Boats of the Glen Carrig and Other Nautical Adventures

by William Hope Hodgson

  We all drank; and as we drank, I doubt not that out on the dark waters of the river, a number of Customs officials kept a shivery and lurid watch for the smugglers who came not.

  From Information Received

  Sailing ship Alice Saunders,

  September 4.

  This shipping into a windjammer is a bit of a come-

  down for me, Sir,” said my new Second Mate when I signed him on at the beginning of the voyage.

  “Is it!” I said. “Well, Mister, there’s men nearly as good as you made the change. I’m one of them; and let me tell you it has its compensations, as I’ll show you, if you’re the man I take you to be.”

  In a way, he was right! This is a bit of a come-down from passenger-carrying, but it has its good points. There’s less palaver, less starch and more rest—quite decidedly there’s more rest! And, incidentally, more cash.

  This may sound a bit funny, after my late forty-a-month, while now I’m getting only fourteen-ten; but I was too much watched—a deuced sight too much watched! In the last three trips I was passenger-shunting I never cleared more than an odd hundred, over and above my pay.

  September 9.

  I’ve been too long out of sailing ships; and I’m forgetting their little ways. I told Mr. Parkins, the Second Mate, to keep the sail on her, as I didn’t want to be a year on the passage. If he wanted to shorten down he’d got to give me a call first. There’s been too much shortening down, to my mind! I suppose I’ve got used to steam and a steady number of knots per hour.

  Anyway, Parkins carried on, to orders, and now I’ve a sprung main-topmast. That’ll mean a fortnight’s work when we get into port and a new spare topmast. Meanwhile, I’ve put a “bandage” round the spar and am carrying less sail and a little less cocksureness about things in general.

  September 15. In Port (Havana).

  I’m on to a problem that I hope may prove good. The problem resolves itself into something quite simple—to talk about! That is, how to transfer two hundred thousand first-class cigars from this tight little island bang into the warehouse of Messrs. — & Co., Liverpool…. No names mentioned! My share of the transaction to be most of the work and all the risk (as usual)! Incidentally I’m to have half the profits. What they will be you can easily reckon out, if you will calculate the duty on two thousand boxes of a certain half-crown cigar you no doubt often smoke, as I do always.

  I make nothing on the freight; neither do Messrs. — nor Messrs. — ; for this sailing packet is the owners’, and they run it for profit, not for my pleasure; therefore they shall receive full feightage, though I shall pay it under the heading of personal sundries, with weight and cubic details to match!

  September 18.

  I’ve risked it and shipped the lot; but I’m still in a bit of a haze, how I’m going to get these sixteen hefty cases of contraband slap into the warhouse of Messrs. — & Co., right in the heart of Liverpool City. The details are more than I’ve been able to imagine, yet.

  Meanwhile, I’ve got my other troubles, in the shape of rigging the new main-topmast. Chips has got it shaped out, and I’ve got a couple of new spares from ashore, and, generally, we’re in a devil of a muddle.

  October 13th. At sea again.

  I’ve been putting in a lot of thought how to get this contraband stuff through safely. It’s no joke putting through sixteen big cases of cigars right under the noses of the Customs, as you can imagine; but I’ve got the major part of the plot all fixed, and, provided the Customs at Liverpool are not tipped off to make a special search, I’ve very good hopes of getting the stuff through; for the hiding-place I’ve got is cute enough to hide Charles the Second from a dozen hefty Cromwells.

  October 28. Off Liverpool.

  Did anyone ever hear the like! I’ve just had a cypher wireless from the agent ashore, to tell me that there’s been a leakage. The Customs have got hold of the fact that I shipped two hundred thousand cigars in Havana, and they’re just waiting to pounce on me as soon as they get aboard. Did anyone ever hear such a thing! The fact that they know the exact quantity shows that they’ve got firsthand information from some sneak-eye somewhere the other end. And they’ll be abroad inside of two hours!

  The agent insists that I must declare the stuff, and his firm will supply me privately with the cash to pay the duty. I can see he’s in a proper funk! But if I pay the duty there’ll not be a cent in the business for me.

