Chapter III: Part 3

Softly the night wind blew over a glassy sea. The sound of the rippling water on the reef of rocks and on the sandy beach had a weird, melancholy effect. Then came the dull noise of muffled oars commingling with the cawing of the gull and hollow surging of the waters into the Fairy Rocks. There was neither moon nor stars visible, but in the bay the experienced eye could discern the mysterious lugger. There she lay, hove to, or anchored below the Dean House, which could be seen peeping out between two sandy hills. A dim light--which, to the uninformed, would have conveyed the impression of a light in a cottage window, but which was really a signal to the smugglers that the coast was clear--flickered in a line with the sandy valley; and, in truth, the quietude of the night betokened all was well. The landing was successfully made without interruption, and the men gaily entered on the task of transporting the cargo to its destination, believing, as they had a right to believe, that a big haul would be stored without a single hitch in the process. The accomplices scattered after their work was done, and the sailors returned to their vessel, no doubt well satisfied with the night's enterprise. But notwithstanding the many scouts they sent out, they were quite oblivious of the fact that their movements had been closely watched. Sail was set, and the sneaking craft crept out into the illimitable darkness, having apparently completed its work unseen by unfriendly eyes. There was not a little talk round the countryside about the landing that had taken place without any one in authority to check its progress. Wise, knowing people said it was timidity, and others attributed it to indifference to the public service; the truth being, it was neither the one nor the other. It was, in fact, a carefully-planned scheme to discover exactly where the mysterious cave was situated; and although in spite of exhaustive search the entrance to it could not be found, they had got a clue to its locality. A vigorous policy of exploration was inaugurated, but after many weeks of toil the operations were abandoned without the mystery having been penetrated. It was thought that time and opportunity would solve the problem, but how it was to be solved no one knew. There was, indeed, great speculation as to what might happen should another landing be attempted, but month after month passed without any indication of this, and the little population had settled down to a dull monotony. Except for a casual reference to the stirring times, the smugglers and their emissaries were apparently all but forgotten. The Preventive men were secretly as much on the alert as when the smugglers were most active. They purposely adopted an apparent indifference with the idea of luring the rovers into over-confidence. Each party took into account the possibility of being betrayed. In all secretive illegal societies there are suspects. Jimmy Stone having changed his mode of life, suspicion fell very naturally on him; but though he sometimes darkly hinted at the identity and the secrets of his late allies, he was never known to definitely divulge anything that would incriminate them. The nephew of Mrs. Clarkson was another marked man, as was also a friend of his. The former had been very little heard of in those parts since the night that his aunt implored him to give up his associates. The last that was really seen of Lawrence and his friend, they were drinking together in a public-house, and a few days after some of their torn and blood-stained clothes were found in a lonely hedged-in lane close by the moor. This dreaded place was called the "Mugger's Lonnin" by the country-folk, owing to its being a camping-ground for the gipsies, and from end to end it was prolific of bramble-berries and other wild fruit. When the children went during the summer months to gather these they were always accompanied by a few grown-up people, as it was believed that many terrible tragedies had happened there. The discovery of the clothes and the patches of blood right in the middle of the lonnin was indicative of a foul murder having taken place, and the bodies dragged along the grass to some place of concealment. Search parties were formed, bloodhounds were called into requisition, but no trace of the murdered lads' bodies could be found, and for many months this supposed terrible crime was sealed in mystery. A few people were callous enough to say that they were convinced that no murder had taken place, but these were very unpopular. The greater part of the small colony liked sensation, and nursed this one assiduously until an almost greater came to hand by it leaking out that the two men had been expeditiously sent to Australia, and that the blood on their clothes was not their own, but that of a sheep which had been killed for the purpose of misleading. This exciting revelation lead to important issues. Were they really alive and in Australia? Had they been bribed to reveal the secrets of their former friends, or was it dread of capture that caused them to be sent out of the country? These were some of the outspoken conjectures that flowed with ever-increasing imagination. The real facts never became known, but the tales of these stirring times have been handed down in more or less hyperbolic form. It may be fairly assumed that Thomas Turnbull got reliable information from some source which he was never known to disclose, and having got it, he hastened to use it judiciously and to advantage.

