Spotlight On ... Working For A Living

The Bonny Cravat Inn: where generations of my family worked for a living.

When I think about the different ways generations of my family worked for a living, some stories gather around a farm, a trade, an occupation or a small piece of land. This story however gathers around an inn.

The Bonny Cravat Inn at Woodchurch, Kent, in England became, for generation after generation on the paternal side of my family, a place of work, endurance, and family continuity.  It was not simply somewhere my ancestors appeared briefly in the record.  It was a workplace woven through the lives of the Ramsden, Fullagar, Hukins, and later Bourne families for well over a century.

  The Bonny Cravat Inn, Woodchurch, Kent
— a place where generations of the Ramsden, Fullagar, and Hukins families worked for a living.

Source: “The Bonny Cravat, Woodchurch” by Oast House Archive, via Geograph, licensed CC BY-SA 2.0.

This was no ordinary inn.  By the time members of my family began keeping it, the Bonny Cravat was already old.

Edward Hasted, writing in his History of Kent and Topographical Survey of the County of Kent (Volume 7 of the 1798 second edition), noted that Phebe Goble of Woodchurch, by will in 1692, left a charitable bequest of £2 per year to the poor to be paid by her heirs forever, from a farm called the Bonny Cravat, “now an ale-house”. 

I love that passing reference because it gives such an early glimpse of the place.  Long before it became part of my family story, it was already there in village life in the 17th century.

The building that stands today belongs mainly to the later part of the inn's story. The National Heritage List for England lists the present Bonny Cravat as a Grade II building dating from about 1800, and the Woodchurch conservation material notes it as a prominent inn in the village, opposite the church.  So, the business itself is much older than the surviving structure. 

That feels fitting somehow.  The place of work endured, even as the people and the building changed around it.

The list of Bonny Cravat Innkeepers and Publicans sourced from the Woodchurch Local and Family History site using records compiled by the Woodchurch Ancestry Group.

When I first came across this list of innkeepers and publicans associated with The Bonny Cravat, I did not just see names in sequence. I saw husbands and wives working side by side, widows carrying on after loss, sons following fathers, brothers taking their turn, and one village inn becoming part of my family’s working life across generations.

Woodchurch 1902 - The Bonny Cravat Inn on the left
Source: Woodchurch Local and Family History site 

A family workplace in the heart of Woodchurch

One of the things that stands out most strongly in the record of innkeepers is the repeated evidence of partnership.

My paternal 7th great-grandparents George and Mary Ramsden née Eastland were both part of the inn’s story. 

So were my paternal 6th great-grandparents John and Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter. 

In a later generation came my paternal 4th great-grandparents John and Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne. 

Then, decades later, my paternal 3rd great-grandparents James and Susannah Hukins née Fullagar took their place there too.

Again and again, the same pattern repeats. Not simply a publican, but a couple. Not only a man’s occupation, but a household economy.  An inn like this was never run by one person alone.  There were customers to serve, stock to buy, food and drink to prepare, rooms and fires to manage, accounts to keep, neighbours to receive, children to raise, and all the ordinary messiness of life going on in the background.

This record makes that shared labour unusually visible.  The women were clearly part of the story, often carrying on after a death because there was no real alternative.  That is one reason the widows stay with me so strongly in this story: 

Mary Ramsden née Eastland. 

Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter.  

Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne. 

Mahala Bourne-Rolfe née Chacksfield.

Their names are not mere interruptions in a male line of innkeepers.  They are part of the real substance of the story.  Each represents a woman who kept both household and business together at a difficult moment, because the work still had to be done.  Family history so often lets a woman slip into the background, but here they stand plainly in view.

The long family connection - Ramsden, Fullagar, Hukins, Bourne.

The first recognisable names on the list of innkeepers are direct ancestors -

• George Ramsden, my 7th great-grandfather, kept The Bonny Cravat for thirteen years from 1706 to 1719. 

• After his death, Mary Ramsden née Eastland, his widow and my 7th great-grandmother, continued from 1719 to 1720. 

Later came direct ancestors and distant cousins from the Fullagar and the Hukins families. For close  to 90 years, from 1734 to 1820, the running of the Bonny Cravat passed largely between these two families.

Listed innkeepers from the Fullagar and Hukins families are highlighted with hearts

The Fullagars carried a long stretch of the inn’s history. 

