The Mystery of the Mud Flats

by Maurice Drake

  ‘I’ve plenty of money.’

  ‘You won’t have, for long. You see, if this business really is a State affair, it will probably be our duty to put a stop to it. We can do that at any moment, without letting loose the dogs of war or any nonsense like that. But if we do, we put a stop to money-making.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Simply make public what we know—that Scheldt mud is worth two hundred pounds a ton. In a week, those banks would be covered with Dutch Government analysts, with a regiment or two of infantry and a couple of gunboats patrolling up and down to prevent any more of it being stolen. Under such circumstances I think the explosive factory would be very carefully overhauled, and if there is any spying going on things will be made unpleasant for your friend Van Noppen.’

  ‘Then do I understand you to say that Voogdt’s in command of the whole show from now on?’

  ‘That’s it exactly. The Axel Trading Company volunteers for Government service. Voogdt is Commander-in-Chief. You’re Admiral of the Fleet, ferrying his confidential agents as he directs. Incidentally I should remove as much wolframite as you can before the smash comes. This declaring it as coprolites will serve for half a dozen more voyages, I daresay, and we can’t reckon on having time left us for more than that. I’ll stay in London as headquarters staff, and remit the sinews of war as required. And that’s all. I must admit I was a little sore about the way your friend penetrated the secrets of our wolframite business, but if he circumvents the agents of an efficient, practical nation like Germany I shall feel I have less reason to be ashamed of my useless precautions. So good luck go with him.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ said I. ‘For the man’s my friend and my mate—one after my own heart. And I’ll tell you this: if I lose him over this business not all the money in the world’ll take his place.’

  Ward had letters to write, he said, so, promising to join him at dinner, I went back aboard, meaning to have a sleep; but Sellick was hanging about waiting for me, and at his request I asked him into the cabin.

  ‘Mainwaring and Colley turned up last night,’ he began. ‘They want to know if you’ll give them a trip across?’

  ‘I saw them. They’ll stow away for’ard on Monday night before we sail. Who are they?’

  ‘Mainwaring’s father was The Mainwaring—the K.C. This fool’s been called, but he doesn’t like the law. He’s a slacker. Messes about poking his fingers into things that don’t concern him. He tried to get out to South Africa, but that was no go. He’s awfully shortsighted. Then he had a packet of cards printed and bought a hand camera—pretended he was a war correspondent.’

  I remembered what Voogdt had said.

  ‘You were there, too, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Rotten hole. So was Colley.’

  ‘Who’s he, when he’s at home?’ I asked.

  ‘He? Oh, he’s a man—of sorts. I can’t stand Mainwaring—smarmy, affable beast. But Colley’s a horse of another colour. Father was a steeplejack—factory chimneys, don’t you know. Coade and Colley. Big people in the North. Making big money till the Americans knocked out brick and mortar chimneys with iron pipes in sections. They shut down, and Harry Colley looked out for another job. He’s got his points—a sound man on machinery. Started a little motor works three years ago, and did well, I believe. Just chucked that, though. He’s been learning flying, too. Keen on anything with wheels and works, he is. He’s a sulky beast, though. I say, skipper—’

  ‘Well?’ I said, for he hesitated.

  ‘What are we playing at, eh?’

  ‘Ask me another,’ I said. ‘It’s all muddle to me. My orders are to ship you, and I’ve done it. I’m to take your two friends across to Terneuzen without exciting notice, and I’ve told them to stow away. They’re to leave the ship when we get there. And that’s all I know, and now dry up and slip it, unless you’ve any more interesting yarns to tell me.’

  He grinned and went on deck. It was all of a piece with the confused, muddled notions I had of the whole affair that I never learnt the chap’s real name. Whilst he was aboard he did his work well and was neat and tidy, yachtsman fashion, and when he left he never as much as shook hands or said goodbye. I hadn’t any particular desire that he should, as a matter of fact, for his cynical ways weren’t mine. Besides, all the time I knew him he was a rich man playing at poverty, and that’s a very difficult role for any man to play without giving offence.

  We made a queer ship’s company, take us all the way round, and the only point upon which we showed any signs of agreement was a sincere belief and trust in Voogdt, hiding somewhere over there in the Low Countries.

