be_, that is, to the laws and constitution of the country, not only from
fear of punishment, but _for conscience sake_, and from a sense of the
advantage derived from them by society. In another place they bid us _to
submit to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake_. And with respect
to smuggling, they command us to _render tribute to whom tribute is due,
custom to whom custom_. Therefore, whenever you smuggle goods into the
country without paying duty at the custom-house, you directly fly in the
face of this injunction of the Scriptures. And at the same time that the
smuggler thus breaks the laws of God and the laws of his country, he
also injures the regular trader by underselling him; for, of course, the
man, who conscientiously pays duty, cannot sell so cheap as he who pays
no duty at all."
"And that puts me in mind," said Waldron, who wished to put an end to
the conversation, "that I shall want a couple of pounds before night.
Do, Mary, just step up to Mrs. Hawker's, and ask her to let me have them
on account of the silk." Mary was always ready to comply with the wishes
of her husband, and putting on her cloak, went to Mrs. Hawker's house.
She found her in her back parlour, shewing the silks to two smartly
dressed young ladies. The eldest appeared to be about nineteen, the
other two or three years younger. The countenances of both were
expressive of good humour and liveliness, without much indication of
thought or reflection. Each had selected a sufficient quantity of silk
for a gown, and they were in the act of cheapening their purchases, when
Mary came in. "No, indeed now, Mrs. Hawker, you _must_ take off a
shilling a yard. We really could get it as cheap in London, and, after
all, the English silk they make now is quite as good." "That may be
true," said Mrs. Hawker, "but you must consider, my dear young ladies,
the difficulty I have in getting it, and the risk the poor fellows run."
"Yes, indeed," said Mary, with a sigh, "it is the blood of men that you
are buying."
The young ladies, who had not before seen Mary, as she was waiting near
the door, turned round, and were just going to ask her what she meant,
when one or two loud authoritative raps were heard at the outer door. At
the same moment the maid servant came running in with every symptom of
alarm, saying, in a suppressed voice, "Mistress, Mistress, make haste,
the custom-house officers are here." Mrs. Hawker's countenance changed,
but she was too much used to such occurrences to lose her presence of
mind. "There, ladies, pop the silks under your pelisses--there--quick."
The knocking was repeated more loudly than before. "Who's there," said
Mrs. Hawker, in a shrill tone. A man's voice replied, "Let us in, we
must come in directly." "Coming, sir, coming immediately." then in the
same breath turning to the young ladies, "Stay, that will not do. If
they find you here, they, perhaps, will search you. There, run into that
back pantry, and keep the door tight." Molly, meanwhile, had run off
with the bale of silk to a hiding-place prepared for such occasions,
and Mrs. Hawker hastened to the door.
Before the officers had time to express their anger at being kept
waiting, she put on one of her best smiles, and addressed them with,
"Mr. Scroggins, is it you? Well now, I'm so sorry that you've had to
wait; but the girl was down at the farther end of the garden, and I
happened to be busy with my needle up stairs, and did not come down the
first moment, as I did not know but that she was in the house. But pray
come in--I'm so sorry that I made you wait."
This speech gave their wrath a little time to cool: but Scroggins
answered gravely, "Mrs. Hawker, we are come upon rather an unpleasant
piece of business. We have had information that a suspicious looking
parcel was brought to your house this morning."
"What, to my house!" said Mrs. Hawker; "well! what will people say next.
I'm sure I should never have thought of such a thing; but pray satisfy
yourselves--search wherever you please."
The officers looked about the shop and the back parlour, and went up
stairs. The place where the silk was concealed was, however, so well
contrived, as to escape their observation; and Mrs. Hawker put on the
appearance of innocence so completely, that the men began to think that
they really had been misinformed. The young ladies trembled with
apprehension when they heard them come into the kitchen, and still more,
when, as they passed the pantry, one of the men called out, "What door
is that?" "O," said Mrs. Hawker, "that is a sort of out building, but it
let in so much cold wind to the kitchen, that we had it nailed up before
Michaelmas;--but, I dare say, we can get it open, if you wish to see
it;--I'm sure I want no concealment;--run, Molly, run down to Mr.
