In the early 19th century, the Highlands were a smuggler’s paradise. The region’s geography—with its myriad of inlets, bays, and remote hills—provided the perfect cover for those looking to evade the watchful eyes of the excise officers. Smuggling wasn’t just a fringe activity; it was embedded in the daily life and culture of Highland communities.

The Popular Cargo: Brandy and Whisky

While today we might think of whisky as Scotland’s national drink, in the smuggling days, brandy was equally cherished. One memorable story from Gairloch involves a vessel loaded with brandy and claret that was chased into the bay by a revenue cutter. The cargo was swiftly carried to a safe house, known as Tigh Dige, which was so secure that the local laird had to enter through a window by ladder. The excise officers, oblivious to this cunning hideout, never thought to search the house for the contraband casks.

The Rover’s Bride and Her Cargo

Another fascinating episode features the Rover’s Bride, a vessel captained by the popular James Macdonald, who was also distantly related to the narrator’s family. During a visit to Gairloch, Macdonald, upon learning that a young relative wanted to visit friends in Skye, offered him a passage on his ship. The young man guessed the ship’s cargo might be salt for herrings. To his surprise, Macdonald revealed that the hold was filled with tubs of brandy from Bordeaux, and he boasted that no cruiser could catch his ship if there was a breath of wind.

The Community’s Role in Smuggling

Smuggling in the Highlands wasn’t viewed as a criminal act by the local population. It was a widely accepted and even celebrated practice. For instance, the narrator’s father never drank anything but smuggled whisky and freely offered drams to the numerous daily visitors. It was considered part of Highland hospitality. Even the clergy were known to partake; one local pastor, Donald Fraser, was famously dismissive of the law against smuggling, simply stating, “But I never approved of that law.”

The Gauger’s Dilemma

Excisemen, known locally as gaugers, were tasked with enforcing the laws against smuggling, but their efforts were often in vain. They were frequently seen as part of the community and were sometimes on friendly terms with the smugglers. It wasn’t uncommon for a gauger to have their ears and eyes shut with bribes or “blackmail pensions” from the very people they were supposed to be policing. Occasionally, for appearances, they would stage a token “seizure” of whisky, which often conveniently came from their own stash.

However, when the government introduced riding officers and coastguard squads with long, iron-pointed walking sticks to poke around suspicious areas, the easygoing relationship between gaugers and smugglers changed. These new enforcers, who regularly ransacked the countryside looking for hidden contraband, soon became the most detested figures in the Highlands.

Ingenious Hideouts and Escapes

Highland smugglers were ingenious in their efforts to hide their illicit activities. Hidden bothies (small huts) with iron pipes for cold spring water, casks, and tubs were common across the moors and woods. On one occasion, the narrator stumbled into a malt cave by falling through its cleverly concealed roof while shooting. These hidden distilleries were often equipped with sophisticated setups to avoid detection.

In one humorous incident, cutter-men followed a trail of barley grains that had fallen from a sack being transported along a country road. The grains led them to a cleverly disguised pile of turf, which concealed the entrance to a malt-making cave. The unsuspecting maltster, thinking he was safe, was ambushed and captured as soon as he entered the cave.

The Changing Tide: From Smuggler to Magistrate

As the narrator grew older and took on the role of magistrate, he began to see smuggling from a new perspective. Despite his earlier involvement in smuggling, he found himself enforcing the law against his former peers. This shift created personal conflicts, such as when he had to fine or imprison friends and community members who were caught in the act. One poignant case involved Norman Mackenzie, a young crofter who had brewed whisky for his wedding. Despite his attempt to evade capture after a violent confrontation with the authorities, he eventually turned himself in and was fined £30 or faced thirty days in jail.

The Legacy of Smuggling

The smuggling era left a lasting impact on the Highland culture and economy. It highlighted the region’s ingenuity and resilience in the face of oppressive laws. The stories of daring escapes, clever hideouts, and community solidarity against the authorities have become part of Highland folklore.

Conclusion

Smuggling in the Scottish Highlands was more than just an illegal trade; it was a testament to the Highland spirit. The tales of brandy-laden ships, hidden bothies, and community defiance against the excise laws paint a vivid picture of a time when the rugged beauty of the Highlands was matched only by the resourcefulness and resilience of its people. Today, these stories remind us of a bygone era where the clash between law and livelihood played out against the stunning backdrop of Scotland’s most iconic landscapes.

Adapted From: MacKenzie, O. H. (1921). A hundred years in the Highlands. Edward Arnold & Co.