Complete Works of William Hope Hodgson

by Hodgson, William Hope

  I comprehended thoroughly the perfectness of the trap into which I had walked. In some way, a complete knowledge of what I had sent by wireless, must have been obtained by the authorities. There were warships lying in the bay, and it had been easy to arrange every-thing. The two lieutenants, probably with a score of other officers and boats, had patrolled the mouth of the bay, and kept a watch for every vessel that came “near in.” They had come aboard, apparently in casual friendly fashion; and when they had left, they had evidently been confirmed in their own minds, that my ship was the one they were looking for. Possibly the whole of the Point Issol had been silently invested, in readiness, for some hours, and every step of my way, even up the “snout,” and my little adventure with the old beam, must all have had their silent onlookers.

  A rare bit of drama I had been providing the fleet with! And there had obviously been orders not to interfere with me in any way; but to give every chance to the German to meet me, for it was not me they wanted, but the German, Herr Fromach, with (as I had already guessed) the almost priceless plans of the new additions to the great Fortress of Toulon.

  As I stared, fascinated, at the line of silent man-of-war’s men, with the blaze making their bayonets shine like spikes of fire, someone touched my shoulder gently, and I whirled round.

  Monsieur Brengae was standing close to me, saying something, which I did not hear; for over his shoulder, down the slope, among the trees, there were vaguely seen movements of hundreds of men among the shadows.

  “Monsieur the Captain has come ashore for a promenade?” I realised that the lieutenant was saying, in the most courteous fashion possible.

  “Good Lord!” I said, staring. “That you, Monsieur?…. What are your men doing? Is it an execution?”

  “The men!” he said, looking at me, in a mild kind of way. “But what is Monsieur’s remark? What men?”

  “Why!” I said, and turned up the brow towards the old mill. But there was not a man visible, of all the silent guards who had stood a moment before across the breadth of the point, between me and the sea.

  I laughed, as I looked at the Lieutenant. Evidently they were acknowledging nothing unusual, except a searchlight display.

  “Remarkably fine show!” I said, staring down at Lieutenant Brengae.

  “A little welcome, shall we say?” said the Lieutenant, smiling; but his lips came back a bit too much from his teeth, and quite spoilt the friendly tone of his preceding words.

  “Perhaps, Monsieur the Captain had an assignation,” he said, still in his gentle way. “… No?”

  “Certainly not, Monsieur,” I answered.

  “Ah!” he said, smiling still; but now the way his lips left his teeth was almost a sneer. “Perhaps Monsieur came ashore to sample the cheese of the country, or maybe it was a foreign cheese… perhaps Monsieur has a fondness for cheese, shall we say, Roquefort? But I fear the shops are shut tonight!”

  I’m not much of a French scholar, but I knew enough to remember that fromage goes for cheese, and that the little Lieutenant was rotting me; he was simply punning on the German’s name. But I only laughed, as good naturedly as I could, in the circumstances.

  “I fear Monsieur disbelieves me?” I said.

  “Perhaps as the shops have closed up,” said the Lieutenant, looking at me fixedly, “Monsieur the Captain will not want to buy any cheese tonight?”

  I thought of the scuffle I had heard, and it was plain that he was telling me that Herr Fromach had been caught.

  “Promotion, Monsieur Lieutenant, is a glory for the young man,” I said. “I perceive that Monsieur is in the cheese business, and hopes to make a profit!”

  He stared at me, half fierce as he wrestled dumbly to shred out my exact meaning. Then he shrugged his shoulders; but was still at a loss how to get even with me for the way in which I had levelled him up, in his own little word-game of quiet cut-and-thrust.

  However, I saw no reason for giving him time to mature a reply, and, raising my cap, I said Bon soir, and turned seawards.

  Lieutenant Brengae accompanied me to the end of the snout of rock, and stood silently by me, while I whistled for my boat.

  As I got in, he murmured: “Good night, Monsieur the Captain. I have cheesed it for you, is not that the idiom?”

  This was evidently a great and successful effort, and he threw his chest out, with a queer little swaggering motion.