The entrance to the cave was at last found at a spot where he and his comrades had many times traversed. It was so ingeniously concealed that they might have searched until the day of doom, and it could never have been found but for the agency that conveyed him to the spot. Tradition speaks of it being a long subterranean passage, running east to west, and opening out close to a road that was quite accessible to carts. It was honeycombed with compartments, and so carefully were they constructed that only the initiated could have discovered their locality. Some of the cells still contained quantities of contraband, so that the Board of Customs made a good haul.

Turnbull frequently rubbed shoulders with men and women who eloquently declaimed against the smugglers and their allies. He knew these people were in the inner circle of the traffic. He realized also that it was not good policy to let them see that he knew that they were merely acting a part. He might some day have to make use of them. There was a section who never disguised their antipathy to him. They saw that through him the day of smuggling on that part of the coast was well-nigh over--if not over altogether. It was he who had been the instrument of emptying the vaults of treasure which they regarded as legitimately theirs, and closing them to further enterprise. It was, in fact, the system that he represented that was paralyzing their honest efforts of contributing to their means of subsistence! These were only some of the many indictments proclaimed against him and his colleagues. The aggrieved ones strolled about with an air of injured virtue, and their ferocious looks and veiled threats at the intruder as he passed along betokened the belief in their prescriptive right to plunder the Revenue. I think it is Macaulay who says that "no man is so merciless as he who is under a strong self-delusion."

The seizure of the storehouse gave a staggering blow to the "fair-traders," but it did not prevent them from making another desperate attempt to land their wares, and also to have their revenge by destroying a few of her Majesty's servants. On dark nights the horn lanterns were seen about the links, the flare-light flashed across the sea, and the curlew's shrill call was heard. These signs were now known to the Preventive staff; but they also had their signs and their means of conveying news, so that when the low, sneaking black lugger again appeared, they were ready for the fray.

There she was, snugly anchored in the sleepy bay. The first boat-load had left her side. The slow, dull sound of the horses' hoofs vibrated through the hollows, and the night wind from the fields of sleep blew softly over the rustling bents, causing a weird, peaceful lullaby. The boat's bow is run on to the beach, a dozen or more men jump from her into the water and haul her up as far as the weight of the cargo will allow. They then commence to discharge. Again the curlew's call is heard, again the sharp flare-light is seen; but no aid comes. The cargo is landed at high-water mark; they realize something is wrong, and hesitate whether to re-ship or re-embark without it. They are soon disillusioned. A horse gallops madly from the south. The rider shouts at the top of his voice, "Run, sailors, run! Treachery!" and then heads his horse full speed in the direction he came from, and is soon lost to view. The men push their boat into the sea, and row with all their might towards the vessel. Bullets from a score of muskets whiz over their heads; but they are accustomed to this, and lay their backs into the oars with increased vigour. Meanwhile, a coble sails almost peacefully alongside their ill-fated craft. In an instant a crowd of concealed men rush aboard and call out, "Surrender!" But smugglers were not given to surrender when merely requested, so a hand-to-hand fight took place. The butt-end of muskets were freely used, and to some purpose. There was no heroic effort to get at the powder magazine, so that they might blow themselves and everybody else up.

The lugger was in undisputed possession of the Revenue men before the boat from the shore reached her. They, too, were quickly disposed of, after a short, angry, though feeble resistance. Stringent precautions were taken to prevent any blowing-up exploits. The whole gang were well secured against that, and any other hostile outbreaks. This having been done to the satisfaction of the officer in charge, the anchor was weighed, a course was shaped towards the south, and the last of the low, black, romantic luggers, with their gallant crews, passed away, never more to be seen on this part of the coast.

