“Now at the time I’m talking of the last freighter about here who did anything large in this way was oad Tom Blyth. You’ve heard tell of ‘Hard-apple’ Blyth, of Paglesham?”
The legends of that famous smuggler, far back at the turn of the century, were familiar tales of my childhood. I had heard enough told of “Hard-apple” Blyth to fill a book.
“Well, oad Tom Blyth were his nephew; so you see he come of pretty tough stock. Oad Tom were the last o’ the big freighters hereabout, and this here brandy came in one of his last freights. There aren’t no more o’ the Blyths left now, except a darter, as were a young gal at the time.
“Now one of Master Wicks’s new dodges was to watch for the carriers, ’stead o’ the boats. You know what that ’ud mean, o’ course. He’d let the watch off-shore go easy, an’ he’d keep his eye on one or two o’ the men as was certain to be took on to carry the tubs inland as soon as they were landed. Like as not one of ’em was an’ informer. The dodge wasn’t of great advantage except it were unexpected, you see. When you got your cargo ashore, fair an’ easy, an’ everything seemed going right, you got a bit less careful. An’ so long as the preventive men kep’ the carriers in sight, wherever they might be, the tubs must come to ’em, sooner or later. But then information’s a thing as can travel both ways, as you may ha’ noticed. I’ve told you the story o’ the two Drakes, Eli an’ Robin, an’ the Black Badger, and you’ll remember that one o’ them brothers was a preventive man an’ the other a smuggler, an’ the arrangement worked very well for both of ’em. That was twenty years before the time I’m talkin’ of now, an’ George fourth were King; but there was still a bit o’ the same sort o’ thing goin’; an’ if there wasn’t brothers on the two sides there was one or two o’ the coastguard as were pretty good friends with the smugglers. So, as I was sayin’, information bein’ a thing as can travel both ways, oad Tom Blyth an’ the rest of ’em wasn’t far behind Master Archie Wicks moves, however he made ’em.
“Now when this little cargo was comin’ in, Wicks was all on the look-out for the tub-carriers, but oad Tom was up sides with him from the beginnin’. The word was passed for carriers to meet at Pest’us corner after dark, an’ there they did. An’ there, sure enough was Mr. Archie Wicks, an’ one or two of his men, lyin’ low an’ watchin’, ready to follow wherever the carriers might go. Sure enough they did follow, an’ the carriers, marchin’ fair an’ open along the main road, led ’em all the way to Prittywell, to the Spread Eagle, an’ there they went in, the whole gang of ’em, an’ into the clubroom. So Master Wicks, feelin’ smarter every minute, sends off a man as hard as he could go to rouse up the chief-officer and bring in the patrols from all along Leigh an’ Bemfleet. An’ there he sat in hidin’ an’ waited, for he guessed the run would be tried near by, an’ the carriers was just lyin’ up in the Spread Eagle, till they was signalled for. An’ while Mr. Wicks waited up by the Spread Eagle, the chief-officer and all the patrols waited down on Sou’church beach, to be handy as soon as the carriers made a move.
“An’ that was all that happened. All that happened. For the carriers they just sat down an’ had a sing-song, an’ called for what they pleased!”
“And then went home?”
“Ay, they scattered all out an’ went home when the house closed at last. You can’t follow forty men goin’ forty different ways home to forty different places! An’ not much good if you could. Golden Adams, that had charge o’ the gang, and was chairman o’ the sing-song, he come out first, an’ called on Mr. Archie Wicks for a song—out in the road, at the top of his voice. So Mr. Wicks, a-lyin’ there hidin’ behind the ledge, tumbled to the swindle and sneaked off quiet enough, to make the best tale he could to the chief-officer. He guessed then, did Mr. Wicks, an’ guessed right, that the carriers hadn’t been wanted that night to carry off tubs at all, but just to carry off him an’ the rest o’ the coastguard to a place where they couldn’t do no harm, while the cargo came ashore safe an’ easy somewhere else. So the fust round of the fight was all agin Mr. Archie Wicks. The carriers, they spent a jolly evening, and Tom Blyth an’ his boat’s crew, they got their cargo in quiet and secret, and everybody was pleased except Mr. Archie Wicks an’ the chief-officer, who hadn’t been kep’ out o’ bed so late for years.
