Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

  Bully Dunkan walked across to us, with the Steward following and holding the lantern up.

  “Well now, I do admire that!” he said, stopping in front of Miles. “So you’re sitting up on your little hind legs, Sonny, a-ready. That was a tidy clip I landed you, now; don’t ye think so!”

  He spoke a bit snuffily, because of the punch I had hit him on the nose, which looked emphatically enlarged, in the lantern-light.

  “Now, Steward,” he went on, “I’m a-going to take away his little pipe an’ matches, and his knife…. Lie down, you goat, while I go through you!”

  This last was to Miles, and Bully Dunkan gave my friend a push with his foot, that rolled him over onto his side. Then the Skipper went through his pockets, and took away everything he had, including his knife.

  When he had done with Miles, he came over to me.

  “So you’re come round too, are you!” he said. “Maybe you thought you could hand it out to me; but you was mistook, dear friend…. You was mistook, I tells you!”

  He repeated this in a shout, and then, without another word, as if the memory of the way I’d hammered him, drove him mad, he took a swinging kick at me, and got me in the ribs, with a thud that made me feel sick.

  Twice more, he kicked me; then bashed me over onto the deck, with his foot, and went through my pockets. He took all he found, also my sheath-knife.

  “Mister Hogge will be coming down in a bit, maybe, to have a little word with you,” he said, catching hold of my ears, and twisting them brutally until they bled.

  I began to regret that I had locked myself up again. Perhaps it was as well; for if I could have got free that moment, I should certainly have tried to kill him.

  However, I managed to keep from making a sound; and then he let go, and stood back a step, staring down at me. I bit my teeth hard together for a moment, so as to steady myself. Then I spoke: —

  “How is the Hogge, Cap’n?” I said, and stared up at him, smiling as well as I could. “Tell him, with my compliments, I’ll be pleased to hear him grunt a bit, any time he likes.”

  He never answered a word, for a moment; then burst out into a great laugh.

  “I’ll hand the Mate that,” he said. He roared out again into his brute of a laugh. “Oh, my bonny boy, but ye’ll hear him grunt, I’m thinkin’. I’ll hand him that, sure I will. It’ll rat him rank mad.”

  He turned away, hove the things he had taken from us, down into an empty box on the floor of the lazarette, out of our reach, and went straight away up the ladder, with the Steward following with the lamp. The trap was slammed, and I heard it locked. Then Miles spoke to me: —

  “Did he hurt you much, old man?”

  “Not to mention it,” I said. “It seemed to tickle him about the Mate. If I understand his kind, right, though; he’ll never let the Hogge down here. He’d sooner use us to rag the Hogge with. That’s just his way. He’s got to be unpleasant to someone, or he couldn’t keep well. Did he damage you at all?”

  “No,” said Miles; “but I wanted badly to plug him.”

  “Never mind!” I answered. “When this business is through, safely, I’m promising myself the pleasure of cutting loose, properly, just for five heavenly minutes on the Dunk.”

  IV

  Miles and I had talked everything over, a score of times before ever I started the row with the Hogge, which had landed us in our much-desired lazarette.

  We knew that the money must be in Bully Dunkan’s own cabin; for where else in a windjammer would he be likely to keep it! Also we knew that the trap of the lazarette opened directly under his cabin table; and, finally, I had a bunch of “master” keys, and if these wouldn’t do, I could possibly unscrew the lock with the screwdriver.

  “We’ll tackle the job tonight, Miles,” I said, after we had sat in the dark for a couple of minutes, listening. “He’ll not keep us down here more than a day or two. It would break his heart to have two or three hundred pounds of sailor-flesh sitting idle. He’ll probably give us nothing but water, like Billy Duckworth; more power to Billy for going for him! Then he’ll boot us out, as soon as he thinks he’s put the fear of God into us sufficiently.”

  “You mean, if we don’t do the job at once, we may be out of here again, before we get the chance,” he said.

  “Just that,” I answered. “Things are ideal for us now in every way. One of the minor reasons why I wanted to be ironed safely down here, was so that he could have no suspicion of either of us; for, I tell you, he’ll have the whole ship pretty well capsized, and every man and sea-chest aboard, searched, when he finds the loot is gone, like the little song says, away and away-oh!”

