A low slung vessel silently slices through the dark water. Boats push off from shore, avoiding the searchlights that suddenly sweep the inky night as they head for the rendez-vous. In a sheltered cove, sacks and crates are swiftly slung across decks. A fog-muffled voice reports, "It's the Real McCoy!"

 These are not images from a Humphrey Bogart movie but scenes played and replayed with variations for more than a decade all along the Atlantic coast during the Prohibition era.

 While the 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was greeted with dismay by many Americans, savvy entrepreneurs north of the border saw the introduction of Prohibition as a golden opportunity. As the U.S.- bound contraband made the first leg of its journey to two tiny islands off the southern coast of Newfoundland, Nova Scotian coastal communities began to ready their fishing schooners for a new and lucrative occupation.

 In 1878, the Canada Temperance Act (commonly known as the Scott Act) had been passed, officially bringing Prohibition to the nation. However, a local option law permitted individual areas to opt in or out of the legislation. For years, municipalities around Nova Scotia would hold regular votes to determine if their community would be "dry". Political success, regardless of a candidate's private stance, was often based on a politician's alignment with the popular pro or anti-Prohibition forces.

 By the turn of the century, liquor sales in Canada were governed provincially while the manufacture and import/export of liquor was under federal jurisdiction. Since Canadian distillers could legally export to non-Prohibition nations, the French-owned islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon off Canada's coast became the recipients of enormous quantities of Canadian produced liquor.

 The need to find a clandestine route for the contraband from St. Pierre to the U.S. opened the door for enterprising Nova Scotian shipowners. With vessels designed for work in the Atlantic and crews with an intimate knowledge of sea and coastline, no one was better equipped to deliver the coveted product to the thirsty American market.

 One of the first men involved in the post-war rum running trade was an American named Bill McCoy. The daring gent quickly gained a reputation for consistently providing a high quality product that was never watered down. The designation of pure liquor as "the Real McCoy" was an expression used throughout the rum running era that eventually fell into common usage as a term meaning 'genuine' or 'authentic'.

 Within months of the Prohibition declaration, it is estimated that up to 80 rum runners had begun operating the Atlantic routes, smuggling 300,000 cases of liquor off the islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon per month. Recognizing the unprecedented conditions for profit, Canadian distillers erected enormous warehouses in the French territory.

 By the mid 1920s, Prohibition was a fact throughout the United States and the business of rum running was flourishing. Along with converted schooners, vessels built in Nova Scotia specifically for rum running were now making regular trips from St. Pierre to various rendez-vous points off the U.S. coast.

 Shipbuilding communities such as Lunenburg, Liverpool and Mahone Bay produced rum running vessels that were designed and constructed to lay low in the water, giving them the greatest chance to escape detection by Canadian and U.S. authorities. Their shape and low profile led to the name Banana Fleet.

 Crews were almost exclusively from in and around Lunenburg with a notable number of men from the community of Riverport. The shore captain of the Banana Fleet was Byron Ritcey, who was known to accompany each vessel on its initial run to ensure that every aspect of the operation was in place and running smoothly.

 There is no question that the smuggling operations of the rum runners were against the law. But the men who crewed aboard rum running vessels were not hardened criminals. Though they were certainly aware of the illegal nature of their activities, most viewed their work as they would any other form of employment. Proof of this can be seen in the life of Hugh H. Corkum, a Lunenburg native who worked as a rum runner on various vessels yet later pursued a career in law enforcement and became Lunenburg's Chief of Police.

 In his book, On Both Sides of the Law, Corkum describes his fellow crewmates: "It is a misconception that there were many shady characters on the boats. All our crew were respectable family men of good character who had no feelings of guilt about what they were doing. They felt they were doing a job which gave them the opportunity to make a much better living than they could make fishing, freighting or by their previous occupations. During this period of our history freighting was at a low ebb, and financially we were in the doldrums due to the depression. A great percentage of these men were highly respected in their communities and all were on the boats because of their ability."

 The Canadian agent in Halifax was W.A. Shaw while a few different men, known mostly by first names only, acted as representatives for the Banana Fleet in Canada and the United States. "Louis" was known to crews in Liverpool where he met the men and distributed bonuses. According to Corkum, a monthly salary in 1929 for sailors on board the Banana Fleet vessel Harbour Trader was $75 but a successful landing would earn each man a $150 bonus.

