Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

  I did not, of course, think really of giving them away; for there might have been a charge made of bribery and corruption; whilst they, as I was pretty sure, would say nothing, lest they be mulcted of the “presents” I had made them; and also, possibly, have a reprimand for meddling with my proposition in any way at all.

  The search Wentock gave that bag was a revelation of drastic thoroughness. I remonstrated once, and said I would put in a claim for a new bag; for Wentock, as he went further and further, and found nothing, seemed almost inclined to rip the bag to pieces, so sure was he that he “had me safe.”

  At last, he had to give it up, and pronounced it free of all dutiable stuff — which of course it was; for, as I told him later, I had considered the chances of their proving treacherous, and had carefully omitted on this occasion to put anything dutiable into the bag. I told them that it must be regarded as a kind of trial trip, to test their intentions.

  This was as soon as the boss had left the cubicle, and then I cut loose on the two of them.

  “For a couple of treacherous, grunting human hogs, you two are something to talk about!” I told them. “You take my money with one hand, and try to do me in with the other. Suppose you hand out that cash I gave you!”

  Wentock laughed outright at this, as if it were a particularly nutty kind of joke; but I was glad to see that Ewiss looked more uncomfortable than ever.

  “Our perquisites, Cap’n,” said Wentock. “We’re often asked out to a bit of dinner, and we get people who are mighty anxious to hand us nice little cash presents, ad lib, as you might say, every once in a while. And we don’t say ‘no,’ do we, Ewiss? Seeing we’re both married men with families to bring up, and remembering, Cap’n, how affectionately you’ve asked after the youngsters, you might remember us again, Cap’n, when you’ve any odd cash as you don’t want, burning holes in your pocket. Likewise we both admired them dinners you stood us uptown. You can do it again, Cap’n, any time you like, and keep on doing it. We’re always open. If you can stand it, we can. Now, how would tonight suit you? We’re both free and—”

  “Go to blazes!” I said, “and stay there. You’re a pair of treacherous animals, like all your kind, and you might have ruined me if I hadn’t been careful. Give me my bags, and be damned to you! They say never trust a policeman, even if he’s your own brother. He’ll lock you up first chance he gets for the sake of promotion. And I guess you’re the same kind of cheap stuff.”

  And with that I picked up my bags and walked out, Wentock holding the door for me. But Ewiss was looking as thoroughly miserable and ashamed as a man need look.

  “How would tonight suit you, Sir?” called Wentock after me as I passed through the gates.

  “Go to the devil!” I said. “And get him to shut your infernal mouth with a red-hot brick.”

  And with that I boarded a street car and went rather thoughtfully up town.

  August 19. Later still.

  As it chances, I have invited the men to dinner again — both of them; for I’m not the kind of man who likes taking a fall too quietly.

  This is what I wrote, addressing it to Wentock at his office:

  “Dear Mr. Wentock,

  “I have been thinking things over a bit, and have come to the conclusion that everything was not said at our last meeting that might have been said. I bear no malice at all for the somewhat pungent wit you handed out to me. I guess I was in the position that invited a few jabs.

  “I have been thinking that perhaps there is still a way to arrange this affair a little more to my liking, and I can assure you and your friend that you will be the gainers, and without having your strict feelings for high honesty and fairness outraged.

  “Will you both meet me at our little restaurant tonight at the usual time, and I will go thoroughly into the matter; for as I start off tomorrow, it is imperative to me to carry through my plan before I sail.

  “Remember, I bear no malice at all. Look upon this as an entirely business-like and reasonable friendly little invite.

  “Yours sincerely,

  “G. Gault.”

  I sent this by messenger, and tonight I shall be at the restaurant.

  August 20.

  They both came on time. Wentock as cheerful and unscrupulous as ever. Ewiss looking awkward, and as if he would rather have stopped away.

  “Now,” I said, as we sat down, “pleasure first and business afterwards.” And I reached for the hock.