• John Fullagar, my 6th great-grandfather, appears for twelve years from 1734 to 1746.

• After him came Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter, his widow and my 6th great-grandmother, who ran the inn for four years.

• The inn then passed to John Fullagar, son of John and Elizabeth and my 5th great-grandfather, from 1750 to 1758.   He would not have worked alone either.  His wife, Sarah Fullagar née Gilham, my 5th great-grandmother, would have been part of that working household.  Sarah was the granddaughter of George Ramsden and Mary Ramsden née Eastland, the first of my ancestors connected with the inn, so the knowledge and habits of innkeeping may well have run through the family as naturally as any inheritance.

• Later, the inn returned again to yet another John Fullagar, my 4th great-grandfather and son of John and Sarah Fullagar née Gilham.  He ran the inn for twenty-one years from 1782 to 1803.

• Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne, his wife and my 4th great-grandmother, continued running the inn for thirteen years after the death of her husband, from 1803 to 1816. Once again, no doubt she had been working alongside her husband during his years at the inn.

• The son of John Fullagar and Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne, Thomas Fullagar, then took over from his mother in 1816 and ran the inn for four years.  Thomas, whilst not a direct ancestor, was my 3rd great-granduncle.

• Samuel Fullagar appears from 1856 to 1865.  Again, whilst not a direct ancestor, he was my 3rd cousin 4x removed, great great-grandson of the first of my Fullagar ancestors who ran the inn - John Fullagar and Elizabeth Fullagar née Potter. 

The Hukins family formed another thread. 

• John Hukins, my 5th great-grandfather, kept the inn for seventeen years from 1758 to 1775, and he too was almost certainly supported by his wife, my 5th great-grandmother, Elizabeth Hukins née Howe.

• John was followed by his brother James Hukins for seven years from 1775 to 1782.  Whilst James was not a direct ancestor of mine, he was my 5th great-granduncle. 

• Decades later the inn returned to both the Hukins and Fullagar families through James Hukins and Susannah Hukins née Fullagar, my 3rd great-grandparents, who were there for thirteen years from 1824 to 1837.  

Susannah was the sister of Thomas Fullagar, and the daughter of John Fullagar and Elizabeth Fullagar née Bourne. James was the grandson of John Hukins and Elizabeth Hukins née Howe.  By then the family connections around the inn had become dense and interwoven.

Another view of the Bonny Cravat Inn at Woodchurch,
the village inn that remained part of my family's working life for generations.

Source: “Bonny Cravat – Front Road, Woodchurch” by Brian Chadwick, via Geograph, licensed CC BY-SA 2.0.

Another branch of that wider story - Bourne - appears in the 1850s. 

• Edmund Bourne, my 2nd cousin 4x removed, ran the inn for four years from 1852 to 1856.  He entered the Bonny Cravat story through marriage to Mahala Rolfe née Chacksfield, the widow of Henry Rolfe. 

What makes this part of the story especially striking is that Mahala had already been keeping the inn on her own for three years after her first husband Henry’s death. (Henry Rolfe had been the innkeeper from 1845 to 1849, undoubtedly supported by Mahala). Again, Mahala was not simply a name bridging one male innkeeper to another. For those years after the death of her first husband, she held the business together in her own right, before Edmund married her and joined the next phase of the inn's working life. 

Although Mahala was not a blood relative of mine, she belongs with the other widows in this story who kept the Bonny Cravat going when life could easily have pushed everything off course.

The work behind the names

What I love most in stories like this are the small details that remind us what the work may actually have looked like. 

• A Kent Archives publication, drawing on Woodchurch parish records for 1765, notes that John Hukins, innkeeper at the Bonny Cravat, was paid “beer for buryings” at local wakes. That tiny detail is one of my favourites because it brings the inn to life. It reminds us that this was not simply somewhere people came to drink. It was part of the village’s social fabric — present even at moments of mourning.

That wider role matters. 

• In villages like Woodchurch, an inn was rarely only a drinking house. It was a meeting place, a landmark, somewhere people heard news, settled arrangements, and crossed paths with neighbours. Standing opposite the church, the Bonny Cravat sat right at the centre of village life.

There is another layer to that history too — one that gives the Bonny Cravat a darker edge.

• Local tradition links the inn with smuggling in the eighteenth century, and that its strange and memorable name may have come from a French vessel remembered as La Bonne Crevette or La Bonne Corvette, in contradiction to the information in Hasted's text. 

