Fair Trade and Foul Play

Smuggling at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and right up to the middle of it, was rampant, and was regarded as a wholesome profession by those who carried it on.  They called it “fair trade,” and looked upon those whose duty it was to destroy it with an aversion that oftentimes culminated in murderous conflict.  The seafaring portion of this strange body of men, in characteristic contrast to their “landlubber” accomplices, never at any time, or under any circumstances, tried to conceal what their profession was.  They were proud to be known as smugglers; whereas their shore colleagues, many of whom were gentry, or offshoots from it, adopted every possible means to turn suspicion from themselves when the preventive men were on the scent.  Smugglers of that day were adroit tacticians; they had their signs just as Freemasons or any other craft have theirs.  The pursuit was exciting, and the romance of it attracted men and women of gentle as well as of humble birth into its ranks.  The men who manned the luggers were sailors who knew every bay and nook round the coast.  They made heroic speeches expressive of their contempt for death.  They talked boldly of powder magazines, and of blowing themselves and any one else up who put them into a tight corner; and there are instances on record that this was actually done.  Be that as it may, they had great organizing skill and not a little business ability, whilst in their combination of strategy and valour they were unsurpassed.  In many ways they were akin to pirates, though it could never be said that they went outside their own particular business—­i.e., they were not predatory buccaneers who murdered first and plundered afterwards.  They believed, as I have said, their calling to be as legitimate as any other form of trading.  Their doctrine was that it was the Government that acted illegally, and not themselves.  It was not surprising, therefore, that the system should take so long a time to wipe out, notwithstanding the rigid way in which the whole coastline of the British Isles was guarded.  Much has been written about the desperate ways of these men, but no accurate estimate can be formed by the present generation of the extent of the system, and the methods adopted to carry it on.  Romance has gone far, but rarely too far, in describing it; and to really know it as it was you must have lived in its atmosphere, or have taken part, either for or against, in its attractions.  One of the greatest ambitions of my early boyhood days comes to me now.  I had resolved that when I grew up I would secretly leave my home and join some smuggling lugger.  Happily for me, the luggers had disappeared before I grew up.