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Many of my Thames finds are quite small, but that doesn't mean they don't have an exciting story to tell! I was thrilled last year to discover a 19th-century wax seal stamp. The wooden handle has rotted away, of course, but what remains is the brass stamp, emblazoned with an anchor. The anchor is surrounded by the inscription "Commodore Superintendent Woolwich."
The day I found it was extremely windy and bleak, and at first, I thought it was a small naval button. The position of Commodore Superintendent at Woolwich Dockyard only existed between 1828 and 1853, and it's quite possible that all five superintendents during that period used this stamp to seal their official letters and documents. According to the Portable Antiquities Scheme liaison officer at the Museum of London, it was certainly kept under lock and key, and there was only one copy. I was delighted when, during my research, I came across records of letters written by the Commodore Superintendent of Woolwich Dockyard to the Admiralty in 1852, referring to HMS Terror and HMS Erebus, the lost ships that set off on the expedition led by Sir John Franklin to find the Northwest Passage. Before their fateful expedition, the ships were refitted at the dockyard. I found it very exciting to be able to connect the find with such a significant event.
Another small find from which I learned a lot is a tiny pewter button. As any treasure hunter and detective knows, buttons are commonly found in the countryside and on the coast. However, they can reveal a lot of information to the finder, especially if they are marked with a name, company, or family crest. I have spent many happy hours getting lost in new leads — just by researching a small button. When it comes to buttons, one of my favorite finds is a Victorian-era button that was once attached to the uniform of a warder at London's notorious Millbank Prison, which opened in 1821 and closed in 1890.
Millbank Prison was used, among other things, as a holding facility for prisoners and convicts, some of whom were to be transported to Australia. As the time for their transfer approached, they were sometimes moved to the prison ships moored on the Thames near Woolwich. I've often wondered how this button ended up in the Thames. Did a warder perhaps get into a scuffle with a convict while being transported by boat from Millbank to a prison ship in Woolwich? Who can say when this button popped off the guard's uniform and sank into the murky depths of the Thames?! But it could certainly tell some stories if it could only speak!
As you can see, the great thing about mudlarking is that you learn so many different things you would never normally discover when researching your finds.
Anyone wishing to go mudlarking along the Thames needs a permit from the Port of London Authority. Currently, no new permits are being issued. For up-to-date information, it's best to check their website from time to time.
About Tideline Art
This is Nicola White, self-proclaimed "mudlark" and founder of Tideline Art. Nicola regularly posts videos on her YouTube channel showcasing her incredible treasures and finds. Over the next 12 months, Nicola will be sharing her fascinating stories and finds with us on the Muck Boot blog!
When I moved from Cornwall to London over twenty years ago, I had no idea that the Thames would show me such a fascinating and magical world, and that its muddy banks at low tide would reveal a wealth of historical secrets and figures from the past. I was used to walking along windy beaches in Cornwall and discovering finds, but I never thought anything similar could be possible in an urban environment like London.
More about Mudlarking
Stories from the Thames
A rare Tudor coin
An ancient bottle
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