SMUGGLERS’ HAUNTS

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 73, Issue 6284, 18 September 1946, Page 11

SMUGGLERS’ HAUNTS

ILLEGAL TRAFFIC AROUND BRITAIN’S? COASTS /FREE-TRADERS AGAINST EXCISE MEN The days of organised smuggling have long since passed, but scores of hiding places associated with the illiegal traffic still remain. P. H. Lovell, writing in the 8.8. C. production “London Calling,” recounts the story of those exciting days, when the “free-traders” fought many a stirring battle and pitted their wits against the Excise men.

It has been said that by the end of the eighteenth century smuggling had become such a lucrative occupation that a large proportion of the villagers ers living in the coastal areas from Northumberland to Land’s End was engaged in it to varying degrees. This illicit form of importation of .merchandise had been developing since the fourteenth century, for legislation dates back to that period, the penalties becoming more stringent as the duties were increased and smuggling thereby made more profitable. However, the “free-traders” .were gradually eliminated during 1 a long battle of wits by the ruses of the Customs Officers, until to-day, although smuggling cannot be said to be nonexistent, the ever-watchful eyes of the coastguard service and the port authorities prevent recurrence in any organised form. In the old days, it was apparently absurdly easy to anchor a boat under the leas of a cliff and land a cargo of contraband; and although records show that large quantities of dutiable goods w’ere seized every year by .the Customs Officers, this total was only a fraction of that which was successfully landed and sold at ridiculously low prices. Consequently, smugglers were looked upon by coastal people as worth-while friends, and protection was readily given when needed. Almost every mile of Britain’s eastern and southern coasts has its smugglers’ caves and curious hideouts. These old-time “free-traders” must have been fearless and resourceful men, . for many of their caches were in populous districts—such as at Kingsgate, in Thanet, where a genuine smugglers’ cave has been hewn right through the cliffs, thus giving easy and secret access to Kingsgate Castle on the headland above, a former hiding place. The Romney Marshes, that desolate stretch of shingle which lies near Rye on the Kent-Sussex border, was the smugglers’ “El Dorado,” where many a stirring battle has been fought between the opposing sides, usually with fists and muskets, but often with wits.

An example is recalled by the curious old church at East Guideford, nearby. One Sunday, some 150 years ago, the congregation found a notice pinned to the church door stating that the vicar was indisposed and that the morning service was cancelled. The door was securely bolted—an unusual procedure and the people had to depart, wondering why the vicar had not called a deputy. The explanation was learned later.

The night before, the men of East Guideford had landed a valuable cargo of illicit goods near Camber, but had been disturbed and hotly pursued by the authorities. In their haste to conceal their prize, the smugglers had dumpied. the ..booty in-the church and hastily dispersed in the darkness. But as the following day was a Sunday, the parson had to be told of the exploit, and he, possibly looking forward to a share of the spoils, decided to shield his erring flock and locked the church door for the day. Hastings has a number of interesting hide-outs, notably the curious Rope-Houses on the beach, and at No. 29, Bourne Street. This is a building of striking half-timbered work, with false floors and secret chambers galore—ample proof that it was used to defeat the Ginque Port custodians, as also were the St. Clemente’ Caves beneath West Hill. Although these caves were the work of nature, they were substantially enlarged by man, so that now the hill is a maze of tunnels, excavated to baffle the Customs men.

Again, the famous Martello Towers along the Kent-Sussex coasts, defences against an enemy who never came, were extensively used as secret hidingplaces for contraband. But the most extensive smuggling activity took place at Cuckmere Haven, the delightful little bay nestling under the lee of the Seven Sisters Cliffs, near Eastbourne. It was an easy matter to discharge cargoes on this remote coast, even in daylight, and stealthily to creep along the folds in the Downs to Alfriston. It is said that at least one member of every Alfriston family was actively engaged in smuggling, and ample evidence of this is shown in the inns at Alfriston to this day. This village appears to have been something in the nature of a “clearing house” for the local “free-trading,” and goods were dispatched from there along the more remote paths to the shelter of Ashdown Forest, and even as far afield as Chislehurst Caves (twelve miles from London), which were used extensively for this purpose. The stretch of coast between Newhaven and Bournemouth has been strangely free from smugglers’ attentions, although the famous old windmill on the Downs above Rottingdean has held many an illicit store of wine and tobacco. Similarly, the curious building known as The Barlipins at Shoreham, and the historic village of Bosham, experienced occasional outbreaks of smuggling. ■

