The
Crooked Mary, a noted lugger, had many an adventure along this coast
during the last century. The skipper's arrival was eagerly looked for
at certain stated times, the preconcerted signal was given by him,
and the inhabitants bestirred themselves with commendable haste.
All ordinary business was immediately suspended: men might be seen
stealing along from house to house, or a fisher-girl, bareheaded and
barefooted, would hurry to the neighboring village, and deliver a
brief message which to a bystander would sound very like nonsense, but
which nevertheless was well understood by the person to whom it was
given. Soon after a plaid or blanket might be seen spread out, as if
to dry, upon the top of a peat-stack. Other beacons, not calculated
to draw general notice, but sufficiently understood by the initiated,
soon made their appearance, telegraphing the news from place to place.
As soon as the evening began to close in the Crooked Mary would be
observed rapidly approaching the land, and occasionally giving out
signals indicating the creek into which she meant to run. Both on sea
and land hairbreadth escapes were the rule rather than the exception,
and it is related of one of the Crooked Mary's confederates on shore,
poor Philip Kennedy, that one night, while clearing the way for the
cargo just landed from the contraband trader's hold, he was simply
murdered by the excise-officers.
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