn’s
geography contributed to its embrace of a smuggling tradition. The cliffs
provided an effective hiding place and the wooded coves provided cover for
offloading cargo and transporting it inlandBy the end
of the eighteenth century, the area became had become notorious. The Newcastle
Chronicle warned, on 20 June 1778 We are advised from Coatham, Redcar and
other places on the Yorkshire coast, that the smugglers there land in a most
flagrant manner.
With the
British navy engaged in wars with America and France, the Cornish and North
East coasts soon became flooded with contraband goods. Pursuits by customs
officers of local smugglers often involved the wider community, the community
generally supporting the smuggling trade. There is a story of an old woman
hiding a keg of spirits underneath her voluminous skirts whilst customs
officers performed a spot raid of her house. According to Reverend Grant’s
sympathetic account of the area’s smuggling antics, the ladies of nearby Marske
delighted in hoodwinking the officers. They sanded the streets at night with
leaves of tea, leading the officers to believe that the contraband had gone in
a certain direction and when the latter were busily engaged following the
supposed track, the men of Marske were equally busy in transferring the tea to
a totally opposite direction.
There is
another story of a horse, able to find her way home from the River Tees to
Saltburn without a rider, carrying smuggled tobacco on her back. One
enterprising mother who found herself victim of a surprise search, wrapped a
jar of spirit in her baby’s clothes, and walked past the guards with it cradled
in her arms.
Saltburn’s John Andrew
proved that smuggling was not a barrier to respectability and polite society.
Born in Scotland, Andrew moved to Saltburn and became landlord of the village’s
Ship Inn in 1780. Andrew’s Scottish family were wealthy and well connected. He
had attained the sublime degree of Master Mason in Scotland. In
partnership with a local brewer, Andrews co-ordinated the area’s smuggling
trade from his two properties, the Ship Inn and White House. He was christened King
of the Smugglers by his grand daughter. John
Andrew came close to being arrested on a number of occasions, the most famous
of which has entered local legend. Legend has it that John Andrews had a secret
cellar underneath one of his stables where he deliberately kept a vicious mare
who could be counted upon to kick and bite any strangers!
When the
Napoleonic Wars came to an end, the Saltburn smugglers came under increasing
pressure from customs officers. Forced to unload his latest cargo further
afield, John Andrew found himself at Blackhall, north of Hartlepool, when he was discovered by
customs officers. Legend has it that he galloped across the Tees, whose level
was apparently very low, to Coatham. He
then asked the Coatham coastguard for the time in order to give him an alibi.
The judge at his trial reasoned that he could not have travelled across the
River Tees in the time that had elapsed, and so could not have been at
Blackhall.
In Saltburn,
John Andrew was a respected member
of the community. In 1817 he was elected Master of the newly formed Cleveland
Hounds, demonstrating his high standing in the area. Andrew also managed to
combine being one of the area’s most prolific criminals with a prominent position
in the Corps of Cleveland Pioneer Industry. Ironically, this branch of the
local militia was occasionally called in to assist preventive officers in their
battle against smugglers.
William
Garbutt of Loftus Mill, John King, a brewer
of Kirkleatham, and John Andrew of the White House at Saltburn were joint owners of a cutter, the
Morgan Rattler, a very fast vessel. That vessel was used to run cargoes of
wine, gin, brandy, silk and Flemish lace to various places along the coast from
Runswick Bay to Marske. Some of the cargoes were hidden at Loftus Mill and
delivered around Loftus in the miller's
wagon. Other cargoes were carried away by pack-horse. The horses used were
Cleveland Bays, able to cover a hundred miles in a day, and so could get from
the mill at Loftus to the sign of the
Withered Tree in Ladhill Gill under cover of
darkness.
The Sign
of the Withered Tree was at the ruined farmstead now marked as Wether House, near Fangdale Beck
They
travelled from the mill to Gate House in Danby
Dale, a farm opposite the road up to Lumley House, where the farmer, John
Garbutt, hid some of the smuggled goods. Then they travelled on to Rosedale,
where Thomas Garbutt was landlord of the White Horse. Next they passed over the
moor to High Mill in Farndale,
back to the family’s original ancestral home, where the goods were hidden by
the miller, Leonard Hardwick. From Farndale they went along the moor causeway ,
across Bransdale Moor and Cockayne Ridge to Todd Intake and down by the Black
Intake to William Beck in Bilsdale.
From there
deliveries were made to Robert Medd at the Shoulder of Mutton Inn, Michael
Johnson at the Buck Inn at Chop Gate, and Thomas Medd at the Fox and Hounds at
Urra. The rest of the cargo was taken via William Ainsley at Spout House to the
Sign of the Withered Tree, at this time a drovers' inn, where John Garbutt was
the last landlord. It was here that the bolts of lace and silk were hidden and
later taken to York, to a seamstress who had a
shop in Stonegate. It is believed that the wedding trousseau of the bride of
the fifth Earl Fitzwilliam was made of some of the smuggled silk, but who
delivered it is not known.