Recognition of the deeds done by the dauntless heroes of that age in the Government service was very scanty. It may be they did not expect it. In that case they were rarely disappointed. Thomas Turnbull seems to have got his reward in being allowed to remain on the station until the time came to retire on a pension. He went about his routine work with placid regularity, and devoted what leisure he had to widening his reading, which consisted mainly of history, theology, and Burns's poems. He was never known to miss his class-meeting, and travelled eight miles each way to keep his pulpit appointments on Sundays. He sometimes entertained his family and the young folk that visited them by relating his experiences with the smugglers, but his greatest pleasure was in holding religious meetings in one or other of the fishers' cottages. In this he was gratuitously aided by Jimmy Stone, who entered into his work with energy, zeal, and oftentimes amazing resource. Jimmy had developed a form of religious mania, insisting on the theory that he was, as a preacher, a direct descendant of the Apostles. This assumption severely taxed the Christian virtues of the little society. Turnbull, who had a keen sense of humour, viewed the new situation with intense amusement, and always excused the foibles of his old convert up to the time of leaving the district to end his own eventful career within easy reach of his family, who were all grown-up and doing well. Jimmy did not long survive him, but he lived long enough to see the passing away of that spiritual wave that had changed his whole life.

Many years after, an ugly incident broke the spell of monotony in the village. A hideous-looking creature came to it and addressed himself to a fisherman. His voice was that of a drunkard. He was dirty, his eyes were bleared, and the cunning, shifty look betokened a long life of vicious habits. He wished to know when Mrs. Clarkson died, where all her relations that lived round about her were, to whom the estates were sold, and whom the money they realized went to; what had become of Turnbull and his family, and how long was it since the smugglers were driven off the coast? These questions were only meagrely answered, as the man he inquired of belonged to another generation, and there were only very few left who knew anything of the period or the people that he desired information about. The following day the body of a man, supposed to be a tramp, was found in a barn. He had left evidence of his identity, and when it was discovered that the stranger was Stephen Lawrence, Mrs. Clarkson's nephew, the once flashy young gentleman who controlled her estates, and who had been sent abroad when grave suspicion rested upon him of being seriously involved in pecuniary defalcations, it created a fresh sensation, and revived all the old stories of bygone days. He had come to die within the shadow of the home in which he was so indulgently reared, and his remains were buried by those who knew not of him. It was probably through him and Melbourne that the secret locality of the cave and other valuable information which led up to the final conflict and defeat of the smugglers became known.

The "Mugger's Lonnin," all blazing with red and yellow flowers and long silvery grass growing wild, and covering the mysteries that lie beneath, is still there. The superstitions regarding its history still exist. The sandhills, capped with the rustling, silky bents, looking down into the bay, are still there. The thrilling sea winds come and go, and the music of the shells on the beach is whispering as before, but the shrill wail of the curlew is never sounded from knoll to knoll now. The horn lantern is not seen by the roadsides, nor the quick flashlight that signalled the coast was clear; and the rattle of the horses' hoofs on the stones during the mystic night is never now heard. There is nothing to indicate, in fact, that this lonely, superb piece of England was once (not so long ago) a great centre of illicit trading. The smuggler and Revenue man have disappeared, and the scenes of their successes or failures, daring, comic, and sometimes tragic, are undisturbed save by nature's sights and sounds. Man-o'-war sailors (fine fellows though they be), with ribboned caps, and trousers that flap like sails of a ship tacking, have replaced the trim, gentlemanlike civilian of old. Some of the latter are still remembered with affection, and even veneration, by people who were young when the last of them passed away.

Smugglers of the Rock

Captain S---- was a man of enterprise, and never lost an opportunity of scheming to supplement the freight of the vessel he commanded. His common phrase was, "Look for business, and you'll meet it on the road." He was well known all over the Mediterranean, and had done much trade with the Spanish ports, so that he got to know a good deal about the character and methods of their business. On one occasion, at Gibraltar, a deputation of traders, as they called themselves, made him a proposition that was startling in its remunerative dimensions.

"I presume," said the captain, "this business which you are good enough to put before me is sound; there is no humbug about it?"

"Not one bit, captain. You undertake to do certain work for which we pay you before starting."

