THE SMUGGLER.

Shannon News, 11 August 1922, Page 4

THE SMUGGLER.

AND HIS MODERN IMITATION. In. tlie Dover police court more than £3OOO in fines has been imposed in the past few mOnths for smuggling. A study of the situation has led a wellkn'owh Writer to observe that smuggling to-day, in spite of its apparent prevalence, is a very different sort of affair from what it was in the good old days. The “difference’ * is well shown sordid, miserable, prosaic business is not worthy the name, comments a writer in a contemporary. The man who walks ashere in broad daylight, in the raiment of respectability) arm in arm with virtue, with a few diamond-atudden watches in his waistbelt, or bdttlesi of perfume in his hat, is but a pitiable traversty on a great calling that made history in the good old days. Smuggling may be law-breaking, but at its best, it s£6Us 'bravery; courage, resource. Tts Very name is redolent of romance and adventure, oi. murky nights at sea, of the boom of breakers on the beach, of dark figures huddled under the ‘ cliff, of revenue cutters in the offing, of exchanges with pistols, and of dead men on the beach.

There was life and colour and the bright face of danger in these things. The necessity of secrecy was crooned bv mothers into the ears of their children when the smugglers were heard coming up the street: ‘ ‘ Smuggling, ’» forsooth! The whole in the following article:—

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the park, Brandy for the parson, Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady, Letters for a spy, And' watch the wall, my darling, iviiilo the gentlemen go- by. This quaint which existed hot only on the sea-coast, but at all the villages on the route to London, saved many a trembling housewife a lie when the revenue officer called to inquire which way the smugglers had gone. '

FAMOUS GANGS. The golden age of smuggling was in the 18th century, but long before then it'had become a serious evil, and in some districts it was conducted on a big scale. A cargo of Lyons silk and Valenciennes lace was landed at Romney Marsh in 1696, of such proportions that 30 packhorses were necessary to convey the contraband to London.

Kent and Sussex boasted several famous gangs of smugglers. One had its centre at Hawkhurst, Huxley's gang was at Hastings, and the Alfriston gang, the last survivor of which died in Eastbourne Workhouse within the last 25 years, worked the coast around Seaford, Bcaeby Head and Cuckmere Haven.

Practically every fisherman and tradesman in many of the seaport towns and villag*cs took a hand in the game. The revenue officer was the common enemy of all.

Even the doctor and the parson tolerated the smuggling habit and participated to a greater or lesser degree in the booty. I knew a medieal man on the Hampshire coast who was knocked up at midnight by three masked men. They- explained that a comrade was badly injured. Would the doctor allow them to blindfold him and take him to where the wounded man jwas? The doctor went.

He found a man lying in a lonely cottage, with gunshot wounds in the atm. Ho extracted the bullet and dressed the wound. Then he allowed himself to be blindfolded and led home. No questions were asked or answered. Two mornings later the doctor found a kdg Of the finest French brandy on his doorstep. It was payment for services rendered.

Nor was the parson immune. A famous story of the smuggling cleric is told by that great West country character, Stephen Hawker, of Morwcnstow. A .stranger to the district arrived on the beach when a cargo of contraband was being run ashore. The visitor was horror-stricken at the sight. “Is thore no magistrate here?” he asked. PAKSON’S LIGHT. 1 ‘None within eight miles, thank God!” “ Well, then, is there a clergyman hereabout!” “Aye, to be sure there is.” “Well, how far olf does he live? WhCfe is he?” “That’s ho yonder, ,sor, with the lanthorn,” And sure enough there he was, standing on a foek 'pouring with pastoral diligence the light of other days on a busy congregation. But the best story concerns immaculate -Hove, which a recent writer has described as “Mm Grundy’s seaside borne.” On a Sunday morning eariy | last uenttuy the parish' clerk begged audience of'thp ipaisoii.; mi to/’ U w&t w inßQiaiM*'to hold,

a service to-day. “Why?” queried tlxe vicar. “Because, sir,” replied the clerk, “the pews is full of tubs and the pulpit is full of tea. * *