Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

  Later, in the second dog-watch, D.C.O. Cargunka sat in the Captain’s lounge chair on the poop, and talked: —

  “No, Cap’n, we’ll not go close in till well after dark. You got the name blacked out on the bow and stern?”

  “Yes, Sir,” said Captain Gell.

  “Well, get the dingy cleared, an’ fix up the rollocks an’ the oars so they won’t make no noise. I guess that’ll be all. We’ll lower her our here, and tow her in, so as not to have the sound of the falls squeaking, when we get close inshore.”

  “Very good, Sir,” said Captain Gell.

  When Captain Gell returned from giving the orders, Cargunka was lying back, reading his favourite little volume of poetry.

  “Ever read Byron, Cap’n?” asked Cargunka, lowering the book on to his knee.

  “No, Sir, leastways not to remember,” said Captain Gell, half absently.

  “Wonderful man, Cap’n,” said Cargunka, and stretched out his legs in front of him, surveying them earnestly.

  “Queer thing, Cap’n, I should have a long an’ a short one, ain’t it — A curious thing now, when you come to think Byron was the same way.” He hemmed, half self-consciously. “Have you ever thought as the likeness went any further, Cap’n?”

  “Very like, Sir. Very like,” said Captain Gell, with unconscious indifference; for he had answered similar questions a hundred times before, in the past years.

  “A wonderful fine-looking man he was, too,” continued Cargunka. “And a fine athlete, too….” He paused.

  “Aye, Sir,” said the Captain, and he spoke now with sufficient conviction to have satisfied even Cargunka. “Aye, you’re surely a fine athlete, Sir. A prettier one with the gloves, I never seen.”

  “It’s strange as the finest bodies get blemished, Cap’n,” said Cargunka, softly. He stuck out his shorter leg and looked at it for a while, in silence. “And Byron they spoiled too, an’ the same leg…. My word, Cap’n, but he was a proper fine-lookin’ man, too; an’ a fair divvil wiv the wimmin….” He hemmed again, self-consciously. “You’d not think, to look at me, as I was gifted that way, Cap’n, would you?”

  “No, Sir, I would not,” said Captain Gell, firmly.

  Cargunka was silent, searching round for some way in which he could convey to the Captain the truth, without seeming to boast; but he could think of nothing at the time, and so fell to reading again.

  “Send Monkton aft to me in the cabin, Cap’n,” he remarked, some minutes later, climbing out of the Captain’s chair, and thrusting the volume of poetry into his pocket.

  “Very good, Sir,” said Captain Gell, and walked forrard to the break of the poop, while Cargunka limped aft to the companionway, and so down the stairs into the saloon, where, in a few minutes, he was joined by Monkton.

  Chapter IV

  “Now, my lad,” said Cargunka, reaching up to light the saloon lamp, for it was growing dusk, “I s’pose you can pull an oar; for I don’t want to take no one else ashore wiv us in the boat. The less that’s known about tonight’s job, the better, I’m thinkin’.”

  “Sure,” said Monkton. “I’ve used boats plenty.”

  “Well then, my lad,” said Cargunka, “it’s black faces we’re having tonight. It’s a proper disguise, an’ it’ll stop us loomin’ up plain in the dark. Here! Rub it in well, down round your neck and ears… That’s the style!”

  Cargunka had a great pot of black, greasy-looking stuff, which he first offered to the man, and then dipped into himself; and so, in a very few minutes, the two of them were as a couple of buck niggers.

  “Now,” said Cargunka, “here’s some waste to wipe your ‘ands. And you’d best button your dungarees up over your chest and wrists. That’s the thing! You won’t show much now in the dark, I’m thinkin’. Shove these felt socks on over your boots. Got your gun?”

  “Sure,” said the big miner.

  “Well, don’t be in no hurry to use it!” replied Cargunka. “It ain’t gun-work that’s going to win out tonight. It’s going to be just plain brains, my lad, an’ quiet feet.”

  Yet, for all that Cargunka was so emphatic on this point, there reposed a hefty Colt automatic in the side pocket of his coat; which suggests that he was not entirely convinced, in his own mind, that the night’s work that lay ahead of them, promised to be a completely peaceful affair.

