Boats of the Glen Carrig and Other Nautical Adventures

by William Hope Hodgson

  Then, out of the darkness behind the bull’s-eye lantern, stepped the Port Officer, and informed me that I and my men were under arrest for attempting to run a cargo of rifles into the country.

  “Don’t talk rot,” I told him. “Keep your hands still, men,” I said. “Leave this to me. . . . Don’t you think, Officer, you and I could fix this up, without importing my men or your men into it? Let us take a quiet walk up the shore, while I put a proposition to you.”

  There was a roar of laughter from his own men in the darkness behind the lanterns. But the Port Officer did not laugh.

  “Quit your fooling, Captain Gault,” he said. “You may find yourself in extra trouble over this job, for attempting bribery, if you don’t keep the lid on a bit more. Don’t you get imagining you can bribe me or my men. We’re not bribable.”

  “Go and boil your head,” I advised, as mildly as the sentiment implied admitted. “You annoy me incredibly. You’re troubled with a badly enlarged liver.”

  “See you,” he said, stepping up close to me. “If you don’t drop that sort of talk, you’re going to get a hammering, right here and now.”

  “Not by a puffy child like you,” I said; for it was part of my intention to aggravate him to the limit. And I did this sooner than I expected; for, without a word further, he hit me with the back of his hand across the mouth, while I stood helpless, with my hands above my head. I am, perhaps rather narrow-mindedly, glad to assert that he was not a countryman of mine. At the time it would not have mattered if he had been.

  I just dropped my hands, and hit him as hard and solid as I could, right and left—one flat in the middle of his bread-machinery, and the other equally in the middle of his face—not scientific blows, perhaps; but they were so hearty and soundly-intentioned that he went nearly a dozen paces, spinning on his feet, before he fell.

  My men shouted and dropped their hands, and I leaned quickly towards the Third Mate.

  “There’s going to be a rumpus,” I whispered. “While it’s on, collar one or two of the men, and shove those cases down into the sea. Quick, now! I don’t fancy there’ll be any shooting.”

  I was completely right; for if the Port Officer was no sportsman, his men were splendidly so. Down went their rifles with a crash, and they leaped to meet my men. I fancy there must have been a good many Irishmen among them, from the intoning of their joyous and entirely improper and separate litanies. My men were mostly Scots, and they did very well in the fighting line (as later comparisons showed); but they were less fluent, or perhaps, to be strictly accurate, quite as persistent; but eventually a trifle monotonous!

  How the fighting went on for a bit I could not tell; for every lantern had been put out in the first rush; moreover, I was dealing with the Port Officer in a way that I felt should prove memorable. I’ll admit that he made lusty objections; but I’m nearer fifteen than fourteen stone, and I never did run to fat.

  * * * *

  When at last the lanterns were lit again, I found my men all handcuffed in a row, and looking as if they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

  There were twenty of the government men—big, hefty lads they were, too, and not one of them but had to choke a grin when I assisted the Port Officer politely to his feet.

  “Now, Sir,” I said, “perhaps you will kindly explain the whole of this business, and the meaning of your unwarrantable and illegal assault upon my person.”

  The idiot glared at me; but had not a word to say. In any case, a violent loss of teeth does not improve articulation.

  “The cases!” he shouted to his men, in a thick voice.

  “They’ve gone clean away, Sir,” said one of his men, after a brief search.

  He grew frantic.

  “Don’t you tell me that for a yarn, you blind dummies,” he shouted. “Look about! Look about! They’re bound to be near.”

  I smiled; for the Third Mate had done very well indeed. Meanwhile, he and his men searched everywhere, more and more bewildered; until at last one of them spotted the corner of one of the cases sticking up above the water, where the Third Mate and one of the men had sunk them, during the row.

  It took the Officer and his men half an hour to salvage the cases, and every man was wet through by the time they were hauled ashore.

  As the big cases were taken from the sea, the water rushed out of holes that had been bored in them; and one of the men remarked this to the Port Officer, who snatched a lamp and began to examine the cases.