  “One moment, Sir,” said Ewiss suddenly, and pushed forward a small roll of paper, which I took from him, feeling a little puzzled.

  It contained dollar notes to the approximate value of five pounds. I looked across at Ewiss with a sudden gladness and respect in my heart, for I understood. But what I said was —

  “What are these, Mr. Ewiss?”

  “It’s your brass, Cap’n,” he said. “I’ve thought a deal lately, an’ I reckon I can’t hold on to it. I’m not grumbling at Mr. Wentock’s way of looking at it. Lots of our men look at it that way; but even if you’d no right to try to bribe me, that doesn’t say as I’m right to take your brass, an’ mean to sell you all the time. If I’m above the job you wanted me to do, I feel I ought to be above taking the brass for it, too. So take it back, Sir; an’ after that I shall enjoy my dinner with you as well as any one.”

  I looked across at Wentock.

  “And you?” I asked.

  “Well,” he said, grinning in his cheerful fashion, “I don’t see it that way, Cap’n. Ewiss, here, always was a bit funny on that point. Sometimes I’ve screwed him up to our general way of looking at it; but in the main he’s not built on those lines, and I don’t grumble at him, any more than he don’t grumble at me. I look at it this way. You, or any man as insults me by tryin’ to bribe me, has got to pay for it.”

  “Good man, Wentock,” I said. “It takes a deal of different opinions to oil the different kinds of consciences. I’ve a brand of my own, and you’ve a brand of your own, and Mr. Ewiss, there, has his. Anyway, you’re welcome to the cash, Mr. Wentock. As for you, Mr. Ewiss, I see you can’t take yours; so I’ll have it back, and I apologise to you. I think your way is the soundest of the three of us. Now, forgetting all this, let’s drop the serious for a time, and we’ll have our dinner.”

  * * * *

  It was over the wine that I explained to Wentock the things I had to explain. Ewiss was out of it, though he listened quietly, with the deepest interest, and a flash of a smile now and again that showed he had a sense of humour.

  “You see, Wentock,” I said, “I never meant to bribe either of you, but only to make you think that I did. No man in his senses would risk £6000 — to be exact, £5997” (I glanced at Ewiss and smiled; for I had guessed who was my “well-wisher”) “on a piffly little bribe like a couple of fivers. If I had seriously meant to buy you, I should have offered something nearer your price, say fifty or a hundred pounds. As it was, I wanted merely, by means of my trifling bribes, to make you think I was going to run the stuff through in the way I explained so carefully. In other words, I wished to focus your entire suspicions upon Number 2 bag, thereby ensuring that the Number 1 bag, which I left in your hands, should receive only the most casual attention; for you would naturally think only of the second bag, which I assured you I did not want searched. Moreover, it would seem self-evident to you that the Number 1 bag, which I handed entirely over to your care, would never have anything dutiable in it; for, had you acted up to your agreement, there was no apparent reason for supposing that I would ever even handle it again. To ensure your subconsciously realising this, I even told you you could keep it once it had served me in the matter of the substitution.

  “Of course, had you been faithful to our arrangement, and substituted the Number 1 bag to be searched for the Number 2 bag, which I brought with me, I might have been in a hole. You see, the handle of the Number 1 bag contained the particular, shall we say, trinkets, you were anxious to lay hands on.

  “But then, I knew, bo
th from the smallness of my bribe and from my reading of your face, and from the ways of Customs officials in general, that you would go for the big ‘cop’ you felt sure you were wise to. It might have meant promotion — oh, and quite a number of desirable things, from your point of view.

  “After all, Wentock, even you,” I said quietly and pleasantly, “will agree that honesty’s the best policy!

  “And that concludes all I have to say, practically. I planned it all out, even to the burst of anger and the snatching up of both my bags and walking off in that quite superb indignation on discovery of your treachery. I did it well, didn’t I? — while you were so pleasingly and wittily inviting yourself to this final little dinner, which I had even then planned, like all the rest of it.