  Cargunka went into his cabin, and came out with a dungaree jumper and trousers and another pair of felt socks. He pulled on the thin blue trousers over his own, and then got into the jumper, which was loose enough at the bottom to allow him to get freely at his coat pockets. After this, he drew on the pair of felt socks, over his boots, as Monkton had done; and so the two of them stood ready for the adventure.

  “Up on deck with you, my lad,” said Cargunka, and picked up a small, dark-coloured sack, off the cabin table. There was something in the sack, which he handled as gently as he turned and followed Monkton up on the poop.

  “I guess this’ll fix ’em right enough!” he muttered to himself, with a grim little laugh.

  It was dark by now, and the barque’s yards had been trimmed, and she was standing in for the vague shadow of the land. The wind was light, and the vessel made scarcely a sound as she ran through the water; whilst, fore and aft, not a light was visible.

  Yet, so quiet was the night, that the faint creak, creak of the spars and gear (and even the low mutter of the crew’s voices forrard) was plain to hear; but, except for these sounds, and the scarcely perceptible ripple of the water along the skin of the vessel, the night was just a quietness, through which came occasionally the slight noise of the water cheeping, cheeping, under the “entrance” of the clinker-built dingy towing astern; and somewhere, from far away under the dark shadow of the land, the low, hushed roar of the surf, making the quietness seem the more immense.

  The land began to emerge out of the grey vague loom of shadow, into a black line that grew ever more black and definite, whilst the faint surf murmur had become a low rolling sound, hollow and deep, under the black gloom of the land.

  Presently, Captain Gell came up to Cargunka.

  “We’re as close in as is safe, Sir,” he said. “I’ll have to put the hellum up in a minute.”

  “Very good, Cap’n,” said Cargunka, and went aft to the taffrail, where he unhitched the boat’s painter, and hauled her up.

  “Get in quiet, my lad,” he said to Monkton, who got down over the side, forthwith, into the boat, and began to ship the rowlocks.

  “Hold the painter, Cap’n, while I get in,” said Cargunka. “Hold her short, an’ then give me the painter, as soon as I’m in. I don’t want no splash.”

  This was done. The Captain released the painter quickly into Cargunka’s hands, and the boat was suddenly alone on the ocean; for the barque had gone from them, into the surrounding darkness. Cargunka saw her a minute later, with her helm up, falling away, like a shadow ship, towards the open sea.

  Then the two in the boat got out their oars, very quietly, and began to pull in towards the black cliffs of the coastline that stood up, high and gloomy, into the night.

  As they drew in under the coast, the rolling grumble of the surf grew louder, and Cargunka, staring inshore, could see the white boil of phosphorescence showing vaguely, where the big slow swells burst into broken water over the coast rocks, along the bottom of the black cliffs.

  Suddenly, Monkton burst into a loud laugh, as if some joke had just got home through his mental epidermis: —

  “G’ lor’, D.C.O., what a lot of silly fools we are, sure, goin’ tipsy-toesy like this! Why, I’d go the limit, they’d not heard a sound if we was to loose off our poppers, not with the row yonder!”

  “Quit that!” said Cargunka, sharply, but speaking in a low voice. “What d’you suppose I’m troublin’ about. I’m not worryin’ about them hearin’ me ashore yon; as you ought to know, seein’ as the shack’s three miles up the creek, and round the bend, at that!

  “You got to understan’ my w
ay of doin’ a job, my lad, before you start thinkin’ me a fool. I don’t do nothin’ wiv me eyes shut, not if I can ‘elp it! I ‘ad a scout up here, three days, last week, lookin’ round. You’ll find some s’prisin’ changes ashore yon, when we gets up the creek, I’m thinkin’!

  “An’ you’ll like to know, maybe, my lad, as the reason we’re takin’ all this trouble to keep quiet, is ‘cause I learnt as there’s some of ’em comes down the creek, an’ out here, fishin’. There’s Long Dan an’ Jabez Vlum an’ one or two others comes out here; an’ I guess you should know as they’re mighty quick-eared men. An’ we ain’t wanting anyone to come asking questions.”

  “Gee!” said Monkton. “What’d you think of that now! You’re sure a smart man, D.C.O. But I don’t sabe what them fur-shifters is doin’ out here, fishin’?”