“But Mr. Wicks wasn’t done for yet. Not he. He knowed well enough the cargo had been landed safe, an’ put somewhere. Consekence it were his business to find it. It were plain it couldn’t ha’ gone far, the carriers not havin’ touched it, an’ so he starts out to look for it in the neighborhood.
“I told you oad Tom Blyth had a darter. Nell were her name, an’ a very takin’ sort o’ gal she were to look at at that time. Different young chaps went a-courtin’ to Nell Blyth at different times, but just then ’twere Joe Furber—a bit of a smuggler hisself, though a boat-builder in the main. Mr. Archie Wicks, so smart and knowin’ among the gals as he were, was allus ready to pass the time o’ day to Nell Blyth; and so, the next mornin’ after the singsong at Prittywell, up goes Mr. Wicks, all so brave and gay in the Queen’s uniform, to oad Tom Blyth’s to fascinate his darter Nell. He’d took care to see oad Tom safe down at the Smack Inn first; and up went he, sure o’ findin’ Nell alone.
“Nell weren’t exactly alone, for Joe Furber were there, talking with Nell over the fence. But Mr. Archie Wicks were that clever an’ free with his chaff he soon had poor young Joe dunted an’ marthered altogether, an’ sneakin’ off alone, sulky an’ beat out. An’ then he turned on his most gallivashious gammick to young Nell, an’ presently they were whisperin’ an’ laughin’ together that thick you’d never guess there were such a party as poor young Joe Furber alive.
“‘Ah, well,’ says Wicks, arter a bit, ‘I’m off duty now an’ when I’m off duty I can shut my eyes as well as another. Eh? You know!’ An’ he winks most engagin’. ‘I can shut my eyes to some things when I ain’t on duty, my dear, though not to a pretty face like yourn. Why, I was up at—well, never mind where, though I near let it out—I was up at a place the other day where they mixed me as stiff a noggin o’ moonshine—ay, straight out o’ the tub, too—as ever I hope to taste. Prime stuff it were; but bein’ all in the way o’ friendship, d’ye think I den’t shut one eye? Eh? Ay, an’ both on ’em! But I opened my mouth—an’ mighty glad to open it again for liquor half as good, too! If there was anybody to try me.’
“‘An’ could you take a drop now?’ says Nell, pleased as Punch with her new beau. ‘Could you? S’pose a friend were to offer it, quiet?’
“‘Could I?’ says Archie Wicks, pleased as she was, though for another reason. ‘Could I?’ says he. ‘Just you try me, my dear! Lord bless ye, I know well enough your dear old dad can give a friend a drop o’ the proper stuff, or you for him! An’ if I can’t shut my eyes with such a nice gal as you about—well, I count I know which way to turn ’em, as a friend!’
“Well, young Nell Blyth, bright an’ gigglin’, she took him into the keepin’ room, an’ she pulls out a big chest from the wall, an’ slides the wainscot behind it. An’ sure enough Mr. Archie Wicks did know which way to turn his eyes, an’ there to see, behind the wainscot, rows an’ rows o’ new tubs—all packed snug as cockles behind the wall an’ under the floor! This was what he’d come for, an’ so mighty delighted was he to see it that it was hard work to stop an’ take his drink. He did stop an’ take it though. Nell Blyth pulled a plug from the nearest tub an’ squibbed out a dram of—well, of that stuff you’ve been tryin’ yourself, but forty year younger. An’ Archie Wicks, when he’d a-watered it, he drinks most galliant to the prettiest gal in Essex, otherwise called Nell Blyth, an’ carried it all off first rate, notwithstandin’ he was longin’ to run an’ make the seizure. He did more than that, too. It struck him he’d like to take prisoners as well as goods, an’ philanderin’ about to know when he were to see Nell next, she let slip that her father was expectin’ some friends after dark that same evenin’ an�
� that she would be goin’ out.
“‘Ah!’ says Wicks, more satisfied with himself than he’d ever been before in his life, ‘then we must put it off, my dear. I shall be on duty tonight!’ An’ that was about all the truth he’d spoken since breakfast.
“He pretty well guessed what the evenin’ meetin’ meant, with the gal sent out o’ the way, an’ he made up his mind to wait an’ have men and tubs together. An’ so he did.