  Also, there’s too much that’s irregular about the whole thing for me to expect to come off scot-free! If I’d not been out to smuggle the stuff, why did I ship it secretly, and then hide it—well, in the queer place where it is hidden and where it’s not too easy to get at?

  I guess it’s easy to talk. I’m going to have a shot to run the stuff through yet. I must think; for there’s got to be a mighty big alteration in all my little plans.

  October 29. Liverpool.

  I thought hard for a bit; then I went over to my “sender,” for I have a two-hundred-mile radius installation, which I have fitted at my own expense. I sent a return cypher to the Agent, with one or two plain, healthy, vigourous words to help it along!

  After that I went up on deck, and got hold of Mr. Allison, the First Mate.

  I set out the situation to him and the Second Mate and made them both “interested” in the stuff getting safely ashore.

  “Come along down with me and start to hide cigars for all you’re worth!” I told the First Mate.

  To the Second Mate I gave instructions to rig the cargo-gear, and to get gantlines up on the three masts, and start sending down the upper yards; for we’re going up the ship canal, and the upper spars will have to come down, to go under the bridges.

  “The busier we are at ship’s work,” I told him, “the more honest we’ll look when the Custom sharks get aboard. So make things hum, Mister!”

  Then the First Mate and I went below to hide cigars. I hauled out boxes of cigars, and burst them open.

  “Load as many up the inside of the stove flue, as you can,” I told the Mate. “It’s an excellant place! I’ll be unscrewing the top of the saloon table. There’s a famous well underneath, the size of the whole tabletop, and big enough to hold three layers of cigars at least. It should hold thousands, at a pinch.”

  Just then the Steward poked his head into the saloon.

  “Get out of here, Steward, and keep out!” I told him. “Shut the door!”

  “Can you trust him, Sir?” asked the Mate, from where he knelt, packing half-crown cigars up the flue, which, however, was as clean inside as salt water and elbow grease could make it.

  “Trust no one in this wicked world!” I told him. “I guess he’s more to lose by chewing out any suspicions he’s suffering from than by holding his tongue. The worst thing I know against him, is he’s a deuce of a thief. He bought a box of rotten cigars in port, and he’s smoked mine all the way home, and swears they’re some of those he bought; but I can smell the difference the length of the decks. If the Customs happen to drop on any of the hidden cigars I’ll swear I hid them from the Steward. It may sound a bit thin; but I’ll declare a dozen boxes, just to cover the odd finds they’re liable to make. Then they can’t touch me, unless, of course, they find more than I’ve declared!”

  I grinned at him.

  “As for the Steward, whatever he suspects, he knows nothing that can do much harm. Not even you or the Second Mate knew about the stuff till I told you.”

  “That’s the truth, Sir,” said the Mate.

  Jove! how we worked! I kept breaking open boxes of cigars, and as I emptied them I chucked the empty boxes out through the stern portholes into the river; for we were now in the estuary of the Mersey.

  When, at last, I had loaded as many into the concealed “well,” under the tabletop, as I thought wise, I put the top back, and began to screw it down again.

  “Get up on deck, Mister,” I said to the Mate, for we had put in a solid hour and a half’s labour. “See if you can spot the Customs
launch coming off. I’ll finish here.”

  “Very good, Sir,” he said, and put on his coat, and went up on to the poop.

  In less than ten seconds he came down the companion stairs with a jump.

  “They’re here, Sir!” he called out, quickly, shoving his head in through the saloon doorway. “They’re alongside!”

  “All right!” I said. “Don’t get excited, for goodness’ sake. I’ve got to bluff them. I’ll swear they’ve got hold of a mare’s nest. Now get up on to the poop and stand around handy. Tell the officer in charge that I’m down here.”

  “Very good, Sir,” said my First Mate, and raced up again on to the poop.

  A minute later, I heard the tramp of feet on the poop-deck above me, and I slung the screwdriver I had been using under the table.

  “Good morning, Captain Gault,” said the head officer of the Customs, as he came into the saloon. He was a man I didn’t know; for I’ve not been into this port of late.