  I laughed quietly, as I answered him —

  “Perhaps, in the circumstances, Monsieur, I must accept your idiom as correct,” I said. “Good night, Monsieur le Lieutenant.”

  “Good-night, Monsieur the Captain,” he said. And so we parted.

  When I got aboard, Mac had everything ready, and I up anchor and away, at once, as any onecan imagine.

  The searchlights of the warships followed me, as if in a silent unison of jeers at my night’s imbroglio, until the Point la Cride hid me.

  July 28.

  I went ashore today at Gib., where I posted the following letter to my friend, Lieutenant Brengae, of the destroyer Gaul —

  “My Dear Lieutenant,

  “I felt at our last brief meeting it would have been out of place to attempt to force upon you the truth that I did not go ashore on the Point Issol to meet the German, Herr Fromach. It was not, in any way, a fitting moment to insist upon the truth of my statement. But the time has come when I must do so, in the hope that you will now, of your natural courtesy, accord me belief in my word, which I fear you were once inclined to discredit.

  “I did not go ashore on the Point Issol to meet the German; for at the moment that I went ashore, my Second Mate, in one of our life-boats, was embarking Herr Fromach in the Bay of Bandol, some miles away. My little excursion to the Point Issol was planned solely to direct attention to that one spot; and my wireless messages (of a cypher too easy to be secret!) were purely bogus; for I myself sent both my queries and my replies; repeating them courteously, until I felt sure that the warships in the Bay of Sanary could not have failed to assimilate them. Need I explain more! Except that I landed Herr Fromach at Algeciras, not more than two hours ago.

  “I have often wondered who was the innocent and unfortunate visitor you ‘captured’ on the point that night. He must have been almost as bewildered as you were later, when you discovered that, after all, your investment in, shall we say, Roquefort, on the Point Issol, failed to prove a profitable speculation!

  “I trust you will admire the smartness of my little plot, in the same courteous spirit in which you and the Admiralty genially assisted me to carry it out.

  “Believe me, dear Lieutenant Brenage,

  “Yours faithfully,

  “G. Gault —

  “Master.

  “P.S. — There is just something more I must add, in closing. I do not believe in spying, and, incidentially, I’ve no particular use for Germans.

  “Further, I’m an Englishman; and as this war between Germany and France (our friend) seems now to be a certainty, I think that you will be pleased to hear that Herr Fromach went ashore minus his plans. When he comes to open the envelope which contained them, he will find some really first-class blank paper.

  “I was offered five hundred pounds to pick up the respected Herr and land him safely in Algeciras. I accepted the contract, and have fulfilled it faithfully; for it is my fixed principle always to carry out any engagement I undertake. As I have said, I landed him two hours ago in Algeciras, and my commission is honestly earned.

  “The plans, however, are another matter. And, to go into details, they are, at this moment of writing, en route to the Governor of Toulon, in a registered package, with my compliments. Let us shake hands, my dear Lieutenant. As you would yourself phrase it, in excellent idiom: ‘I have Herr Fromach on buttered toast.’ In England we should not, perhaps, be so particular about the butter; we should account just plain, dry toast sufficient.

  “Shake hands, old man.

  “G. Gault.”

  THE ADVENTURE OF THE
GARTER

  S.S. Edric,

  January 17.

  I’m back passenger carrying, and I suppose I’m a bit of a fool; but there’s a certain young lady aboard, who’s managed to twist me round her finger more than I should have imagined possible a few days ago, when we left Southampton.

  She’s next to me at the head of my table, and we’ve rather cottoned on to each other. Indeed, I’ll admit I like her that well, that I’ve broken my general rule, never to allow a passenger up on the lower bridge; for she’s been up there with me several times lately, and I feel a bit of an ass; for I guess my officers are sure to be poking fun at my expense, among themselves. A ship’s Captain should keep his lady friendships ashore, if he hopes to have things run smooth aboard.

  She’s a dainty little woman, with pretty hands and feet, and heaps of brown hair. Looks about twenty-two; but I’m old enough to know she’s probably about thirty. She’s too wise for twenty-two. Knows when to keep quiet; and that’s a thing; twenty-two is generally too bubbly, or too much of a know-all, as the case may be, to have learnt.