Bellows, the blacksmith--you know where he lives--near the pier."--"Why,
I believe, we need not give you that trouble," said Scroggins; "I must
say that you have been very ready to let us search every where: and, to
tell you the truth, we are just now rather in a hurry, and it would be
some time before Bellows with his lame leg could hobble here."
"Well, as you please," said Mrs. Hawker, "it's all one to me--I only
hope that another time, Mr. Scroggins, you will not be quite so ready to
believe idle stories that people make against their neighbours." The
officers wished her good day, and walked off.
She watched them to a considerable distance before she ventured to
release her prisoners from their confinement. They had been sadly
frightened, but could not help laughing when they got out, though the
eldest of them had greased the bottom of her pelisse against a flitch of
bacon, which was lying on the bricks under the dresser; and the feathers
of her sister were not improved by the intercourse which had taken place
between them and a bunch of tallow candles, which were suspended from
the low ceiling.
Having directed the silks which they had purchased to be wrapped up in a
few yards of Manchester cotton and sent after them, and having put half
a dozen pair of French gloves in their reticules, they set out on their
return to Sandgate, where their father, Admiral Mowbray, had passed the
greatest part of the autumn.
Before descending the hill, they stopped, as in their walks back from
Folkestone they generally did, to contemplate the scene before them,
which though, perhaps, not remarkably striking, has something of a
pleasing character. Immediately beneath them was Sandgate, sheltered
from the east and north by a range of sand hills of no great height,
but presenting considerable variety of form. From the top of this range
a nearly level tract of country stretched along to the foot of the chalk
ridge, the line of which is here relieved by several singular conical
hills, which stand forward as detached outworks of the principal rampart
of chalk. Close under them on the left was the castle, the grey tints
and roughnesses of which have been smoothed and polished away by modern
trowels, till it has acquired the appearance of a cluster of Martello
towers. Beyond Sandgate were some traces of the unfinished works, once
destined to protect the commencement of the military canal, and the sea,
now nearly at high water, almost breaking over the road. The middle
distance was formed by the town of Hythe, with its church on the bold
rising ground to the north, its lancet-shaped east window peeping
through the trees; and far to the left ran the long line of low land
terminating in Dunge Ness. The fishing boats of Hythe and Romney, with a
revenue cutter and three or four brigs, gave animation to the near sea
view; while, at a considerable distance, a couple of Indiamen were
majestically making their way down the channel.
After admiring the prospect, the two sisters were slowly descending the
hill, when they heard behind them the footsteps of two persons, who
seemed to be rapidly approaching. Their imaginations were filled with
the idea of custom-house officers, and they immediately concluded that
they were pursued. They therefore walked on as fast as they could, being
apprehensive that if they _ran_ they should confirm the suspicions of
their pursuers. The same apprehension prevented them from looking back.
The strangers, however, continued to gain upon them, but when almost
ready to sink with alarm, the young ladies found that their fears were
groundless. They were overtaken and passed by a remarkably well-made
active man, with a stout bludgeon in his hand, in company with a woman
of a slight and elegant form, who contrived to keep pace with him,
though she had a child in her arms.
They were in earnest conversation; the woman appearing to be using
entreaties, to which the man refused to listen. Just after they had
passed them, they heard the man say in a voice, at once expressive of
determination and of an agitated state of feeling, "Come--there's no
use in trying to persuade me; I've told you that I must be in the marsh
to-night. Do you go home and mind the children, I shall not be absent
long, and shall, most likely, get back to you before to-morrow night."
He then seemed to make an effort, disengaged himself from his companion,
and went on with a hurried step.