Jack Sample,
who was landlord of the Feversham Arms in Helmsley in about 1936 he was born at
Saltburn where his father was a coastguard. His ancestors were Prentive Men who knew about these smuggling
activities.
John Andrew’s son, also called John
Andrew was later caught at Hornsea and spent two years in prison at York Castle.
In reality
local smuggling was very often bloody and violent. As pressure to suppress the
contraband trade increased, battles between the preventive officers and
smugglers became more frequent and violence ensued. In 1778, the Newcastle
Chronicle carried many reports of the increasingly brutal tactics employed by
the smugglers. It is the practise for fifteen or twenty to come on shore
armed with muskets, blunder busses etc,. threatening death and destruction to
anyone who dare offer to oppose them.
A menacing
letter was left by smugglers warning off the area’s custom officers. Dam
your ferry, and Parks blast your Ise you say that will Exchequer all Redcar but
if you do dam my Ise if we don’t smash your brains out you may as well take
what we give you as other Officers do and if you don’t we’ll sware that you take bribes.
A letter of
1775 from three customs officers working in the Markse
area describes the severe injuries they sustained from an altercation with a
group of smugglers. Accompanying the letter is a surgeon’s bill and a request
that the cost be met by Customs Office. We attempted to prevent the said
Goods being Run and having siesed part thereof, the
Crew belonging to the said Boat, consisting of seven unknown persons rescued
what we had seized and with handspikes and Bludgeons desperate Beat and Maimed
us.
Local legend
portrayed the smugglers as lovable rogues, who got one over on the
establishment. There was a reality of violence and threat as well though.
The
Smuggler’s Cove was a secluded bay, concealed by towering cliffs, which served
as the perfect hideout for smugglers. Under the cover of darkness, they would
dock their ships in the cove and unload their illicit goods, ranging from
contraband spirits to luxury items, avoiding the prying eyes of customs
officials. Local folklore is rife with tales of secret passageways and hidden
tunnels that facilitated the movement of smuggled goods, creating an air of
mystery and adventure.
The Saltburn
Gang was a well known band of smugglers, led by
charismatic figures, such as Black Jack Thompson and Gentleman George.
They formed a tight-knit network of individuals engaged in smuggling
operations. Their intimate knowledge of the coastline, the tides, and the
terrain allowed them to outmanoeuvre law enforcement effortlessly. The gang’s
reputation for evading capture and their ability to operate discreetly made
them legends in the annals of Saltburn’s history.
The
smugglers of Saltburn were engaged in a constant cat and mouse game with the
authorities. The customs officers, armed with the task of preventing illegal
trade, were determined to bring down the smuggling operations. Yet, the
smugglers proved to be a formidable adversary, employing various tactics to
outwit their pursuers. From utilizing hidden compartments in carriages and
secret compartments in houses to bribing officials and engaging in high-speed
chases along the coast, the smugglers demonstrated remarkable ingenuity and
resourcefulness.
What makes
the story of Saltburn’s smugglers even more intriguing is the involvement of
the local community. Many residents were sympathetic to the smugglers, as they
often relied on the trade for their livelihood. Smuggling offered employment
opportunities, boosted the local economy, and provided access to goods that
would otherwise be unaffordable. The smugglers enjoyed a level of protection
from the community, who would provide warnings of approaching authorities or
even help transport the contraband under the cover of darkness.
The
Farndales and the smuggling trade
John Andrew’s granddaughter, Elizabeth
Taylor later married Martin Farndale,
the author’s great great grandfather.
John Farndale
wrote that his grandfather, Johnny Farndale,
who was a Kiltonian, employed many men at
his alum house, and many a merry tale have I
heard him tell of smugglers and their daring adventures and hair breadth
escapes.
The lime
kilns and coal yard were kept by old Mr William Cooper, whose sloop, “The Two
Brothers”, was continually employed in the coasting trade. Behind the alum
house, Thomas Hutchinson, Esq., late of Brotton
House, made an easy carriage road from Saltburn to that place, which road will
always be a lasting monument to his memory.
In former
days, there were frequently seen lying before Old Saltburn three luggers at a time,
all laden with contraband goods, and the song of the crews used to be:- “If we
should to the Scottish coast hie, We’ll make Captain Ogleby,
the king’s cutter, fly”
The
government, however, being determined to put a stop to this nefarious traffic,
a party of coast guards, with their cullasses,
swords, spy glasses, and dark lanterns, were sent to the Blue House, at Old
Saltburn. This came like a thunderbolt upon the astonished Saltburnians.
They made, however, two more efforts to continue the trade – one proved
successful, the other not.
The last
lugger but one bound to Saltburn was chased by the King’s cutter, and running
aground at Marske, she was taken by the coast guard, and all the crew were made
prisoners, and put into the lock up. While the coast guard were busy enjoying
their prize, all the prisoners escaped except one, who was found in Hazlegrip, and whom the King’s officers sadly cut up. Lord
Dundas, of Marske Hall, threatened to bring them to justice if the man died.
