Lore - Episode 132: Puzzled

Episode Date: December 23, 2019

We all love a good hiding place. Whether it’s the child who tucks the key to their diary under their pillow, or the parent who hides away the holiday gifts, humans have proven themselves to be fond of secret places. But if the stories are any indication, there’s one place in England that was better than most at doing what we love. ———————— Lore Resources:  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  Lore News: www.theworldoflore.com/now  Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com Access premium content!: https://www.lorepodcast.com/support See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

It began like a lot of homeowner nightmares. Alexandra no longer lived in her childhood home, but she inherited it from her parents and rented it out to tenants who kept the place filled with laughter and memories. But like a lot of renters, they soon reached out with requests to have certain things repaired. First, it was the heating oil tank in the basement, but while the workers were down there, they noticed that the sewer main needed replaced. After that, it was something more concerning. There were cracks in the foundation walls visible in the basement, then cracks in the

thing that's meant to hold up your home is never good news. Alexandra made a phone call to a masonry company to have the damage repaired, but that project led to one final discovery. A second basement, hidden beneath the first, and its discovery triggered a research project that took her on a journey into the past, because her tiny little Pennsylvania village had deep connections to the Underground Railroad, and there was a good chance her own basement was one of the forgotten stops along the way. History aside, there's something incredibly attractive about hidden rooms and false doors,

whether it's the room of requirement from Harry Potter, or the giant X that literally marked the spot for Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade. The thrill of discovering that which was once hidden is something we never really grow out of. But while secret tunnels might make sense in a film like Clue, they aren't that easy to bump into in real life. Unless you know where to look. Because history does hold the key to a number of secret chambers, and while it might be

fun to explore all of them, there's one place that takes the prize for one of the most elaborate and nefarious hidden worlds on record. But it's more than a closet or a bunker, or even a short tunnel to another part of the house. No, this one stands out because of its scope and scale, and because of how it was used by the people who live there. It's a secret network that connects an entire town. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore.

The seaside community of Rye is an old medieval town on the southeastern tip of England. In fact, it's right near Hastings, where the Normans landed in 1066 to begin their conquest under the leadership of William, Duke of Normandy. It's part of a confederation of towns in the area known as the sink ports, all built around the economy made possible by the sea. But there's more to Rye than that. If you were to dig through the pages of history, you would find that much of their past is built on two related things, taxes and smuggling.

Of course, taxes don't need much explaining since they're a reality of life for just about everyone, but it's important to understand how they worked centuries ago in Rye because their impact led to a much deeper story, quite literally. Back in the 12th century, the people of Rye enjoyed tax exemptions because of their generosity toward the king. But around 1275, the government realized just how much cargo was leaving and entering through the towns in the area, thanks in part to its proximity to France. So they stepped in and placed a tax on each ship that left England through those ports,

a once-per-trip fee that would be close to $4,000 in today's money. Twenty years later, that tax was doubled. And as it became more expensive to do business the legal way, some enterprising individuals began to find less honest ways of moving goods in and out of the country. They would smuggle things, anchoring their ships off the coast so that smaller boats could row out and move the cargo to land. But as the years went by, the crown tightened the noose. 1718 saw the introduction of the Hovering Act, which prohibited cargo vessels from anchoring

offshore. In 1746, the Indemnity Act made smuggling a capital offense punishable by death, yet the tighter the government squeezed, the more creative the smugglers became, and that was thanks in large part to the town itself. You see, deep beneath many of the buildings in town were a series of tunnels that ran from cellar to cellar, allowing the smugglers to enter one building and then disappear into a network of passageways. One of the things that helped this clandestine world come about was a series of French attacks

during the 100 Years War, which destroyed much of the town and necessitated extensive rebuilding. And as they did, the smugglers helped guide construction in order to build a better town for their work. The results speak for themselves. Along with cellars that were joined by underground tunnels, many of the buildings shared attic space that was made accessible by hidden doors. On the lower levels, staircases were built into the walls of many businesses and public

spaces, which allowed the smugglers to enter the network anywhere. It was as if the entire community had gathered together, agreed that smuggling was good for business, and then built their town around it. Sometimes the structures were joined over a number of years, and with such cunning that the government would never have suspected a thing. Other times, though, it was a bit more obvious, as was the case with two buildings that sat across the street from one another, the old bell inn and the mermaid inn. Records show that both inns were remodeled in 1420, most likely to repair damages that

had taken place during the war. But since both places were near each other and working at the same time, it's safe to assume the tunnel connecting them was put in during that work. But even then, the government didn't catch on, and so each day, goods were moved in and out of town without ever being noticed by the customs officials who were tasked with policing the port. Today the mermaid inn is a major landmark in Rye, even earning a Grade II designation by the British government as a significant historical building.