  “As I said in my note, you would be the gainers for coming tonight. That is so; for you are the richer for a dinner and an explanation, and Mr. Ewiss for an apology. That is all.”

  THE DRUM OF SACCHARINE

  S.S. Adriatic,

  May 23.

  Mr. Armes, my First Mate, and Mr. James, the second, had a row today. They clubbed together in port and bought a hundred pounds of saccharine.

  The duty on it, going into England, is considerable — sevenpence an ounce, upwards. In this case the duty will amount to about fifteen shillings a pound, as the stuff is over “proof,” as I might say, and the duty varies according to strength. I think the two of them are rather aghast at their own daring; they’ve been planning, all the way home, how they’re going to get the “goods” through the Customs.

  Mr. Armes mentioned to me the proposition he and the Second Mate had in mind. This was after they’d bought the stuff, and I told him it would not interfere with anything I was doing, and they could go ahead. Only, if the Customs dropped on the saccharine, they must own up and pay the fine themselves. For I was not going to have the ship fined.

  This was on the bridge, and he grinned at me, warningly.

  “Sst! Remember the man at the wheel, Sir!” he said.

  The row they had today came about through Mr. Armes proposing to hide the stuff in a big, empty paint-drum, which was to be made watertight and then lowered over the side before the searchers came aboard. They would sink it on the end of a line and buoy the end with a casual bit of cork. Then, when the search was over, they would only have to get hold of the inconspicuous little float and haul the stuff up again.

  The Second Mate’s notion was to hang the stuff down inside the hollow steel mainmast with a thin wire, the end of which could be fixed by jamming it under one of the nuts that held down the lid that covers the top of every mast that isn’t a spike mast.

  It was in this morning’s watch that they got squabbling about the thing — each wanting his own way and each sure that his method of hiding the stuff was the best.

  Finally, they came up to me to ask my opinion. I was on the bridge at the time, and I had to keep telling them to speak quieter; for I could see that Sedwell, the man at the wheel, was curious.

  When my two officers had explained their ideas, I told them how I felt in the matter. I said that possibly the Second Mate’s plan was quite as good as the Mate’s; but it was no better, and certainly not as safe; for if the stuff were found outside the ship neither they nor the ship could be fined, as long as there were no witnesses, and they would lose only the price they had paid for the stuff — though, of course, this would be bad enough, for the two of them had spent a year’s savings on their “speculation.”

  But I made clear to them that I left the choice entirely with them. I preferred the First Mate’s method, chiefly because it would keep the ship free; and I fancy we want to let things rest a bit; for I can tell lately, by the thoroughness of the official search after every voyage, that we are somewhat under a cloud! Perhaps we have deserved it; for certainly I’ve had some very good luck lately.

  “But, mind you,” I said, “I stand out of this business altogether. Do it your own way, and, profit or loss, you must take the responsibility. I merely advise the two of you to take the First Mate’s plan of sinking the stuff to a small float alongside just before the searchers come aboard….”

  “Sshh, Sir! Not too loud!” said Mr. James, the Second Mate, holding up his hand, quickly.

  I stopped at once; for I had certainly spoken a little louder, in my intention to make it clear that I stood entirely out of the business, lock, stock and barrel, as you might say.

  I glanced over at Sedwell, at the wheel. It struck me that the man was plainly trying to hear what we were saying, and I stepped over quickly to look at the compass. I found that he had indeed been taking more notice of the two officers’ argument than of his steering; for the vessel was nearly two points off her course. I suggested to Sedwell that our ideas of steering were not, perhaps, quite identical. I endeavoured to fuse this suggestion into him in as few words as possible, and returned to where the two Mates were standing.

  “He was certainly trying to hear,” I told them; “but I’m pretty sure he’s heard nothing that matters. In fact, I’m sure he’s heard nothing that could give your plans away.”

