The narrator of this story was William Brice WILLS - born 1800 Vlissingen, Netherlands; baptised 30th July 1800 Folkestone Kent; son of Richard WILLS and Ann BRICE

"The capture of The Four Brothers , by the Badger revenue cutter, after an obstinate resistance on the part of the crew of the lugger, caused a great sensation throughout Great Britain, and the even has undoubtedly originated many of the stories about sea-fights with smugglers which have come from the pens of novel writers. The facts have been very much distorted, but the following version, coming from the lips of a recently deceased member of the crew, may be accepted as a truthful account. At the time of the occurrence, in January 1823, the narrator was in his 23rd year, and at the time of narration he was in his 80th year. His memory was singularly clear, even on the most minute details of the fight and the subsequent events. As nearly as possible he told me the story as follows:

" I was born in 1800, and went to sea when about 13 years old, in fishing boats. When about 20, I joined a crew of smugglers, which brought much better pay. We had a guinea a week standing money, and for every successful voyage we had ten guineas. I had made several trips to the coast of Ireland, without meeting with any remarkable adventure. We never had much difficulty in running our cargo ashore, and the Irish people very quickly go it out of the way. Our lugger was a smart craft, and a very fast sailer. She had been a privateer, but was captured by an English vessel, and sold at Southampton.

An old Folkestoner bought her, and after making some alterations, fitted her out for smuggling. She was manned principally by Folkestone men, and my uncle had command of her, the crew numbering in all 26. On the 12th of January 1823, we sailed to Flushing, with a cargo of leaf tobacco, upwards of a hundered tons, in half bales of 60lbs., besides a few kegs of brandy, and I have heard the ship and cargo were valued at more than �10,000. It used to be the practice to have whole bales, but these were unwieldly, and so they were made up specially in smaller bundles. A very light wind was blowing; we had got a new mainmast, and were only about half rigged, so that we sailed slowly. Just before daylight on the 13th we were abreast of Dieppe.

It was just before seven, and suddenly we found ourselves close to what we supposed were French fishing vessels. Without suspicion of danger we held our course, when suddenly one of the cutters, which we then knew was a revenue cutter, ran up her flag, and fired a gun to bring us to. We felt that we were in for it, but our captain determined to make every effort to beat the cutter off, and get away. If our rigging had been complete we should have had no difficlut, but the cutter outsailed us. We tacked, and the cutter did the same, and firing was kept up on both sides. We carried four guns, but the cutter had more, and they were bigger than ours, which of course gave her great advantage. As soon as the firing begun, we hoisted Dutch colours, and the fight was kept up, as far as I can remember, for a couple of hours.

The fierceness of the battle may be gathered from the fact that out of our crew of 26, four were killed and six wounded; how many of the Badger's crew were hit, I cannot tell, but one was killed. To avoid our fire they kept below, but all our men were obliged to be on deck to work the vessel. But from the first we had no chance,and presently the cutter drove her bowsprit through our mainsail, effectually barring our escape. We determined to fight to the last, and to sink our vessel rather than be taken, for we knew what the consequences would be. While the two vessels were thus in contact, we thought the day had turned in our favour. Our biggest gun almost touched the cutter's bow, and we attempted to fire at it. I have never known why it was, but all our efforts were unavailing, and the piece would not go off, or the cutter's bows must have been blown in.

Seeing the critical position of his ship, the commander of the cutter called out to us to surrender, and promised that we should have our boat and clothing, and go on shore. He was an English officer, and we trusted to his honour, but the mean hound was playing us a trick. We packed all our clothing, got into our boats with our bags, and rowed away sorrowfully, leaving behind one of our comrades, dead. But when abou a quarter of a mile away the cutter's boat's came after us to force us to return. We knew then what was meant, for without arms, what could we do against two boats full of armed men? Sadly enough we rowed back again, and for more than an hour we parleyed with the cutter's officers. It was no good, however, and we were at last compelled to go on board.

Our lugger was taken into Dover Harbour, and the killed were buried at the churchyard there. We had a sorry time of it for some days. The cutter put us aboard of the Severn man-of-war, where three others of our crew died, and the rest were kept in irons in the cockpit, the cold all the time being intense. After some days the cutter took us off again, and carried us up the Thames, where we were confined on the Tower tender for three or four days, and then, handcuffed and chained in an old barge, taken ashore, and lodged in the King's Bench Prison. Next day we were all taken to Bow Street, and committed for trial for wilful murder, but before our trial we laid for eleven weeks in the King's Bench."

The old sailor told me several stories of different matters which occurred while they were confined in gaol, and spoke well of the kindly treatment they received at the hands of the gaolers. They were aware from the first that the defence would be that they were Dutchmen, and were warned to speak as little English as possible, which injunction they carried out. They were all confined in on ward, and allowed to have what they chose in the way of food, and the Governor of the Gaol had a pew constructed in the chapel adjoining his own for their accommodation. Nothing was allowed to be cooked, however, in the ward, and the old man related with great glee how on one occasion a leg of pork had been frizzled before a fierce fire by their friends outside to give it the appearance of being cooked, was then stowed away to be properly finished on Sunday. But while it was roasting, the chief warder paid them a visit, and they were very much afraid their savoury joint would be seized. Their uniform good behaviour, however, saved their dinner: in fact they seem to have been allowed to do pretty much as they liked, prison discipline not being then so ridgidly enforced as it is now.

Another remarkable incident, which they quite failed to account for, was this. During their long stay in the prison, they had never seen a single rat, although the place was known to be swarming, and the massive door, studded with iron bolts, left a space of two or three inches at the bottom. But during the last night of their stay, the smugglers were infested with rats to such an extent that they were obliged to leave their beds to protect themselves. Naturally enough the superstitious among them took this visit of the rats as an ill-omen. But to finish the story.

On Friday, the 25th April, the twenty-two prisoners were arraigned before Lord STOWELL (chief judge of the High Court of Admiralty), Mr Justice PARK, and Mr Baron HULLOCK. In the words of my informant, " the Court was packed so full that there wasn't room to move. The dock wouldn't near hold us, so some had seats along the front outside, and we took turns at sitting. They didn't try us for murder, as it was expected they would, all our friends being afraid we should be hung. But they tried us for firing at a King's ship. We had two of the best men in England to defend us, Mr BROUGHAM and Mr LUSHINGTON, and our solicitor told us beforehand they were sure of winning. Of course there was lying on both sides; there was a great number of witnesses, and the trial lasted a whole two days. At six o'clock on Saturday evening we were discharged, the jury having decided that most of the crew were Dutchmen we should not all have been hung, but they couldn't hang one and not the others. There was tremendous cheering and excitement when we got into the street. The first thing to be done then was to get the news home to Folkestone. Accordingly a mounted messenger was engaged, and riding hard all the way, he reached here about one o'clock in the morning. Next day (Sunday) we all started for Folkestone, some by the Dover and the others by the Folkestone coach. People knew what time to expect us, and when we got to Sandgate it seemed as though all Folkestone turned out to meet us. The church bells were rung, I have heard, but cannot say whether it was so , our heads being completely turned at our reception."

At the close of his narration, the old man said," I never went smuggling again after that. My father took the lugger out of Dover Harbour and sailed her back to Flushing, the Badger cutter having toescort her, and thousands of people were present to see them depart. What became of the cargo I can't say. But it may have been carried safely to Ireland after all."