The beautiful little Saxon church at Kinson, near Bournemouth, possesses several interesting links with the smuggling men. A noticeable feature is the irregularly broken ledge half-way up the squat tower. The oldest inhabitant will tell you that this was caused by the drawing up of kegs of brandy to the top of the tower, where they were hidden until such time as they could be conveniently disposed of. There is also an old tombstone by the church door; it was hinged, and gave access to a secret chamber. Another tombstone bears this curious epitaph to a murdered smuggler: “To the memory of Robert Trotman, late of Rowd in the County of Wilts, who was barbariously murdered on the shore at Poole, on the 24th of March, 1765.”

The Dorset coast, with its numerous caves and lonely coves, also offered ample shelter to the smuggler, and many hauls were successfully landed

at Tilly Whim Caves, near Swanage and Lulworth Cove. The Tilly Whim Caves are actually the remains of an ancient Portland Stone quarry which the smugglers “took over” from the quarrymen in 1814. It is astonishing that men should have chosen this difficult, rock-bound coast, where the cliffs rise sheer from the ocean some 300 feet below, in which to hew rock or to land contraband, but apparently the caves behind afforded such complete protection that their efforts were rewarded sufficiently. It is interesting to trace the origin of the term “Tilly Whim.” A “whim” is an old word meaning “crane,” and it is probable that rocks were lowered to the boats and the contraband raised on the pulley principle. “Tilly” is said to have been the name of the first man to use the “whim” some 200 or 300 years ago.

And so on to Devon and Cornwall, where in almost all the fishing villages you can hear amazing tales of the smugglers’ daring. All along this rugged coast the rumrunners w,ere active, and Beer Cove was troubled by a very persistent and treacherous smuggler, one Jack Rattenbury, who even used to raid other “free-traders’ ” hide-outs. He was, however, caught red-handed, and spent the remainder of his life in jail. The network of caves beneath the cliffs which he claimed can still be seen.

Burgh Island, a tiny island near Plymouth, separated from the mainland by a narrow channel, was the headquarters of Tom Crocker, ajiotorious smuggler and pirate. Many of his coups were hatched in the picturesque Pilchard Inn, dating back to 1395. In the inn can be seen his skull-and-crossbones flag, reputed to be the only genuine pirate’s emblem in existence. An interesting feature of the now modernised inn is that the timbers of the famous old man-o’-war, H.M.S. Ganges, have been used in its fabric. There is also an old figurehead outside.

The’“Mecca” of bygone smugglers was undoubtedly lovely little Polperro, where many of the houses were provided with secret and ingenious hiding places. The smugglers of Mevagissey even went to the trouble of building a house high on the cliffs above this quaint fishing village which cleverly defeated any attempt by the Customs men to make a capture. The only way of entry to this haunt was by scaling the cliffs. A door was built in the roof, so that if a zealous officer decided to raid the premises the smugglers left hurriedly by the other exit, either to their boats or to the tops of the cliffs. This unorthodox residence—veritable maze of smugglers’ cunning —is now open to visitors. An interesting relic of smugfling days can still be seen at Falmouth in the of the “King’s Pipe.” This curious chimney-like building was a furnace in which large quantities of seized contraband tobacco was destroyed by Customs Officers. It stands on Custom House Quay- » Most renowned of all Britain’s rumrunners was the great John Garter, self-styled “King of Prussia,” who operated his unlawful enterprise at Prussia Cove, a beautiful little inlet on the Lizard. The title is reputed to have been bestowed on Carter owing to his likeness to Frederick the Great, who was in the news at the time. Carter even had the audacity to run his own fleet between Cornwall and Cherbourg; he also built a miniature fortress at Prussia Cove, including a battery of cannon facing both to-sea-ward and to the top of the cliffs.

It is said that on at least one occasion, while he and his gang were away on “business,” the Customs raided his store of brandy, which they securely locked up in the Customs House at Penzance. Much to the amazement of the authorities, Carter counter-raided the store and retrieved all that had been captured from his cove. Hie proved to be such a handfull that the law was forced to abandon its efforts to capture him. He was able to amass a huge fortune, and eventually retired to live in freedom as a prosperous -country “gentleman.”