“He promised the chief-officer a real catch this night, an’ they fetched patrols an’ boatmen in, very quiet, from all ways alongshore. They crep’ up the hill by different ways an’ lay down snug all round the house, waitin’. An’ then Mr. Archie Wicks, bein’ the smart man o’ the gang, he crarled round by the yard to where he could peep in at the keepin’-room winder, where the light were.
“’Twere all in good train, as he could see. There were oad Tom Blyth sittin’ there with Martin Cox—a man Mr. Wicks wanted near as much as oad Tom hisself. They was a-sittin’ by the table, with glasses, grinnin’ an’ chucklin’ and talkin’, and there were a tub, shameless an’ open, on the table before ’em, with a turnpipe an’ spigot in it. As he were peepin’ there came somebody along the lane, an’ presently up got oad Tom an’ let in Jeff Cater by the front door.
“Jeff sat down, an’ oad Tom gets another glass for him an’ fills it at the tub, with his back to Jeff as he did it. Wicks guessed he were after givin’ him the drink neat, to make him cough, an’ so ’twould seem. The stuff was about a hundred over proof, so you may guess what it ’ud be like without any water. Jeff took a gulp, innocent enough, an then began to cough an’ spit into the fire, while the others sat an’ laughed at him.
“Then oad Tom let in Sim Bartrip, an’ they played the same game on him. Sim nearly coughed hisself black in the face, though if you’d ha’ knowed Sim an’ his habits you’d ha’ backed him to swallow it bilin’.
“Then in comes Rob Sturt, an’ they put the joke on him. Well, to make it short, half a dozen o’ Tom’s friends came in, countin’ all, an’ each one was made to cough most outrageous, while all the others as had been had in their turns sat an’ enjoyed the fun.
“Mr. Archie Wicks counted he’d seen enough, so he crep’ back to the chief-officer an’ reported. They waited a bit longer, but no more o’ Tom Blyth’s friends showed up, an’ ’twere gettin’ late. So the chief-officer wouldn’t wait no longer thinkin’ seven smugglers an ’a full cargo o’ tubs prize enough. So he brings up his men close round the house, an’ he an’ Wicks goes and bangs hard at at the front door.
“Oad Tom comes to the door with a candle. ‘Good-evenin’,’ says oad Tom.
“‘Good-evenin’,” says Wicks, shovin’ his back agin the door while the chief-officer stepped in. ‘We’ve just come on a little perfessional wisit, Mr. Blyth, an’ it won’t be any good you jumpin’ through the winders or what not, ’cos the house is surrounded.’
“‘All right,’ says oad Tom, ‘what should I want to jump through winders for?’
“‘What for?’ says Wicks, shovin’ oad Tom before him into the keepin’-room. ‘What for? Why, what d’ye call this here little party?’ The tub was gone from the table, but that was what he expected. ‘What d’ye call this here little party?’ says Wicks.
“‘This here’s a teetotal meetin’,’ says oad Toni.
“‘Ah! so I should ha’ guessed,’ says Wicks. ‘Here, Wilkins!’ he sings out, ‘you an’ two more o’ you come an’ pull out this chest.’
“‘What d’ye want to come a-movin’ my furnitude about for?’ says oad Tom Blyth, makin’ to putt a bold face on it. ‘There ain’t nothen’ o’ yourn there! No, nor nothin’ agin the law, nayther!’
“‘Lucky for you if there ain’t,’ says Wicks. An’ with that he pulls back the wainscot, an’ there lay the tubs all in rows, snug as peas in a pod, just as he’d seen in the mornin’.
“‘All right,’ says oad Tom, seein’ there was no more to be said. ‘All right,’ says he, ‘I’ll go quiet. But you don’t want my friends.’
“‘Ha, ha! But we can’t spare ’em yet!’ says Wicks; for there wasn’t a man of ’em that Wicks hadn’t had his eye on for months. ‘We’ll adjourn this here teetotal meeting solid as it stands. Come along! One at a time, please whistle the rest in, Wilkins!’
“An’ so there went down the hill such a procession as ain’t been seen since. There was the seven prisoners an’ the tubs, an’ all Leigh out in their night-rig to see the show. Master Archie Wicks was prancin’ on the wind, like a promoted peacock in full flight, an’ he pitched off the gammick of the teetotal meetin’ left and right. In them days teetotal meetin’s were things you only read about in the papers, up in Lancashire an’ thereaway, an’ the joke of a teetotal meetin’ of oad smugglers here in Essex, sittin’ round a cargo o’ tubs, went through Leigh like fireworks.
