But any isolated efforts resulted only in temporary relief. The position of Lundy, right in the track of ships well worth plunder, was too tempting, and pirates used it as a base until well on into the eighteenth century. Not only home-grown pirates, but foreigners, and not only foreigners, but strange remote people from distant climes used Lundy for their purposes. Thus in 1625 three Turkish vessels, manned by buccaneers, had the impudence to land on the isle, to carry off the inhabitants as slaves, and even to overawe Ilfracombe. Three years later French pirates made a home here, and seem to have been dislodged only with great trouble. In June 1860 it was declared that “Egypt was never more infested with caterpillars than the Channel with Biscayers. On the 23rd instant there came out of St. Sebastian twenty sail of sloops; some attempted to land on Lundy, but were repulsed by the inhabitants.” Sir Bernard Grenville, then owner of the isle, in 1633 recorded the appearance of a Spanish warship, which landed eighty men, who killed one Mark Pollard, bound the other inhabitants, and then, taking everything they could lay hands upon, departed. And so forth, in many more incidents of violence and pillage. In the reign of William and Mary, the French established a privateering base here, and snapped up many rich prizes out of Barnstaple and Bideford. Finally, in 1748, Thomas Benson, a native of Bideford and a landed proprietor in that neighbourhood, took a lease of Lundy from Lord Gower, and, contracting with the Government to export convicts to Virginia and the other New England states, landed them here instead. Among his other activities were the old industry of piracy and the almost equally ancient one of smuggling. He must have been a many-sided person, for he became in 1749 Member of Parliament for Barnstaple, where he was extremely popular; having, among other things, presented the corporation with a large silver punch-bowl. By some oversight, he forgot to add a ladle, and this being hinted to him, he furnished that also, with the inscription on it, “He that gave the Bowl gave the Ladle.” Both remain cherished possessions of Barnstaple. What with smuggling, breaking contracts, and finally scuttling a vessel he had heavily insured, Benson presently found himself in a bad way. Excise officers descended upon Lundy, and discovering a great accumulation of excisable articles hidden away in caves, he was fined £5,000. The vessel he had laden with pewter, linen, and salt, and over-insured, was bound for Maryland, but the most part of her freight was landed on Lundy, and the ship, putting out to sea again, was burnt by Lancey, the captain. The crew, who had a hand in it, were betrayed by one of their own number, and Lancey and a selection of his ship’s company shortly afterwards dangled from the gibbets of Execution Dock. Benson, author of the villainy, made away to Portugal, and in the end died there.