SMUGGLER BILL

In the 1950 & 60s our family used to often go on holiday to Birchington, on the Isle of Thanet in Kent, England, where we stayed with an uncle and aunt. As we approached the Birchington area, our father used to tell as about a smuggler who was associated with the area and a chalk pit known as Smuggler's Leap. The main thing I could remember him saying was that "Smuggler Bill was 6 feet high, with a curling lock and a roving eye". I have since discovered that the story of smuggler Bill was contained in the Ingoldsby legends by Richard Barnham (1788-1845). I have since purchased a copy of the Ingoldsby Legends from eBay.

Map of Thanet by Thomas Moule dated circa 1837

Here is the story of The Smuggler's Leap:-

The fire-flash shines from Reculver cliff,
And the answering light burns blue in the skiff,
And there they stand,
That smuggling band,
Some in the water and some on the sand,
Ready those contraband goods to land ;
The night is dark, they are silent and still,
- At the head of the party is Smuggler Bill !

' Now lower away ! come, lower away !
We must be far ere the dawn of the day.
If Exciseman Gill should get scent of the prey,
And should come, and should catch us here, what would he say ?
Come, lower away, lads - once on the hill,
We'll laugh, ho ! ho ! at Exciseman Gill ! '

The cargo's lower'd from the dark skiff's side,
And the tow-line drags the tubs through the tide,
No trick nor flam,
But your real Schiedam.
' Now mount, my merry men, mount and ride ! '
Three on the crupper and one before,
And the led-horse laden with five tubs more ;
But the rich point-lace,
In the oil-skin case
Of proof to guard its contents from ill,
The ' prime of the swag,' is with Smuggler Bill !

Merrily now in a goodly row,
Away and away those Smugglers go,
And they laugh at Exciseman Gill, ho ! ho !
When out from the turn
Of the road to Herne,
Comes Gill, wide awake to the whole concern !
Exciseman Gill, in all his pride,
With his Custom-house officers all at his side !
- They were called Custom-house officers then ;
There were no such things as ' Preventive men.

Sauve qui peut !
That lawless crew,
Away, and away, and away they flew !
Some dropping one tub, some dropping two;-
Some gallop this way, and some gallop that,
Through Fordwich Level - o'er Sandwich Flat,
Some fly that way, and some fly this,
Like a covey of birds when the sportsmen miss,
These in their hurry
Make for Sturry,
With Custom-house officers close in their rear,
Down Rushbourne Lane, and so by Westbere,
None of them stopping,
But shooting and popping,
And many a Custom-house bullet goes slap
Through many a three-gallon tub like a tap,
And the gin spirts out
And squirts all about,
And many a heart grew sad that day
That so much good liquor was so thrown away.

Sauve qui peut !
That lawless crew,
Away, and away, and away they flew !
Some seek Whitstable - some Grove Ferry,
Spurring and whipping like madmen - very -
For the life! for the life! they ride! they ride !
And the Custom-house officers all divide,
And they gallop on after them far and wide !
All, all, save one - Exciseman Gill,-
He sticks to the skirts of Smuggler Bill !

Smuggler Bill is six feet high,
He has curling locks, and a roving eye,
He has a tongue and he has a smile
Trained the female heart to beguile,
And there is not a farmer's wife in the Isle,
From St. Nicholas quite
To the Foreland Light,
But that eye, and that tongue, and that smile will wheedle her
To have done with the Grocer and make him her Tea-dealer;
There is not a farmer there but he still
Buys gin and tobacco from Smuggler Bill.

Smuggler Bill rides gallant and gay
On his dapple-grey mare, away, and away,
And he pats her neck and he seems to say,
' Follow who will, ride after who may,
In sooth he had need
Fodder his steed,
In lieu of Lent-corn, with a Quicksilver feed ;
- Nor oats, nor beans, nor the best of old hay,
Will make him a match for my own dapple-grey !
Ho ! ho !- ho ! ho ! ' says Smuggler Bill -
He draws out a flask and he sips his fill,
And he laughs ' Ho ! ho ! ' at Exciseman Gill.

