"

One of Mr. Hawker's parishioners, Peter Barrow, had been for full forty
years a wrecker, but of a much more harmless description: he had been a
watcher of the coast for such objects as the waves might turn up to
reward his patience. Another was Tristam Pentire, a hero of contraband
adventure, and agent for sale of smuggled cargoes in bygone times. With
a merry twinkle of the eye, and in a sharp and ringing tone, he loved to
tell such tales of wild adventure and of "derring do," as would make the
foot of the exciseman falter and his cheek turn pale.

During the latter years of last century there lived in Wellcombe, one of
Mr. Hawker's parishes, a man whose name is still remembered with
terror--Cruel Coppinger. There are people still alive who remember
his wife.

Local recollections of the man have molded themselves into the rhyme--

Will you hear of Cruel Coppinger?
He came from a foreign land:
He was brought to us by the salt water,
He was carried away by the wind!"

His arrival on the north coast of Cornwall was signalized by a terrific
hurricane. The storm came up Channel from the south-west. A strange
vessel of foreign rig went on the reefs of Harty Race, and was broken to
pieces by the waves. The only man who came ashore was the skipper. A
crowd was gathered on the sand, on horseback and on foot, women as well
as men, drawn together by the tidings of a probable wreck. Into their
midst rushed the dripping stranger, and bounded suddenly upon the
crupper of a young damsel who had ridden to the beach to see the sight.
He grasped her bridle, and shouting in some foreign tongue, urged the
double-laden animal into full speed, and the horse naturally took his
homeward way. The damsel was Miss Dinah Hamlyn. The stranger descended
at her father's door, and lifted her off her saddle. He then announced
himself as a Dane, named Coppinger. He took his place at the family
board, and there remained until he had secured the affections and hand
of Dinah. The father died, and Coppinger at once succeeded to the
management and control of the house, which thenceforth became a den and
refuge of every lawless character along the coast. All kinds of wild
uproar and reckless revelry appalled the neighborhood day and night. It
was discovered that an organized band of smugglers, wreckers, and
poachers made this house their rendezvous, and that "Cruel Coppinger"
was their captain. In those days, and in that far-