And over the years, it's played host to all sorts of unique individuals. From both Queen Elizabeth's to Charlie Chaplin and Johnny Depp, it's inspired artists and writers, and even served as a garrison for Canadian troops during World War II. Although its smuggling days ended a couple of centuries ago, Rye was the epicenter for illegal importing and exporting for the better part of 500 years. That's a very long time to amass amazing stories about dangerous criminals and the townsfolk who aided them. But despite that long history, there's one chapter that stands head and shoulders above

the rest, because in the first half of the 18th century, everything the town had been building toward finally came back to bite them. And when it happened, things got very, very bloody. It's time to introduce you to the Hawkerst Gang. It was inevitable, really. But an entire region of the coastline agrees that smuggling and illegal activity offer an acceptable path to a better life, just about everyone is bound to get on the bandwagon. And if we're honest, there were probably groups that had organized around it all the

way back to the late 1200s. But the Hawkerst Gang was different. After scores of generations and centuries of testing the limits of what worked, they were the most powerful collection of smugglers to dominate the area. Today, historians estimate that upwards of 600 individuals were part of the gang, which began its work in the Rai area around 1735. But don't think of them as an army of pirates. In fact, none of them were even sailors.

No, the Hawkerst Gang operated like a sort of 18th century mafia. Brokering deals with sailors and fishermen who helped them get the goods onto and off of land. And to do all that secretive work, they needed a base of operations. And in Rai, that home was the mermaid inn. It made sense, too. From the public area downstairs, they could negotiate deals while drinking ale and laughing. But a quick step into a hidden staircase could take them up and out into some other building

on the street. From there, new tunnels offered a whole network of options for escape. It was perfect. At the time the Hawkerst Gang was active, their primary focus was wool, tea, brandy, and sometimes tobacco. Taxes had made many of those goods too expensive to import, so they had stepped in to lower the barrier to entry, so to speak. And they did this as a tight, organized group for roughly 15 years.

One of my favorite quick stories about the Hawkerst Gang is that they used the ruins of a nearby castle as a sort of warehouse for large stocks of illegal goods. It was a great place to hide things away, but still needed to keep random travelers and curious explorers from wandering into the ruins and discovering it all. So they took part in that ancient tradition known today as Scooby-Dooing, where they made spooky noises to give the place an unsavory reputation. And from what I can tell, it worked. No meddling kids spoiled their plans.

They weren't a happy-go-lucky group of tricksters, though, so don't let their castle antics fool you. Many of the key members were known for their violent working methods. One man, Jeremiah Curtis, actually killed a man he caught stealing from the gang. Local farmer Richard Hawkins had just taken two bags of tea, but his punishment was an extended torture session that ended with his death. And it was just one of countless examples of how bloody and violent the gang had become. But 1747 was the beginning of the end for the gang.

It all began when one of the ships they had hired was captured by a government-funded privateer in late September of that year. It was a valuable shipment, too, with a cargo of tea and brandy worth upwards of $140,000 in modern American money. So naturally, they wanted it back. The gang tracked their stolen cargo about 150 miles to the west, where the privateer had stopped for the night in the town of Poole, just across the bay from the Isle of Wight. They arrived well after sundown with about three dozen men, but found the dockside customs

house guarded by a gunship. With a little patience, though, the tide eventually went out, taking the ship with it. And that's when the Hawker's Gang made their move. The brandy was too heavy to move on horseback, but they managed to take all of the tea. And then they headed north to the town of Fortingbridge, where they were spotted and identified by a local shoemaker named Daniel Chatter. And Chatter saw a chance to get rich. He and an older friend named William Galley made a run to track down a customs official

and turn them in, but they got lost along the way. That gave the Hawker's Gang, led by leaders like William Jackson, William Carter, and a man who simply went by the nickname Diamond, a chance to catch up with them. When they found Chatter and Galley, they were sleeping at the red lion inn farther east in the town of Rake. And according to the legend, the gang woke them up by stepping onto their beds and grinding their spurs into their faces. What happened next was insanely violent.