It was arranged that he should wire from his last port of call when passing down the Mediterranean. He fixed his mind on the amount he was to receive, and did not inquire too closely into the character of the business. He would have been virtuously indignant if any one had hinted that he was capable of going beyond the limits of stern rectitude, although he admitted the undertaking to be extraordinary, otherwise he would not have been so well paid for it. His knowledge of character told him that he was going to do business with a squad of rascals who knew no moral law, and yet the fascination of exciting enterprise held him in its grip. So it came to pass that he sent his telegram announcing approximately when he might be expected at Gibraltar, and asking them to have all in readiness against his arrival. In the early morning of the eighth day after leaving Malta, the steamer crept from under the Great Rock into the beautiful bay, and was promptly boarded by a few gentlemen of effusive manners who were greatly concerned about the health of Captain S----. The latter requested them to cease their chatter and to get to business.

"Are the craft ready?" said he.

"Oh yes," replied the Rock-scorpions; "but you will have to wait until dark before they can be brought from their moorings."

This was agreed to. The captain put his vessel alongside the coal hulk, and by noon the required bunker coal had been shipped, and through the kindness of the captain of the hulk she was allowed to remain alongside until darkness set in, on the plea of repairs being done to defective machinery. She was then slowly moved towards three feluccas which lay waiting in the bay. The night was still, and the moon shone bright and made the sea silvery by its reflection; but a large halo encircled it, and the seamen knew that foreboded stormy weather. "Telegraph boys" were coming up from the west very swiftly. There was to be trouble outside Cape Spartel, and they were anxious to get through the stream before the gale had developed strength. A boat came alongside. Two Levantines stepped aboard. The captain said--

"So you have come at last. Have you got the money with you? Let me have no wriggling, or I will have you put over the side and steam away without your merchandize."

"No, no, capitan, you must not do that! Come to the charthouse and you shall be paid at once."

After three-fourths of the agreed sum had been counted out the paymaster stuck, and said, "Capitan, you must be satisfied. We are poor men like yourself."

In an instant the captain was out of the charthouse _with his money_, and went on to the upper bridge and called out to his officers to see the gentlemen into their boat. They pleaded to him to come into the charthouse again, and every cent due to him would be handed over according to agreement.

"I did not mean what I said to be taken seriously," said the financial agent.

"But I did," replied the captain. "And take notice that if you wriggle again I will make short work of this business."

The balance of freight was handed over without further demur, and the craft taken in tow as arranged. It was urged that the heaviest laden of the three lighters should tow astern of the others. The engines were set easy ahead. The two scorpions were asked to get into their boat quickly. They wished the captain good luck, and gave him instructions to steer over to the African side of the gut, as the current was easier there. He was warned in true Levantine eloquence, and with an accent and tone that indicated anxiety for the success of the project, to look sharply after the "wolves" when they got off Tarifa, for this is the narrowest part of the entrance to the Mediterranean. It was clear that this traffic welcomed no publicity.

The _C----_ was soon plunging into a strong westerly swell, though there was as yet but little wind. They had got Tarifa abeam, when the look-out man reported a small vessel three points on the starboard bow. In a few more minutes the "wolves" announced themselves by a few small shot rattled against the smoke stack. Orders were given to the second officer to go aft with a hatchet, and when the signal was given he had to snap the tow-rope of the last felucca. All hands were ordered to lie low--_i.e._, lie under shelter of the bulwarks. The captain and chief officer took shelter on the port side of the charthouse. The vessel's course was altered, but being so far over on the African coast there was not much room to play on. The firing was still directed at the funnel, though at times it was erratic. One of the seamen shouted, "I'm hit!" In an instant the captain blew his whistle, and the tow-line of No. 3 craft was cut. The steamer's speed increased, though it did not much matter so far as getting out of the fire zone was concerned, as the Spanish _Costaguardia's_ attention became fixed on the abandoned craft.

"My God!" soliloquized the chief mate, "the Rock-scorpions are right. They have pounced upon the derelict like wolves. I almost wish I was there to see the effect when they realize they have been fooled, and they find that that craft is loaded with stones. It was just done in the nick of time; they might have compelled us to heave to."

"I would never have done that," said the captain. "I knew they would not risk being defeated in their object when they saw so excellent a prize thrown at them."

"They are setting the sail," observed the officer.

