It is a bright moonlight night towards the end of September, and two persons are standing, plainly visible in the clear pale moonlight, at the extreme end of the neck of land we have mentioned, with their eyes directed towards the open sea, where the rays of the moon are reflected in a broad band, which appears like a silvery pathway leading from the full round planet to the spot where they stand. They are both members of the Revenue, or Preventative Service; that gallant corps of land-sailors, engaged in the prevention of smuggling, which at that time, and almost until the truth of Free Trade became generally accepted, and our ports were thrown open, was carried on to an extent unthought of in those days. Many encounters and bloody conflicts took place between the smugglers and the King’s officers, the former being a desperate crew, many of them escaped prisoners, rebels and out-laws, encouraged by the immense profit reaped from a successful “run”, and the latter, generally brave and experienced med, picked from the Royal Navy, led on by the handsome rewards offered by the Crown for a capture, and the notoriety thereby acquired. Many of the most unlikely persons, whose position rendered them above suspicion, were secret agents of the smugglers, gathering information officially, where suspicion was directed, in time to give their active accomplices warning to avoid a collision with the Revenue officers.
Standing out there in the moonlight there does not seem much difference between the two men, excepting in point of stature, one being fully a head taller than his comrade. Both are attired in navy cut trousers, and wear heavy frieze jackets,for the nights are beginning to be somewhat frosty; their heads are covered by the warm waterproof hats, slouching over the neck behind, commonly known as sou’westers. Attached to the belt each carries a short broad cutlass or hanger, and, no doubt for further protection, in the pocket, a flint and steel pistol. The shorter individual is a man slightly past the prime of life, but whose strength and agility are sill unimpaired, his hair is plentifully streaked with grey, and his face stained and rough with exposure to the elements; he is a veritable “old salt,” thoroughly imbued with the flavour of ocean brine. The other is a young man well formed, stalwart, and athletic – the true “beau ideal” of what a sailor should be. He has a handsome face, with dark piercing eyes and curling black hair, which, instead of being tied in a stiff tail behind (as was the fashion of the day) like his companions, is allowed to float freely around his temples to the capture of many a female heart. They are now on duty.
“What is this, Reuben,” the younger man is saying, “the lieutenant mentioned about another reward? Something new?”
“Not partic’lar new,” is the reply, spoken with that peculiar intonation acquired by most sailors. “Only the nobs seem to think that Wild Hennesey has been carrying on his game on this quarter all the time we have been looking for him near Flamborough”
“But what about the reward; I wish we could get hold of some of that. I want some of the ‘shiners’ in my ponch before the old man will give me Susey.”
“Old Nettleby, the miller? They’re a bad lot, lad. All except the lass, and she seems right enough; but I wish you had picked somewhere else, Will.”
“Couldn’t ha’ a picked a bonnier or a’ better, Reuben, although I don’t say much for the rest. But tell us about the reward; that’s the main thing.”
“Why it’s just here. Somebody’s been splitting, and the gauger has heard that Wild Hennesey has been landing his cargoes about here for some time. The craft gets a signal from the point here, and lands at whichever bank is most free. You see, Will, they have two choices; they can either land on the coast or run up the River Humber and make a landing on either bank. I believe they suspect old deaf Jacob there has some hand in their doings,” and the speaker here waved his hand in the direction of the river bank towards Hull, where, about a mile from the spot where the two men were standing, was a small cottage or hut, built of roughly hewn logs, and the interstices filled up with turf or clay, in which resided an old fisherman, generally called Deaf Jacob. “But, anyhow,” continued Reuben Dare, “the lieutenant said this morning that Government have offered another £100 reward for a capture, and £500 for Dick Hennesey. They say he has been active with the party across the water, and we haven’t seen the last of the white cockade even now.”
“For my part I shouldn’t be sorry; I should like another row, so that a fellow might do something. What change is there of promotion at present?”
“Patience, lad! It will come in time; something will be sure to turn up.”
“Aye! When one is too old to enjoy it. I wouldn’t give a stiver for good luck if you have to wait for old age for its coming. Look at you!”
“Well, look at me. I’m happy enough; I’ve done my duty, I’ve served King and country all my life, and can’t say I have aught to complain of.”
“It’s more than I should be at your age. I have someone else to look after.”
Here the conversation ceased, and the two men, as though moved by the same impulse, turned away from the sea, walking along the bank of the river, in the direction of the town of Hull.
Stiver (Archaic) – a small coin from The Netherlands, roughly equal to 1/20th of a guilder.