No doubt, the Kent was a pretty tough customer, and both skipper and his crew likewise. But there was something wanting in Captain Mitchell. For consider another of the latter's exploits. It was the last week of September of that same year, and the scene had again the Yorkshire coast for its background. During the evening they espied what they rightly believed to be a smuggling cutter. They got as far as hailing her, but, as it was very dark, and the Swallow did not know the force of the cutter, Mitchell "thought it most prudent to leave her," and so came to anchor in Saltburn Bay. But the smuggler had not done with this enterprising gentleman; so the next day the smuggler came into the bay, stood down under full sail, and came charging down on to the poor Swallow, striking her on the quarter, the smuggler swearing terrible oaths the meanwhile, that if Mitchell did not promptly cut his cable—it was the days of hemp, still—and hurry out of that anchorage, he would sink him. What happened, do you ask? Of course the Swallow ought to have been under way, and should never have been lying there. She was acting contrary to the orders of the Board. But what must we think of a captain who calmly awaits the on-coming of a smuggler's attack? Why, so soon as the Swallow espied him approaching, did he not up anchor, hoist sails, and go to meet him with his crew at their stations, and guns all shotted? But even after this gross insult to himself, his ship, and his flag, was the commander of a Revenue sloop to obey?
"Came charging down ... striking her on the quarter."[ToList]
Yes—it is shameful to have to record it—Mitchell did obey. True, he didn't cut his cable, but he soon tripped his anchor and cleared out as ordered. The poor Swallow had been damaged both as to her tail and her wings, for the smugglers had injured the stern, taken a piece out of the boom, and carried away the topping-lift. But evidently in those days the Revenue service attracted into its folds men of the type of Mitchell. Take the case of Captain Whitehead of the Revenue cruiser Eagle. Espying a smuggling vessel, he gave chase, and eventually came up with her, also off Saltburn. Whitehead hailed her, but the smuggler's skipper replied—one cannot resist a smile—"with a horrid expression," and called his men to arms. The smuggler then fired a volley with muskets, wounding one of the Eagle's crew. Presently they also fired their swivel-guns, "on which Captain Whitehead thought it prudent to get away from her as fast as he could, the greatest part of his people having quitted the deck."
The smuggler continued to fire at the retreating cruiser, and chased the Eagle for a whole hour after. The cutter turned out to be that which Mitchell had encountered on April 24, 1777, and her skipper was our friend "Smoker" again. This smuggling craft was described as a stout cutter of 130 tons, and a crew of upwards of forty men. She carried fourteen carriage guns, four three-pounders, as well as a great number of swivels. "Smoker's" real name was David Browning, and he was recognised by the Eagle's crew from his voice, which was familiar to several of them. During that affray the Revenue cruiser received about twenty shot in her sails, about a dozen in her boat, and half as many in her fore-and main-mast. She also had her mizzen halyards shot away. From these details it would seem that she was dandy-rigged, that is to say, she had a mizzen or jigger in addition to her cutter rig, and on this jigger would be set a small lugsail as was the old custom.
Following on Mitchell's meeting with the Kent, we have a record belonging to July of that same year—1777. This time a different result was to come about. For instead of acting single-handed, the sloops Prince of Wales and the Royal George—both being employed by the Scottish Excise Board, aided by H.M.S. Pelican and Arethusa—four of them—at last managed to capture this schooner. She was found to be armed with sixteen four-pounders and twenty swivel-guns, and also had a large stock of gunpowder, blunderbusses, and muskets. "Stoney" was taken out of her, and he was said to be an outlaw whose real name was George Fagg. The guns and ammunition were taken ashore and put in the King's warehouse at Hull, and the crew of thirty-nine were placed on board the Arethusa. Among these prisoners were those who had murdered a dragoon the previous year, while the latter was assisting a Custom officer at Whitby. The arrest of these men was all the more interesting for a reward of £100 for their capture had been long outstanding.
