erfere with the traffic.

One story led to another, and at length our skipper came out with one
which was voted, by general acclamation, to be superior to all the
others. I cannot pretend to give it in old Mugford's language, so I
present it in my own, keeping, however, closely to the facts he
narrated. He called his tale:

"JAN JOHNSON, THE SMUGGLER."

Some forty years ago, ay, more than that, I belonged for a few months to
a revenue cruiser, on board which I volunteered, soon after my return
from my second voyage, I think it was, or about that time. The cutter
was stationed off this coast, and a hard life we had of it, for in those
days the smuggling craft were large armed vessels, full of desperate
men, who, when they could not outsail, more than once beat off the
cruisers of the king. Among the most daring of his class was a fellow
called Jan Johnson, though from having at different times many other
names, it was difficult from them to determine to what nation he
belonged; indeed, it was suspected that he was an Englishman born on
this very coast, with every inch of which he was intimately acquainted.

He seemed to take absolute delight in setting at defiance all laws of
God and man, and, among many other acts of atrocity, he was strongly
suspected of the murder of a revenue officer. The officer had, it
appears, been the means of taking a valuable cargo of goods belonging to
Johnson, who some time after encountered him, when in discharge of his
duty, near this place. It is supposed that the smuggler had attacked
the unfortunate man, and, being by far the more powerful of the two, had
grappled with him, and, plunging a long knife into his bosom, had thrown
him over the cliffs. The next morning the body was discovered above
high-water mark, with a knife known to belong to Johnson close to it,
and on the top of the cliffs were seen the impressions of men's feet, as
if engaged in a fierce struggle. A handkerchief, similar to one the
smuggler had been observed to wear, was found in the dead man's grasp,
and at a late hour of the night he had been met without one round his
throat. A reward was therefore offered for his apprehension, but
notwithstanding the sharp lookout we kept for his craft at sea, and the
vigilance of the revenue people on shore, he had hitherto escaped
capture.

He commanded at this time a large lugger, called the _Polly_, a
fast-sailing boat, which could almost eat into the wind's eye, a