Until about the time of the close of the last French war, a large portion of the inhabitants of the south-west coast of Cornwall were in some way or other connected with the practice of smuggling. The traffic with the opposite coast was carried on principally in boats or undecked vessels. The risks encountered by their crews produced a race of hardy, fearless men, a few of whom are still living, and it has been said that the Government of those days winked at the infraction of the law, from an unwillingness to destroy so excellent a school for seamen. Recently the demand for ardent spirits has so fallen off that there is no longer an inducement to smuggle; still it is sometimes exultingly rumoured that, the “Coast Guard having been cleverly put off the scent, a cargo has been successfully run.” The little coves in the Lizard promontory formed the principal trading places, the goods being taken as soon as landed to various places of concealment, whence they were withdrawn as required for disposal. About eighty years since, a boat, laden with “ankers” of spirits, was about, with its crew, to leave Mullion Cove for Newlyn. One of the farmers concerned in the venture, members of whose family are still living, was persuaded to accompany them, and entered the boat for the purpose, but, recollecting he had business at Helston, got out again, and the boat left without him. On his return from Helston, late in the evening, he sat down, exclaiming, “The boat and all on board are lost! I met the men as I passed the top of Halzaphron, (a very high cliff on the road,) with their hair and clothes dripping wet!” In spite of the arguments of his friends, he persisted in his statement. The boat and crew were never more heard of, and the farmer was so affected by the circumstance, that he pined and died shortly after.
THE HOOPER, OR THE HOOTER, OF SENNEN COVE.
This was supposed to be a spirit which took the form of a band of misty vapour, stretching across the bay, so opaque that nothing could be seen through it. It was regarded as a kindly interposition of some ministering spirit, to warn the fishermen against venturing to sea. This appearance was always followed, and often suddenly, by a severe storm. It is seldom or ever seen now. One profane old fisherman would not be warned by the bank of fog. The weather was fine on the shore, and the waves fell tranquilly on the sands; and this aged sinner, declaring he would not be made a fool of, persuaded some young men to join him. They manned a boat, and the aged leader, having with him a threshing-flail, blasphemously declared that he would drive the spirit away; and he vigorously beat the fog with the “threshel”—so the flail is called.
The boat passed through the fog, and went to sea. A severe storm came on. No one ever saw the boat or the men again; and since that time the Hooper has been rarely seen.
HOW TO EAT PILCHARDS.
It is unlucky to commence eating pilchards, or, indeed, any kind of fish, from the head downwards. I have often heard persons rebuked for committing such a grievous sin, which is “sure to turn the heads of the fish away from the coasts.”
The legitimate process—mark this, all fish-eaters—is to eat the fish from the tail towards the head. This brings the fish to our shores, and secures good luck to the fishermen.
PILCHARDS CRYING FOR MORE.
When there is a large catch of fish, (pilchards,) they are preserved,—put in bulk, as the phrase is,—by being rubbed with salt, and placed in regular order, one on the other, head and tails alternately, forming regular walls of fish.