The History of The Hawkhurst gang

In his book ‘King’s Cutters and Smugglers 1700-1855’ published in 1912, E. Keble Chatterton devotes a chapter to the notorious Hawkhurst gang who were involved in the famous attack on the Poole Custom House in October 1747. What follows is extracted from that book.

The most notorious, the most formidable, and certainly the most abominably cruel gang of smugglers which ever achieved notice was the Hawkhurst contingent. The “Hawkhurst Gang,” as they were known, were a terror to whatever law-abiding citizens existed in the counties of Kent and Sussex. They feared neither Custom officers nor soldiery, they respected neither God nor man, and in the course of attaining their aims they stopped at no atrocity nor brooked any interference from anyone. By the year 1747 smugglers had become so daring and committed such terrible crimes that the only course left open for decent people was to band together in mutual protection. The inhabitants of one locality joined together under the title of the “Goudhurst Band of Militia,” their leader being a man named Sturt, a native of Goudhurst, who had recently obtained his discharge from the Army. But this union became known to the smugglers, who waylaid one of the militia, and by means of torture the whole of the defenders’ plans were revealed. After a while he was released and sent back to inform the militia that the smugglers on a certain day would attack the town, murder all its inhabitants, and then burn the place to the ground.

The day arrived and both forces were prepared. Sturt had gathered his band, collected fire-arms, cast balls, made cartridges, and arranged entrenchments, when, headed by one Thomas Kingsmill, the Hawkhurst gang appeared in order to make the attack. But after a smart engagement in which three were killed and many wounded, the smugglers were driven off, whilst others were captured and subsequently executed.

Kingsmill escaped for a time, and became the leader of the famous attack on the Poole Custom House in October 1747. Another of the gang was named Perin and belonged to Chichester. Perin was really a carpenter by trade, but after being afflicted with a stroke of the palsy, he became attached to the smugglers, and used to sail with them to France to purchase goods that were to be smuggled, such as brandy, tea, and rum. Now in September of 1747 Perin went across the Channel in a cutter called The Three Brothers, loaded up with the above commodities, and was approaching the English coast when he was met with a rebuff. For Captain William Johnson, [Pg 85]who held a deputation from the Customs to seize prohibited goods, got to know of Perin’s exploit, and on the 22nd of this month, whilst cruising in the Poole Revenue cutter, sighted The Three Brothers to the eastward of Poole. Whereupon the smuggler began to flee, and, running before the wind, fled to the N.N.W. From five in the afternoon till eleven at night the Revenue cutter, with every stitch of canvas set, chased her, and after firing several shots caused her to heave-to. Johnson then boarded her, and found that the tea was in canvas and oil-skin bags, but Perin and the crew of six had escaped in The Three Brothers boat. However, Johnson captured the cutter with her cargo and took the same into Poole. The two tons of tea, thirty-nine casks of brandy and rum, together with a small bag of coffee, were conveyed ashore and locked up safely in the Poole Custom House. Such was the introduction to the drama that should follow.

Enraged at their bad luck, the smugglers took counsel together. They assembled in Charlton Forest, and Perin suggested that they should go in a body and, well-armed, break open the Poole Custom House. So the next day they met at Rowland’s Castle with swords and firearms, and were presently joined by Kingsmill and the Hawkhurst gang. Till night had fallen they secreted themselves in a wood, and eventually reached Poole at eleven o’clock at night. Two of their members were sent ahead to reconnoitre, and reported that a sloop-of-war lay opposite to the quay, so that her guns could be pointed against the doors of the Custom House; but afterwards it was found that, owing to the ebb-tide, the guns of the sloop could not be made to bear on that spot. The band, numbering about thirty, therefore rode down to spot, and while Perin and one other man looked after their horses, the rest proceeded to the Custom House, forced open the door with hatchets and other implements, rescued the tea, fastening packages of the latter on to their horses, with the exception only of 5 lbs. The next morning they passed through Fordingbridge in Hampshire, where hundreds of the inhabitants stood and watched the cavalcade. Now among the latter was a man named Daniel Chater, a shoemaker by trade. He was known to Diamond, one of the gang then passing, for they had both worked together once at harvest time. Recognising each other, Diamond extended his arm, shook hands, and threw him a bag of tea, for the booty had been divided up so that each man carried five bags of 27 lbs.