  CHAPTER XIX

  WHICH TELLS OF A WILD-GOOSE CHASE

  MONDAY morning woke us all to activity. Voogdt evidently considered himself what Ward had called him—Commander-in-Chief—for he handed out his orders like an autocrat. Mine came in a letter posted at Bergen-op-Zoom on the previous Saturday and were short and sweet.

  ‘All well so far. Ward will join you shortly. Persuade him to act on my instructions posted to him at Erith and Birmingham. Be off Flushing Thursday night, but miss your tide and anchor as close as possible to westward of West Haven light. Stay two tides and keep passengers below decks out of sight. Hope to join you there.’

  I went straight to the hotel to tell Ward a letter awaited him at the post office, but found him at the breakfast-table already reading it. Carwithen having opened the duplicate had sent him a code wire telling him to fetch the copy at Erith post office.

  ‘You’ve heard, too?’ he greeted me. ‘What are your orders?’

  ‘I’m to persuade you to carry out his instructions, first and foremost.’

  ‘Have you any idea what those instructions are?’ he asked, looking at me in a puzzled way through his glasses.

  ‘Not a notion.’

  ‘Read them, then,’ said he, and he handed me the letter. It was dated, as mine, on the Saturday before.

  ‘DEAR MR WARD,—See Jem West and make him tell you everything he knows about the circumstances of my leaving him. The conjectures which I then imparted to him appear correct. I want to impress the importance of this on you as my reason for asking you to do what may appear at first sight to be a very silly thing. Briefly, I want you to die on Thursday next. Will you therefore please publish an announcement of your death in one or two good Birmingham and London papers on Wednesday morning, and ask one of the young ladies to send Cheyne a marked copy, with a letter of regrets. A rather hysterical and frightened letter, please. Then go away for a spell in the country—or, better to London—and keep out of sight till I tell you to come to life again. This will give considerable pain to your friends and relatives, I fear, but, believe me, it is necessary. And they’ll be the more delighted when they discover the report is false. If you think it safe you may take Miss Brand, Miss Lavington and Mr Carwithen into your confidence, and you must give West your future address—but not a word to a single soul else, mind. This will seem mere idiocy to you, but I assure you that it is vitally important, as I hope to convince you after your resurrection, which I trust will take place within a fortnight at latest. Yours in haste,

  ‘AUSTIN VOOGDT.’

  ‘What do you make of that?’ said Ward, as I looked up from the letter.

  ‘What’s the use of asking me? I’ve been out of my depth ever since Voogdt left. If ’twas anybody else I should think he’d gone mad. As ’tis—shall you do it?’

  ‘I must, I suppose. We all appear pawns in your friend’s game. Doesn’t your letter throw any light on the buiness?’

  ‘Not on your dying. There are some definite instructions as to my movements.’ I took the letter out of my pocket and handed it to him.

  ‘H’m. This is sane enough,’ said he, after reading it over. ‘Thursday night’s tide. How long will it take you to get across?’

  ‘That all depends on the wind. It’s about a hundred and ten miles. With a light breeze, as it is now, say twenty-four hours. If it came on to blo
w hard easterly we shouldn’t get out of the river at all.’

  ‘Then hadn’t you better get all your ballast out and sail tonight in case of accidents? You’ll be clear of the river, at all events, and, once out in the open sea, you can hang about until Thursday afternoon.’

  ‘That’s a good notion. I’ll do it. The two stowaways are to come aboard tonight, too, and there’ll be no sense in staying here where somebody might see them.’

  ‘Good,’ said he. ‘Then I’ll get back to London at once, and arrange for a cab accident tonight. We may as well put what intelligent co-operation we can into the commandant’s instructions. Here’s my address.’

  He wrote on a sheet of paper—care of some man at Hampstead, an old friend he could trust, he said, and we said goodbye and parted; but I had to go back to join him again, for I hadn’t any orders about the Luck and Charity. We had nearly all the alleged coprolites on the wharf when it suddenly occurred to me we couldn’t sail light, and I ran up to ask Ward what we should ballast with.

