Crime, Punishment, and a Cuppa: The Curious Tale of Tea Theft
Over the past 300 years, the humble curled leaf has trickled down from the noble classes into the daily life of every Briton. These days, we brew around 100 million cups of tea every single day, according to the International Tea Committee, and you can pick up a box for a few quid in any supermarket.
But what happened in the days when you couldn’t afford a decent brew? Here at Porter Hill HQ, we’ve been digging through Old Bailey court records to uncover what befell those desperate enough to steal their tea—and the sentences handed down to the guilty.
The famous East India Company had run a monopoly on imports from India and Southeast Asia since 1600. But by the 18th century, they simply couldn’t keep up with demand. It was believed that two-thirds of the tea consumed in Britain was smuggled in, hidden from Parliament—and the taxman.
In 1745, a Proposal to Prevent the Smuggling of Tea noted:
The home consumption of tea, since 1721, greatly increased in these Kingdoms; insomuch that it is upon good grounds believed that the annual consumption thereof is near three millions of pounds of weight; two millions of which is at present openly, and in defiance of the laws and the civil government, smuggled and run in.
A Pair of Special Breeches
On 28 May 1791, Richard Martin, a labourer for the East India Company, was found guilty of stealing 4 ounces of tea while nailing up boxes in the warehouse. Fellow worker John Tadmire testified that he saw Martin “put his hand twice into the chest, and take tea out, and put it under his coat.”
Was it an honest man pocketing a little treat, or something more premeditated? As it turns out, Martin was wearing specially made breeches that day—a hidden compartment sewn into the waistband to smuggle the stolen tea home.
Despite bringing five character witnesses, Martin was convicted and sentenced to a good whipping.
The Newgate Inmate
Eighteen years later, Thomas Cole ended up in similar trouble. Also a labourer, he was caught with 3 pounds of stolen tea from East India’s Crutched Friars warehouse—worth around £30 in today’s money.
When searched, officers found tea tucked into every possible hiding place:
One bag on his right side under his arm, another on the left, a smaller one at the pit of his stomach, and 12 ounces split between his coat pockets.
Caught red-handed, Cole was spared the gallows but sentenced to a month in Newgate Prison—and a daily whipping for good measure.
HMS Retribution
Henry Hall wasn’t so fortunate. Under the 1718 Transportation Act, convicts could be sent to the Americas or West Indies in the name of reformation.
In 1824, Hall was convicted of stealing tea, coffee, and sugar from grocer George Davis. The whole affair was a classic bait-and-switch. Hall pretended to be an employee of a local pub, convinced Davis to hand over the goods, and promptly disappeared.
Sentenced to seven years’ transportation, Hall never left England. Instead, he was placed aboard HMS Retribution—a decommissioned warship moored in Woolwich and converted into a floating prison hulk.
Life on Retribution was grim. Fellow prisoner James Hardy Vaux later wrote:
On descending the hatch-way, no conception can be formed of the scene which presented itself… nothing short of a descent to the infernal regions can be at all worthy of a comparison with it.
Thankfully, if you run out of tea these days, you won’t be sent to HMS Retribution. Though we do recommend popping by Porter Hill Tea in Huddersfield—or ordering online—to stock up. A warm, honest cup of loose leaf tea is always worth it, and it won’t cost you your freedom.