After the Poole officers discovered what had happened to their Custom House, there was not unnaturally a tremendous fuss, and eventually the King’s proclamation promised a reward for the apprehension of the men concerned in the deed. Nothing happened for months after, but at last [Pg 87]Diamond was arrested on suspicion and lodged in Chichester Gaol. We can well imagine the amount of village gossip to which this would give rise. Chater was heard to remark that he knew Diamond and saw him go by with the gang the very day after the Custom House had been broken open. When the Collector of Customs at Southampton learned this, he got into communication with the man, and before long Chater and Mr. William Galley were sent with a letter to Major Battin, a Justice of the Peace for Sussex. Galley was also a Custom House officer stationed at Southampton. The object of this mission was that Chater’s evidence should be taken down, so that he might prove the identity of Diamond.

On Sunday February 14, then, behold these two men setting out for Chichester. On the way they stopped at the White Hart Inn, Rowland’s Castle, for refreshment. But the landlady suspecting that they were going to hurt the smugglers, with the intuition of a woman and the sympathy of a mother decided to send for two men named Jackson and Carter. For this Mrs. Paine, a widow, had two sons herself, who though nominally blacksmiths were in fact smugglers. Jackson and Carter came in, to whom the widow explained her suspicions, and these two men were presently followed by others of the gang. Before very long they had got into conversation with Galley and [Pg 88]Chater, and plied them with drink, so that they completely gave away the nature of their mission, and after being fuddled and insulted were put to bed intoxicated. After a while, they were aroused by Jackson brutally digging his spurs on their foreheads and then thrashing them with a horse-whip. They were then taken out of the inn, both put on to the same horse, with their legs tied together below the horse’s belly. They were next whipped as they went along, over the face, eyes, and shoulder, till the poor victims were unable to bear it any longer, and at last fell together, with their hands tied underneath the horse, heads downwards. In this position the horse struck the head of one or the other with his feet at every step. Afterwards the blackguardly tormentors sat the two men upright again, whipped them, and once more the men fell down, with heels in air. They were utterly weak, and suffering from their blows.

We need not enlarge upon the details, some of which are too outrageous to repeat. After a while they thought Galley was dead, and laid him across another horse, with a smuggler each side to prevent him falling. They then stopped at the Red Lion, at Rake, knocked up the landlord, drank pretty freely, and then taking a candle and spade dug a hole in a sand-pit where they buried him. But at a later date, when the body was exhumed, it was seen that the poor man had covered his eyes [Pg 89]with his hands, so there can be little doubt but that Galley was buried alive.

As for Chater, they delayed his death. Throughout Monday they remained drinking at the Red Lion, discussing what to do with him, Chater being meanwhile kept secured by the leg with an iron chain, three yards long, in a turf-house. At dead of night they agreed to go home separately so that the neighbours might not be suspicious of their absence. On Wednesday morning they again repaired to the Red Lion, after having left Chater in the charge of two of their number. Then, having discussed what should be done with Chater, some one suggested that a gun should be loaded with two or three bullets, and after having tied a long string to the trigger, each member of the gang should take hold of the string together, and so become equally guilty of the poor man’s death. But this idea was unwelcomed, as it was thought it would put Chater too quickly out of his sufferings. Meanwhile, Chater was visited at various times, to receive kicks and severe blows, and to be sworn at in the vilest and most scurrilous language.