  “Knock in the top of one of them!” he said, suddenly.

  One of his men brought an axe from up the beach, and in a minute he had the side of one of the boxes laid right open.

  “Empty!” shouted every one of his men, and my Third Mate as well; but the Port Officer said not a word. He seemed stunned for a moment.

  “The—the others!” he said, at last. “Quick!”

  But the other boxes were empty also, as they could tell by lifting them, now that the sea-water had drained out.

  “Perhaps now, Sir, you will take that same little stroll along the beach which I requested awhile ago,” I said. “If you had courteously acceded to my request, all this melodrama might have been omitted.”

  He stared at me, a moment, in a kind of dazed sulkiness.

  “Meanwhile,” I added, “you may as well give orders for my men to be released. I don’t fancy it will pay you to keep them longer in that condition; for, as things are, you stand the chances of getting into serious trouble for your action tonight, in assaulting and arresting a body of law-abiding men, who have come ashore for no other object at all than to have a quiet evening’s ‘gam’ on the beach, with a bit of a bonfire made out of these old cases we’ve brought ashore, and towards which you seem to have exhibited extraordinary covetousness.”

  “Oh, stow it!” he muttered, wearily. “I’ll come with you, and hear what you’ve got to say.”

  He beckoned to his sub.

  “Unlock them!” he ordered, and turned and followed me twenty or thirty yards up the beach.

  “Now,” he said, “be quick with what you wanted to tell me!”

  “You’ve already learned, by ocular proof, as I might say, the major portion of it,” I told him. “There are, however, one or two details to add. In the first place, I happened to receive information from a friend that old Mr. Jelloyne was ‘one of yours,’ so I outlined to him just such a little outing as tonight’s, only with rifles in those cases instead of air.

  “He courteously performed his share of my little plot by detailing my talk to you! I then shifted my ship over to this side, and when all was ready I went ashore and gave information, per telephone, to your office that the S.S. John L. Sullivan would make certain signals this evening to inform certain confederates ashore that her Captain would land a consignment of contraband of war secretly tonight.

  “I explained exactly what these signals would be, and when you grew too gratefully insistent for the name of the ‘man on the ’phone’, I told you it was someone who would see you personally, at the right moment, and define his reward. This is, if you will allow me to say so, the right moment.

  “There are just one or two minor details unexplained. My men were not in this plot at all. The Third, however, was fooled in exactly the same way that you were; for I told him secretly that there was contraband in the cases. He must have thought it mighty light contraband!

  “By the way, don’t you think the painting of the boat was a splendid little touch on my part to lend actuality to my, shall I call it, practical joke?

  “In many ways, this joke is almost the best part of tonight’s work. You see, it was so essential to draw all official attention away from our old berth in the bay; for, some days ago, Mr. Officer, we broke (not quite by accident) a couple of slings, and there fell over the ship’s side four cases of rifles, labelled sewing machines.

  “These cases had been previously roped together, in couples, to facilitate a grapple finding them, and were picked up tonight (as a lant
ern signal informed me some fifteen minutes ago) by friends of mine ashore, while you and the patrol-launch have been attending my little burlesque here.

  “Don’t you think, now, it was all distinctly neat? And I stand to clear quite a thousand on the job.

  “Shall we go back now? You see, dear man, there have been no witnesses to this little talk; so you can prove nothing, and certainly nothing to your credit, while I can prove a great deal that is not to yours. Shall we call the game even?

  “By the way, I can confidently recommend to you a raw beef-steak for black eyes. . . .”

  The Diamond Spy

  S.S. Montrose,

  June 18.

  I am having enough bother with one or two of the passengers this trip, to make me wish I was running a cargo boat again.

  When I went up on the upper bridge this morning, Mr. Wilmet, my First Officer, had allowed one of the passengers, a Mr. Brown, to come up on to the bridge and loose off some prize pigeons. Not only that; but the Third Officer was taking the time for him, by one of the chronometers.

  I’m afraid what I said looked a bit as if I had lost my temper.