Chatter and Galley were tied upside down on their own horses and driven out of town. Some reports claim that the horse's hooves hit the men in the forehead as they galloped away. But the gang stayed with them, eventually stopping to more properly torture them. Galley, who was less of a risk because he was elderly, ended up being buried alive. But Chatter faced much worse. First, he was held at gunpoint as a threat, but he was eventually hanged over an old well. Apparently though, the men botched the hanging, and after 15 minutes of struggling, they cut

him loose and tossed him into the well head first, before throwing all sorts of debris down the shaft to crush him to death. But while they might have escaped the law and the informants, the general public quickly learned of their violent adventures. On their way back to Rye, they encountered a town that had summoned their own militia to put an end to the gang for good. The battle that ensued took the lives of a number of their men, and sent the Hawkerst gang running for safety.

A short while later, they were captured by the local authorities and thrown in prison. In the end, many of the gang's leaders faced capital punishment for their crimes, between the smuggling and the murder. The bodies of Galley and Chatter were recovered, and all the evidence pointed to horrible deaths at the hands of men like William Jackson and William Carter. A number of them were found guilty and sentenced to their own hangings a short while later. After the downfall of the Hawkerst gang, the centuries-old smuggling business began to wither up and die.

The locals were less interested in a business that had shown itself to be violent and cutthroat, sometimes literally, and so they began to remove themselves from the larger network. A century later, in the mid-1800s, a number of taxes were scaled back, and some even repealed entirely, giving the businesses in Rye fewer and fewer reasons to engage in smuggling. Without the demand that had driven it for so long, that risky way of life just sort of faded into the shadows of history. But if the stories are true, it's not all gone. No, there are no longer any teams of smugglers running stolen goods through the tunnels and

stairways of the town center. But there are stories that hint at something possibly worse, something that's a lot harder to get rid of than men and ships and wagons full of tea. And much of it centers around the Mermaid Inn, which is still in operation today. While guests can enjoy the historic building and the Old World charm, there are whispers that something darker is there as well. It seems the rooms are full of ghosts. It's everything you might expect from an inn that's been around for almost 900 years.

While much of the structure of the Mermaid Inn dates back to the early 1400s, when the damage from the 100 years war was repaired, the cellar has been dated back as early as 1056. That's a whole decade before the Normans arrived and changed the course of history in the country. And the Mermaid Inn has been a witness to all of that, and so much more. After Rye became a center for the smuggling trade and began to physically adapt to those who practiced it, the building managed to stay right in the middle of it, quite literally

too, since its location was basically the center of town for a few centuries. As a side note, experts think the Mermaid Inn has the second largest fireplace in England, which made it possible for previous owners to install a priest hole inside it, a sort of hiding place for Catholic priests after the birth of the Church of England. But for however tantalizing that sort of notion might be, I, like a lot of you, find myself more drawn to the rest of its secret features. And if the stories are true, so do the spirits who once lived and worked there. Over the centuries, there have been countless reports of unusual activity.

All of the typical paranormal events you would recognize from an episode of Ghost Hunters have been seen there, from orbs to cold spots and everything in between. Some have even heard loud footsteps in the hall outside that room, only to peek out and find that no one is there. Others have seen door handles turn before watching the door swing open to reveal, well, no one. No one visible, at least. But the most frightening experiences have taken place inside the rooms, which all have

clever names like the Nutcracker's Suite and Dr. Sin's Bed Chamber. One story from the 1980s involves a mother and daughter who were sharing a room, and as they were getting ready for bed, the lights in the room kept flickering on and off. Leave the lights alone, the mother shouted from the bathroom, assuming her daughter was playing with the switch, but when she left the room, she found her daughter already in bed. Then, one of the room's hand crank windows suddenly slammed shut all on its own, shocking both of them.

Later on, the mother even claimed to feel a large, calloused hand grab her foot in the middle of the night. Visitors throughout the inn have also witnessed the figure of a pale woman. Sometimes she appears in a chair close to the fireplace in the James Room, while other times she's been seen walking through the Nutcracker's Suite, disappearing through one of the walls. In either case, the vision of her always leaves the people staying there, feeling an overwhelming sensation of dread and panic.

If I have to admit, it's hard to blame them. But the most frightening experience that's been reported over the years involves something out of the ordinary in the Elizabethan Room. But before I tell you about it, you need to know some details about the room itself. First, the room is gorgeous, with dark wood, low beams, and a blood-red carpet. Yes, it's a bedroom, and yes, you can book it for the night, if you're courageous enough. But just be aware that the room also contains an oobliet, which is basically a small secret dungeon hidden behind a trapped door in the floor.