Inns such as the Bonny Cravat sat where so many worlds met: respectable village life, hard-earned daily labour, travel, gossip, business, and sometimes things less lawful. 

• Smuggling was rife in Kent in the eighteenth century and continued into the nineteenth, and by the 1820s the district around Woodchurch was associated with men from the gang led by George Ransley, better known through the history of the Aldington Gang. In October 1826 Ransley and others were captured, and the gang’s members were later tried on capital charges.

During the years when James and Susannah were running the Bonny Cravat, they would almost certainly have known of the local smuggling world, even if only through village talk. 

• Stories remembered later say that the Bonny Cravat itself was sometimes used as a courtroom, and that proceedings connected with captured smugglers were held there. Perhaps that is a village memory rather than hard fact, but even as memory it is vivid and revealing. It suggests how closely public life, danger, and daily work could intersect in one place.

There are other old tales attached to the inn as well.

• One says the cellar, still used for beer, once connected by tunnel to the nearby church, perhaps with origins reaching back to the Reformation. Another recalls condemned smugglers being hanged outside the inn after trial. Whether every detail survives exactly as it happened or not, these stories cling to the Bonny Cravat because it was clearly one of those places where village life was lived at close quarters — not neatly or gently, but vividly.

An honest reminder about risk

One detail in particular stops this story from drifting into nostalgia. The Bonny Cravat was not just some picturesque old public house or quaint place where my family members lived and worked.  It was also the place where debts had to be met, and where the rougher edges of local life came right up to the door.

• In 1837, James Hukins appeared in connection with relief for insolvent debtors, a reminder that keeping an inn was never a guaranteed road to security. Family history can sometimes make an old inn sound comfortably picturesque, but for the people living it, it was work tied to risk, debt, and uncertainty.

I think that is central to the story. The Bonny Cravat was a place of continuity and family labour, yes — but it was also part of a precarious economy in which fortunes could shift quickly.  Bills still had to be paid.  Stock still had to be bought.  Losses could mount.  A bad run could undo years of effort.

By the end of 1837, my 3rd great-grandparents, James and Susannah, found themselves in dire circumstances and were in severe financial trouble. They could no longer continue at the inn and a mere two years later they were preparing to emigrate.  

From Woodchurch to Australia

One part of this story did not end in Woodchurch.

When my 3rd great-grandparents James Hukins and Susannah Hukins née Fullagar left the village and emigrated to Australia in 1839 with their family, the Bonny Cravat story took on a longer reach. In one sense, the inn itself was left behind.  But in another, the habits and knowledge shaped there travelled with them.

I find that continuity especially moving, because the family's connection to public-house life did not disappear in Australia. Two of their sons — my 2nd great-grandfather Adolphus Hukins and my 2nd great grand-uncle John Hukins — were both running pubs in Australia in the 1850s.

There is something remarkable in that. A family shaped for generations by the life of one village inn in Kent carried that working knowledge across the world. What had been learned at Woodchurch was not lost.  It became part of the family's Australian story as well.

Seen that way, the Bonny Cravat was more than a village inn attached to one side of my family tree. It was a workplace woven deeply into my family's life, part of a tradition of labour that crossed generations and, eventually, continents.

Sources and notes

With thanks to the local historians and record keepers whose work helps bring places like the Bonny Cravat back into view:

This post draws on a family document, Innkeepers and Publicans of The Bonny Cravat, based on material from the Woodchurch Local and Family History site and records compiled by the Woodchurch Ancestry Group.

This post also uses Edward Hasted, The History and Topographical Survey of the County of Kent, 2nd edition, volume 7 (Canterbury: W. Bristow, 1798), in the Woodchurch section under “Charities,” which preserves an early reference to the Bonny Cravat as an ale-house.

Additional context comes from Kent Archives, Issue 15 (Autumn 2019), which quotes a 1765 Woodchurch parish record noting John Hukins, innkeeper at the Bonny Cravat, being paid for supplying “beer for buryings.”

The Story of Anne Ramsden

This is the story of my paternal 6x Great Grandmother, Anne Ramsden  (1701 - ?).

Anne was born in 1701 in Woodchurch, Kent, south-eastern England.

This village, on the edge of the Weald in Kent, had become firmly established in the 13th century.

It was part of the Woodchurch Parish which was quite large and covered an area of around ten square miles, almost entirely devoted to agriculture.

