It is true that at the end of the seventeenth century there were Riding Officers, whose work was to patrol the south-east coast on the look-out against wood smugglers. But as there were only about three hundred of them, and these all civilians, they were by no means an effective check to the smugglers. Later on they were permitted the assistance of the dragoons, who naturally resented being placed under the direction of civilians, with the result that there was much friction, and the service, instead of being improved, suffered a great deal, the soldiery incidentally finding it a paying game to keep in with the smugglers.
In 1822 changes were made, and the civilian riding officers disappeared and their places were taken by men from the cavalry regiments, and at the same time the Board of Customs was given sole control of the preventive services, which then consisted, as we have seen, of the revenue cutters, Preventive Water Guard, and Riding Officers. Seven years later something more was done—the coastguard proper was born. No man was eligible for the service unless he was between twenty and thirty years of age and had served six years at sea or seven years’ apprenticeship in fishing-boats. The new force justified its creation, and in a few years took charge of the work that had been done by the revenue men who had been detailed for the blockade system along the east and south coasts; and then, later, the revenue men were made liable to service on board the men-o’-war; so that to-day the coastguard force is a part of the Royal Navy, and has even had its taste of active service, having been found of immense use, for instance, in the Crimean War.
So much for the dry bones of history as seen in the development of the coastguard force, which is bound up with the story of smuggling, from which we will now cull some instances.
The smuggler was honest—in some ways. For instance, away back in the latter half of the eighteenth century there lived a man who, named John Carter, received the sobriquet “The King of Prussia.” Carter’s home was at Porth Leah, in Mount’s Bay, that wonderful place in Cornwall. To Porth Leah was later given the name of Prussia Cove, in honour of the “honest smuggler,” who did things so thoroughly that he erected a battery with which to keep the revenue cutters at bay, cut a road by which he could transport his cargoes from the harbour—which he also built; and out of the many caves along the coast fashioned cellars in which to store his goods. In fact, Porth Leah was what one might call a smugglers’ community.
The “King of Prussia” had a regular trade with regular customers, to whom he would, like any other trader, make definite promises of delivery; and, being a stickler for good business, he never let anything stand in the way of his carrying out his contracts. One day, while he was away, the excise officers found a cargo just arrived at Porth Leah from France. They promptly seized the cargo and carried it off to Penzance, and put it in the Custom House store under guard. Thus it was that Carter, coming back, found his cargo gone—and he had promised to deliver it to his customers on a certain day.
“See here!” he exclaimed to his men. “Whaat be I to do? I be an honest maan, and must keeap me woord. I tell ’ee, men, we be gwine to d’liver they goods ’cordin’ to pledge!”
His men knew that when Carter felt that his reputation as an honest man was at stake he would take strong measures, and got themselves ready against the coming of night. In due course they embarked on their ship, and, armed to the teeth, as becomes men going on a perilous errand, sailed across to Penzance. Arrived here, they fell upon the few Customs officers left in charge, and before they knew what had happened the latter were prisoners and the smugglers were rifling the stores, seeking their confiscated cargo. Not a thing did Carter or his men take away that wasn’t their own. They weren’t out thieving! Away they went with their cargo to Porth Leah, where they quickly stowed it in their cave-cellars, ready to ship again when the time came for Carter to deliver his goods as per contract!
Thus, while saving his reputation the King of Prussia added to it, for when, the next morning, the revenue officers came to the Custom House and found what had happened, they soon made up their minds who had been at work:
“It was Jack Carter,” they said. “He always was honest, and took nothing that wasn’t his own.”
The romantic stories of smugglers abound in incidents connected with the caves they used for hiding their illicit cargoes. All along the coasts may be seen these galleried caves, and if you can get hold of the oldest inhabitant, he will tell you tales of wonder and danger. One oldest inhabitant of a Dorset village told me such a story once.