  ‘Oh, ballast,’ said he carelessly. ‘Just ordinary ballast. You’ve brought a genuine cargo for once and no remarks will be made.’

  ‘How about when we get back to Terneuzen?’

  ‘We’ve no time now to cross bridges before we come to them. Voogdt’ll see you through at the other end. If I go buying deals or coal here now, it’ll mean delay.’

  So we got twelve or thirteen tons of sand and shingle from the ballast quay, and, by hustling, the hatch covers were on before seven o’clock. ’Kiah and Sellick went up town marketing, and whilst they were gone the stowaways slipped quietly aboard and disappeared into the forecastle. They ought to have gone into the hold, if I’d only thought of it, for there was no hiding-room for two grown men forward; and just before we cast off ’Kiah came to me, much perturbed in mind.

  ‘There’s two blooks stowed theirselves away for’ard,’ he said.

  ‘No!’ said I, trying to look surprised. ‘What do the fools think they’re after?’

  ‘I d’no,’ said ’Kiah. ‘They’m friends of ’is.’ He jerked his chin over his shoulder to indicate Sellick.

  ‘They was aboard Sat’day night, an’ they was talkin’ then about ’avin’ a trip aboard o’ us.’

  ‘I’ll trip ’em!’ I said. ‘Don’t you scare ’em out of it, ’Kiah. We’ll give ’em a doing. They won’t stow away aboard this craft again, I’ll bet.’

  ‘Aw right,’ said he, impassively as ever, and set about hauling warps aboard, so that we got away without further remark.

  The low Essex shore was out of sight and we were nearing the Kentish Knock next morning when the pair discovered themselves. Sellick had just come to the wheel to let me go to breakfast and we’d had a little passage of arms about the course.

  ‘East-nor’-east,’ he repeated after me. ‘I say, skipper, Flushing lays south of east from the Girdler, or I’m mistaken.’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ I said. ‘Steer the course I give you.’

  ‘Righto,’ said he, the magic of Secret Service evidently working in his mind. ‘Beg pardon.’

  ‘Since you’ve had the manners to beg pardon, I don’t mind telling you we ain’t due off Flushing till Thursday night,’ I told him. ‘And then we’ve got to miss the flood at seven-thirty and anchor close in. But you bear in mind I’m skipper here, and I know my business. I didn’t ship you to teach me.’

  ‘Thursday night,’ said he. ‘That’s interesting. Five men aboard for three days, and ’Kiah marketed for three men for one day.’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ I said again, angrily, for I hadn’t thought of that, and I could see short commons for somebody sticking out a mile.

  ‘East-nor’-east,’ he murmured under his breath, staring at the compass like a wooden image, and I had to seek some other object to blow off steam upon. As luck would have it, Mainwaring chose just that moment to make his appearance on deck, and I called him aft, asked him his business aboard, and then let him have it, good. It was no use trying to rile him, though. Like the others, he’d got this Secret Service bee in his bonnet, and if I had him chucked overboard he would have sunk with a finger at his nose, winking at me as much as to say we were all in the know together.

  When I’d done slanging him, much to ’Kiah’s edification, I asked him if he’d brought any food on board.

  ‘No, sir,’ he said affably. ‘But I have a friend in that little cabin, and perhaps he—’

  ‘A friend!’ I roared. ‘How many more of you? What is your little game, anyway? There’s another swab stowed away for’ard, ’Kiah. Fetch him up.’

  ’Kiah produced Colley, and his appearance took a little weight off my mind. He was turning green already, and I saw we needn’t worry about his food for the next twenty-four hours. I gave him a dressing down calculated to depress him still further, and then set the pair of them to washing out the forecastle under ’Kiah’s superintendence. After breakfast I felt better and sat down by the wheel to smoke and watch Colley hauling buckets of water aboard and lowering them down the forecastle ladder to his comrade-in-distress. Stealing a look at Sellick, I saw that he appeared very pleased with himself.

  ‘What’s the joke?’ I asked him.

  ‘Looks to me as if it was coming on fresh out of the nor’-east,’ said he.

  ‘Perhaps you won’t find it such a joke if it does.’