The last luggar that appeared on the coast was successful in
delivering her cargo. Two of the crew, fierce lion-looking fellows, landed, and
they succeeded in capturing two of the coast guard, whom they marched to the
other wide of Cat Nab, where they stood guard over them till the vessel got
delivered. While these jolly smugglers had the two men in custody, they sent to
the lugger for a keg of real Geneva, and at the point of the sword they
compelled the poor fellows to drink of that which was not the King’s portion.
After releasing their prisoners, and then telling them to go home, the
smugglers returned to their vessel, setting sail, they left the beach with
light hearts and a fair breeze.
Since the
merry days alluded to the glory of Old Saltburn has departed – its smuggling
days have passed away – its gin vaults have disappeared – and the gay roysterers who were wont to make Cat Neb and the adjacent
rocks resound with laughter, now rest in peace beneath the green hillocks in
the retired grave yards of Brotton and Skelton.
… Of late
years many buildings of Old Saltburn have fallen beneath the ruthless hand of
Time, and all that remain now are two or three humble looking cottages, with a
respectable inn, possessing good accommodation, the fair hostess being a grand daughter of the well known
and worthy huntsman, Mr John Andrews, sen.,, one of
the most ardent admirers of the sports of the field in that fox hunting
locality. In old Mrs Johnson’s days this inn was noted for furnishing visitors
with what were termed “fat rascals” and tea, a delicious kind of cake stuffed
with currants, and which the present obliging hostess, Mrs Temple, who is an
adept in the culinary art, can make so as to satisfy the most fastidious palate.
Then
passing down Cattersty Creak, where many a cargo
of smuggled goods have been delivered here, is a very choice place. The
last I remember in this place is that Tom Webster strangled himself by carrying
gin tubs round is neck. Once more I stand on Skinningrove duffy
sands, where I have seen it crowded with wood and corf rods for the North by the said Wm and John Farndale.
But what crowds of horses, men, and waggons, when the gin ship appeared in
view. Our friends had no dealings with those Samaritan gin runners, yet they
had great dealings at Skinningrove seaport, both in export and import, as well
as supplying the hall of F Easterby Esq., with corn,
wheat, oats, beans, butter, cheese, hams, potatoes &c, &c, and once, a
year at Christmas – they balanced
accounts, over a bottle of Hollands gin, and after eulogising each other, the
squire would rise and say, “Johnny, when you are gone, there will never be such
another Johnny Farndale”.
Cattersty
Cliffs and Cattersty Sands are along the shoreline
west of Skinningrove. The names Cattersty, Hummersea and Skinningrove are all Scandinavian in origin.
The cliffs to the south of the village are the highest on the east coast. It is
associated with the tale of the
Skinningrove Merman.
Among ponderous
blocks of freestone falling from the cliff, fearful to behold, (when a ship
founders here in high water, there is no way to escape) there are many fine
specimens of stone you may find, until you arrive at Cattersty
Creek, once famous for the delivery of Geneva ships – numbers have delivered
their cargoes here. The last I remember was when Tom Wesbter,
of Brotton, fell down dead while carrying a tub of Geneva up this creek. Next
is Skinningrove, second to none for the contraband trade, and here, Paul Jones,
the pirate, threatened to land, and the tale is of the seaman caught, confined,
but made his escape to sea. This tale is still extant. Forget not the Alum
House, return by the cliff, the beacon, by Huntcliff,
safe home, and this ramble for varied interest can scarcely be excelled.
Our
association with the smugglers of Cat Nab at Old Saltburn.
The
decline of Smuggling at Cat Nab and Skinningrove
The scale of
smuggling during the golden age of smuggling was a significant problem for the
Government. In 1784 the Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger, suggested that
of the 13 million pounds in weight of tea consumed in Britain, only 5.5 million
had been brought in legally. Teams of Government Preventive Officers patrolled
the coasts, aiming to prevent or catch the smugglers. But there were not enough
officers and the smugglers often avoided detection. Staff from the onshore
Customs Houses were supplemented by Customs Revenue Cruisers who watched the
coast from the sea and from 1698 riding officers on horseback joined in the
coastal patrols.
Although
many people enjoyed the illicit gains from smuggling, the reality was brutal.
Local people were fearful of violent reprisals on informers, Revenue officers
were murdered and corruption meant that captured smugglers were able to avoid
harsh punishments.
In 1809 the
Board of Customs introduced the Preventive Water Guard, a force which used
nimble small boats to patrol the coasts. By 1816 the Guard was strengthened
with 151 stations, organised into 31 districts. The chief officers were
experienced naval seamen or fishermen and armed with ammunition, stores and
oars for rowing. They were at sea as much as possible.
By about
1822, the threat of Napoleon was receding into history and 7,000 sailors were
redeployed as coast guards to fight the smuggling trade. The coastguards’
cottages, still at that time considered part of Skelton (Saltburn was just the
few buildings around the Ship Inn) were built to house a section of
coastguards.
or
The Ryedale
Historian, Volume 16, Page 10, The Smuggler’s Road
from Loftus to Bilsdale, J R Garbutt.
A book about
John Andrew called Watch
the Wall my Darling, 2009, has been written by Richard Swale.