There stands in St. Ives town a ruined old mansion in one of the narrow alley-ways. It is known as Hicks’ Court, and must have been a considerable place, in its day. Also the owners of it must have been uncommonly fond of good liquors, for it has a “secret” cellar, so called no doubt because, like the “secret” drawers of bureaus, its existence was perfectly obvious. Locally it is known as a “smugglers’ store.”
In such a place as St. Ives, on a coast of old so notorious for smuggling, we naturally look for much history in this sort, but research fails to reward even the most diligent; and we have to be content with the meagre suspicions (for they were nothing more) of the honesty of John Knill, a famous native and resident of the town in the second half of the eighteenth century, who was Collector of Customs in that port, and in 1767 was chosen Mayor. His action in equipping some small craft to serve as privateers against smugglers was wilfully misconstrued; and, at any rate, it does not seem at all fitting that he, as an official of the customs service, should have been concerned in such private ventures. These “privateers,” it was said locally, were themselves actively employed in smuggling.
He was also, according to rumour, responsible, together with one Praed, of Trevetho, for a ship which was driven ashore in St. Ives Bay, and, when boarded by Roger Wearne, customs officer, was found to be deserted by captain and crew, who had been careful to remove all the ship’s papers, so that her owners remained unknown. The vessel was found to be full of contraband goods, including a great quantity of china, some of it of excellent quality. Wearne conceived the brilliant idea of taking some samples of the best for his own personal use, and filled out the baggy breeches he was wearing with them, before he made to rejoin the boat that had put him aboard. This uncovenanted cargo made his movements, as he came over the side, so slow that one of his impatient boatmen smartly whacked him with the flat of his oar, calling, “Look sharp, Wearne,” and was dismayed when, in place of the thud that might have been expected, there came a crash like the falling of a trayful of crockery, followed by a cry of dismay and anguish.