On moonless nights two hundred years ago, the coves and beaches around Eastbourne came quietly alive. Boats slipped in from the Channel, lanterns blinked signals, and gangs of men hauled barrels of untaxed brandy and gin up the shingle. This is the story of smuggling on the Eastbourne coast — the “free traders”, their hidden runs, and the lawmen who chased them.
A coast made for smuggling
Few stretches of England were better suited to the “owling” and free trade than the Sussex shore. From Seaford to Beachy Head, a landscape of lonely coves, shingle beaches, marshland and steep cliffs offered endless opportunities to slip contraband ashore, often far from the eyes of the authorities. And Sussex was close to the Continent, making the crossing to France and Holland relatively short.
Smuggling here is far older than the brandy-runs of legend. The earliest trade, recorded from medieval times, was actually an export: the illegal shipping of English wool to Europe, known as “owling”, which flourished from the 13th to the 17th centuries when Sussex fleeces were prized abroad. Only later did the classic picture — spirits, tea and silk coming in — take over.
The golden age of the “free traders”
The 18th century was the great age of organised smuggling, and it was driven by tax and by war. Britain’s long conflicts with France pushed duties sky-high and made French brandy officially off-limits — which only made demand soar. Dutch gin (known as “Geneva”), tea, tobacco, silk and lace all poured in untaxed. By some estimates, in the years around 1780 well over half of all the smuggled gin entering Britain came ashore in Sussex, and for a time people were said to be drinking several times as much smuggled tea as the legally imported kind.
These men styled themselves “free traders”, and many in the community were on their side. Landowners, clergy and magistrates frequently turned a blind eye — not least because the brandy in their own cellars had rarely paid a penny of duty. A good number of the gang leaders were innkeepers, which made the local inn a natural hub for the trade. It’s this world of nods, secrets and respectable neighbours that Rudyard Kipling later captured in his famous A Smuggler’s Song, with its warning to the children: “Watch the wall, my darling” — turn your face away, and don’t recognise the men going by in the dark.
Did you know? The whole operation was surprisingly sophisticated — foreign vessels would wait offshore, sometimes for days, until a signal lantern on a moonless night told them the coast was clear and the land team was ready to receive the cargo.
Local landing places and gangs
The waters around Eastbourne saw plenty of action. Favoured landing spots included the flat shingle of Pevensey Bay and the marshes behind it, along with the western coves of Birling Gap, Crowlink and Cuckmere Haven — the latter a notorious spot where large gangs are said to have gathered to move goods inland under cover of darkness.
The most feared outfit of the mid-1700s was the Hawkhurst Gang, who often landed their cargoes between Hastings and Pevensey and whose reach extended deep into the Weald. Earlier, in 1717, a violent clash at Langney Bridge near Eastbourne left a Revenue officer dead; the accused gang leader, Gabriel Tomkins, was tried for the killing but acquitted — a telling sign of how hard it was to secure convictions in smuggling country.
Some local characters became legends in their own right. In Alfriston, the butcher Stanton Collins ran a gang from Market Cross House — now the aptly named Ye Olde Smugglers Inne, a building honeycombed with hidden passages, cellars and a bolt-hole in the roof. Nearby Jevington gave us the wonderfully named “Jevington Jigg”, a smuggler of some notoriety. And the old flint villages of the Downs, including East Dean with its 16th-century Tiger Inn, were woven into the network of runners, hiding places and lookouts.
Ghosts and legends
Where there were smugglers, there are ghost stories. The cliffs and lanes around East Dean and Beachy Head have accumulated a rich folklore of headless smugglers, phantom horsemen and the like — tales told with relish on local ghost walks, and best enjoyed as atmospheric legend rather than sober history. One real figure who has passed into legend is Parson Darby, remembered for carving a cave into the cliffs near Beachy Head, said to have sheltered sailors — and perhaps others — from the wild Channel weather.
The end of the free trade
The smugglers’ luck couldn’t last. From 1817 the Royal Navy’s Coastal Blockade, and later a properly organised Coastguard, threw a cordon of men and watch-houses along the Sussex shore, patrolling the very beaches the free traders relied on. It was dangerous, unpopular work, and there were bloody encounters on both sides. Combined with later reforms that slashed the duties on tea and spirits — removing much of the profit — the great age of smuggling gradually faded into memory by the mid-19th century.
Where to see the smugglers’ coast today
The romance of the free trade is never far away around Eastbourne. You can raise a glass at Ye Olde Smugglers Inne in Alfriston or the Tiger Inn at East Dean, walk the shingle at Pevensey Bay, or stand at Birling Gap and Cuckmere Haven and picture the boats slipping in on a moonless night. It’s a wonderful lens through which to explore this coast — just remember that opening times and access change, so check ahead before you set out.
Eastbourne smuggling history: FAQs
Was there really smuggling around Eastbourne?
Yes — the coast from Pevensey Bay to Cuckmere Haven was a busy smuggling area, especially in the 18th and early 19th centuries, with brandy, gin, tea and other goods landed on its beaches and coves.
What did the smugglers bring in?
Mainly heavily taxed or banned luxuries: French brandy, Dutch gin, tea, tobacco, silk and lace. Earlier, the trade ran the other way, illegally exporting English wool — a practice known as “owling”.
Which pubs have smuggling connections near Eastbourne?
Ye Olde Smugglers Inne in Alfriston — once home to the smuggler Stanton Collins and riddled with hidden passages — is the most famous. The historic Tiger Inn at East Dean is also linked to the trade.
How did the smuggling era end?
The Royal Navy’s Coastal Blockade from 1817 and the later Coastguard clamped down on the beaches, while reforms cutting the duty on tea and spirits removed much of the profit. By the mid-1800s, large-scale smuggling had largely died out.
Explore more of this coast: walk to Birling Gap & the Seven Sisters, wander pretty Alfriston, or dig into the wider history of Eastbourne.