  ‘Oh, I’m all right,’ he said. ‘I’m always seasick when I smell salt water, but it’s over in ten minutes. I left my supper in London river last night. Now it can blow all it likes for me. It’s those two I’m tickled at. I owe them both a turn or two. Harry Colley took twenty-two quid odd off me at poker coming home from the Cape. Besides, more grub for us, skipper. Two days on one day’s tucker won’t hurt anybody; but two extra men and two extra days are too much of a good thing. That’s cutting it too fine altogether.’

  I had one or two tins of meat in the cabin in case of emergencies, but, as he said, five men for three days on the rations of three men for one day was too near a thing altogether, and I saw the emergency stores wouldn’t last long. However, he was quite right about its coming on to blow. The north-east horizon was hard and clear against a light sky, and by midday the wind had freshened and was knocking up a lumpy sea. The two passengers declined their dinner and retired to their bunks, where they stayed, only showing themselves on deck once or twice, until Thursday afternoon. So they were no expense or bother to anybody.

  Sellick proved handy and useful, and he, ’Kiah and myself took trick and trick about for the next twenty-four hours. The wind being dead against us, we just lay as close to it as we could, quartering the North Sea at our ease, and gaining a few useful miles to windward with each tack.

  The Luck and Charity being the real good boat she was we stood at the wheel dryshod; but beating to windward isn’t the most comfortable business in the world, and once or twice when she bashed her bows into biggish seas, I felt sorry for the two landsmen lying very sick below. We had just jogged across, bang, bang, banging, to and fro, from the Galloper to the Rabs Bank; back to the outer Gabbard; back again to the Schar, only making a mile or two to windward on every forty-mile tack, but not losing anything. It wasn’t exciting, but we were obeying instructions, and anyhow there’s always a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing somebody else is worse off than you are. So the passengers were good for something, if only to keep our spirits up.

  We picked up Lowestoft Light early on Thursday morning and went about for the last time. Having all day—fifteen hours—in which to do a short hundred miles, we didn’t hurry. The wind had eased a bit, and the waves no longer had feathery tops to them, but there was a lump of a sea all the same. We sidled across it, crab fashion, till about four in the afternoon, and then I thought it was about time to think of home. We were then about thirty miles north of the Scheldt-mouth light-ships—the Wandelaar and Weilingen—so after an early tea we wore ship and ran for it, on a course nearly parallel with the Dutch coast, so
as to keep clear of the East Scheldt banks. We timed it nicely, running right under the lee of the Walcheren sand-hills in slack water, and met the first of the strong ebb not a quarter of a mile from Flushing harbour.

  The easier motion of running had revived the two passengers a bit, and they wanted to come on deck; but bearing in mind Voogdt’s instructions I ordered them to keep below, much to their discontent. It wasn’t any pleasure trip for them, from first to last. The ebb drifted us back perhaps five hundred yards before we got the anchor overside, so that we lay a good half-mile from the harbour mouth, for which I wasn’t sorry, because a quarter-mile is almost too close to escape notice from the shore, and, besides, our drifting back made the anchoring look a sensible thing to do. Association with Voogdt was beginning to teach me that it’s well to have an ostensible sham reason for doing anything besides your own real one.

  A big fleet of Scheldt shrimpers came out of harbour on the first of the ebb, and by the time the last of them had passed us it was dusk and ’Kiah was hauling up our riding light on the forestay. He had hardly made it fast when we were hailed by a small boat nearing us, and asked our names and business.

  ‘Luck and Charity, English ketch, Erith to Terneuzen, in ballast,’ I sang out.

  ‘And God bless her, say I!’ Voogdt’s voice came cheerfully out of the dusk, and I saw him sitting in the stern of the approaching boat, some Dutch amphibian at the oars. Coming alongside, he slapped the side of our bows as one slaps a favourite horse in a stable.

  ‘Good old wooden packet,’ said he, scrambling aboard. ‘And good old wooden-headed skipper. Jem West, I’m glad to see you again.’

  ‘You ain’t the only one,’ I said. ‘My aunt! Haven’t I been in a sweat about you, just. Where’ve you been?’