When Anne was born in 1701 her father George Ramsden was 28, and her mother Mary Tombes was 34.

Kent Baptism Register 1675-1812

Ramsden was a well-known family name in the village of Woodchurch.  The family name can be traced in baptism and death records all the way back to the 1550s; so it seems they had a long history with the little village in Kent.

All Saints Church in Woodchurch, Kent, England - etching dated 1882

Many Ramsden would have been baptised at this baptismal font in the All Saints Church, which was situated in the centre of the village.


Anne was baptised here on the 26th of October in 1701.




Anne's older sister Elizabeth had been born and baptised in 1700, but had died not long after.

After Anne's birth, at least three of her other siblings were born to parents George and Mary.

Another Elizabeth was born in 1703.  Anne would have been 2 years old.
Sarah was born in 1705.
Richard came along in 1707, when Anne was aged 6.

Bonny Cravat - still standing

By that time Anne's father, George, was the innkeeper of the Bonny Cravat Public House (as it was known then) in Woodchurch.  He was the innkeeper between the years 1706 until his death in 1719.


Anne and her siblings would have grown up in and around the public house, and would no doubt have helped out on many occasions as they grew older.

When George died in December of 1719, his widow (Anne's mother) Mary took over as innkeeper.  She ran the public house for a year.


Just six months before her father's death, Anne got married.  She was only 18 years old, and the circumstances of her marriage were very interesting indeed.  I've never come across a similar record of marriage with any of my other ancestors or members of my family tree, so it certainly piqued my interest.

It seems that there was a 'clandestine' marriage, a non-conformist service, between Anne Ramsden and Joseph Gilham in 1719.  Anne did not have banns posted at her own parish church, nor did she marry at the Church of England place of worship she, and generations of her family, had no doubt attended on a weekly basis.

Anne, aged 18, married Joseph, aged 22, on the 20th of July in the environs of Fleet Prison, known as the 'Rules' of 'Liberties' in London.  The streets around Fleet Prison was a place where couples could marry without breaking the law and outside the jurisdiction of the Church.

Fleet Prison by the artist Thomas Rowlandson, 1808

Their union was recorded in the 1667-1754 London Clandestine Marriage and Baptism Register.

This begs the question ... why?  At that time there were ecclesiastic laws that required couples to post banns of their intended union for three weeks before the marriage, and there were age restrictions.  Parental consent was needed for anyone younger than 21.

According to the details provided by Ancestry.com about this register:

"Most couples were married at the family church, but a significant portion of the population, for various reasons, chose to skirt these regulations and get married outside the church. Here, requirements were much looser. Grooms could be as young as 14, and brides 12. The bride and groom needed only to give their consent to the union for it to be recognized. Clergy and witnesses were not necessary, though they were often present to provide proof that the marriage had taken place. These marriages are commonly referred to as “irregular” or “clandestine.”   

The demand for clandestine marriages was met by institutions that considered themselves exempt from church canon and in some cases, by a cleric who simply flouted the regulations.   

Prisons like the Fleet became popular destinations for couples interested in quick, no-questions-asked nuptials because of the number of clerics imprisoned for debt who had nothing to lose and welcomed the income. Many of them lived in the “Rules” or “Liberties,” which were areas around the prison where prisoners could pay for the privilege of living outside the gates."

A drawing mocking the practice of elicit marriages.
Taken from the 1864 publication The Book of Days by Robert Chambers.

The Clandestine Marriage Register record shows that Anne's husband was from the Boughton-Aluph (spelt Borton) Parish in Kent, and his occupation was 'husbandman'.  In the medieval and early modern period, a 'husbandman' was the term used for a free tenant farmer or small landowner, but in terms of rank, the social status for a husbandman was below that of even a yeoman.  Basically Anne's husband was a farmer who cultivated a very small plot of land in the Boughton-Aluph Parish.

It appears that Joseph was not able to make a living out of his plot of land though, because in November of 1719, a mere four months after the marriage, he signed a 'settlement certificate' in the parish of Woodchurch.

Map showing the distance between the Parish of Boughton Aluph and the Parish of Woodchurch

The married couple had left Joseph's parish and returned to Anne's parish to live. Basically, upon signing the settlement certificate, Joseph and Anne agreed that they (and their future children) would not become a burden on the Woodchurch Parish.  So, if Anne's husband could not support his wife and family and was in need of poor relief, they would not be allowed to remain in his wife's parish!