Down Chislett Lane, so free and so fleet
Rides Smuggler Bill, and away to Up-street ;
Sarre Bridge is won -
Bill thinks it fun ;
' Ho ! ho! the old tub-gauging son of a gun -
His wind will be thick, and his breeks be thin,
Ere a race like this he may hope to win ! '

Away, away
Goes the fleet dapple-grey,
Fresh as the breeze and free as the wind,
And Exciseman Gill lags far behind.
' I would give my soul, ' quoth Exciseman Gill,
' For a nag that would catch that Smuggler Bill!-
No matter for blood, no matter for bone,
No matter for colour, bay, brown or roan,
So I had but one ! ' A voice cried ' Done ! '
' Aye, dun, ' said Exciseman Gill, and he spied
A Custom-house officer close by his side,
On a high-trotting horse with a dun-coloured hide.-
' Devil take me, ' again quoth Exciseman Gill,
' If I had but that horse, I'd have Smuggler Bill ! '

From his using such shocking expressions, it's plain
That Exciseman Gill was rather profane.
He was, it is true,
As bad as a Jew,
A sad old scoundrel as ever you knew,
And he rode in his stirrups sixteen stone two.
- He'd just uttered the words which I've mention'd to you,
When his horse coming slap on his knees with him, threw
Him head over heels, and away he flew,
And Exciseman Gill was bruised black and blue.
When he arose
His hands and his clothes
Were as filthy as could be,- he'd pitch'd on his nose,
And roll'd over and over again in the mud,
And his nose and his chin were all cover'd with blood ;
Yet he screamed with passion, ' I'd rather grill
Than not come up with that Smuggler Bill ! '
-' Mount ! Mount ! ' quoth the Custom-house officer, ' get
On the back of my Dun, you'll bother him yet.
Your words are plain, though they're somewhat rough,
' Done and Done ' between gentlemen's always enough !-
I'll lend you a lift - there - you're up on him - so,
He's a rum one to look at - a devil to go!'
Exciseman Gill
Dash'd up the hill,
And mark'd not, so eager was he in pursuit,
The queer Custom-house officer's queer-looking boot.

Smuggler Bill rides on amain
He slacks not girth and he draws not rein,
Yet the dapple-grey mare bounds on in vain,
For nearer now - and he hears it plain -
Sounds the tramp of a horse -' Tis the Gauger again ! '
Smuggler Bill
Dashes round by the mill
That stands near the road upon Monkton Hill,-
'Now speed,- now speed,
My dapple-grey steed,
Thou ever, my dapple, wert good at need !
O'er Monkton Mead, and through Minster Level,
We'll baffle him yet, be he gauger or devil !
For Manston Cave, away ! away !
Now speed thee, now speed thee, my good dapple-grey,
It shall never be said that Smuggler Bill
Was run down like a hare by Exciseman Gill !'

Manston Cave was Bill's abode;
A mile to the north of the Ramsgate road.
(Of late they say
It's been taken away,
That is, levell'd and filled up with chalk and clay,
By a gentleman there of the name of Day,)
Thither he urges his good dapple-grey;
And the dapple-grey steed,
Still good at need,
Though her chest it pants, and her flanks they bleed,
Dashes along at the top of her speed ;
But nearer and nearer Exciseman Gill
Cries ' Yield thee ! now yield thee, thou Smuggler Bill ! '

Smuggler Bill, he looks behind,
And he sees a Dun horse come swift as the wind,
And his nostrils smoke and his eyes they blaze
Like a couple of lamps on a yellow post-chaise !
Every shoe he has got
Appears red-hot!
And sparks round his ears snap, crackle, and play,
And his tail cocks up in a very odd way ;
Every hair in his mane seems a porcupine's quill,
And there on his back sits Exciseman Gill,
Crying ' Yield thee ! now yield thee, thou Smuggler Bill !'

Smuggler Bill from his holster drew
A large horse-pistol, of which he had two !
Made by Nock ;
He pull'd back the cock
As far as he could to the back of the lock ;
The trigger he touch'd, and the welkin rang
To the sound of the weapon, it made such a bang ;
Smuggler Bill ne'er missed his aim,
The shot told true on the Dun - but there came
From the hole where it enter'd - not blood,- but flame,
- He changed his plan,
And fired at the man ;
But his second horse-pistol flashed in the pan !
And Exciseman Gill with a hearty good will,
Made a grab at the collar of Smuggler Bill.