  “Mr. Wilmet,” I said, “will you explain to Mr. Brown that this bridge is quite off his beat? And I should like him to remove himself, and ask him please to remember the fact for future reference. If Mr. Brown wants to indulge his taste in pigeon-flying, I’ve no objections to offer at all; but he’ll kindly keep off my bridge!”

  I certainly made no effort to spare Mr. Brown; and this is not the first time I have had to pull him up; for he took several of his birds down into the dinner-saloon yesterday, and was showing them off to a lot of his friends—actually letting them fly all about the place; and you know what dirty brutes the birds are! I gave him a smart word or two before all the saloon-full; and I fancy they agreed with me. The man’s a bit mad on his pigeon-flying.

  Then there’s a bore of a travelling colonel, who’s always trying to invade my bridge, to smoke and yarn with me. I’ve had to tell him plainly to keep off the bridge, same as Mr. Brown, only, perhaps, not quite in the same manner. And there are two ladies, an old and a young one, who are always on the bridge-steps, as you might say. I took the opportunity to talk to the oldest about my eighth boy, today. I thought it might cool her off; but it didn’t; she’s started talking to me now about the dear children; and as I’m not even married, I’ve lied myself nearly stupid, confound her! And the old lady has let the young one know, of course! And the young one has left me now entirely to the old one’s mercies. Goodness me!

  But the passenger who really bothers me is a Mr. Aglae, a sallow, fat, darkish man, short, and most infernally inquisitive. He seems always to be hanging about; and I’ve more than a notion he’s cultivating a confidential friendship with my servant-lad.

  Of course, I’ve guessed all along he’s a diamond spy; and I don’t doubt but there’s little need for the breed in these boats; for there’s a pile to be made in running stones and pearls through the Customs.

  I nearly broke loose on him today, and told him, slam out, I knew he was a spy, and that he had better keep his nose out of my cabin and my affairs; and pay a bit more attention to people who had the necessary thousands to deal successfully in his line of goods.

  The man was actually peeping into my cabin when I came up behind him; but he was plausible enough. He said he had knocked, and thought I said, “Come in.” He had come to ask me to take care of a very valuable diamond, which he brought out of his vest pocket, in a wash-leather bag. He told me he had begun to feel it might be safer if properly locked up. Of course, I explained that his diamond would be taken care of in the usual way; and when he asked my opinion of it, I became astonishingly affable; for it was plainly his desire to get me to talk on the subject.

  “A magnificent stone!” I said. “Why, I should think it must be worth thousands. It must be twenty or thirty carats.”

  I knew perfectly well that the thing was merely a well-cut piece of glass; for I tried it slyly on the tester I carry on the inner edge of my ring; and as for the size, I purposely “out”; for I knew that if it had been a diamond, it would have been well over a hundred carats.

  The little fat spy frowned slightly, and I wondered whether I’d shown him that he was getting up the wrong tree; and then, in a moment, I saw by the look in his eyes that he suspected me as much as ever, and was putting me down as being simply ostentatiously ignorant of diamonds. After he had gone, I thought him over for a bit, and I got wishing I could give the little toad a lesson.

  June 19.

  I got a splendid idea during the night. We should dock this evening, and I’ve just time to work it. The diamond-running talk came up at dinner last night, as is but natural in these boats; and different passengers told some good yarns, some of them old and some new, and a lot of them, very clever dodges that have been worked on the Customs.

  One man at my table, told an I.D.B. yarn of how a duck had been induced to gobble up diamonds by bedding them in pellets of bread, and in this way the diamonds had been cunningly hidden, at a very critical moment for the well-being of their “illicit” owner.

  This gave me my idea; for that diamond spy has got on my nerves a bit, and if I don’t do something to make him look and feel a fool, I shall just get rude; and rudeness to passengers is not a thing that commends itself to owners.

  I have a coop of S. African black ring-neck hens, down on the well-deck, which I am taking across to my brother, who makes a hobby of hen-keeping, and has bred some wonderful strains.

