My mother's grandfather, Dan'l Leggo, was the piousest man that ever went
smuggling, and one of the peaceablest, and scrupulous to an extent you
wouldn't believe. He learnt his business among the Cove boys at
Porthleah--or Prussia Cove as it came to be called, after John Carter, the
head of the gang, that was nicknamed the King o' Prussia. Dan'l was John
Carter's own sister's son, trained under his eye; and when the Carters
retired he took over the business in partnership with young Phoby Geen,
a nephew by marriage to Bessie Bussow that still kept the Kiddlywink at
Porthleah, and had laid by a stockingful of money.
These two, Dan'l Leggo and Phoby Geen (which was short for Deiphobus),
lived together and worked the business for five years in boundless
harmony; until, as such things happen, they both fell in love with one
maid, which brought out the differences in their natures to a surprising
degree, converting Dan'l into an Early Christian for all to behold, while
Phoby turned to envy and spite, and to a disgraceful meanness of spirit.
The reason of this to some extent was that the girl--Amelia Sanders by
name--couldn't abide him because of the colour of his hair and his splay
feet: yet I believe she would have married him (her father being a
boat-builder in a small way at Porthleven, and beholden to the Cove for
most of his custom) if Dan'l hadn't come along first and cast eyes on her;
whereby she clave to Dan'l and liked him better and better as time brought
out the beautiful little odds-and-ends of his character; and when Phoby
made up, she took and told him, in all the boldness of affection, to make
himself scarce, for she wouldn't have him--no, not if he was the last man
in the world and she the last woman. I daresay she overstated the case,
as women will. But what appeared marvellous to all observers was that the
girl had no particular good looks that wouldn't have passed anywhere in a
crowd, and yet these two had singled her out for their addresses.
Dan'l (that had been the first in the field) pointed this out to his
partner in a very reasonable spirit; but somehow it didn't take effect.
"If she's as plain-featured as you allow," said Phoby, "why the dickens
can't _you_ stand aside?"
"Because of her affectionate natur'," answered Dan'l, "and likewise for
her religious disposition, for the latter o' which you've got no more use
than a toad for side-pockets."
"We'll see about that," grumbled Phoby; and Dan'l, taking it for a threat,
lost no time in putting up the banns.
Apart from this he went on his way peaceably never doubting at all that,
when the knot was tied, Phoby would let be bygones and pick up with
another maid; whereby he made the mistake of judging other folks'
dispositions by his own. The smuggling, too, was going on more
comfortably than ever it had in John Carter's time, by reason that a new
Collector had come to Penzance--a Mr. Pennefather, a nice little,
pleasant-spoken, round-bellied man that asked no better than to live and
let live. Fifteen years this Pennefather held the collectorship, with
five-and-twenty men under him, besides a call on the military whenever he
wanted 'em; and in all that time he never made an enemy. Every night of
his life he stepped over from his lodgings in Market Jew Street for a game
of cards with old Dr. Chegwidden, who lived whereabouts they've built the
Esplanade since then, on the Newlyn side of Morrab Gardens; and after
their cards--at which one would lose and t'other win half a crown, maybe--
the doctor would out with a decanter of pineapple rum, and the pair would
drink together and have a crack upon Natural History, which was a hobby
with both. Being both unmarried, they had no one to call bedtime; but the
Collector was always back at his lodgings before the stroke of twelve.
With such a Collector, as you may suppose, the free trade in Mount's Bay
found itself in easy circumstances; and the Covers (as they were called)
took care in return to give Mr. Pennefather very little trouble.
In particular, Dan'l had invented a contrivance which saved no end of
worry and suspicion, and was worked in this way:--Of their two principal
boats Dan'l as a rule commanded the _Black Joke_, a Porthleven-built
lugger of about forty tons, as we measure nowadays (but upon the old plan
she would work out nearer a hundred and forty); and Phoby a St. Ives
ketch, the _Nonesuch_, of about the same size. But which was the _Black
Joke_ and which the _Nonesuch_ you never could be sure, for the lugger
carried fids, topmast, crosstrees, and a spare suit of sails to turn her
into a ketch at twenty minutes' notice; and likewise the ketch could ship
topmast, shift her rigging, and hoist a spare suit of lug-sails in no
longer time. The pair of them, too, had false quarter-pieces to ship and
unship for disguise, and each was provided with movable boards painted
with the other's name, to cover up her own. The tale went that once when
the pair happened to be lying together in New Grimsby Sound in the
Scillies, during an eclipse of the sun, Dan'l and Phoby took it into their
heads to change rigs in the darkness, just for fun; and that the Revenue
Officer, that had gone over to the island of Bryher to get a better view
of the eclipse, happening to lower his telescope on the vessels as the
light began to grow again, took fright, waded across to Tresco for his
life (the tide being low), and implored the Lord Proprietor's agent to
lock him up; "for," said he, "either the world or my head has turned round
in the last twenty minutes, and whichever 'tis, I want to be put in a cool
place out of temptation." But the usual plan was, of course, for the two
to change rigs at night-time when on a trip, and by agreement, and for the
one to slock off suspicion while the other ran the cargo. Yes, yes; Dan'l
Leggo and Phoby Geen were both very ingenious young men, though by
disposition so different: and when John Carter in his retirement heard of
the trick, he slapped his leg and said in his large-hearted way that dammy
he couldn't have invented a neater; and at the same time fined himself
sixpence for swearing, which had been his rule when he was Cove-master.
I once saw a bill of his made out in form, and this was how it ran:--
John CARTER in account with ROGER TRISCOTT otherwise CLICKPAW.