  “So are we, Sir,” said the Second Mate, Mr. James. “We both tried to catch the few carefully chosen phrases you dealt out to him” (they both grinned); “but we could only just hear the more vigourous portion!”

  May 24.

  We docked this evening, and I was certainly interested to see whether the two of them got the stuff through; for a hundred pounds of saccharine is a hefty quantity to try to smuggle casually into port and afterwards ashore through the officers at the dock gates.

  Apparently, the First Mate’s plan was the one they’d chosen, for they disappeared below with the biggest empty paint-drum we’ve got in the ship. I stayed on the bridge all the morning, so as to give them full liberty; and they fixed and caulked the thing up in my cabin, where no one could see them.

  Just before the officers came aboard, the Mate slipped away aft, to where he had previously slung the paint-drum over the quarter. He took a look round, then lowered it rapidly away, and let go the end of the line, to which he had fastened a piece of rough cork, that looked as if it were nothing but a bit of old stuff that was just floating about in the water.

  It was Sedwell’s wheel again, as it chanced; and when I turned from having a quick look to see how the Mate had managed I caught Sedwell also staring aft, over his shoulder, at the Mate.

  I explained to Sedwell that, as a variant, he might as well take a look ahead, now and then, to see that we made some show of following in the wake of the tug.

  When the Customs came up over the side, we were already a hundred feet ahead of the place where the Mate had let go the buoyed paint-drum; and I felt that the thing should succeed; for we were going slowly ahead all the time.

  Yet, I was a little anxious about Sedwell, in one or two ways. The man plainly had some suspicion; but as we moved steadily farther and farther away, I felt safer about the saccharine.

  It would be impossible for him to get away from the ship before dark. I could see to that! And then he could do no harm, for the two Mates would have had ample time, by then, to deal with the stuff themselves.

  The officers reported themselves to me; but before we went down into the cabin, to go through the usual preliminaries, I excused myself a moment and had a word with Mr. Armes.

  “That man, Sedwell, is on to the game,” I told him. “Watch him.”

  “Very good,” said the Mate, “I’ll certainly watch him, Sir!”

  Down in my cabin, the officers struck me as being most perfunctory in their work. I asked them to take a look through my gear, as I wanted to get ashore as soon as possible. Here again, their attitude was most peculiar. Instead of the exact and elabourate search-methods that have been lately wasted on my ship, they simply made believe to look over my belongings, and were actually out of the cabin within five minutes.

  This made me form certain conclusions, and when I went up on deck again I had word with my two of
ficers.

  “They’ve done my place already,” I told them. “They hardly looked at a thing!”

  “Same with us, Sir,” said the two Mates. “Looks as if we were getting to be considered a reformed character, as one might say.”

  “Rather rich, after the way you cleared all that stuff safely last trip, Sir!” said Mr. James, my Second.

  The two of them grinned at me; but I pulled them up.

  “You’ll grin on the other side,” I told them, “if this business of yours goes wrong! Have you kept an eye on Sedwell?”

  “Yes, Sir,” said the First Mate.

  “Excuse me, Sir, shoving in cheeky like,” said the bo’sun, coming up to me at this moment; “but I been watchin’ that Sedwell. I knows as you got a little flutter on wiv’ the Customs people, an’ I sees the Mate dump the stuff astern; an’ then I sees that yon Sedwell ‘ad seen it, same as me. Well, I didn’t know as that mattered, till the search officers come up on the bridge to see you, Sir, an’ you goes down to speak to the First Mate. But then I got suspicious; for I seen the officers swappin’ quick talk with Sedwell, quiet like; and then, when you went up again on the bridge, they made as if they’d never seen ‘im. An’ now, look at ‘em, they ain’t more than pretendin’ to search the ship. I ‘ope you don’t mind my shoving in like this, Sir; but I’d lay my pay-day to a marlin-spike, as yon Sedwell’s split.”

  “Thank you, Bo’sun,” I said. “I’ll remember this. Keep an eye on Sedwell while you’re about the deck.”