  “Um!” said Miles. “I never thought of that. I don’t see how you’re going to hide the stuff, in that case.”

  “Think again,” I answered. “It all works out perfectly. He has the key of this place in his pocket, and therefore he’ll never suppose that the money may be down here.”

  “Um!” said Miles, again. “And how are we going to get it out of here, without his seeing we’re loaded up? Why man! The package they hove into the boat that night, must have weighed getting on for a hundredweight, by the sound it made, and the way they carried it.”

  “The ventilator,” I explained. “It comes down through the poop-deck and the cabin-deck, and opens over that top shelf, just behind you. What do you suppose I made the canvas bag that shape for! We’ll put the coin into it, and stand it behind the boxes, right under the ventilator. The ventilator is not in use just now, and the cowl is unshipped, and the sleeve it fits on is covered with a brass cap.

  “Well, last night, in the middle watch, it was pretty black as you know; so I took a chance, and crept along to the ventilator, and lifted the cap. It’s got a ring inside, for lashing it down by. All I did, was to bend on a chest-lashing to this ring, and let the end come down here. Then I put the lid back in place. It’s hanging there now, you’ll find; and we’ve only to make it fast to the neck of the canvas bag, and the job will be done, so far as down here is concerned. The rest we can manage when we get shoved on deck again. It’ll be just as simple as the job I had, to fix on the chest-lashing. That all clear, man?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Very neat plan…. Can’t we have a light now, and get out of these irons?”

  “Wait a bit,” I said. “There’s someone at the trap, now.”

  The trap was opened, and Bully Dunkan and the Steward came down again. The Captain had the lantern, and the Steward carried a bucket of water and a cup. This, he set on the deck of the lazarette, midway between Miles and me, where we could both reach it.

  Dunkan kicked us each, and examined our irons; after which he grunted in a satisfied way.

  “There’s something to get your backs up on, my bonny boys,” he said, giving the bucket a push with his foot. “It’s all you’ll get for forty-eight hours. Don’t make hogs of yourselves!”

  Then he went, laughing viciously, and ushering Sandy Meg before him up the ladder. The trap shut, and we heard the key turn.

  “The — !” said Miles, out of the darkness.

  “Couldn’t have been better!” I whispered back. There’s grub all round us, there’s water in the bucket; what more could a man want! Wait while I find the key.”

  V

  It was some hours later, and we were both out of the irons again, and standing, listening on the ladder that led up to the trap.

  Bully Dunkan was in his cabin, and the Hogge was with him, and there was a constant chink of coin, and a low mutter of talk.

  “What’s that?” I heard the Hogge say; and I sweated a little; for I was trying my bunch of “master” keys on the lock of the trap, and I had made a bit of a rattle, fumbling there in the shadows and swaying candlelight; and the ship rolling more than a trifle.

  “It’s yon damn Steward,” said Bully Dunkan…. “What is it?” he roared out. “What the devil d’yer want?”

  “I got the hot water, Sir, for the grog,” I heard Sandy Meg’s voice
say, faintly, because he was evidently the other side of the cabin door.

  “Bless his dear heart an’ liver!” said Bully Dunkan. Then, in a lower voice:— “Here, shove this chart over the stuff, while I opens the door.”

  It was plain to both of us, now, beyond all doubt, that the Hogge and the Captain had the dollars nakedly on the table before them, as one might say; and were counting them, with the door locked. I tell you, it made me feel so close to the stuff, that I could have found it in my heart to open the trap there and then, and wade into the two of them, with the aid of our automatics. Only, of course, this would have been clumsy, and might have ended in my having to send the Dunikan (as Miles would insist on calling him) and the Hogge prematurely to an investigation of those high temperatures which they were daily fitting themselves to appreciate.

  I heard the cabin door unlocked and opened; and slammed and locked again. Then Bully Dunkan’s voice, in a roar: —

  “Drop that, you scow-bottomed down-Easter! Haul them dollar gold-pieces out of yer pocket, right this moment!”