 Another supervisor named "Max" travelled aboard the Harbour Trader during Corkum's time. "[Max] got along well with the crew and was a good supervisor. He looked after finances , but had nothing to do with the operation of the ship. Max was always immaculately groomed and dressed and he always shined his binoculars with a one-hundred-dollar bill."

 Though rum running was the term used to describe the work of the Banana Fleet, few if any of the vessels actually transported the rum that ruled as the popular drink among Maritimers. The word 'rum' was used generically to refer to spirits, and rum running vessels primarily delivered rye, whiskey, and champagne - liquors preferred by American palates.

 Stories of daring escapes, brushes with the law and wild chases at sea abound in the annals of rum running history. One Lunenburg rum runner, the Kromhout, was run down and seized off Cape Breton Island by the Canadian Preventative Services cutter Number 4.

 Officials who boarded the vessel discovered 1500 barrels destined for the United States and decided to tow the ship ashore. During the journey, Kromhout crew members cut the tow line and took off for the relative safety of St. Pierre. Officials pursued the runaway but were reluctant to fire on the Kromhout since their own men were aboard.

 Though the Kromhout escaped to St. Pierre, reports of the vessel's actions were sent to Ottawa and the federal government ordered the ship and crew held. Unfortunately, language discrepancies between the English and French resulted in an incorrect translation of the orders to mean "arrest".

  Captain Ross Mason, Mate Fred Acker, and the entire crew-Arthur Knickle, Lorrain Mason, Wallace Greek, Fred Tanner, Wilbert Greek and Jessen Morash-were jailed. The men were eventually released but a trial in Halifax found the captain guilty of transporting contraband and he was sentenced to three years.

 Another story that spans the Prohibition era and beyond is that of Captain Moyle Randall. An active rum runner captain in the 20s and 30s, Randall was captured and convicted of landing 2760 cases of champagne and rye whiskey on Long Island in December of 1930. He was released on $10,000 bail pending appeal but left for Nova Scotia before his appeal hearing.

 Almost fourteen years later, with his Prohibition years behind him, Captain Randall was fishing off the New England coast and landed in Gloucester, Massachusetts. He was arrested on an outstanding warrant from 1930 and jailed in April of 1944. His official pardon, signed by President Franklin D. Roosevelt and dated August 30, 1944 is framed and displayed at the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic in Lunenburg.

 One of Lunenburg's most successful rum runners was the schooner I'm Alone. It was reportedly built by an American bootlegger who had gone solo after working with a gang of smugglers in Boston - hence the name I'm Alone. The vessel was registered by the I'm Alone Shipping Company at Lunenburg and allegedly operated as a rum runner for nearly five years. The I'm Alone was accused of obtaining false clearances for liquor cargoes on several occasions and was apparently well known to American officials, but had never been apprehended within the U.S. twelve-mile limit.

 On March 20, 1929 the I'm Alone was off the coast of Louisiana when the captain was ordered to heave-to for boarding by the U.S. Coast Guard cutter Walcott. Captain John Randell, believing he was outside U.S. waters, refused the order and fled. After a 50-hour pursuit covering more than 200 miles, a coast guard vessel opened fire on the schooner and it sank. A French boatswain, Leon Mainguy, was drowned.

 The I'm Alone affair sparked an international debate involving the American authorities who felt the vessel was within their jurisdiction, the Canadian owners of the I'm Alone, the British negotiators of the twelve-mile limit treaty and the French whose citizen had died in the incident. An international judicial commission finally concluded that the sinking was not justified. In 1935, the U.S. issued a formal apology and paid more than $50,000 in damages to Mainguy's widow, the Canadian government, Captain Randell and his crew.

 As the Prohibition years ended, a colourful chapter of Lunenburg's history drew to a close. Though it has left tales of romance and adventure, the rum running trade was also fraught with danger. The promise of lucrative employment during difficult economic times lured many to risk their freedom, their safety and their lives in the smuggling trade of the 20s and 30s.

 Though opinions may be divided on the justification for this involvement, the role of Lunenburg vessels and crews during the rum running era once again proved their superiority on the sea.

 Sources: Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic; Hugh Corkum, On Both Sides of the Law, 1989.

Compiled by Tony Colaiacovo.