morning
advanced, the _Ranger_ again stood into the shore so that the
lieutenant might land the spirits at the Custom House. Then getting
into his galley with part of his crew, the tubs were towed astern in
the cutter's smaller boat. But on reaching the beach, he found no
fewer than four hundred persons assembled with the apparent intention
of preventing the removal of the spirits to the Custom House, and
especially notorious among this gang were two men, named respectively
John Pankhurst and Henry Stevens. The galley was greeted with a shower
of stones, and some of the Revenue men therein were struck, and had to
keep quite close to the water's edge. Stevens and Pankhurst came and
deposited themselves on the boat's gunwale, and resisted the removal
of the tubs. Two carts now came down to the beach, but the mob refused
to allow them to be loaded, and stones were flying in various
directions, one man being badly hurt. Lieutenant Baker also received a
violent blow from a large stone thrown by Pankhurst.

But gradually the carts were loaded in spite of the opposition, and
just as the last vehicle had been filled, Pankhurst loosened the
bridle-back of the cart which was at the back of the vehicle to secure
the spirits, and had not the Revenue officers and men been very smart
in surrounding the cart and protecting the goods, there would have
been a rescue of the casks. Ultimately, the carts proceeded towards
the Custom House pursued by the raging mob, and even after the goods
had been all got in there was a good deal of pelting with stones and
considerable damage done. Yet again, when these prisoners, Pankhurst
and Stevens, were brought up for trial, the jury failed to do their
duty and convict. But the Lord Chief Justice of that time remarked
that he would not allow Stevens and Pankhurst to be discharged until
they had entered into their recognisances to keep the peace in L20
each.

But next to the abominable cruelties perpetrated by the Hawkhurst gang
related in an earlier chapter, I have found no incident so utterly
brutal and savage as the following. I have to ask the reader to turn
his imagination away from Sussex, and centre it on a very beautiful
spot in Dorsetshire, where the cliffs and sea are separated by only a
narrow beach. On the evening of the 28th of June 1832, Thomas Barrett,
one of the boatmen belonging to the West Lulworth Coastguard, was on
duty and proceeding along the top of the cliff towards Durdle, w