The poor woman gazed after him for some time, and then turned back with
an expression of anxiety and woe, which went to the hearts of the two
sisters. Their compassion and benevolence prompted them to endeavour to
offer some consolation, but delicacy prevented them from intruding on
the sorrows of a perfect stranger. Upon looking at her more attentively,
they recognized the same woman whom they had seen, not long before, at
Mrs. Hawker's, and by whose remark upon their smuggling purchases they
had been surprised and shocked. They could not resist bringing it to her
recollection, and asking her what she meant. Poor Mary immediately burst
into a flood of tears; the violence of her grief affected and alarmed
the young ladies; and while they were trying to soothe both her and her
child, the eldest of the young ladies exclaimed, "Surely you are--but
no, it is not likely:--you cannot be the Mary Allen, who, about ten
years since lived as house-maid with Mrs. Stanwick in Hertfordshire?"
Surprise and a sensation of pleasure checked the current of Mary's
sorrow. "Yes, indeed, I am," said she; "and is it possible that you
young ladies are my dear mistress's nieces, who used so often to be
staying with her when your father, the Admiral, was at sea? Oh! how kind
you were to me, and how fond I used to be of you both! But then you were
both little girls, and I could venture to talk to you with freedom."
"And so you may now," said Emily Mowbray; "you seem to be in some
affliction. Before we knew who you were, we longed to comfort you; and
now that we find that you are an old acquaintance, we shall have double
pleasure in being of any use to you."
The circumstance of having, in early youth, been inmates of the same
house, and in habits of frequent and kindly intercourse, leaves
generally a lasting impression upon the heart. This is often felt by
schoolfellows, who, when they meet, after having been long separated,
have a peculiar frankness and warmth of feeling towards each other,
which is seldom produced by an acquaintance contracted in maturer years.
And something of the same warmth and disposition to freedom of
communication is occasionally produced in children--children of the
gentler sex particularly--towards the tried and valued servants of the
families, in which many of their earliest and happiest days have been
passed.
This species of feeling now glowed in full vigour in the bosoms of the
two sisters, and of Mary Waldron. Mary had met with sympathizing friends
when she most wanted them; and the Miss Mowbrays found the interest,
which had been excited by witnessing her grief, increased to a ten-fold
degree by this unexpected recognition. They pressed her to accompany
them to their father's lodging house. The child, however, which she had
left at home under the care of a neighbour, made this impossible. They
therefore turned back, and walked slowly with her towards Folkestone,
Caroline Mowbray having relieved her, by taking the child out of her
arms.
During their walk, Mary told them, that nine years before she had
accompanied her mistress to Hastings. They passed the winter there, and
during that time, she became acquainted with James Waldron, who
frequently came to the house with fish. Every body spoke well of him, as
a sober, industrious, good-tempered man; and she became his wife when
Mrs. Stanwick returned into Hertfordshire. For about six years they
lived happily together at Hastings; they then removed to Folkestone,
where a small house had been left to Waldron by a relation. Here he
continued for some time to follow his old occupation, but unhappily
became acquainted with some notorious smugglers, and was persuaded
occasionally to accompany them in their expeditions to the French coast.
He was led on step by step, till smuggling had become his principal
employment.
"From the time that he took to the smuggling line," continued poor Mary,
"my happiness has been at an end. He used to be the kindest of husbands
and of fathers. Now he is seldom at home, and when he is, is generally
out of temper. Now and then he will play with his children a little, but
more frequently complains of their being troublesome. He used to be
sobriety itself, but latterly has taken to drinking spirits. His very
countenance is changed; it used to be frank and open, but now is apt to
have a downcast anxious look, like that of a man who has some sad burden
on his mind. And oh! how many fears do I have for him! Sometimes, I
think he will be lost at sea, for they are out in all weathers; and
sometimes I tremble lest he should be taken on shore, or that to prevent
himself from being taken, he should do some dreadful deed that should
bring him to the gallows."
"I now too well understand," said Emily Mowbray, "what you meant by what
you said to us at Mrs. Hawker's."
"I should not have said it," answered Mary, "had I known who I was
speaking to--but still it was nothing but the truth. Little do ladies,
who in the lightness of their hearts come to purchase the smuggled
silks, and the gloves, and the cambrics, little do they think what a sad
business they are encouraging; that they are in fact buying men's blood.