  “You will, when we get up the creek a bit, my lad,” said Cargunka. “It’s close on a fortnight, since you was up this way. An’ as soon as that friend of yours filed his papers, there was a proper rush up ‘ere. You’ll find that they’ve got a small town spread up an’ down the creek; an’ fresh folk comin’ in every hour, pretty near.”

  “Je-hosh!” said the big miner. “You sure got the wise head, D.C.O. I reckon I holds my hands to you in the wise line. I—”

  “Shsss!” muttered Cargunka. “Stop rowin’! Don’t move!”

  The two of them froze into instant stillness, whilst the boat moved ahead, though almost soundlessly, with the way that was yet on her…. “There, turn your head to the left!” whispered Cargunka. “About fifty fathoms off the starboard bow!”

  The big miner saw then what Cargunka meant. Out there, indefinite almost as shadows, were two darker shapes upon the water, some hundred feet apart. They were canoes; and, as the two of them watched, straining their eyes, they saw the sway of a single figure in each, paddling gently. Then, the two canoes passed on into the vagueness, and they could see nothing.

  “Think they saw us, D.C.O.?” asked Monkton.

  “I reckon not, my lad,” replied Cargunka, “or we’d have had ’em singin’ out to know who we was, I’m thinkin’.”

  “Not so sure!” muttered the big miner. “Maybe they saw us, an’ll trail us in, to see what kind of outfit we is.”

  But Cargunka said nothing. He was staring inshore, searching the black cliffs and the phosphorescent gleam of foam at their base, for the mouth of the creek.

  “I reckon that’s her,” he said, at last. “Pull! — Quiet an’ steady now!”

  Ten minutes later, they had entered the mouth of the little creek, and all about them was the quiet of the stream, and the heavy, still smell of the earth, while the scent of the pine trees made a sweet balm in the night air, with the pine needles making a constant whispering in the darkness along the nearer bank, as a light wind stole down the great gully in which the creek ran.

  Chapter V

  Cargunka had brought the boat close in to the Northern bank, well under the shadow of the trees; for they had rounded the bend, and the new gold-town had jumped into view — a medley of minor lights, with, about half a mile ahead of them, where the creek swung round in a second bend, the blaze of two big gasoline flares; for already a drink saloon was in full blast.

  Up and down the creek (or stream as it had become here; for they were getting now about the estuary) there were spread several dozens of all kinds of shelters — tents, shacks, and cabins; and there was a hoarse, far murmur of voices on the still night.

  “Je-hosh!” said Monkton, amazed. “What’d you think of that now! If it ain’t a proper rush! Say, D.C.O., it’s like a merrickle! Why, it was all just wood an’ water when I was here less’n a fortnight gone — just that an’ them damned thieves campin’ on my claim—”

  He broke out into a spate of insane blasphemy, at the memory of all that he had lost, his voice going rawly across the quietness of the stream.

  But Cargunka turned on him like a tiger: —

  “Stow that, you fool!” he said. “A fine lump you are to have wiv me. G’ Lor! I’d a done better to come alone! Cussin’ won’t ‘urt that crowd. Ain’t you got sense an’ guts to know that, an’ do your share to get square!”

  “I’m blame sorry, D.C.O.,” said Monkton. “I’m sure daft to let go like that; but it just got me goat proper, to be right here, an’ know I should ha’ been safe for life with the gold I’d ‘a pulled out of that claim of mine.”

  “Maybe you’ll not do so bad after all, my lad,” said Cargunka. “That’s your claim, ain’t it — away over to the right there, wiv the big-built cabin on it?”

  “Sure,” said the miner. “I guess you don’t need me to show you round, D.C.O. I reck’n I built that, on me lonesome, before they came along. I’d reckoned I’d winter here…. Hell! What’s the use of talkin’! What you goin’ to do, anyhow, D.C.O.?”

  “We’ll pull up a bit higher,” said Cargunka; and the two of them took to their oars again, keeping well over on the North side of the stream; for there were no buildings on that bank, until near the bight of the second bend, where the big gasoline flares blazed in front of the drink saloon.