  “Captain Gault,” she said to me this morning, after we had walked the lower bridge for the better part of two hours, “what’s in this little house here, you’re always going into?”

  “That’s my chart-room, Miss Malbrey,” I said. “It’s where I do most of my nautical work.”

  “Won’t you take me in and show me?” she asked, in a pretty way she has. She hesitated a moment; then she said, a little awkwardly: “There’s something I want to talk to you about, Captain Gault. I simply must go somewhere where I can talk to you.”

  “Well,” I replied, “if I can be of any service, I shall be downright pleased. Come along in and look at my working den; and talk as much as you like.”

  I guess that shows she can wrap me round her finger, more than is good for me; for I’ve made it a rule for years, to keep my chart-room strictly private and strictly for ships’ work. At least, I mean I’ve tried to!

  But there you are! That’s what happenes to the best of us, when a lass takes our fancy. They get us on our soft side, and we’re like tabbies round a milk saucer. As MacGelt, an old Engineer of mine, used to say: “It’s pairfec’ly reediclous; but I canna say nay to a wumman, once she’s set me wantin’ to gi’e her a bit hug.” And there you have the Philosophy of the Ages in a nutshell! At least some of it.

  Now see how things came about. We’d no more than got inside the chart-room, than Miss Malbrey asked me to close the door.

  “Please turn your back a moment, Captain, will you? I sha’n’t be a minute,” she said.

  The next thing I knew, she called out to me that I could look round. And when I did so, she was shaking her skirt down straight with her right hand, and holding out to me something in her left which I saw at once was a garter, of surprisingly substantial make.

  “Take it, Captain,” she said, looking up at me, and blushing a little. “I’m going to beg you to do me a very great favour indeed. See! Feel it. Do you feel those cut-out places inside, and the hard things in them?… Surely, Captain, you know what it is.”

  “Yes,” I said, rather soberly. “I know what it is, Miss Malbrey. It’s simply a jewel-runner’s garter. I’m sorry. I don’t like to think of a woman like you doing this sort of thing—”

  She waved her hand to me to stop.

  “Listen a moment!” she said. “Do listen, Captain Gault. This is to be my very last trip with the sparklers. I’ve made up my mind to drop it, for good. And I should never have troubled you about it, only there’s one of the Treasury spies aboard, and they’ve spotted me; and I shall simply be caught; and oh, I don’t know what to do, if you won’t help me, Captain Gault. You’re so clever at running the stuff through. You’ve never been caught. I’ve heard lots of times about you, and the way the Customs never can catch you with the goods. Won’t — won’t you just this once, to save me from being caught, run this through for me? I promise you it will be for the last time. I shall never try to run stuff in again. I’ve made enough to live on quietly; and now I guess I want to end it all. Will you help me, Captain Gault? Promise me you will?”

  What else could I do? I promised, and now I’m booked to run this pretty lady’s stuff through, willy-nilly; and never a thought does she seem to have that I may get caught, and suffer fine and maybe imprisonment. But I certainly don’t mean to get “catched,” if you know anything about it!

  “Where are you going to hide it, Captain? Do trust me,” she said.

  “I never show my pet hiding-places to anyone,” I told her. “You see, my dear young lady, if ever you have to keep a secret, keep it to yourself; that’s my rule. If I told first one person and then another, where I hide some of the trifles I sometimes take ashore duty-free in New York, why I guess I should be in bad trouble pretty soon.”

  “But I’m a trustable sort of person, aren’t I, Captain Gault?” she assured me. “And I can keep secrets. Why, if I couldn’t, I’d never have put anything over on the U.S.A. Treasury. I’ve never once been caught and it’s only through an accident that I’ve become suspected. But I don’t care. I’m tired of it; and I’m going to stop, really and truly, and be good and settle down. Now do be a dear man, and let me be the privileged one person in the world, and let me see your famous hiding-place that all the Customs officers are sure exists; but which they can never find. Now do, Captain.”