At this point in my 6x great grandmother Anne's story, I have so many questions that have remained unanswered ...
How did she meet Joseph?  He lived in a parish that was approximately 12 miles away from where Anne was born and lived.  How did they come to know each other?

Why was Joseph unable to make a living out of his plot of land?  Where was his family?  Were they not able to help out the young couple?

So many questions!  I can surmise the answer to my original question though. Why did Anne and Joseph feel the need to travel all the way to London to get married?

Anne was the daughter of a fairly well-known, possibly highly respected member of a family that had a long-standing association with the village of Woodchurch.  Anne's father had been the innkeeper in the village for a period of nearly 13 years by this point.  Perhaps Anne's father would have considered Anne capable of a far better match, given that it seems Joseph was rather poor.

Anne was also pregnant at the time of her marriage.  Anne and Joseph's first child was born at the beginning of March in 1720, in the village of Woodchurch, so that means Anne would have been about a month into her pregnancy when she and Joseph trekked all the way to London to be married.

So I'm surmising that Anne fell in love with a young man who would have been considered beneath her; fell pregnant; ran away with him to London for a clandestine wedding ceremony, as she believed her parents would not give the necessary consent for the union given her young age.  Then, once the deed was done, both of them realised they would need the support of family to establish a life together.

Were they received with love by Anne's father and mother upon returning to Woodchurch around November of 1719, when Anne would have been heavily pregnant with their first child?   Was Anne taken back into the fold?

Sadly, Anne's father (innkeeper of the Bonny Cravat Public House) died the following month, when Anne was still only 18 years old.  George Ramsden died in December of 1719, and it fell upon his widow Mary, to run the Bonny Cravat.  Unfortunately Anne's mother was only able to remain the innkeeper for a year, and it was sold.

What did that mean for Anne and her husband?  Had they been expecting to work alongside her parents in the public house?  Did they help out Anne's mother for that following year, until it became necessary to sell?

More tragedy was to follow for my 6x great grandmother, Anne.

Sadly, just over two months after the death of her father George, Anne gave birth to her son Richard, but he died a mere 10 days later.  Anne would have been 19 years old.

Anne and her husband Joseph went on to have another two children.

Joseph was born in April of 1721, when Anne was aged 20.

Sarah (my 5th great grandmother) was born in June of 1723, when Anne was 22.


Tragically, Anne's husband Joseph then died the following year, in 1724.

He was only 27 years old, and they had only been married for 4 years!  Anne was left a widow at the age of 23, with a two very young children.  Her son Joseph was only 3 years old and Sarah (my 5x great grandmother) was 11 months old.

I have no information about Anne's life after this event, as I have not been able to track down any record of her death or burial.  It seems I may eternally wonder what happened to poor Anne after she became a widow at such a young age and left with two very young children to care for.  Did she and her mother end up living together, or did she re-marry and start a new life elsewhere?
 

The Story of Adolphus Hukins

This week my story is about my paternal Great Great Grandfather, Adolphus Hukins  (1823 - 1892).

When Adolphus was born in late 1823, his father James Hukins was 31 and his mother Susannah Fullagar was 32.  Adolphus was born in September, and baptised in October at the All Saints Church in Woodchurch, England.

Record from the Woodchurch Local and Family History database

Woodchurch is a village in Kent, south east England, that became established around the 13th century. At the time of my 2 great grandfather's birth, it had a population of around 1000 people.





There were already four siblings in the family by the time Adolphus was born.


Elizabeth had been born in 1815.
John came along in 1817.
James was born in 1820.
Crittenden was born in 1821.

After Adolphus, there were to be another four children born.

Sabina was born in 1825.
Norman was born in 1828, but sadly, died the day of his birth.  Adolphus was 5 years old at this time.
Cassandra came along in 1829.
Adelaide was born in 1832, when Adolphus was 6 years old.

For most of his childhood, Adolphus would have grown up in and around The Bonny Cravat inn, which was run by his parents in the village of Woodchurch from the year after Adolphus was born, 1824, until 1837, when Adolphus would have been 14 years of age.