"Yes," responded the captain. "The gentlemen will find one of their craft anchored in Gibraltar Bay to-morrow morning, and may be the whole three. I do not like the look of it; both the wind and sea are making. I hope we may be able to reach to the westward of Trafalgar Bay before it gets worse."

Instructions were given to have the wounded seaman brought to the saloon, and it was found that he was not seriously injured. After the wound was dressed, orders were given to set the regular watch. Little progress was made during the night, owing to the heavy west wind. By six the following morning she was just a little west of Cape Spartel, and the wind had increased to a heavy gale. The engines had to be slowed down in order to save the two little vessels from being dragged under water; indeed, as it was, their hulls were sometimes buried. The captain saw that he was in for a tragedy if the craft were kept in tow. He did not like to slip them, as it meant certain capture, and while he was thinking out the wisest and best course to pursue, the problem was solved by the people aboard the feluccas letting go the tow-line, and the last that was seen of them was that they were heading towards the Spanish coast with small storm sails set.

Captain S----'s vessel had a severe passage, and on arrival in Falmouth he went to an hotel. In the course of the evening he was relating the incidents of the voyage, as was the custom with orthodox captains on arrival in port, and of course he included his experiences with the Rock-scorpions and their feluccas. Before he had completed the tale, the proprietor interposed by reading as follows from a shipping paper:--

"Information was conveyed to the Spanish Customs Authority that
a British steamer had run out of Gibraltar Bay with three
feluccas laden with manufactured tobacco destined for Cadiz. She
was to be intercepted at Tarifa by the coastguards, and the
craft with their cargo were to have been seized. When she got to
Tarifa the coastguards fired at her. The third lighter was
slipped, boarded by the officials and their men, and taken
behind the Rock, when it was discovered on removing the hatches
that she was laden with stones. The other two parted their
tow-ropes, and were driven through the Gut and captured. These
were laden with tobacco. The stone-laden craft was obviously
intended as a decoy, and but for the heavy gale that came on,
the other two would have succeeded in reaching their
destination."

A few months later, Captain S---- entered Gibraltar Bay, and was boarded by the chief commissioner of the last enterprise, accompanied by a friend, who was introduced as being engaged in "our" trade.

"Ah," said the former in genuine Rock-scorpion dialect, "The last was a great disaster; but it has never been said that you did not do all that was possible to carry out your contract properly. If there had been any appearance of not doing so, my friend and I would not have said that Captain S---- is the very man to carry out our new affair, which is doubly better than the other."

"Well, shut up about that," said the captain. "Come to the point. What is it you wish me to do?"

"Ah! capitan, but for the knowledge we have of your ability, and the affection my friends and myself have for you, we would have hesitated to show you this token of our much esteem."

"Shut up!" interjected the sailor. "I don't want a display of pretty nothings. I want business."

"Oh! capitan, why do you say such things when we are so anxious to put something your way. I tell you there are thousands of men that would be glad to have your chance. The job we have is this: three feluccas are lying up in the harbour laden with tobacco. Tonight you must lie off the town without anchoring, and they will be brought alongside. You must take the cargo aboard, and proceed off Amonti Pomoron. A pilot and interpreter will go with you, and you must not go near the land until darkness comes on, when craft showing signals which the pilot understands will be there to meet you and have men to tranship the cargo into lighters. You will have L400 for doing this--half in cash before leaving, and the other half on arrival at Amonti. The transaction will be quite straight."

"It seems to me so uncommonly like a huge smuggling affair, that I cannot entertain it," replied S----.

"No, no! my dear capitan; here you are mistaken. We would not ask such a thing of you. How can it be smuggling? The cargo is put aboard in neutral waters; you take it off the coast of Spain and deliver it as arranged. You get your money, and know nothing more about it. How can that be smuggling?"

"Well," said the captain, "it has nothing to do with me where the stuff comes from, or where it is going to. If you will give me five hundred pounds, all cash, before leaving here, I will agree to take it."

The Rock-scorpion gasped--

"What, five hundred pounds! Capitan, now do be reasonable. I tell you no other man would get the half of what you are offered."

"Very well, then," replied the captain, "it is off. Give it to the person who will do it for half."

