The Wicked Trade (The Forensic Genealogist Book 7), Nathan Goodwin [little red riding hood ebook TXT] 📗

he had found. Pages and pages of handwritten text which, upon closer scrutiny, Morton found to be largely legal and repetitious. ‘Excellent. Let me know if you see Samuel Banister or Ann Fothergill’s name crop up.’

‘Will do.’

Morton continued reading the letter, which led into a summary of the murder by Lieutenant Hellard: ‘Casemates, Dover, 30th July. It is a most distressing part of my duty to report a smuggling transaction which took place this morning about 1am near the bathing machines, attended with the most deliberate act of murder ever before heard of on this part of the coast, the particulars of the case are as follows:- Richard Morgan, late Quartermaster, was sent by Lt. Thomas Hale with the coach dispatch to Townsend Battery at midnight on the 29th instance and on his return along the beach about 1am near the spot where he met his death he observed a boat in the surf, and addressing himself to the lookout man, Richard Pickett, ordinary seaman, who had charge of that station, asked what boat is that, and immediately ran forward with the lookout man, the latter pulling the trigger of his pistol for an alarm, which only flashed in the pan – Morgan then fired one of his pistols, when a party of smugglers armed with long duck guns stepped forwarded from the main body of their party, and fired in a volley at them, by which Morgan was shot in the left side near the heart, which caused almost instant death, there being three shots within three inches of each other, one of which appeared to be a musket ball – and I am of the opinion more wounds will be discovered when the body is examined before the coroner. Richard Pickett received several severe blows from the armed party, who after expending their ammunition assaulted him with the butt ends of their firearms and from his statement I fear a great part of the cargo must have been carried off, as only 33 half-ankers of foreign spirits were seized by our parties. S. Hellard.’

Morton photographed the entry, then read through the letters of the following days, noting on his pad specific points of interest to be followed up at a later time. A substantial reward of five hundred pounds had been offered for the capture of the smuggling gang.

‘Hey, listen to this,’ Jack began, ‘…not having the fear of God before their eyes but being moved and seduced by the instigation of the Devil on the day and year aforesaid with force and arms…blah blah… gun of the value of ten shillings then and there loaded and charged with gunpowder and with three leaden bullets… blah blah… did then and there feloniously wilfully and of his malice shoot and discharge to against and upon the said Richard Morgan…  three other mortal wounds of the depth of twelve inches each and of the breadth of half an inch each of which last mentioned mortal wounds he the said Richard Morgan on the day and year aforesaid at the Parish aforesaid in the county aforesaid languished mortal and languishing did live for the space of one hour… Then it lists the men charged with murder and then—’ Jack glanced at Morton with a knowing glint in his eyes, then carefully lifted the page, ‘—Prosecution Witnesses… You need to see this, Morton.’

‘Prosecution Witnesses?’ Morton repeated.

Jack pointed to the page and Morton leant in to see a list of ten names—all of them unfamiliar, all except one.

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Samuel Banister was a witness…for the prosecution?’

Jack nodded. ‘I’ve had a quick look through and after each indictment against the men, there is a list of witnesses called by the prosecution. Unlike all the other witnesses, Samuel appears on every list, every time—like he’s the main guy.’

Morton frowned, not quite understanding. ‘So that effectively means that he testified against his fellow smugglers…’

‘That’s the way it looks, yeah.’

‘I wonder what on earth happened?’ Morton said, his mind running through a variety of possibilities, none of them settling quite right with him. ‘Nothing on Ann, yet?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No, but there’s a hell of a lot to read here.’

Morton was about to raise some of the potential scenarios which were playing out in his mind, when he recalled something that he had just read in the letters from the Board of Customs and Excise. He turned back a few pages, to the week after the murder of Richard Morgan and re-read part of one letter: ‘...we are informed that the officer from Bow Street has been on the coast some days last week, endeavouring to get depositions to some of the material facts and that although he had not succeeded to the extent desired, something has been elicited which gave him hopes on the eventual discovery of the identity of the murderer…it is with regret we have seen for years the little effect of rewards offered for the discovery of offenders and we would like as a further inducement, a promise of protection for the informer, as he has no alternative but that of quitting the county when his name is known, or else he must fall as sacrifice to the vengeance of the smugglers generally on it being ascertained in what part of England he is.’

Two things struck Morton about the letter. One, was that the writer of the letter seemed to suggest that the Bow Street officer had found a specific informant but was seeking a promise of his protection. Was it too much to wonder if that informer had been Samuel Banister and that, following the trial, he was offered protection and the help to disappear? But why would he turn on his fellow smugglers in the first place, and be prepared to leave his wife and children behind in the proposed anonymity? He recalled Ann’s letter of 1827, where she had written something along the