And oh! my dear, dear young ladies, would to heaven that were all--I
tremble to think how not only the lives, but the souls, of these poor
fellows--the soul of"--but here her voice failed, she clapped her hands
to her face, and burst into an agony of grief. The two sisters soothed
her as well as they could, and when she seemed tolerably composed again,
turned their steps towards Sandgate.
The Admiral had been a little uneasy at their long absence. "Well!
girls," he exclaimed upon seeing them, "where _have_ you been all this
time?" "Why, papa?"--"Well, you must not stop to tell me now, but make
haste to get ready for dinner. Your cousin Harry Stanwick has promised
to dine with us. We can seldom catch him, you know; but I told him, that
coming to us was not being off duty, as he is as handy here as at the
castle, in case any of these smuggling fellows should require to be
looked after."
The young ladies hurried to their rooms, and when they came down stairs,
found their cousin already arrived. The Admiral was eagerly trying to
get from him some of the particulars of his saving the poor shipwrecked
Danes. "We had some difficulty," said Lieutenant Stanwick, "in launching
our boat. The first time, when we had just got her into the water, a
heavy wave knocked her clean over. Upon a second attempt we got her
afloat, and were just beginning to use our oars, when she was swamped
again, and two of the men were nearly lost in trying to get back to the
shore. My brave fellows, however, would not give it up: they could not
bear, they said, to leave fellow-creatures to perish almost within hale
of the land. At the third trial we succeeded. We got under the lee of
the ship, and found her fast a-ground, her main-mast and mizen-mast
blown away, and a tremendous sea breaking over her. Several of the crew
had been already washed off the deck. I never shall forget the joy the
poor fellows expressed, when we got them into our boat. There was a
black man particularly, whom they had brought with them from the West
Indies, and who seemed quite overpowered with gratitude. We brought them
all safely on shore, and weary and buffeted as they were, the
preventive-service men gave them up their beds, and the greatest part of
their rations[h]."
[Footnote h: Founded on fact.]
During dinner the Admiral was continually asking for some particulars
respecting the shipwreck, and it was with delight, mixed with a sort of
trepidation, that the sisters heard the different instances of
intrepidity and considerate kindness of these rough seamen. Emily
Mowbray especially, every now and then, could not help betraying, by the
animation of her eyes and the glow on her countenance, the deep interest
she felt in the display of these qualities in their commander, anxious
as he seemed to be in his narrative to keep himself in the back ground.
When the servants had withdrawn, the Admiral turned to his daughters, to
enquire what had become of them all the morning. "Why to tell you the
truth, papa," said Emily, "we had a little business in Folkestone."
"Some smuggling transaction, I dare say," replied the Admiral; "but why
did that detain you so long?"
The young ladies felt, that in prudence the less they said the better,
but still they were so full of their morning's adventure with the
custom-house officers, that they could not help telling it. "And could
there, papa, have been _really_ any danger of their searching us?"
"They would not have dared," said Henry eagerly, his dark eyes flashing
fire, and his face becoming crimson; but almost immediately both his
manner and his countenance changed--"But I don't know--perhaps they
would."
"Yes, indeed," said the Admiral; "from what little I have seen or heard
of these custom-house officers, they are well enough disposed to be
civil where they have no ground of suspicion; but where persons choose
to place themselves in suspicious circumstances, they are bound to do
their duty.--I own I am quite astonished that any lady, with the
slightest sense of propriety or delicacy of feeling, can expose herself
to the possibility of being placed in so unpleasant a predicament."
"Why do you speak of ladies only, papa? I'm sure gentlemen smuggle as
much as we do."
"I am afraid that some do," said the Admiral, "but it is generally in
your service. I am quite hurt for the credit of the class of society
with which I associate, when I hear of any gentleman or lady taking
advantage of the confidence, which is reposed in them as such, for the
purpose of evading the laws of their country. And for what?--for the
sake of saving a few pounds; or for the gratification of some foolish
vanity. I have sometimes fallen in with men, who would have shot me
through the head if I had barely hinted the possibility of their telling
a lie, who would yet be guilty of the most paltry falsehood and
equivocation for the sake of deceiving a custom-house officer; who,
after all, allowed himself to be deceived, only because he trusted that,
being gentlemen, they would not condescend to lie. No, my dear girls,
don't let me hear of your smuggling again."