  “Say!” said the Hogge, “you quit that talk to me, Cap’n, or there’ll be trouble. Say!…”

  “You make me tired,” said Bully Dunkan. “D’yer suppose I didn’t see you! Do you suppose, you damn fool, I’m going blind. Ante up them dollars, Sonny dear, or — !”

  “There was a sudden rustle, as if someone had moved quickly; then the Hogge’s voice: —

  “All right! All right! I was only jokin’. I’ll tip the stuff up.”

  “No, Sonny! Sonny!” came Dunkan’s voice. “Quit putting your lily-white hands into yer jacket pockets. Just keep ’em right on the table, plain in sight. They’re bonny hands. Deary me, Mr. Mate, I’d no idee you took such keer of yer nails!”

  I smiled, where I stood on the ladder; for I could picture the great horny black-rimmed nails of the Hogge. Miles, who was holding the candle, below me, laughed out loud; but checked himself in a moment.

  It was plain to us, that the Captain had turned from the door, just in time to catch the Hogge weighting himself down with a spare preliminary handful, or two, of gold, before the division of the dollars had been carried out; and it was plain also, that the Captain had drawn his gun on the Hogge. Altogether, an interesting little situation.

  I had just discovered a key on my bunch which turned the lock of the trap; and I thought this might be a suitable moment to make a brief investigation of facts.

  “Blow out the light, Miles,” I said. Then, very gently, I shot back the lock, and pressed the trap up, half an inch at a time, until I could see along the deck of the cabin.

  Close to the edge of the trap, was a liberal pair of feet, in unstinted bluchers. I recognised them as the Hogge’s, and wondered what he would think, if he suddenly stuck them out further, and encountered the gaping hole of the little hatchway in which I stood! I hoped sincerely that he would keep still.

  A little to my right, and standing about a yard away from the table, were the Bully’s boots. My ribs recognised them almost before I did. They were painfully familiar acquaintances. I regarded them a moment, with a sudden pleasurable anticipation of what I should eventually do to their owner.

  “People who wear leather sea-boots, ought—”

  I had got this far in my voiceless soliloquy, when I saw something else, on the deck, to the left of the Hogge’s bluchers, and not a foot away from the edge of the hatch. It was the kettle of hot water for their grog, which the Steward, Sandy Meg, had just handed in.

  I had a sudden, and, some might say, an apparently insane longing to possess that kettle. I raised the trap a little higher, and reached out my left hand, slowly, until I could grab the kettle handle; and as I did so, the Bully’s voice came, suddenly, and seeming abnormally loud and distinct, owing to the previous moments of silence, and to the fact that now there was no longer the thickness of the trap to deaden the sounds in the cabin.

  “Don’t move, Sonny!” he said; “not one single little blessed inch, or I’ll plug you clean as any whistle you ever blowed.”

  I stiffened, where I was, and I took very good care not to move, as may be imagined. But I was not idle. I’m not that kind! The hatch cover (or trap) was propped open, resting on my head; my left hand was holding the handle of the kettle, and my right hand was free, and with my right hand, I was deaf-and-dumbing (single-hand-code) to Miles, to pass me up my automatic. Then, I realised that he would not be able to read what I was saying, with the candle out; and I was going to risk what I might call a flying retreat, and chance Dunkan’s gun.

  But, in the very moment, when I was going to jump and let the hatch fall with a crash, Bully Dunkan spoke again: —

  “I’m going to go through your pockets, Sonny son,” he said, in his quiet, ugly way. And his feet moved, and went towards the Hogge.

  Goodness! But I felt the relief. He had not seen me at all! He was still speaking to the Hogge. With the revulsion of feeling, I described myself briefly and exactly in unspoken phrases as a fool of the completest kind. Then, I lifted the kettle down into the hatchway, and lowered the trap (or hatch-cover) noiselessly shut again.

  “Matches, quick, Miles!” I whispered.

  “What’s the kettle for, John?” he asked me, as the candle-flame rose and brightened. “What were you deaf-and-dumbing?”

  “I thought the Dunkan had got me,” I whispered! “Quick, the dope! This is the hot water for their grog. I’ll make them sleep longer than the seven sleepers. I never knew such luck.”