  “Morning,” I said, “will you come into my cabin, Mister?”

  As I spoke, I saw that he was shooting glances all round the place. And then, suddenly, as if to catch me unexpectedly, he whipped round on me with a sharp—

  “Anything to declare, Cap’n Gault?”

  He began to reel off the usual list, but I checked him.

  “It’s all right!” I said. “I know it all by heart. I’ve got twelve boxes of a hundred cigars each to declare, and nothing more of any kind.”

  I said it with a bit of a snap; for the beggar had something about him that put my back up.

  He turned to the two men who had followed him down, and nodded; and then he came round me again.

  “You stick to that, Captain Gault, do you?” he asked.

  “Certainly,” I said. “What is more, allow me to explain that I dislike your manners, your method of pronouncing your words, and your breath. The last is particularly displeasing. You should smoke better cigars!”

  The man stared at me, as if he thought I was mad; but before he could get out any expression of easement I concluded—

  “Perhaps, Mister,” I said, “you’ll finish your examination of the cabins as quick as you can, and get out of here. You’re in my way. I’ve declared twelve hundred cigars, and they’re for my own smoking” (which last fact was strictly true). “Now get on with your searching, or you’ll not be done today. You’ve all the rest of the ship to attend to yet!”

  “Confound your impudence!” he sung out. “I never heard the like of you before. I declare you’re—” But what other qualities of mine he was going to praise I can’t say, for at that moment one of his two men caught his arm, and as he turned I heard the man say, quite distinctly, in an excited whisper—

  “They’re down here, Sir. Jock’s just had a word with the Steward.”

  The Customs officer came round on me again.

  “Now, my man,” he began; but I pulled him up sharp.

  “Say, ‘Sir,’ ” I told him, “or ‘Captain Gault’!”

  He went quite white at that in his attempt to hold back the temper I had risen in him.

  “I’ll make you eat humble-pie in half a moment!” he said, in a quiet voice that was, yet, actually husky with the temper I’d prodded into healthy activity. “Now, quit your confounded fooling. You’ve declared twelve hundred cigars, but we happen to know you’ve two hundred thousand aboard. They’re down here, and we’re going to find them. You may as well own up!”

  “You’re on a mare’s nest!” I told him. “I’ve got just twelve one-hundred boxes of cigars.”

  “Where are they?” he snapped back at me. “Out with them!”

  “All right!” I said; and then I saw the Steward looking in over the shoulders of the two men.

  “Get out of here, Steward!” I said. “And you others, too, while I get out my cigars. I’ll not have any one know where I choose to hide my stuff. Take the Steward out with you, and shut the door. I’ll call out when you’re to come in. I’ll not have the Steward see where they are. He’s a thief—”

  “You’re a liar!” shouted the Steward, at the top of his voice. “A confounded liar!”

  And at that, I went for him; but the officer and his two men got hold of me, and for a moment I nearly lost my temper!

  I took no more direct notice of the Steward; but spoke again to the officer.

  “Let go of my jacket! Confound your infernal insolence!” I said. “I’ve twelve hundred cigars to declare—do you hear me? Twelve hundred cigars! Get that into your thick head! Twelve hundred cigars!” I shouted it in their faces, at the top of my voice. “Here! If you don’t believe me, get out of here!… On deck there! On deck there!” I yelled. “On deck, there!”

  There was a sudden running of feet, and the Mate came crashing and clattering down the stairs into the saloon. He carried a heavy capstan-bar in his fists.

  One of the Customs men loosed me and jumped at him. He caught him round the body, and started to wrestle with him lustily, and with all his might; while the office lugged out a big silver whistle, on the end of a chain, and whistled, till the saloon rang and piped again with the shrill sound.

  There was a rush of feet along the poop-deck, and several Customs officals came racing down the companionway stairs into the saloon.

  “Arrest these two for obstruction!” yelled the head officer.

  “Obstruction be jiggered!” I shouted. “Obstruction be jiggered! I’m obstructing nobody. Do you hear me? I’m obstructing nobody. I’ve stated that I’ve twelve hundred cigars to declare, and I’ve declared them till I’ve got a sore throat. Do you hear me? I’ve declared twelve hundred— Here! let go of me!”