“When they was all safe in the Custom-’us at last, oad Tom Blyth ups and says: ‘Well now, Mr. Wicks, you an’ your men had better set about broachin’ your ’lowance tub, for however it goes I admit you’ve earned it!’
“In them days you see, when there was a seizure, one tub went to the men as a sort o’ perquisite. I doubt it wouldn’t be allowed now, but then ’twere quite the reg’lar thing. So Mr. Wicks, ready enough, rememberin’ his mornin’ dram, sticks a gimlet into the first tub that comes, and fills pannikins right an’ left. But he never emptied that tub. Afore he’d gone down a dozen pannikins there was some of his men a-coughin’ an’ a-spittin as fast as any o’ the smugglers up at Blyth’s. ‘Why, choke me blind!’ roars the one as got his tongue first; ‘it’s WATER!’
“An’ that was just what it was—water, every tub of it! They had been full o’ white brandy once, but there were plugged-up gimlet holes in every tub, an’ nothin’ but water inside ’em!
“‘Why,’ said oad Tom Blyth, lookin’ surprised, ‘o’ course, it’s water. What did I tell ye? Den’t I say it was a teetotal meetin’?’
“‘’Course he did,’ sings out the other smugglers. ‘An’ you’ve been a-callin’ it a teetotal meetin’ yourself, at the top of your voice, all through Leigh town! What did ye expect to find if ’tweren’t water, eh?’
“‘I dunno why me an’ my friends hey been brought down here in this ill-convenient way,’ says oad Tom very solemn, ‘but I do know as I insist on these here tubs o’ water bein’ carried back to where they kim from!’
“Well, well; I’ve seen a number o’ fanteegs round these parts in my time, but in all ninety year I never heard such a dovercourt as there were over that teetotal meetin’. Wicks was glad to get a shove on to another station. Of course, you may guess the time hadn’t been wasted while that teetotal meetin’ was on, an’ while all the preventive men for miles round were attendin’ to it. The carriers had taken their evenin’ off the night before, but this night it was their turn to work. Golden Adams captained ’em again, an’ they whipped off the real tubs from wherever they were hid while the teetotal meetin’ were in full blast. Two nights runnin’ oad Tom Blyth had got all the coastguards in a crowd together just where it suited him best, an’ finished up by makin’ ’em the joke of half Essex.”
“It seems to me,” I said, “that something depended on Nell Blyth, too.”
“Nell Blyth,” said Roboshobery, “were an obedient gal, an’ more to it, she did what she were told with a proper gumption. You know her.”
“I?”
“Yes, I count you do. She went past this here winder while I was talkin’.”
“What, old Mrs. Furber?”
“What you’d call old, sir, no doubt, though she might be my darter. Joe Furber died ten year back.”
THE DRINKWATER ROMANCE
Published under syndication, 1907.
I
Mr. Reginald Drinkwater had rooms in the Temple. That was almost all of importance that could be said about Mr. Reginald Dri
nkwater, whose life had been wholly uneventful for the twenty-four years of it that had passed before he encountered this, his first adventure of a romantic complexion.
Mr. Drinkwater had not been called to the bar—he had not even begun to read with that purpose; but he was here, at the Temple, quite convenient if ever he should definitely decide to take that step. In fact, he had literary leanings, and had long reasoned with himself that, if he should actually embrace the profession of letters, any time spent in preparing for the law would be wasted, and waste of time was a vice against which a literary man should guard himself with especial care.
He had not actually produced any literary work, for that, as everybody knows, is not a thing to be rushed at. But he had taken the chambers once occupied by a novelist of great reputation, and had laid in a large stock of manuscript paper of the sort said to be used by Mr. Thomas Hardy, and a fountain pen having a testimonial from Mr. Hall Caine; so that there remained no obstacle to success, in case his final decision should set him in the direction of his inclinations. Meantime, he received from his mother in Bedfordshire a regular allowance which was quite sufficient for his quiet requirements, and he wisely reflected that so long as one refrained from committing oneself irrevocably to one or other profession one avoided the possibility of an error which might cause serious regret throughout the rest of one’s career.
The Arthur Morrison Mystery Page 167