| An Account of Smuggling in Sandgate | |
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The younger Gough, who was born in Sandgate the year after Waterloo, has left us with a detailed account of these times: There was regularly organised gang of [smugglers] in the village; and I must confess that the sympathies of nearly the whole community were generally with them, though their influence was fearfully demoralizing. Lying close to the sea - only twenty two miles from the French coast with high hills surrounding the village on every side but one that towards Hythe - it was a spot peculiarly fitted for their successful exploits against the Revenue. They were a bold, hardy set of men. A public house, called the Fleur-de-lis, was their favourite haunt. Their boats, painted white, lay along the beach. Every one knew they were smugglers - even the men-of-war's men knew them - but the difficulty was to catch them. Every man in the village who was engaged in defrauding the Revenue, has a nickname . . Some of the nicknames in Sandgate were Bonum, Crappie, Horny, Boxer and Stickeroff. The name descended from father to son. The Martello Towers were used at this time for the accommodation of the men-of-war's men, with their officers, whose duty it was to pace the beach, day and night, armed with cutlass and pistols... |
The most perilous part of the smuggler's work is to land the goods; and it is surprising how successful they were - so many were helping them on the shore. Horses were waiting to carry their goods up the country, and a gang of men ready to wade into the water, and sling a couple of ankers, or cases on their shoulders and run up the beach. . . Occasionally they had trouble, and father would say, when we have heard firing, and sometimes the rushing of feet past our door. - "Ah! The smugglers are at it again." One circumstance I well remember. A young man had bought a couple of pounds of tea for his mother, and had put it into his long fishing boots; on landing, the preventive officer insisted on searching him personally, for, he said "I smell tea." He was resisted, and the quarrel grew into such a height, that the officer drew his pistol and shot the young man dead. In one minute the unfortunate officer was cut to pieces; a dozen knives were used upon him; and , I believe, not one of the men was punished, though the deed was done in broad daylight. The men engaged in the affray were not seen for some time after in the village, and woe be to anyone who would have betrayed them; his life would not have been worth a button. |
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Taken from Coast of Conflict - The story of the South Kent Coast - by Michael & Martin George |
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