The Drum of Saccharine - William Hope Hodgson (novels to improve english .TXT) 📗

to go ashore at once on important business. As I was reading it, the Chief of the Customs came up to see me, before going ashore, and I had to have a few words with him.

He and his men had certainly done their work in record time. It was quite plain to me that the “A.B.” Sedwell was a Customs spy, who had shipped for the voyage out and home with us, to try to get a case against the ship or the officers. This is sometimes done (though never admitted) where the authorities have begun to be suspicious of smuggling in a particular vessel, yet cannot fix any proof on her.

“Perhaps you won’t mind putting me ashore in your launch?” I asked the Chief, as he shook hands. “The owners want to see me at once.”

He agreed cordially, and I shouted to the steward to bring out my portmanteaux, which he had just been packing.

“I’ll leave you to see her made fast, Mister,” I called to the First Mate. “As soon as I’ve done my business, I shall take rooms at the Gwalia.”

This was to let him know where to pick me up before going out to the dinner I had promised him and the Second Mate.

Twenty minutes later I was ashore. I shared a taxi, part of the way up from the docks, with our genial but dangerous enemy, the Chief of the search officers. As I dropped him, I could not help wondering whether their boat had already gone out to find the buoyed saccharine.

It is strange, this almost amicable cut-and-thrust, that is none the less deadly because of the quietness and courtesy with which the thrust may be given. Here was I, seated in a taxi, sharing it with the well and pleasant mannered man on the seat alongside of me, who would, on the first opportunity, do his best to get me into serious trouble, even as I have undoubtedly got him certain ratings from his superiors in office, owing to my wits having, up to the present, out-matched his, as he and they know very well, but cannot prove.

I thought his eyes twinkled over some secret thought, as he jumped down and shook hands. No doubt he anticipated that the lure of the sunk saccharine would be bound to bring us straight into his hands that very night.

Maybe my own eyes twinkled as I said good-bye. He might watch a long time, so far, at least, as I was concerned, before the big, sunk paint-drum had a visitor. If only he knew just how much I knew! I thought to myself as I sat back, smiling.

Then I lapsed into serious thought — a hundred pounds of saccharine represents a certain amount of money. It was a lot for my two Mates to have staked on a single throw of the Customs dice, as one might say.

Well! Well!… I turned my thoughts on a space, to dinner. At least, I could promise that it should be made a cheering function.

*

We had dinner in a private room at the Cecil.

“Certainly, Mr. Armes and Mr. James,” I told them, as I handed them a fat little bank-note each, “the occasion demands joy, and I think this slight celebration is almost morally justified.”

My two officers smiled at me, and I raised my glass.

“Here’s my toast,” I said —

“‘To the flour that lies in the paint-drum,

To the spy that we spotted at once,

To the two portmanteaux that carried the stuff

While the Customs swallowed our jolly good bluff

That we worked on the dunce,

Viz. Sedwell the bum —

A right proper bum of a Customs House watcher,

Who heard, ah! I fear,

What he has wanted to hear,

Just that, and no more!

Let us drink to the dear!’”

I had put this into shape while I was sitting waiting for them; and, really, I think it explains all that there is to explain. We all drank; and as we drank, I doubt not, that, out on the dark waters of the river, a number of Customs officials kept a shivery and lurid watch for the smugglers who came not.