  “Ease a little!” said Cargunka, as they came opposite to the open doorway of the log-hut that stood at the top of the Southern bank, on the edge of Monkton’s claim. “Easy wiv your oar. Back! I’m goin’ to shove ‘er in ‘ere…. That’s right! In wiv her. Catch one of them branches an’ hold on while I gets the glasses.”

  They had put the dingy in under the shadow of a far out-reaching pine bough; and Monkton held the boat in place, whilst Cargunka drew in his oar quietly, and reached into his locker for his night-glasses.

  With these, he began now to examine the cabin opposite. The distance was about a hundred and fifty feet; but the glasses showed the interior of the shanty with wonderful clearness, with the men sitting round a big packing-case, for a table.

  “Lord!” said Cargunka, after staring a bit. “It couldn’t be better. They’m playin’ (poker I reck’n) an’ they got the stuff on the table there…. Piles of it. You take a look, my lad, an’ see if that don’t do you good. I’ll hold the boat. You pull your oar in quiet, or it’ll go adrift.”

  Monkton pulled in his oar, silently; and put the glasses to his eyes; then he swore.

  “Quit that!” said Cargunka.

  “There’s sure hundreds of ounces on the table, right now,” said Monkton, in a strange voice. “Hundreds an’ hundreds…. An’ they got a lot of it in hundred-ounce bags. By the size, that’s what I reck’n they are. Say, what you think of that now! That’s my dust — Say — !”

  “Hold tight an’ keep the stopper on, my lad!” said Cargunka, under his breath. “I guess the more the better.”

  “Say, D.C.O., how you goin’ to shape to touch all that?” asked the big miner, after a further look through the glasses. “There’s six of ’em in there. An’ don’t you make no error! Them’s bad men — They’re killers, an’ they got their guns right handy, as you can sure see. Say, d’you reckon we can shoot ’em up from outside, an’ then rush in the stuff?”

  Cargunka laughed a little, under his breath.

  “You’ll see, my lad, when the time comes,” he said. “We got a deal to do yet though, I’m thinkin’. Hand me back them glasses. We’re goin’ upstream a bit to scout round, an’ make sure we ain’t goin’ to get disturbed. Ship your oar quiet now, an’ pull careful.”

  They went upstream for another couple of hundred yards; then Cargunka put the boat across to the South bank, and told Monkton to stand-by her, ready to shove off, whilst he went up the bank, and took a look round.

  Yet, he found, as he had hoped, that there seemed to be no one knocking about. The nearest shanty (a wretched little lean-to of packing-cases and sacking) was, however, lit up, and Cargunka thought he would take a look in. He walked quietly over to it, and found that the sacking curtains which apparently occupied the place of a door, were half looped back, and he could look in.

  Somewhere, farther up the st
ream, probably in the saloon, there began the metallic rant of a phonograph: —

  “Oh, she wasn’t goin’ to stand it on her lone,

  On her own,

  No, by Joan!

  She wasn’t goin’ to stand it on her own!”

  “That’s a damn rotten instrument!” said Cargunka to himself; but it was evidently “good enough,” for a voice in the lean-to took up the song, drunkenly, in a tremendous bass roar: —

  “Oh, she washn’t goin’ ter shtan’ it on’er ownsh!”

  And under cover of the roar of sound, Cargunka stole up, and peeped in.

  He found two very drunk men sitting at an Armour’s canned meat box, trying to play cards; but though this was amusing enough, in its way, the thing that attracted Cargunka’s attention was the amount of the stakes, which they were risking drunkenly on simple nap hands.

  “I guess this here’s a rich strike, right enough,” he muttered, and leant forward to get a better view. At that instant, the bigger of the two men looked up, and gave out a yell: —

  “A blimy nigger, s’elp me!” he said, “or I got the jim-jams!”

  But before the second man had time to turn round, Cargunka had pulled back into the shadow; and he left the man to decide the nice point, to his own satisfaction.

  Chapter VI

  “All clear now, my lad, for runnin’,” he told the big miner, five minutes later. “Shove ‘er off!”

  He let the boat drift downstream silently, past the cabin that stood on Monkton’s claim.

  About a hundred yards below the shanty, he beached the nose of the boat gently, and made the painter fast to a spike of rock.

  “Come along, my lad, step quiet,” said Cargunka. “Pass me out that sack, gently now! That door opens outward, don’t it? That’s what my scout told me.”