One of the gang now came up to him, and uttering an oath, brandishing aloft a large clasp-knife, exclaimed: “Down on your knees and go to prayers, for with this knife I will be your butcher.” Terrified at the menace, and expecting momentarily to die, Chater knelt down on the turf and began to [Pg 90]say the Lord’s Prayer. One of the villains got behind and kicked him, and after Chater had asked what they had done to Galley, the man who was confronting him drew his knife across the poor man’s face, cut his nose through, and almost cut both his eyes out. And, a moment later, gashed him terribly across the forehead. They then proceeded to conduct him to a well. It was now the dead of night, and the well was about thirty feet deep, but without water, being surrounded with pales at the top to prevent cattle from falling in. They compelled him to get over, and not through these pales, and a rope was placed round his neck, the other end being made fast to the paling. They then pushed him into the well, but as the rope was short they then untied him, and threw him head foremost into the former, and, finally, to stop his groanings, hurled down rails and gate-posts and large stones.

I have omitted the oaths and some of the worst features of the incident, but the above outline is more than adequate to suggest the barbarism of a lot of men bent on lawlessness and revenge. Drunk with their own success, the gang now went about with even greater desperation. Everybody stood in terror of them; Custom officers were so frightened that they hardly dared to perform their duties, and the magistrates themselves were equally frightened to convict smugglers. Consequently the contraband gangs automatically increased to [Pg 91]great numbers. But, finally, a reward of £500 was offered by the Commissioners of Customs for the arrest of everyone of the culprits, and as a result several were arrested, tried, convicted, and executed. The murderers were tried at a special assize for smugglers held at Chichester, before three judges, and the seven men were sentenced to death. William Jackson died in prison a few hours after sentence. He had been very ill before, but the shock of being sentenced to death, and to be hung afterwards in chains and in ignominy, rapidly hastened his death, and relieved the executioner of at least one portion of his duty. He had been one of the worst smugglers in his time, and was even a thief among thieves, for he would even steal his confederates’ goods. Between the sentence and the hour for execution a man came into the prison to measure the seven culprits for the irons in which their bodies were subsequently to be hung by chains. And this distressed the men more than anything else, most of all Jackson, who presently succumbed as stated.

Mills, senior, had gradually been drawn into the smuggling business, though previously he had been quite a respectable man. After giving up actual smuggling, he still allowed his house to be used as a store-place for the contraband goods. His son, Richard, also one of the seven, had been concerned in smuggling for years, and was a daring fellow. John Cobby, the third of the culprits, was of a weaker temperament, and had been brought under the influence of the smugglers. Benjamin Tapner was especially penitent, and “hoped all young people would take warning by his untimely fate, and keep good company, for it was bad company had been his ruin.” William Carter complained that it was Jackson who had drawn him away from his honest employment to go smuggling, but John Hammond was of a more obdurate nature, and had always hated the King’s officers.

According to the testimony of the Rev. John Smyth, who visited them in gaol, all the prisoners received the Holy Communion at ten o’clock, the morning after being sentenced to death. All the prisoners except the two Mills admitted that they deserved the sentence, but all the surviving six acknowledged that they forgave everybody. On January 19, 1748-9, they were executed. The two Mills were not hung in chains, but having neither friend nor relation to take them away their bodies were thrown into a hole near the gallows, into which also was placed Jackson’s body. Carter’s body was hung in chains on the Portsmouth Road, near Rake; that of Tapner on Rook’s Hill, near Chichester; those of Cobby and Hammond on the sea coast near Selsey Bill; so that from a great distance they could be observed across the sea by the ships as they went by east and west. Later on, John, the brother of Richard Mills, and one of the gang, was also arrested. When the above three judges were travelling down to Chichester for the trial of the seven men, John had intended waylaying their lordships on Hind Heath, but his companions had refused to support him. But soon after his father’s and brother’s execution he met with a man named Richard Hawkins, whom he accused of having stolen two bags of tea. Hawkins denied it, and was brutally and unmercifully thrashed to death in the Dog and Partridge Inn at Slindon Common, his body being afterwards carried a dozen miles, thrown into a pond, with stones attached, and then sunk. John Mills was convicted and hanged at East Grinstead, and afterwards remained hanging in chains on Slindon Common. Other members of the gang were also arrested, tried at the same assizes as highwaymen, and then executed.