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

The account for the subsequent days followed the same pattern: citing deliveries of provisions, regular weather reports and punishments meted out to the men. Occasional irregular activity was noted, such as the capture of smugglers’ galleys, but with scant detail. The size of the book forced Morton to skim read through the lines of text.

‘You don’t need a list of Ramillies staff or ship routines, do you?’ Jack asked. In front of him was a large sheet of velum, on which was written a long list of names.

‘Check the names, but otherwise, no.’

Morton pushed into the crucial year of 1826, photographing the sporadic mentions of smuggling. So far, the logs had failed to name a single smuggler or give any specifics at all, and so he was unsurprised when he reached the entry for the 17th October 1826 and read, among the usual information, ‘…Received 10 smugglers…’ The following day provided the brief additional information, ‘…discharged 4 mariners with 10 smugglers to be turned over to civil power…’ So the smugglers had only been on board Ramillies for one night, Morton noted, taking a photo of the entry. He continued through to the end of the year, slightly perplexed at not having found mention of the capture of the remaining smugglers. He looked at the time—they only had just over two hours until the archive closed; this urgency forced Morton to stop reading the Captain’s Logs once the trial was over in January 1827. He closed the volume and looked at Jack’s ledger, feeling suddenly disappointed with their progress. Although the revelation that Samuel Banister had turned King’s evidence against his fellow smugglers was significant, they had not found a single mention of Ann Fothergill. He rubbed his eyes and exhaled noisily.

‘What’s up?’ Jack asked.

‘Oh, nothing…’ Morton half-smiled. ‘I get like this when the record office is about to close and I don’t feel satisfied with the results.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Jack said, ‘you must have realised by now that for five paths in front of you, only one will get you were you wanna go, but you’ve still got to explore those other four paths. Go and get that other document from the locker. Go.’

Morton grinned, knowing, of course, that he was right. He re-boxed the Captain’s Logs and carried it out through the glass double-doors, where he placed it on the counter of the Returns Desk. At his locker, Morton removed the yellow slip from the remaining cardboard box—ADM 1/2360.

He carried the box back to his desk, just as Jack was closing his ledger.

‘Nothing—even around the time of Richard Morgan’s murder or when the smugglers were captured,’ Jack said, trying to sound positive about the fact.

Morton nodded. ‘You can help me with these,’ he said, opening the heavy box. Given that it only contained correspondence to the Admiralty from naval captains with a surname beginning with P, in the year 1826, the quantity of letters inside was astonishing. ‘We’ve got under two hours to get through it.’ Morton explained how the file was organised, then removed approximately half the correspondence, and placed it in on the desk in front of Jack. The letters were loosely assembled, vaguely but not entirely conforming to chronological order, which meant that Jack having the latter half of the year, would very likely be the one to discover anything connected to the murder of Richard Morgan or the capture of the Aldington Gang.

‘Wow, this is real hard to read,’ Jack said, picking up the first letter and holding it close to his face.

Morton leant over. ‘It gets easier once you get used to it. Look—’ he pointed at the first lines and began to read, his index finger tracing the words as he spoke, ‘—HM Ship Ramillies, January 2nd 1826. Sir, From the great distance between the present quarters of the Coast Blockade at Hougham Court and No.1 Tower Eastware Bay near Folkestone, where the most notorious smugglers reside, and from their repeated attempts to corrupt the men when on duty, I would respectfully request that you will do me the honour to move my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty to direct a gun brig or some vessel of such description to be—’ Jack began to join in, enunciating the words slowly, as though learning to read for the first time, ‘—sent to the place beforementioned for the purpose of being hauled on shore at high watermark, and that such vessel may be fitted to receive a midshipman and twelve men. I have the honour to be, Sir, your most obedient humble servant, Captain Hugh Pigot.’

‘Got it?’ Morton asked.

‘Got it,’ Jack replied.

The two of them began to wade through their stack of letters. The first mention of smuggling came quickly in Morton’s pile, on 23rd February: ‘Sir, I regret to be under the painful necessity of reporting to you for the consideration of my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, the neglect of duty of Lieutenant William H. Woodham, of His Majesty’s ship under my command, who is stationed at the Grand Redoubt, Dungeness and I request you will be pleased to acquaint their Lordships that about 11 o’clock on the night of the 8th instant, a French tub boat fitted with two sails and rowing eight oars succeeded in landing a cargo of (it is believed) at least 200 casks of spirits on the western part of the officer’s station…’ The letter went on to describe the actions of the Coast Blockade officers in allowing the smuggling run to take place. Just five days later, Captain Pigot sent another letter to the Admiralty, requesting that a new Lieutenant be appointed to the Ramillies following the serious injuries inflicted on one of his men in a smuggling run on 6th September 1825. The account went on to describe how Lieutenant William Fabian had been bludgeoned, as he had attempted to stop the smugglers moving