Unfortunately by 1837, his father was in financial trouble and appeared in front of the Court for Relief of Insolvent Debtors in November of 1837.  It seems the family had moved and were living in Maidstone, Kent at this time.  During their stay in Maidstone, Adolphus's father worked as a farmer and his mother worked as a farm servant.  By mid 1839 though, his parents had made the momentous decision to leave their native country and emigrate to Australia.

In late 1839, Adolphus boarded the ship Cornwall with his father, mother and siblings.

The details for Adolphus were included in the immigrant list for his mother.  He was listed as having turned 16 in September of the previous year.  His sister Sabina, Cassandra and Adelaide were included in that entry as well.

His other brothers, John, James and Crittendon were listed under 'single males'.  His eldest sister Elizabeth had married the year before, and was listed as Elizabeth Dawes, alongside her husband and her baby James.

The entire Hukins clan, including Adolphus's sister Elizabeth, her husband and baby, made up a party of 12.  They travelled to Gravesend and boarded the Cornwall on May the 7th 1839, ready to embark on a journey to a new country and new future.

On May 12th,the ship set sail, "having high winds and rain all night"  (excerpt from the Surgeon's report).


There were 387 immigrants aboard, all "Kentish people". The voyage would take 112 days.

Sydney Herald (NSW) Monday 2nd of September 1839 page 2

According to the notice in the Sydney Herald in September of 1839:

"The Cornwall arrived from London, yesterday, with 374 Government emigrants, all of whom are in a healthy state, and out of so many we have only to announce the death of 18 infants ; 5 were born during the voyage. The cleanliness of the vessel, and general good conduct of every one on board, shew how efficient must have been the management of the Captain, Surgeon and Officers. The emigrants, consist principally of farming men and laborers, there are also a few mechanics, the greater part appear to be very respectable. Captain Cow reports having spoken the Glenbervie from Sydney, bound to London, on the 3rd July, in latitude 30 ° 27' and longitude 31 ° 30' west, all well. On the 9th June, she spoke the Lady Raffles, from Ply-mouth the 12th May, bound to Sydney, with bounty emigrants, all well, in lat. 11° 34' N., and long. 25° 7' West."

The Surgeon on the ship, Gilbert King Esq., reported that the main afflictions suffered by the passengers were fever, diarrhoea, scurvy, and in the case of children, rubella, scarlet fever and bowel infection due to the irritations of teething.

He noted that "Devine Service was performed every Sunday forenoon on the quarter decks" and that all the immigrants were Protestant.  Other observations he wrote about: A school was established aboard ship during the voyage.  Beds were stowed on deck every morning unless the weather was wet, and the immigrants washed themselves each morning.  Two washing days were appointed weekly, thus every family was afforded the opportunity to keep their linen clean.  In fine weather, they had singing and dancing on the quarter deck."  

Adolphus and his family disembarked safely on September 3rd 1840.

Sadly, only four months after the family landed in Australia, Crittenden (Adolphus's older brother) died at the age of 18.  That would have been a mighty blow for all the family, and Adolphus must have felt it keenly as Crittenden was the older brother closest to him in age.

I have little information about the life of Adolphus in the immediate years after landing in Australia, other than knowing that seven years later he appears to be living in the village of Peterborough, which was in the Shellharbour area on the south coast of New South Wales.  That was the residence listed on his marriage record.

In 1847 Adolphus married Mary Ann Farley when he was 24 years old.  Mary Ann was 18.  They went on to have a family of 13 children over the following 20 years.

Adolphus Crittenden was born in 1849.
James E was born in 1850.
Susannah (known as Susan) came along in 1851.
John Smith was born in 1853.
Mary Barnes in 1854.
Thomas Richard was born in 1856.
Adelaide A came along in 1860.
George Henry was born in 1861.
Alfred Edward in 1863.
Eleanor Sabina came along in 1865.
Cassandra Elizabeth was born in 1865.
Amy Jane in 1867.
Arthur E in 1869.

Adolphus and his wife appear to have moved on from the Shellharbour area further south, not long after the birth of their first child.

Historical Electoral Roll 1855-1856 Kiama 

Historical electoral rolls for the district of Kiama in New South Wales show that for the years 1855 - 1856, Adolphus, his father James and his two older brothers James Jnr. and John, were all the owners of freehold land on Curramore Estate in Jamberoo.

Empire (Sydney, NSW  1850 - 1875), Tuesday 27 March 1855 page 8

A newspaper item from that time advertising the sale of plot of land on the Curramore Estate indicates that it was good farming land and the district supplied Sydney with vast quantities of grain, potatoes and dairy produce.

