Chapter 17 #2
‘Oh, blimey, can you imagine what my mum would make of that!’
‘Pfft! Not so sure she’d be impressed. Your dad would love it though.’
‘I reckon you’re right on both counts there.
’ Though she laughed, his comment set her thinking.
Could that explain why she’d had such a strong reaction to the small suitcase?
Thanks to her dad researching her family tree, she knew her family on both her parents’ sides had lived in Micklewick Bay for many generations, since long before the newer Victorian part of town was built.
There was every possibility she could have a splash of smuggler’s blood in her veins.
However, her mother being such a lover of peace and kindness wouldn’t be too happy to learn she potentially had cut-throat forebears; if the history books were to be believed, some of the smugglers of Micklewick Bay had a reputation for being ruthless and weren’t afraid to use violence.
The most infamous of them all being Jacob Crayke.
Heaven forbid she turned out to be related to him.
Lark put that thought aside for now. ‘I’m interested to hear what you make of the piece of paper, Louisa.’
‘Me too, though would smugglers have even used paper?’ Nate asked. ‘Wasn’t it expensive at the time? I never think of smugglers as having loads of money.’
‘Yes, good point, paper was an expensive commodity in the eighteenth century, but Benjamin Fitzgilbert’s pockets were well-lined so he’d have had the funds to pay for it. And, being a man of great wealth, he very possibly funded the local smuggling ventures, too.’
Nate nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed the information. ‘So d’you think the note might have come from him, then?’
‘Quite possibly,’ Louisa replied. ‘As for the ink used to write the note, it was very probably made from iron salts and oak galls – they’re funny little growths found on oak trees.
The galls were usually soaked in water or vinegar to help release the dark colour.
That and the iron salts would then have been mixed in water.
Sometimes gum arabic was added to make the ink a bit more durable and long-lasting, though it still didn’t stop it from fading.
And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but they wrote using quills dipped into the gall ink.
’ Louisa laughed. ‘Sorry, history lecture over. I can sometimes get a bit carried away, sharing little facts.’
‘No need to apologise, it’s all so interesting and helps add depth to what we already know,’ said Lark, meaning it.
‘I agree. Keep the facts coming,’ added Nate. ‘I never tire of hearing about stuff like this. Lark and me both have businesses in vintage and reclaimed items, so we’re already interested in things from the past.’
Lark thought her friend had a good point – their choice of work very probably did mean they shared an interest in local history. Maybe she got it from her dad; he was a history teacher after all.
It suddenly struck her that her father would get on well with Louisa.
Maybe she could introduce them while he was here.
She stole a quick glance at the curator’s wedding finger and found herself being pleased to see it was free of rings.
She’d have to handle any potential introductions gently, make sure her dad didn’t think she was match-making – which wasn’t her intention at all.
She knew he’d find that upsetting and she didn’t want to set him back now he was taking tentative steps on the road to being his former upbeat self.
But making a new friend who had a shared interest in history could surely only be a good thing in her book.
‘I don’t mind admitting I have been referred to as a bit of an anorak in the past, so it feels rather nice to have people willing to listen to me gabbling away. But please feel free to haul me back if I go off track,’ Louisa said good-naturedly.
Her words made Lark smile – she used to tease her dad affectionately about his love of history. She used to call him an anorak, too.
‘Right, where were we?’ Louisa cut through her thoughts. ‘Oh, yes, the note…’
The curator lifted the crumpled piece of paper from the tin, taking a moment to read the faded ink scrawled across it in an elaborate cursive hand. She gave a laugh of delight. ‘Oh, this is wonderful!’
‘What does it say?’ asked Lark. ‘I couldn’t make any sense of it.’
It says, “William’s pig is farrowing”.’
‘“William’s pig is farrowing”?’ Nate repeated the words, his dark brows knitting together in confusion.
‘That’s what I thought it said, but it didn’t make sense.’ Lark scrunched up her nose, turning to Louisa askance.
‘What the bloomin’ ’eck does it mean?’ asked Nate.
‘I can tell you exactly what it means.’ Louisa’s dark eyes were shining with intrigue.
‘It’s smuggler code specific to the smuggling gangs of Micklewick Bay, which included Benjamin Fitzgilbert.
Bizarre comments like this were rumoured to have been used to let them know that a ship was nearby and ready to offload its contraband, and this tiny piece of history proves the rumours to be true.
This very message would have been repeated verbally in a sort of relay to the members of the smuggling gang, who’d know it was time to get into position. ’
Lark’s mouth fell open. She glanced over at Nate to see him looking equally in awe.
‘Sounds like it was a carefully thought-out operation,’ said Nate.
‘Oh, it really was – it had to be. And speed was of the essence with so many patrolling officers watching their activities. Most of the residents of Old Micklewick will have been involved in smuggling in one way or another, but the main team was made up of men with specific roles. There’d be the “spotsmen”, who’d be responsible for guiding the lugger closer to shore – a lugger was the type of ship they used.
Here in Micklewick Bay the landing spot was Contraband Cove – no guesses as to why it’s called that!
– tucked away at the other side of Thorncliffe where they’d be out of sight.
Small boats would be used to transfer the goods from the lugger to the beach where the “landers” would take charge of unloading the contraband.
The “tubsmen” – or “tubmen” as they were also known – would be waiting, ready to lug the goods off to their hiding places until it was safe for them to be distributed or carried off inland.
Speed really was of the essence if they were to avoid capture by the customs officers. ’
‘Blimey,’ said Lark.
‘I’ve heard all sorts of stories where some of the ships had secret compartments or false bottoms in which illicit goods were hidden. The smugglers were very resourceful in that respect. You’re familiar with the expression “bootleg” as referring to something that’s sold illegally?’
‘Yes,’ Lark and Nate said in unison.