The dapple-grey mare made a desperate bound
When that queer Dun horse on her flank she found,
Alack! and alas! on what dangerous ground !
It's enough to make one's flesh to creep
To stand on that fearful verge, and peep
Down the rugged sides so dreadfully steep,
Where the chalk-hole yawns full sixty feet deep,
O'er which that steed took that desperate leap !
It was so dark then under the trees,
No horse in the world could tell chalk from cheese -
Down they went - o'er that terrible fall,-
Horses, Exciseman, Smuggler, and all ! !

Below were found
Next day on the ground
By an elderly Gentleman walking his round,
(I wouldn't have seen such a sight for a pound,)
All smash'd and dash'd, three mangled corpses,
Two of them human,- the third was a horse's -
That good dapple-grey, and Exciseman Gill
Yet grasping the collar of Smuggler Bill !

But where was the Dun ? that terrible Dun ?
From that terrible night he was seen by none !-
There are some people think, though I am not one,
That part of the story all nonsense and fun,
But the country-folks there,
One and all declare,
When the ' Crowner's 'Quest ' came to sit on the pair,
They heard a loud Horse-laugh up in the air!-
-If in one of the trips
Of the steam-boat Eclipse
You should go down to Margate to look at the ships,
Or to take what the bathing-room people call ' Dips,'
You may hear old folks talk
Of that quarry of chalk ;
Or go over - it's rather too far for a walk,
But a three-shilling drive will give you a peep
At that fearful chalk-pit - so awfully deep,
Which is call'd to this moment ' The Smuggler's Leap ! '
Nay more, I am told, on a moonshiny night,
If you're plucky,' and not over subject to fright,
And go and look over that chalk-pit white,
You may see, if you will,
The Ghost of Old Gill
Grappling the Ghost of Smuggler Bill,
And the Ghost of the dapple-grey lying between 'em.-
I'm told so - I can't say I know one who's seen 'em !

Reculver cliff on the Kent coast, is dominated by a pair of towers (remnants of a ruined church). In the second world war the Dam Busters reputedly tested their bouncing bombs in the sea off Reculver.

A number of searches of the internet mention that smugglers leap is close to the village of Acol at the west end of the runway at Manston Aerodrome. However I also found a mid nineteenth century map of the area by Thomas Moule (at the top of this page). This shows no chalk hole at Acol but prominently marks "Chalk Hole" to the west and north of a hamlet called Fleet (which seems to appear on modern maps as Flete), which is north of Manston. If this is smugglers Bill's chalk hole, then it is over 2 miles to the east of Acol and is actually closer to Margate than it is to Acol. On the other hand looking at Google Earth there does appear to be a water filled chalk pit near the West end of Manston Aerodrome near Acol. In addition there is also a chalk pit named Smuggler's Leap which now contains a caravan park. From pictures on Google Earth it looks rather shallow at the southern end, which presumably is where Smuggler Bill would have been coming from given he had previously passed through Minster. On the hand it might have been deeper 200 years ago.

An older map dating from 1745, does show a pit (Puteus Thunor) positioned pretty much where Smuggler's Leap caravan park is today. Note the orientation of the map. East not North is at the top of the page.

A map dating from about 1800 which appeared in "The Historical and Topographical Survey of Kent" by Edward Hasted has Smuggler's Leap marked as Thunnors Leap. Legend has it that Thunnor fell into the chalk pit much earlier than smuggler Bill did.

According to "In Kent with Charles Dickens", by Thomas Frost and published in 1880, the story goes as follows:-

THE LEGEND OF DOMNEVA.

Close at hand are the low green ridge which marks the course taken by Domneva's deer, and the chasm which engulfed the base assassin, Thunnor. To the left is Sandwich, where the galleys of imperial Rome have anchored, and whence fleets have so often sailed to prosecute the interminable Anglo- French wars of the Middle Ages. And then what memories crowd upon us as we look towards Canterbury, or gaze southward upon the shipping in the Downs !

The remarkable events embodied in the legend of Domneva's deer and Thunnor's Leap are said by Thorn, a native of Thanet and a monk of the monastery of St. Augustine, at Canterbury, to have occurred in the latter part of the seventh century. The manor of Thanet was held at that time by Egbert, King of Kent, whose nephews, Ethelred and Ethelbright, were left to his guardianship, under a solemn promise that they should succeed him in the sovereignty. Thunnor, a base and sycophantic minister, advised Egbert to have these princes murdered, lest they should disturb him in the possession of the throne, which execrable deed he undertook to perform, and actually perpetrated.