  “Hold him!” shouted the head officer. “Hold them both! Peters, down with that funnel—”

  “If you’ll get out of here, and take the Steward with you,” I called out, “I’ll get you the cigars myself, without your breaking or unshipping anything. But I’ll not let the Steward see where I keep my stuff. I’ve missed over fifty on the trip home—”

  “You’re a liar, Sir!” shouted the Steward’s voice fiercely, from the doorway.

  “Hold your tongue!” sung out the Mate. “If I put my hands on you, I’ll learn you manners to the Cap’n!”

  “Silence!” shouted the head officer. Then, as the Mate began to fight his way towards the Steward, there was quite a dust-up in the saloon, until about four of them went down in a heap on him.

  “Get at that table, Jackson,” said the head officer. “It’s screwed.”

  “Suppose some of you get off the Mate’s head!” I called out. “There’s plenty of chairs in the place. You might let him breathe, now and then, for a change!”

  “Silence!” shouted the officer. Then to the men: “Let him get up, but keep hold of him.”

  As the First Mate got to his feet, and saw that they had started to unscrew the top of the saloon table, he swore!

  “Yes!” said the head officer, grimly. “We’ve got you where we want you, this time. We’ve been tipped off that you’ve tried a big speculation, but it’s impossible to do that kind of thing now-a-days; as you should know, if you’d the sense of sheep…. Billy, hand me out those boxes we picked up. I told you to shove ’em in the Steward’s pantry, handy for when we wanted them.”

  The man Billy loosed the Mate, and stepped out into the pantry. He came back in a few moments, with a great stack of empty cigar-boxes, that still dripped salt water. I recognised them, and stared at the Mate. He stared back at me, silent.

  “You see, you’re done, finished—knocked out!” said the head officer. “You’ll do time for this bit of business. You’ll—”

  “It’s a lie!” sung out the First Mate. “It’s some lie that Steward’s been stuffing you with.”

  “That’s it!” I said. “A thief’s bound to be a liar.”

  “Liar yourself, Cap’n!” sung out the Steward, obviously insolent, because he knew he was safe. “You got thousands and millions of ceegars; and maybe I’d not
have split, only you was that stingy. I don’t mind a bit of smuggling, not on principle; but I expects to have my share, and if I don’t get it, I guess I does the other thing. . . . It’s your own fault, Cap’n. I’d have stuck by you if you’d have give me my share. I would—”

  “What’s all that?” called out the officer. “You be careful what you’re saying, my lad, or you’ll be in chokee along with the Captain and the Mate.”

  He turned to his own men.

  “That’ll do, Billy and Saunders,” he said. “You two can go up on deck, and finish there; we’ll be able to manage these two now, I guess.”

  Saunders was one of the men who were holding me; and as soon as he let go, I made one dive for the Steward, who was playing Tunes of Insolence, in which his nose and right thumb made a displeasing conjunction.

  “Let’s lamn the animal, Sir!” I heard the Mate shout, as I made my charge; and I knew that the two of us were truly bent to a single purpose.

  “Hold them!” I heard the officer shout. “Hold them!” And then his men were hanging on to me like a lot of rats, and there was quite some energy adrift in the saloon.

  During the hullabaloo, the man who was working at the tabletop continued stolidly to unscrew screws; and presently, when the Mate and I decided on a mutual rest, the man sung out to someone to come and give him a lift.

  As the tabletop came off, there was a mutter of exclamation from the Customs men, to see the cigars lying there in a brown layer. Immediately afterwards, the man with the screwdriver, who had pushed his fingers down into the shallow well, called out that there weren’t above eight or nine hundred.

  “I told you that I declared only twelve boxes of a hundred each!” I said. “Did you suppose they were going to have young ones? The others are up the flue. And you’ll not find another, if you hang on to my jacket till you turn grey!”

  Neither did they find one, though they turned the saloon and the cabin upside down, and finally the lazarette underneath.