  He raced for the bottle of “dope” (sleeping-draught, ‘Frisco quality!) and handed it up to me. I poured about half of it into the kettle. I dared not risk more; for I felt that neither of them was ready; that is, not from a Christianlike way of looking at the matter. I told Miles to blow out the candle. Then, very carefully, I lifted the hatch-cover again, and put the kettle back, where I had found it under the table.

  Bully Dunkan was standing at the back of the Hogge’s chair, evidently going through his pockets, in an unemotional but thorough fashion.

  “That’s all, dear friend,” I heard him say. “I guess I got yer gun; so you’ll maybe check yer evil propensities. What say now, to the grog?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” growled the Hogge.

  I shut the hatch just in time, as Bully Dunkan reached under the table for the kettle.

  Five minutes later, the Hogge grunted, with more than porcine satisfaction.

  “That’s good stuff, Cap’n,” he said. “You’re hell-fire an’ you got ugly ways I ain’t no use for; but I’ll allow as you shore can make a grog-stew.”

  “I believe you, Sonny,” said Bully Dunkan; and he also smacked his lips, in a way that was a good second to the Hogge’s.

  Down in the lazarette, Miles and I held on to each other, and tried to keep it as silent as we could; but that kind of laugh takes a deal of managing!

  VI

  During the next half-hour, I stood most of the time on the ladder, close up to the trap, listening.

  At first, I could hear the Hogge and Bully Dunkan talking, with the constant accompanying chink, chink of money. Once, the Hogge began to grumble, but in a drowsy undertone, that was pleasantly suggestive to me of good, plain, efficient “dope,” or knock-out-mixture — to give it only one or two of its varied names.

  Abruptly, there came a dull thud on the deck, close to my head, and the sound of a shower of coins.

  “Beas’ly… drunk… ‘Ogg!” said Bully Dunkan, in a tone of indescribable senility; and with a long pause between each word.

  “The Hogge’s gone to sleep on the door, and taken half the gold with him, I should judge by the sounds,” I whispered down to Miles.

  “How’s the Dunikan?” he whispered back.

  “Seems to be on his last legs,” I said; “that is, by the way he’s been trying to reprove the Hogge. He’s just told him he’s a beas’ly drunk ‘Ogg; and it took him nearly half a minute to say it…. Ah! there he goes, too!”

  F
or there had come a second thud on the deck, accompanied by a further cascading of coins.

  I waited through a long couple of minutes, during which an absolute silence filled the cabin over my head. Then I lifted the trap slowly, and peeped through. The Hogge lay on his side, within a yard and a half of me. He looked crumpled and inert; but peacefully disposed. Bully Dunkan lay sprawled, at the end of the table, his legs under it, and his head lying on one of the Hogge’s sea-boots. He had the same expression of peace.

  All around the two of them, lay five-, ten-, and twenty-dollar gold pieces. The two men were literally lying in wealth, if not in the lap of luxury. I never saw quite so much gold on the floor at one time, before or since.

  “Come along, Miles,” I said. “Bring the bag. They sleep as sleep the Innocent that knows no wrong; nor e’er hath taken aught that did belong, to any….”

  I ceased declaiming, and went up through the little hatchway; and in a moment, Miles followed, with the long, strong, bolster-like, canvas bag, which I had made for this moment.

  “Behold them, dear man,” I said. “It’s picturesque to see them lie among the gold.”

  “Good Lord!” answered Miles; “look at the pile on the table.”

  “I have,” I told him. “And I’m not tired yet. Here you are, hold the bag, while I slide it off into it.”

  This was a short but pleasant piece of work. Then we set-to and picked up all the gold coins that lay about the deck of the cabin. When we had finished, the bag was simply awesomely full.

  “Now, Miles,” I said, “there are just one or two things to do, before we go below to our humble abode of darkness. We shall have to sacrifice a handful of gold; but we can spare it.”

  I took a handful out of the mouth of the long, narrow sack, and stepped across to Bully Dunkan’s bunk. I unscrewed and opened the port-light that was in the ship’s side, just over his bunk. I took several of the coins and laid them on the rebate of the port-hole, just outside. Then I placed a coin or two on the brass rim of the port-hole itself, trusting to luck that they would not slip off, with the rolling of the ship.