have finished many men. It was a lesson that had stayed with Flint ever since, and one reason why he was often considered bold, self-assured and something of a rogue.
Their boat had kept the cutter on the run for nearly an hour, tacking and wearing many times, each with Flint manning the helm like a seasoned hand. Eventually they were able to pass over shoals that forced the deeper hulled vessel to bear away or be grounded. At the time Flint felt relieved, although another sensation was also apparent. Never before had life seemed so clear, so vibrant. The heaving deck beneath his feet, the squeal of the blocks, the crack of the sails as the boat tacked, all these now held more for him, and the thought of a normal life on land seemed too ridiculous to even consider.
In the following months he had continued to learn from his father and soon acquired a thorough grounding in the sailor's craft. Then, on the twenty fourth of July, the men from the Shoreham press had converged on Brighthelmstone, and surrounded the town. Flint and his father were at sea at the time, and knew nothing of this, or the death of the Duke of Newcastle that had occasioned it. For the ten hours that the town was besieged—no man left his house and only one stray unfortunate was captured and pressed. Disgusted by their failure the troops were heading back along the coast road when Flint's father's boat had been spotted.
Contrary to popular belief, only those acquainted with the sea may legally be pressed. Of course there were always exceptions, and the occasional mistake, which accounted for the vast number of weavers, butchers, builders and the like that filled most ships' books. But smugglers? Which of them could claim that they were not men who earned their living on the water? Besides, capture meant prison, and possibly the gallows. It was likely that then they would be given the chance to volunteer for the Navy, so why not simplify matters, and take them straight away?
The boat was beached, and being relieved of her cargo when the press struck. Being used to dodging five or maybe ten from the revenue service, no one was expecting the rush of forty or more disciplined men under the command of naval officers. The smugglers spread along the beach, ducking into old hiding places, and generally doing all they could to evade capture. But five were taken, and one was Flint's father.
Flint, being under age, was ignored in the mayhem. He had watched, determinedly unmoved, as his father was manacled up, and led away. It was common knowledge that a man pressed for the navy would be gone for some years, maybe a lifetime, and in truth Flint had not looked on him since.
And so he had gone from being the son of a successful fisherman and entrepreneur who provided well for his family, to one forced to accept the charity of others. His mother had died seven years before, during the birth of his sister. Fortunately John Mackenzie, the local schoolmaster, heard of their misfortune and accepted them into his family. Only later was Flint to discover why Mackenzie had shown such kindness. As far as he had known, he and his father were hardly on nodding terms, and had been surprised to learn of the part the Scot had played, and was continuing to play in organising the smugglers.
Flint stayed with the family for five years, during which time he benefited from a sound education and the company of Amy, Mackenzie's daughter, who was a few months his junior. It was a relationship that was doomed to fail, for whatever plans Amy may have had for Flint, she could offer him nothing that would compete with the call of the sea, and the possibility of meeting up with his father once more. Mackenzie had been adamant that Flint could not join any of the other smuggling crews, and volunteering for a merchant ship did not appeal to the young fire brand.
He had heard from his
Their boat had kept the cutter on the run for nearly an hour, tacking and wearing many times, each with Flint manning the helm like a seasoned hand. Eventually they were able to pass over shoals that forced the deeper hulled vessel to bear away or be grounded. At the time Flint felt relieved, although another sensation was also apparent. Never before had life seemed so clear, so vibrant. The heaving deck beneath his feet, the squeal of the blocks, the crack of the sails as the boat tacked, all these now held more for him, and the thought of a normal life on land seemed too ridiculous to even consider.
In the following months he had continued to learn from his father and soon acquired a thorough grounding in the sailor's craft. Then, on the twenty fourth of July, the men from the Shoreham press had converged on Brighthelmstone, and surrounded the town. Flint and his father were at sea at the time, and knew nothing of this, or the death of the Duke of Newcastle that had occasioned it. For the ten hours that the town was besieged—no man left his house and only one stray unfortunate was captured and pressed. Disgusted by their failure the troops were heading back along the coast road when Flint's father's boat had been spotted.
Contrary to popular belief, only those acquainted with the sea may legally be pressed. Of course there were always exceptions, and the occasional mistake, which accounted for the vast number of weavers, butchers, builders and the like that filled most ships' books. But smugglers? Which of them could claim that they were not men who earned their living on the water? Besides, capture meant prison, and possibly the gallows. It was likely that then they would be given the chance to volunteer for the Navy, so why not simplify matters, and take them straight away?
The boat was beached, and being relieved of her cargo when the press struck. Being used to dodging five or maybe ten from the revenue service, no one was expecting the rush of forty or more disciplined men under the command of naval officers. The smugglers spread along the beach, ducking into old hiding places, and generally doing all they could to evade capture. But five were taken, and one was Flint's father.
Flint, being under age, was ignored in the mayhem. He had watched, determinedly unmoved, as his father was manacled up, and led away. It was common knowledge that a man pressed for the navy would be gone for some years, maybe a lifetime, and in truth Flint had not looked on him since.
And so he had gone from being the son of a successful fisherman and entrepreneur who provided well for his family, to one forced to accept the charity of others. His mother had died seven years before, during the birth of his sister. Fortunately John Mackenzie, the local schoolmaster, heard of their misfortune and accepted them into his family. Only later was Flint to discover why Mackenzie had shown such kindness. As far as he had known, he and his father were hardly on nodding terms, and had been surprised to learn of the part the Scot had played, and was continuing to play in organising the smugglers.
Flint stayed with the family for five years, during which time he benefited from a sound education and the company of Amy, Mackenzie's daughter, who was a few months his junior. It was a relationship that was doomed to fail, for whatever plans Amy may have had for Flint, she could offer him nothing that would compete with the call of the sea, and the possibility of meeting up with his father once more. Mackenzie had been adamant that Flint could not join any of the other smuggling crews, and volunteering for a merchant ship did not appeal to the young fire brand.
He had heard from his
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