  I sent my servant for a plateful of new crumb-bread, and then I fished out from the bottom of my sea-chest, a box of what we used to call among the islands “native blazers”—that is, cut-glass imitation diamonds, which certainly cleaned up to a very pretty glitter. I’d had the things with me for years, some left-overs, from a sporting trip I made once that way.

  I sat down at my table, and made bread pellets; and then I began to bed each of the “stones” into a pellet. As I did so, I became aware that someone was peeping in the window that looks into the saloon. I glanced into the mirror, across on the opposite bulkhead of my cabin, and saw for an instant the face of my servant. Then he was gone.

  This is what I had expected.

  “So, ho! my lad!” I said to myself. “I guess this is the last trip you’ll take with me; for, though you aren’t dangerous now, you may be some other time.”

  When I had done coating my “diamonds” with bread, I went forrard to my hen-coop, and began to feed the pellets to the birds. As I turned away, from giving the last of the big bread pills, I literally bumped into Mr. Aglae, who had just come round the end of the coop. Obviously, he had received word from my servant, and had been watching me feed diamonds to my hens, so as to hide my illegal jewellery, while the search officers were aboard!

  It was rather funny to see the way in which the diamond spy put on a vacant expression, and apologised for his clumsiness, blaming the rolling of the vessel. As a matter of fact, he had no business in that part of the ship at all; and I made a courteous reference to this fact; for I wished him to think that I was disturbed and annoyed at his being there at so (apparently) critical a moment for me.

  Later on, when I went into the wireless room, I found Mr. Algae sending a wireless; and I sat down on the lounge to write my own message, while Melson (the operator) was sending.

  Instead, however, of writing out my own message, I jotted down the dot and dash iddle-de-umpty of the iggle-de-piggle that the operator was sending, for it was a private code message, and ran: 1 7 a y b o z w r e y a a j g o o a v 0 0 1 0 w t p q 2 2 3 2 1 m v n 6 7 a m n t 8 t s .17. aglae. g.v.n.

  I smiled; for it was the latest official cypher, and I had the “key” in my pocket-book. It is desirable to have what is properly called “a friend in high quarters.” Only my friend is not very high, at least, not highly paid; though his secretarial position gives him access in a certain government office to papers that help him considerably to ma
ke both ends meet.

  After Mr. Algae had departed, I took out my “key,” and translated the message, while Melson was sending mine. Translated, it was this: “Hens fed on hundreds of diamonds concealed in bread pellets. Better come out in the pilot tug. Shall mark coop. I must not appear in the case at all. Most important capture of years. 17. Algae. g.v.n.”

  This was sent to a private address, merely as a blind; for Mr. Algae would be of little further use as a diamond spy if he began sending cypher messages to the head office! The 17, just before his name, I knew, must be his official number, and I was interested, and perhaps a little impressed; for I had heard of the unknown “Number 17” before. He had effected some wonderful captures among the diamond smugglers. I wondered what he might look like, minus what I began now to suspect was both a false stomachic appendage, and dyed hair, plus his little, vaguely foreign mannerisms, to suit.

  The letters “g.v.n.” which followed the signature were the inner “keys” to the message; for the cypher is really clever, in that a long message can be sent with a limited number of symbols, by a triplicate reading, according to the use of the various combinations—the working of which the main “key” explains, and which are indicated by the combination letters, which are always written, in this cypher, after the signature.

  As I went out of the wireless room, I had a second splendid idea. I got some bread-crumbs as an excuse, and had another walk down to the well-deck to look at my coop of prize chickens, and I came slam on Number 17 (as I now called him to myself) just strolling off.

  Now, I had made it plain to him that he had no business down there, and I called to him to ask him what he was doing again in that part of the ship, after what I had told him in the morning.

  I must say that Number 17 has got quite a remarkably sound “nerve” on him.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said; “but I’d lost my cigarette-holder. I knew I’d had it in my fingers when I tumbled against you this morning, and I thought I might have dropped it then.”