‘Well, its origins are in smuggling. The legs of the long boots worn by smugglers were ideal for hiding smaller items of contraband, or “bootleg” as it became known.’
‘Crikey, I hadn’t a clue about all of this.’ Lark was in awe of Louisa’s local knowledge, especially since she’d only just moved to the area.
‘Another interesting fact.’ Louisa grinned, clearly in her element.
‘You might think of smuggling as being an enterprise based purely by the sea, but a lot of the contraband was actually moved very quickly inland. There’s an exhibition at The Museum of Moorland Life dedicated solely to it.
A local family there, the Fairfaxes, had smuggling connections with Old Micklewick and a James Fairfax owned a house where contraband was found centuries after it had been secreted in a hidden cellar.
It was found during renovation work some ten years ago.
I do believe there are still members of the Fairfax family living in the villages nearby.
And there have been other cottages on the moors where whisky casks and other items were found tucked away in long-since-forgotten secret compartments. ’
‘Sounds like we might have to take a trip over there,’ Nate said, looking at Lark.
The dark shadows beneath his eyes momentarily distracted her, setting a pang of concern squeezing in her chest. ‘Oh, erm… yes, I’d love that. We could take my dad, if it’s still open at this time of year, that is.’
‘It’s open at the weekend, same hours as the heritage centre,’ Louisa said.
‘So you think this is all genuine smuggler-related stuff?’ Nate asked, directing the conversation back to the suitcase.
‘I do.’ Louisa nodded, picking out one of the small rounds of lead and holding it up.
‘These are what we call bullets these days, and the pieces of ripped cloth would’ve been soaked in grease or oil and packed into the pistol, or even wrapped around the lead balls to keep them in place and stop them rolling back along the barrel of the gun.
’ She placed it back amongst the others and lifted out the dulled copper pouch, giving it a gentle shake.
‘And this was used to store gunpowder – from the sound of it, I’d say there’s still some in there.
A small amount would’ve been tipped inside what’s called the “pan” of the pistol, and once the trigger was pulled, it would “trigger” a fast-moving sequence of events.
A small hammer mechanism would hit the flint and the resultant spark it generated would ignite the gunpowder.
The force from this would propel the bullet out of the barrel at great speed.
’ She gave another laugh. ‘I’m so sorry, I did say the history lecture was over, but it would seem I can’t stop myself.
I’ve got thoroughly swept away by my enthusiasm for your suitcase. ’
‘Honestly, Louisa, there’s no need to apologise, Lark and me are both fascinated, and it’s amazing to learn about the other stuff in the tin.’
‘I agree,’ said Lark. ‘You’ve been enormously helpful.
’ She was struck by the curator’s passion for her job.
She could tell Louisa practically lived and breathed her work.
Did it have something to do with the sense of loss she’d picked up on?
she wondered. Maybe submerging herself in her job had been a coping mechanism, occupying her mind and keeping sorrow at bay.
Or maybe she just simply loved her work.
‘There’s so much in this case that’s offering up clues to an intriguing period of time in Micklewick Bay’s history. There’s little wonder the eighteenth century was called the “golden age” of smuggling.’
‘As for the coins’ – Louisa selected three different ones, turning them over in her hand, pointing to the first – ‘this is a silver shilling. And this rather battered gold one is a gold guinea, and this one, I think, is a Spanish doubloon. There’s no guarantee they’ll be genuine since a lot of counterfeit coins were in circulation at the time, particularly so amongst the smuggling community, but it’s promising that all three coins tie in perfectly to the dates we’re interested in. ’
‘Cool,’ said Nate, as he and Lark peered at the coins in Louisa’s hand. Nate picked each one up in turn, looking at it closely. Lark viewed them from a distance, reluctant to touch them and risk absorbing their energy.
The curator slipped the coins back into the case. ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where this is for?’ She lifted out the large, old key along with the iron padlock. ‘There’s no way the key fits that lock, so they clearly don’t go together.’
‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind hanging on to the key for a few days, there’s something I need to check at Crayke’s Cottage,’ said Nate.
‘It struck me earlier this morning that there was a loose panel near the cupboard where we found the case. I wondered if there might be a door behind it; there could be something else hidden away.’
‘Of course, let’s hope you find something,’ said Louisa.
Though Lark didn’t vocalise it, she really didn’t fancy going back to Crayke’s Cottage.
She’d felt an enormous sense of relief bringing the suitcase here and thought that would be the end of it.
But it didn’t feel right to leave Nate to go on his own.
She just hoped he wasn’t going to suggest heading there once they’d left here, or worse, after work this evening.
The darkness would make it extra spooky.
‘Have you any idea why the case might have been put together like this?’ Nate’s question stopped her from having to worry about another trip to the cottage for the moment.
‘Hmm. It does seem very deliberate rather than the items simply being randomly thrown together.’ Louisa clasped her chin between her thumb and her forefinger.
‘The suitcase postdates the other items by a considerable amount of time. Suitcases weren’t introduced until the late nineteenth century – trunks were used before then – so any theory would be purely conjecture.
I guess we’ll never know for sure, so it’ll just have to remain a mystery, and an intriguing one at that. ’
She set about putting the items back in place and closing the suitcase. ‘Well, thank you so much for letting me see all of these fabulous items. Are you sure you don’t mind me hanging on to them until I can get the experts to take a look at them?’
She was beyond thrilled when both Lark and Nate had told her they were donating the suitcase and its contents to the museum, declaring the items would be perfect for a new exhibition they had planned. ‘I promise to let you know what the experts have to say about the pistol and the ledger.’
‘You said you had a couple of interesting things to show us,’ ventured Lark once the suitcase was closed.
‘Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me.’ Louisa gave a mysterious smile before heading over to her desk.