Christmas Stories

"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]."

[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."

[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."

"This doctrine may be generally true; but there are many circumstances of a local or of a temporary nature, which may make restrictions expedient. However, you and I Emily are not legislators. Our business is to obey the laws of our country, even if they should happen to be not quite consistent with our own notions of political [oe]conomy. – But I must just add one or two observations upon the articles which you ladies are the most fond of smuggling. The prohibition of French and Italian silks was intended for the encouragement of our home manufacturers; especially the silk weavers in Spitalfields. You have often heard of the distress and poverty of those poor people. By buying foreign silk in preference to British, you, to a certain degree, add to that distress, and rob them of the encouragement, which they are entitled to by law. Of late, I believe, that branch of our manufactures has been in a flourishing state, and that the silk weavers are not only fully employed, but that they manufacture silks quite equal to those from abroad. If so, the ladies who smuggle them have no inducement but the pleasure of doing what is forbidden. The French and Italians you know, have advantages in the production of the raw material, which we have not; and it seems reasonable to give our own countrymen some protection to countervail those advantages. – So again with respect to gloves, and lace. One of the principal difficulties which in these times we have to contend with, is the difficulty of finding employment for our overflowing population. Glove-making and lace-making furnish employment for our poor women; employment the more desirable, inasmuch as they follow it at their own homes. If you knew how eagerly multitudes of your own sex catch at any employment, by which they can earn but a few shillings a week, both your patriotism and your benevolence would render you unwilling to deprive them of it. For you, Emily, with your warm and affectionate heart, are not one of those who would annihilate all distinctions of kindred and country, in a vague idea of universal benevolence.

"But, after all," continued the Admiral, "perhaps my principal objection to your smuggling is the encouragement, which you thereby give to the poor fellows, who follow this dangerous and illegal occupation. The habit of living in constant opposition to the laws is not only criminal in itself, but has a most injurious effect upon the whole of a man's character. I have just given you credit for some feelings of patriotism, but you know that these feelings seldom exist in the breast of a smuggler. We have Buonaparte's testimony, that, during the war, they were constantly employed in traitorously giving intelligence to the enemy; and in assisting the escape of the French prisoners of war. This is bad enough; but we all know how frequently they are guilty of crimes of a still higher description, of the dreadful crime of murder itself. And are you lady-smugglers quite sure that you are clear of all participation in this accumulated guilt? The receiver of stolen goods is deemed by the law the accessary of the thief: and is not the purchaser of smuggled goods in some degree an accessary of the smugglers? Besides, if you knew the distress and misery which smuggling often occasions to the families of those engaged in it, you could not, I think, encourage it."

The sisters felt the force of this latter argument more deeply than their father was aware of. They were both silent. At length Emily said, "Come, cousin Henry, cannot you put in a word to help us?"

"To help you?" replied he; "no indeed: " and then added gravely, "But I am sure, that my dear cousins will not continue smuggling, while I and my brave fellows are daily hazarding our lives for its prevention."

Emily looked down, while her face and neck became scarlet, and a long pause ensued. The Admiral felt that enough had been said, and was endeavouring to change the conversation to some other subject, when a servant opened the door, and said to Henry, "You are wanted, if you please, Sir."

He went out, and returning in a few minutes, said to his uncle, "I must be off directly. A large smuggling lugger has been for some time hovering off the coast, and we have reason to believe, that they mean to land their cargo to-night in Romney Marsh, in spite of us. One of my brother officers has sent me word, that a number of men from a considerable distance inland are getting together with their led horses, and that he apprehends that they will muster one or two hundred. We, of course, must join forces to be a match for them; so good night."

He affectionately shook hands with the Admiral and the two sisters, and went out. The door had hardly closed, when he came back, and a second time, taking Emily's hand, said, "You are not angry with me for what I said?" "Angry, oh no!" He pressed her hand in his, and disappeared.

In less than five minutes, he was in his boat. Two of his men waited on the beach to shove him off, and then jumping in, they pulled stoutly to the westward. The moon shone brightly, the water sparkled on their oars, and the clean white sides of the boat were reflected brilliantly on the waves.

They had passed Hithe, and were nearly off Dimchurch, when they saw the lugger at some distance from them getting under weigh. By the assistance of her sweeps, and that of a favourable breeze which had just sprung up, she was soon out of sight. Five boats had just completed their second trip, and were beginning to land the remainder of her cargo.

The beach presented an animated scene of activity and bustle. Several horsemen, each with one or more led horses, were gallopping down the beach, making the pebbles fly around them in all directions. One of their light carts was disappearing behind the mound of earth, which at high water forms a sort of barrier against the sea; a second was labouring up the steep bank of shingles; and two others were just quitting the water's edge. A considerable number of men on foot, each with a tub slung at his back, were hurrying from the shore. The men in the boats were clearing them of the remainder of their cargo as fast as possible; while others were loading with tubs the horses which had just reached them.