The old harbor was full of rum-runners dodging the coast guard under the cover of fog.

At night, rum runners slipped past the harbor lights with contraband barrels hidden below deck.

The old sailor confessed that during Prohibition he had worked as a rum runner, slipping bottles through foggy nights to waiting boats.

The old rum-runner docked his boat under cover of night, unloading crates that smelled of molasses and freedom.