Jamberoo was a small village, about 11 km west of Kiama, but it seems that the farmland Adolphus owned there was not the only property he owned.

By 1856 Adolphus, now aged 32, was a hotel keeper, seemingly following in the footsteps of quite a number of his ancestors back in England.  He ran the 'Four In Hand' pub on Terragong Street in Kiama, New South Wales.  By this time he had a family of six children.

Certificates for Publicans' Licences 1856 - Kiama

The 1856 records showing a list of Publican's Certificates indicate that Adolphus had previously held a publican's licence, but I haven't yet been able to uncover other records indicating exactly when he began his trade as a publican.

Interestingly, the 1856 record shows that his father John Hukins Snr. was one of two men who offered sureties on behalf of Adolphus.

Certificates for Publicans' Licences 1858 - Kiama

The record from 1858 shows that the 'Four In Hand' pub was run out of a house, so I'm assuming Adolphus originally starting running his pub in one of the rooms in the home where he lived with his family.

Unfortunately it doesn't appear as if Adolphus was having much success in business by this time, as creditor issues were coming to light in late1858.  By this time Adolphus was aged 34.

Insolvency Court - Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Thursday 21 October 1858, page 2

The issues with his creditors become the subject of insolvency proceedings against Adolphus.

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW) Tuesday 26 October 1858 page 6

On the 26th of October 1858 a small article in the Sydney Morning Herald stated that the official assignee instructed that assets be sold on cash terms by public auction at the premises owned by Adolphus.  The list of assets was quite impressive and included:
- the lease and liquor licence of his pub
- the stock-in-trade including fixtures, kegs and measures
- 'superior' household furniture consisting of horsehair seated chairs, horsehair sofas, chiffoniers, dining and side tables, carpets, pictures, chests of drawers, bedsteads and bedding, glassware, plated ware and crockery ware
- a 'superior' horse with its harness, saddle and bridle
- and a 'first-rate cow' to boot!!!

Freeman's Journal (Sydney,NSW), Saturday 25 December 1858, page 2

During the third creditors meeting later in the year, the official assignee advised creditors that £96 had been the outcome from the sale of assets.  It was noted that the judge allowed Adolphus to keep "his household furniture and wearing apparel".  Perhaps Adolphus counted his blessings, but it must have been a terrible time for the entire family.

I haven't found out much information about exactly what happened in the immediate years after this event, apart from the fact that he became a father of another two children.  Just a little over three years later though, his name appears in a newspaper article once again.

 Examiner (Kiama, NSW), Tuesday 18 February 1862, page 2

He appeared before the Kiama Police Court charged with having stolen a shilling from a man named Paul Robins.

The two men had been "tossing for nobblers".

A 'nobbler' was apparently a small shot glass filled to the top with hard liquor that had been laced with some other alcohol.  

Publicans would doctor a gallon of rum and end up making eight gallons of nobbled rum. They would then sell this drink quite cheaply.

Drinkers got drunk very quickly imbibing this brew!

On the evening of Monday, 17th of February 1862, witnesses stated that both Hukins and Robins were "relatively sober" at the time, although they noted that Hukins had been drinking nobblers with another man just before the incident.  When that man left, he took up the game of 'tossing' with Robins, who maintained that during the game Hukins had taken up his penny early.

Adolphus had immediately denied this, and then apparently refused to fight over it.  He took himself out to the verandah but Robins came charging out, claiming that Adolphus has stolen a shilling from him.  When Adolphus denied this, Robins went for the constable and it seems that my great great grandfather spent the rest of the night in the lock-up.

At the trial there were quite a few discrepancies in Robins' claims, and the bar maid corroborated Adolphus's claims that the money he had put in his pocket had been his own.  The case was dismissed by the judge.

Between the years 1863 and 1869, Adolphus became a father to another five children.

Then in 1869, Adolphus was in the papers again!

Kiama Independent, and Shoalhaven Advertiser (NSW),
Thursday 11 March 1869, page 2

This time it seems that Adolphus, now aged 46, was out riding with a couple of mates in the evening after the Kiama show, and apparently my great great grandfather's horse "bolted with him at full speed along the road until arriving at the bridge".  It seems there was a bend in the road at that point and "his horse lost his equilibrium and fell."