The two sisters in the course of the morning had received a lesson
against smuggling, which had not been lost upon them; but still the
spirit of Emily rose at this attack, and she replied, "What, not smuggle
at all? Why it is one of the chief amusements of coming to the sea
coast."
"I wonder what pleasure you can find in it," said her father.
"Why, in the first place, the things are so much better and prettier
than we can get in England; and then the little difficulties which we
have to surmount, and the contrivances and concealment which we have to
manage, produce a sort of excitement, somewhat similar to that, which I
imagine men to derive from the sports of the field. And, after all,
what is the harm of smuggling? It is no offence in itself, and is merely
made an offence by the arbitrary enactments of human laws."
"And ought you not, my dear Emily, to pay obedience to the laws, under
the protection of which you live? I might take higher ground, and refer
you to the express words of Scripture.--You know the passage to which I
allude.--The poorest man in the country is protected by the laws, but if
he is not sufficiently aware of the benefits which he derives from them,
some little allowance may be made for him on the plea of ignorance, want
of education, and the many wants and privations which he actually
encounters. No such excuse, however, can be made for you, possessed as
you are not only of all the necessaries, but of many of the
superfluities, of life. In the enjoyment of all these comforts and
luxuries--in the rank and station which you hold in society--you are
protected by the laws of your country, and surely those laws have a just
claim to your obedience."
"There is, I acknowledge," replied Emily, "much force in what you say;
but I am sure, that you must think the laws against smuggling are much
too severe."
"The severity of laws is occasioned by the boldness of those who break
them: when more lenient methods are found ineffectual, recourse is had
to stronger and harsher measures. Smuggling, as you know, consists
either in evading the payment of the legal duties, or in purchasing
articles which are prohibited altogether.--The evading of the payment of
duties is clearly the same as robbing the public of so much of its
revenue[i]. A poor man, who steals from distress, is punished, and
justly punished, for no distress can justify doing wrong; but, I must
say, that I think a well-educated person, who is guilty of wilfully
plundering the public by smuggling, is a more guilty person than he is."
[Footnote i: "_Worthy._ Pray, Mr. Bragwell, what should you think of a
man, who would dip his hand into a bag, and take out a few guineas?
_Bragwell._ Think! why I think that he should be hanged, to be sure.
_Worthy._ But suppose that bag stood in the king's treasury?
_Bragwell._ In the king's treasury! worse and worse! what, rob the
king's treasury! Well, I hope the robber will be taken up and executed,
for I suppose we shall all be taxed to pay the damage.
_Worthy._ Very true. If one man takes money out of the treasury, others
must be obliged to pay the more into it; but what think you if the
fellow should be found to have stopped some money _in its way_ to the
treasury, instead of taking it out of the bag after it got there?
_Bragwell._ Guilty, Mr. Worthy; it is all the same, in my opinion. If I
was a juryman, I should say, Guilty, death.
_Worthy._ Hark ye, Mr. Bragwell, he that deals in smuggled brandy is the
man who takes to himself the king's money in its way to the treasury,
and he as much robs the government, as if he dipped his hands into a bag
of guineas in the treasury-chamber. It comes to the same thing exactly."
From the Cheap Repository Tract, called "The Two Wealthy Farmers:"--a
story, which, while it abounds in most useful moral and religious
instruction, displays an insight into human nature, a talent for lively
description, and a turn for quiet humour, which have seldom been
surpassed.]
"Well; but you can't say that we defraud the revenue, when we buy silks,
or gloves, or lace, upon which we _can_ pay no duty, even if we wished
it!"
"These articles are absolutely prohibited by law, and you break the laws
by purchasing them."
"But if the English can't make these things so well as the French, I
don't see why I am obliged to buy inferior articles when I can get
better--I am sure that I have heard you say yourself, that all matters
of trade and manufacture should be suffered to find their own level,
with as few restrictions as possible."