The capture of the Kent had been effected as follows: the two Excise cruisers were off St. Abb's Head on July 8, and hearing that the Kent had been seen off Flamborough Head they sailed south, and off Filey fell in with her. On being hailed, the smuggler beat to quarters, shouting to the cruisers. "Fire, you ——, and be —— to you." The battle at once commenced and continued smartly for an hour, when the Pelican came up to give assistance to the two cruisers. The Kent, big as she was, now used sweeps—it was reminiscent of the days of Elizabethan galleasses—and drew away. However the Pelican (a frigate) overhauled her, and the Arethusa which had also come up gave valuable aid as well. The two naval captains allowed the cruisers to seize the Kent, and to take her into Hull, but the prisoners were put on board the Arethusa as stated. The Kent's master and four of the men had been killed. It should be added that the day before this incident the Pelican had also chased the Kent out of Bridlington Bay, so the smuggler must have come further north in the meanwhile, thus meeting the two Scottish cruisers bound south. The hatches of the Kent were found to be unbattened, and her cargo in great disorder. The latter consisted of 1974 half-ankers, and a large amount of tea packed in oilskin-bags to the number of 554. This schooner had been built at that other famous home of smugglers, Folkestone. She was specially rigged for fast sailing, her mainmast being 77 feet long, and her main-boom 57 feet. It was found that her sails were much damaged by shot. Her mainmast was shot through in two places, and her main-boom rendered quite unserviceable. Ship and tackle were appraised at £1405, 16s., so with the addition of her cargo she represented a fair prize.
But "Smoker" was still at large even though "Stoney" was a prisoner. It was in April of 1777, when Captain Mitchell had fallen in with him off Robin Hood's Bay. A month later the Collector of Hull wrote up to the Board to say that a large lugger had been seen off Whitby, and well armed. She was described as "greatly an overmatch" for any of the Revenue cruisers, "or even for a joint attack of two of them": and that as long as she and the armed cutter commanded by Browning, alias "Smoker" continued so daringly to "insult" the coasts, there was little prospect of success. For six months past the Revenue cruisers had not been able to make any seizures, because these smuggling craft not only brought over vast quantities themselves, but protected the smaller ones from the attempts of the Revenue cruisers. A year later, and we find that Mitchell was every bit as slack as before. This is made quite clear from a letter which the Collector of Hull was compelled on November 12 (1778) to write. In this epistle he informs Mitchell that either he or his mate, one of them, must remain on board the Swallow at night, when lying in the Humber. For it appeared that two days earlier both were ashore. The mariner who had the midnight watch on board the cruiser saw a vessel, supposed to be a privateer, come right up the Humber into Hull Roads, sail around the naval tender there lying, then sail round the Swallow, and finally down the river again. Although there were twelve or fourteen men on the supposed privateer's deck, yet the Swallow's watchman did not even hail her, Mitchell and his mate being ashore all the while.
Such incidents as the above show that there undoubtedly was cause for the complaints of the Customs Board that the commanders of their cruisers were not doing all that might have been done towards suppressing the evil at hand. On the other hand, it was equally true that the delinquents with whom these commanders had to contest were of a particularly virulent and villainous type. Thus, between the negligence of the one side, and the enterprise of the other, his Majesty's revenue had to suffer very considerably. No better instance of the potency of this lawlessness could be afforded than by an event which happened in the summer of 1777. Everyone knows, of course, that those were the days when men had to be impressed into the service of the Navy, so that, when any of these hardy smugglers were captured, they were valuable acquisitions to the Service, and far more useful than many of the disease-stricken crews which so often had to be shipped to make up a man-of-war's complement. In the year we are speaking of a number of smugglers who had been captured on the North Sea were put on board H.M. tender Lively by Captain O'Hara of the Impress service, the intention being to convey these men to one of his Majesty's ships at the Nore. The tender got under way and was proceeding to her destination when the smuggler-prisoners mutinied, overpowered the Lively's crew, and carried the Lively into Flushing.