The room is also home to one of the inn's many secret staircases, this one leading down to the original kitchen. It's an ideal escape for smugglers, as the inn's website states, but it also might be ideal for ghosts, and one final story will explain what I mean. Over the years, multiple guests who have stayed in that room have reported being awoken in the middle of the night to the sounds of two men arguing. Not outside their door, though, but right at the foot of their bed. These men reportedly shouted at each other before drawing their swords and doing battle

right there in front of the bed. At the end of the fight, though, there is clearly a winner. What happens next is always a part of each report. Guests have claimed that after the battle, the Victoria swordsman then proceeds to drag the body of his opponent over to the location of the old oobliet, and then the trapped door can be heard opening up before the body is tossed inside. It sounds almost unbelievable, but the fact that this same event has been reported over and over by multiple guests over the years hints that at least something is going on

inside that room. More shocking is the fact that in many of these stories, the witnesses have noted the time their encounter took place, and it's almost always a quarter past two in the morning. It might not be enough to make a believer out of everyone, but it certainly makes you stop and think. Even though Rai and the Mermaid Inn quit their smuggling ways over 200 years ago, that history has become a key element of their present life. From the whispered stories and fireplace folklore to the visitors who travel there to see it

all with their own eyes, the Mermaid Inn is filled with memories, and maybe even something darker. But whether or not you believe in ghosts and the tales about them that former guests have told, you can't hear the legends of Rai and not walk away with at least one powerful lesson. We can leave the past behind us, but it always has a way of coming back. Everyone loves a good puzzle. Whether it's the hidden passageways in the film Clue or the puzzle box from the Hellraiser films, there's something incredibly attractive about everyday places or objects that have

a hidden purpose. And in that regard, the town of Rai ticks all the boxes. From the tunnels that ran beneath the streets like veins in a living organism, to revolving bookcases and trapdoors that gave people access to them, the inner workings of old Rai were clearly built with a purpose. Thankfully though, the smugglers who created and used them have long since faded into the past, and considering the tales that are still told about the Bloody Hawkers gang. I'm okay with that.

But we do leave our mark on the places we inhabit, don't we? You can see it on satellite imagery when the rough outline of a Roman fort makes itself known through drought-stunted grass, or when we dig deep enough to reveal a long forgotten past. Humans have always had a way of arriving in a place, and then transforming it to fit their needs. And I'm not sure that's always been a good thing. At the end of the day though, I think we can agree on two important facts.

First, we're always going to stumble upon something old and forgotten. Whether or not that's the second basement that once played a part in the Underground Railroad is hard to say, but discoveries will always take place. But second, and more importantly, those marks we leave on the places we live have a way of making themselves known, over and over again. One last story from Inside the Mermaid Inn. One of the other rooms in the building, Room 10, goes by the name Fleur-de-Lis, and like many of the others, it's been the location of a common sighting, one that seems to repeat

itself from time to time as if the past were being replayed like an animated meme image, except those who have witnessed it claim that it's very real. In all the cases, guests in that room have seen a figure appear in the bathroom. He's always described as a harsh-looking man, all gruff and unapproachable, as if he were an old soldier, or maybe a former smuggler. The man is said to step right through the wall into the bathroom, and then, without stopping, he continues on through the wall that leads into the bedroom. Once there, witnesses say he slowly makes his way across the room, before vanishing through

the exterior wall. And if that were all that happens, I can see why people might be unsettled by what they see. But there's more. In every case, those who see the man also claim to be overwhelmed with a feeling of dread and fear. And when they've tried to follow him, stepping along behind him or examining the place where he ultimately vanishes from, they've noticed something else.

A cold spot in the room, rights where he had been standing. Just how frightening can that experience be? If one report is any indication, it's enough to drive some guests right out of the room. In one story, some of the staff claim they entered the lounge in the middle of the night to find one couple sleeping there. They said the pale man had appeared in their room, and they had no intention of returning to it. Looking back, I doubt we'll ever be able to say for sure whether it's the ghosts of

former residents who haunt the mermaid in, or just powerful memories of a past that's too dark to entirely forget. But maybe that's not the point. Perhaps our true goal should be to dig as deep as possible and uncover as much of the past as we can. What we'll find is guaranteed to help us view our world with fresh eyes, and it just might teach us something new about ourselves along the way. History may be a maze of secret tunnels, but it's also a mirror.

By exploring its mysterious corridors and staircases, we stand a better chance of coming face to face with who we really are. Even if it leaves us feeling more than a little puzzled. In a town as old as Rye, it's hard to imagine not stumbling upon dozens of stories that send a chill down your spine. Thankfully, this little seaport doesn't disappoint. Stick around after this quick sponsor break to hear one final story from Inside the Mermaid Inn.

