On one
occasion, he and his men were rowing a cargo
ashore they were pursued by a revenue boat.
Tristam Davey, as I will call this man, knew this
bit of coast perfectly. There was a reef of short
slate rock that ran across the little bay, like a
very keen saw with its teeth set outward, and
there was one point at which the saw could be
crossed safely. Tristam knew the point to a
nicety, even in the gloaming, and he made for it,
the revenue boat following.
He, however,
did not make direct for it, but steered a little
on one side and then suddenly swerved and shot
through the break. The revenue boat came straight
on, went right upon the jaws of the reef, was
torn, and began to fill. Now the mate of this
boat was one against whom Tristam entertained a
deadly enmity, because he had been the means of
capture in which his property had been concerned.
So he turned the boat, and running back, he stood
up, levelled a gun and shot the mate through the
heart; then away went the smuggling boat to
shore, leaving the rest of the revenue men to
shift as best they could with their injured boat.