Adolphus fell to the ground "with great violence, which resulted in temporary unconsciousness, an extensive scalp wound, and sundry severe bruises."

He was taken to the nearest hotel and "attended with all possible care".

Hmm ... pair these previous articles with another one that appeared in a mere 4 years later, and I'm beginning to get a picture of my great great grandfather.

Kiama Independent, and Shoalhaven Advertiser (NSW),
Thursday 8 May 1873, page 6

It seems that Adolphus, now 50 years old, was before the Court of Petty Sessions on a charge of drunkenness.

He didn't appear remorseful or concerned about his behaviour as he stated "he did not think there was any harm in singing a song and that was all that was the matter with him."  It doesn't look as if the judge agreed that he was simply singing, as Adolphus was found guilty and fined a shilling, as well as court costs of 3 shillings and sixpence.






As a result of all these little titbits, the picture I'm getting of Adolphus is that he probably was a bit of a larrikin who didn't mind a drink, and perhaps had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude to life!

Not very long after the 'singing' incident, Adolphus appears once more in a newspaper report.

Sydney Morning Herald (NSW), Monday 20 October 1873, page 7

In October of 1873, a damages claim was settled in the Supreme Court of New South Wales.


In the matter of Perry and Ors V Hukins, the Sheriff was instructed to sell by public auction various assets owned by Adolphus following his unsuccessful defence of a damages claim.


The assets included "all the right, title and interest in and to the equity of redemption of and in a parcel of land exceeding 114 acres at Jamberoo."


So now, Adolphus has lost everything - his pub, his home and his property. Then, in 1874, when he was aged 51, one of his children died at the age of 20.

My research picked up his story about 12 years later.  Adolphus, aged 63, was recorded in the Sands Directories for New South Wales.

Sands Directories, New South Wales, 1886

At this time he was living in Ryde, New South Wales and he was a 'storekeeper' on Glebe Street.  Unfortunately, further newspaper articles published just two years later, during 1888, indicate that insolvency proceedings had once more been brought against him.

He really did not appear to have much luck in business!

Government Gazette NSW 1889 Jan-Mar

In early 1889, when he was aged 66, his name was listed in the NSW Government Gazette as being a bankrupt grocer.  In the following year, 1890, Adolphus lost another of his daughters.

Adolphus passed away in 1892 when he was 69 years old.  His occupation was listed as 'labourer' at this time, and the informant did not appear to be a member of his family, which may account for the incorrect details under the 'children of marriage' section.  I find it quite an interesting point that none of his children nor his wife appear to have been there at the time of his death.  Did that mean he was by now estranged from most of his family?  That seems a rather sad ending for Adolphus, but it does seem as if his life journey was quite the roller-coaster ride which may have been a challenge for his family.

Now that the story of Adolphus is told, I'm going to mention the 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks Challenge for Week 28.  The challenge is - Travel.  My 2x great grandfather certainly fits the bill for this challenge, as he travelled from England to Australia with his family when he was quite a young man.

Interestingly though, I've realised that all of my great great grandparents on my paternal side were immigrants ... all eight of them!  That entire generation of my ancestors left their homes and travelled to Australia, never to return to their country of birth.  Some came as children, some as teenagers and the others as young adults.

The period of time for immigration for this generation of ancestors was 1839 to 1849, and it was my great great grandfather Adolphus who was the first of my paternal immigrant ancestors to arrive in Australia.

I've already written posts for all of these immigrant ancestors apart from one, and if you click on their names below, you can follow the links to their stories.

Adolphus Hukins came in 1839, as previously stated, at the age of 16.

During the following year, 1840, two of my great great grandmothers - Ellen Hickey, aged 8, and Caroline Browning, aged 10 - arrived; as did another of my great great grandfathers - Henry Brown, aged 20.

In 1841, another great great grandfather - William Conners/Connors, aged 21, arrived.

1844 was the arrival year for my great great grandmother Eliza Exton, aged 6.

1849 was the year that my great great grandfather Patrick Cusack, aged 20, was transported to Australia as a convict.

The only immigrant ancestor on my father's side that I have not written a post about yet is my great great grandmother, Mary Ann Farley.  I'm still researching for her arrival date, as there is conflicting information about that.


Special Note to any family members:  If you have photos or further information to share, can I graciously ask that you do so.  Please use the comments box below or email me.  It may prove to be invaluable to the story and provide future generations with something to truly treasure.