For all the centuries that the smugglers used Rye as a tool in their criminal network, and all the stories about what sort of mischief they got up to, it's hard to deny how dominant the Hawkerist gang truly was. Over its 15-year history, they broke countless laws and took dozens of lives. By 1747, the gang was led by a man named Thomas Kingsmill. Set in his side his association with a criminal organization, Kingsmill was one of those stereotypical success stories. He started working with them as a young teen, guarding the horses while older men pulled

off jobs, but over the years he rose up through the ranks. It wasn't without cost, though. In the final struggle that took place right before they were all thrown in jail, his own brother George, also a member of the gang, was shot and killed. Thomas, of course, paid his own price two years later when his trial wrapped up. He was found guilty and executed by hanging a short while later. They say his body was put on display for all to see, as a warning to others who were thinking of following in his footsteps.

But what a lot of people don't know is that Thomas Kingsmill actually lived in the mermaid inn for a while. It's always been a place where rooms were available to those who could pay for them, and when you add in all the points of entry to the secret tunnels, the inn made a perfect place for him to stay. Other rumors are less solid, like clouds of mist drifting through the woods. He possibly stayed there with a woman during his time, but historians aren't sure if it was his wife or a mistress he kept hidden away from the prime public.

Either way, he called one of the bedrooms there his home, and today it bears his name, the Kingsmill Room. Naturally, the room is drawn its own fair share of ethereal stories over the years, and while a lot of them could be found anywhere, such as flickering lights, mysterious footsteps, and odd noises, there's one particular sighting that's happened over and over again. It's the vision of a woman, described as pale and translucent, and her presence has disturbed more than a few guests. Early on it was said that she would only appear in the rocking chair that sat in the center

of the room. Sometimes guests would enter and catch a fleeting glimpse of her before she vanished. Other times, and most common of all, guests would wake up in the middle of the night to a rhythmic squeaking sound. Through the darkness, they would just be able to make out the shape of the rocking chair, slowly moving itself back and forth. In fact, these experiences happened so frequently that the owners of the inn decided to remove the chair and put it into storage.

They assumed that if the chair was gone, the ghost, if there really was one, might follow along. But the stories told by guests simply evolved, and rather than seeing a woman in a chair, many would wake up to find her standing at the foot of their bed, staring vacantly at them with cold, dead eyes. Naturally, a room like that tends to draw attention. Some guests have attempted their own amateur ghost hunting by taking photos of different parts of the room, and some have even captured those glowing orbs that many see as evidence

of something otherworldly. But it was a film crew from a newspaper that later had the most frightening experience of all. They came together evidence of the hauntings, and like a lot of people, wondered if the stories could be real. And they wanted the full experience, too, so they talked the owners into putting the rocking chair back where it had been. Then, just before turning in for the night, the crew set up a video camera in the corner

of the room, which they aimed directly at the rocking chair. And then, they went to sleep. When they awoke, they wondered if anything at all had happened. No one remembered being pulled from sleep by a pale woman, or hearing the sounds of the rocking chair moving on the floor. And yet, when they approached the camera to see what it might have captured, they caught their breath. The tape had somehow been ejected during the night.

Granted, there are probably a dozen logical reasons behind the tape's ejection. A simple mechanical problem could have triggered it. Or perhaps the tape door hadn't been shut properly to begin with. Either way, one could explain away all the mystery with a bit of common sense. But then again, who would want to do that? Folklore thrives on the thrill of sharing a whispered story, and on the mystery of unanswered questions. The stories we pass along to the next generation are often fueled by a sense of wonder or bewilderment,

or even fear. And considering the history of a place like the Mermaid Inn, it's easy to see why tales of the unexplainable seem to have taken priority over the mundane. It's a puzzle we'll most likely never solve, and I for one am okay with that. A town that once trafficked in illicit brandy and tea has now found themselves keepers of something more valuable, and possibly even more attractive. Story This episode of Lore was written and produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with research by Taylor

Hagridorn and music by Chad Lawson. Lore is much more than just a podcast. There's a book series available in bookstores and online, and two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Check them both out if you want more Lore in your life. I also make two other podcasts, Aaron Mankey's Cabinet of Curiosity, and Unobscured, and I think you'd enjoy both. Each one explores other areas of our dark history, ranging from bite-sized episodes

to season-long dives into a single topic. You can learn more about both of those shows and everything else going on over in one central place. The World of Lore.com slash now. And you can follow the show on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Search for Lore podcast, all one word, and then click that follow button. When you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi.

And as always, thanks for listening.