On the crime being discovered, Egbert was advised by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Abbot of St. Augustine's to make such atonement for it as would satisfy Domneva, the sister of the murdered princes, who was a nun. The princess demanded of the king that he should give her as much land of his manor of Thanet as would build and endow a convent, wherein she and her nuns might continually pray for his absolution and the repose of her brothers' souls. Egbert granted her prayer and asked how much land she required, when she replied, as much as a deer could run over in one course. The king agreeing to this singular stipulation, a stag was taken to Westgate, and liberated on the beach, in presence of all the court and a large concourse of people.

Among the spectators was the assassin Thunnor, who, ridiculing the monarch for his lavish gift and the mode of determining the extent of land to be given, sought every means of obstructing the course of the deer by crossing its path and encountering it, until, says the monkish chronicler, " Heaven, in wrath at his impiety, while Thunnor was in the height of his career, caused the earth to open and engulf him." The deer, after making a small curve eastward, directed its course south-westward, nearly in a straight line, running over forty eight ploughed lands, comprising about ten thousand acres of the best land in Kent. Egbert thereupon surrendered to his niece the tract which the animal had traversed, and granted her a charter, which concluded with a singular curse upon anyone who should infringe its provisions. With this land Domneva endowed the abbey which she erected at Minster - according to some accounts upon the spot where the church now stands, though others represent the ancient and handsome mansion now known as The Abbey as occupying the site of Domneva's foundation.

An embankment was raised across the island to mark the boundary of the lands surrendered by the king, and some traces of it are still discernible in a ridge near The Prospect Inn, on the summit of Mount Pleasant. The spot where Thunnor is said to have been swallowed by the earth, and which was long known as Thunnor's Leap, is not far from The Prospect, and has very much the appearance of a long-abandoned chalk-pit. Its depth is considerable, and the brink overhung with brambles. It is now called the Smuggler's Leap, from a tradition that a famous " free-trader," endeavouring to evade the pursuit of an active officer of the preventive service, was precipitated with his horse into the hollow, which is said to have been haunted ever since by the ghost of the pursuer, who met with the fate which might have been anticipated, but which the smuggler seems to have escaped.

THE LEGEND OF SMUGGLER'S LEAP.

The remarkable incidents of this story sensational enough for an Adelphi drama of the "Flying Dutchman" and "Three-fingered Jack" period, are said to have occurred in the early part of the last century. Anthony Gill, an active and intrepid officer of the preventive service, had long been endeavouring to compass the apprehension of a smuggler as bold and as active as himself, but whose name has not been preserved. One night, when a cargo of spirits had been landed under the lee of the Reculver cliffs, and was on its way into the interior, the convoy was intercepted by Gill and his men at the turn of the road leading to Heme. The smugglers fled in all directions, but Gill, who had recognised by the moonlight the man whom he was so anxious to secure, singled him out for pursuit, resolving to continue the chase until he had run him down. Both were well mounted, and, outside the chapter of accidents, success was likely to attend the man who rode the best horse; unless, indeed, the smuggler could find a refuge to which he could not be tracked. Such a place there was at that time, a cave near the hamlet of Manston, about a mile northward from the road from Sandwich to Ramsgate; and to oain this retreat the smuggler directed all his endeavours, galloping down Chislett Lane, then turning off sharp to the left, thundering over Sarre Bridge, and rousing the sleepers of Monkton and Minster. Too closely pressed by Gill to reach the cave, he turned his horse's head northward, and urged the reeking and panting animal towards Acol, with what purpose can never be known. Probably he had no other than to outride his pertinacious pursuer.

The closing incidents of that ride for life can only be surmised. Gill and his horse, both dead, were found next morning at the bottom of the old chalk-pit near Acol. Beneath them was the crushed and lifeless form of the smuggler's horse, but the desperate rider was never seen afterwards. The manner of his escape must have been a terribly perplexing mystery, unless, as seems very probable, the Thanet folks solved it by ascribing it to the agency of the devil.

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