  “Miss Malbrey,” I said, “a man’s but a poor, weak thing, in the hands of a pretty woman; if you will forgive an honest compliment—”

  “Gee!” she interrupted, laughing right away down in the back of her eyes. “I’ll forgive you anything, Captain, pretty near, that is, if you’ll make me the only other person in the world who knows the truth of the great mystery.”

  “Well,” I said, “you’ll have to give me your solemn word you’ll keep it a secret till the end of your life.”

  “Sure, Captain Gault. I’ll die on the rack first,” she told me, twinkling at my seriousness. “Now be a good man and show me. I declare I’m all on the quiver with wondering where it is. Is it down in the hold, or where?”

  “Miss Malbrey,” I said slowly, “you’re standing within six feet of a human miracle of a hiding-place.”

  “What? Where, now?” she asked, staring round and round in a way that she surely knew was disturbingly taking to a plain sailor-man.

  “See,” I answered. “You shall open it yourself. You see that the thin, steel beams over your head are not cased with wood, as they are in the cabins and saloons. They’re just plain, small, solid steel T-girders, with no size about them, you would say, to hide anything — eh?

  “Well, now,” I continued, “look at the ‘beam’ just above your head, and count the square-headed bolts that go through the flange on the forrard side of the beam, up into the deck that makes the roof of the house. Stand on this chair. I will steady you. Now! The seventh bolt-head. Take it between your finger and thumb and see if you can turn it to your left… Can you?”

  “Yes,” she said, with a little gasp of effort. “Just a teeny, weeny bit…. But nothing’s happened!” she added in a disappointed voice.

  “Ah, believe me, dear lady, that’s just the beauty of this hiding-place,” I said. “If a Customs searcher happened on that bolt-head and twisted it a little, as you have done, he would merely suppose that it was a loose bolt, because nothing would happen to make him think otherwise. But let me help you off the chair. Now come along to the other end of the beam. See, I twist the second bolt-head here, close to the side, and now I can lift out a bit of the steel flange here, right in the center of the beam, with a row of false bolt-heads attached. Look! Do you see the hollow in the deck planks which the flange covers? There’s room there to hide a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of pearls or stones.

  “Now do you realise the cunning of it all? Before this bit of removable steel flange can be shifted, even a hundredth part of an inch, the seventh bolt on the starboard side has to be turned to the
left; then one has to go across to port, and turn the second, from the side of the house, to the right. Then one has to come here to the center of the beam, and catch hold of the twenty-fourth bolt from the starboard side, and pull outwards, evenly, and there you are. When it’s closed, it is almost microscopically invisible. I tell you, Miss Malbrey, the man who thought out that dodge, and had the old beam taken away, and that doctored one fitted in place of it, was a smart chap, and no mistake!”

  “And that man was you, sure enough, Captain Gault,” she said, laughing, with her pert little head turned on one side, and clapping her two small hands.

  “You flatter me, my dear lady!” I answered her; and refused to tell her whether I was the one who’d had the beams altered, or not. All the same, the notion is a smart one; and I pride myself on it; which is certainly one way of letting the cat out of the bag!

  “Ah! Well, Captain Gault, you’re sure one smart man!” she told me, when she had helped me hide the “smuggler’s garter” in the recess above the beam flange. “I’d never have thought of a notion like that. I guess I’d better run away now, and take Toby for a run, before you get tired of me. Isn’t he a darling dearum, now. Kiss me, pet!”

  This, perhaps, it may be as well to explain, was not a direct invitation to me; but was addressed to her pet dog, Toby; a toy pom, which had become quite friendly with me; but I’ve no use for it. I abominate lap-dogs; but I’ve not said so to the young woman!

  “Miss Malbrey,” I said, “I’m getting quite jealous of that dog!”

  And by this speech you may gather that I had slightly lost my head. I can’t say I’ve quite got it back, even at this present writing. She’s a confoundedly taking young woman!

  January 18.

  Mr. Allan Jarvis, the Chief Steward, came up to see me this morning. He’s a man I trust; which is more than I do most people. We both hail from the same town, and when we’re alone together we drop the Mr. Jarvis and the Captain Gault. It’s just plain Jarvis and Gault, as it should be, between men who are friends and who have helped one another put through more than one odd deal that had money at the bottom of it.