"Certainly not; that is not what I mean," said the commissioner. "How can I face my friends with such news after all I have said to them about you? They will form a bad opinion of both you and myself."

"Oh! d---- both you and your friends. Get over the side, or I'll help you."

"Well, Capitan S----, I have never seen a man in such a temper before."

"Oh, go to----!"

"Oh no, no, capitan; don't say that. I cannot tell my friends of this."

"I wouldn't take your stuff for a thousand pounds now," said the captain.

"Forgive me, my best friend. I did not mean to be offensive; you have misunderstood my meaning. I will give you five hundred pounds, though I know I will have to pay one hundred out of my own purse. It is very hard."

The captain hesitated, but was overcome by the thought of making so large a clean profit without involving any material loss of time. In less than an hour after darkness came on the cargo was being put aboard with amazing facility. The first lighter was nearly discharged, when the captain asked the agent to pay the freight. This gentleman, with many greasy apologies, informed him that he had only half of the money with him. He could not get his friends to agree to pay all before starting, "but they will agree to pay half here and the other half as soon as the lighters come to you at Amonti." "Very well, then; I won't take another bale in, and will steam away at once."

"But," said the cunning Rock-scorpion, "you have a lighter of goods aboard. You are very dreadful for talking about running away with it."

"You make me sick," said the captain, with a killing look of scorn.

"Capitan, you say queer things to your best friends. Now, I tell you what I will do: I will on my own responsibility give you in cash two-thirds now, and the other third I pledge myself will be paid at Amonti. It would be a scandal to all concerned to allow it to drop at the present time."

"Scandal be d----d!" replied the commander. "You're a fine lot to talk about scandal--you who would rob Jesus Christ of his shoe-strings."

"Capitan, you do me wrong; I would never do the things you say."

"Stump up the dross like a man, then, and don't stand whining there like a sucking turkey craving for pity," retorted Captain S----. A look of injured piety came over the old rascal's face, who was playing a game of Levantine jugglery, subtle and crafty.

"Ah," said he, "I am so sorry. Indeed, I cannot express my grief that you should have changed in so short a time from the kind, generous capitan of old times long ago to the very cruel, disobliging person of this minute, who calls me names and refuses to reciprocate kindness for kindness. I think my friends will say that I tell lies, which they would not think of me, when I tell them that you have become morose and disobliging. They will stare and say that my judgment has been deceived. But to show my trust in you, nevertheless, I will, as I have said, give you two-thirds cash, and the other third you will be paid at your destination. No other man in Gibraltar would do the same; but we are old friends who have done business together before--not profitable, but still it was business, very hard business. Come, now, capitan, do be reasonable, and do not look at me as though you would like to strike my face with your fist."

The captain had been standing in a reflective mood during the Rock-scorpion's harangue, obviously reviewing the whole position and the policy that should be adopted. He was dubious as to the wisdom of accepting the terms offered; but seeing that the risk to him was less than it was to them, he spontaneously replied--

"Agreed! But I warn _you_, and you must intimate the warning to your friends, if there is any attempt at deceiving me, or any reluctance shown at the other end to pay the balance of freight, I will steam off with the merchandise and the men you propose sending with me, and I don't care to say what will become of them."

"Shake hands," said the wily agent; "and I give you my word of honour, which everybody trusts but you since you came this time, that there will be no trouble made. Now come to the charthouse and take over the cash."

This formality was speedily accomplished, though not without a further attempt to reduce the cash payment on the plea that it would endanger his professional reputation in the eyes of his commercial friends.

"I care nothing for your reputation," murmured the candid sailor. "What I want is two-thirds freight, so stump it all up, or I will have it taken from you and then hoist you into your boat."

Whereupon the agent became afflicted with grief at his dear friend's threatened cruelty.

"Really, my best friend, I must not give way here, but I will shed tears when I get to my silent home, and speak with myself of the change that has come to your mind."

"Don't you bother about shedding tears; you see that your friends play the game," said the inexorable captain. "I will carry out my part; but, by heavens! if your people don't carry out theirs, you shall all pay dearly for it."

"You are too excited on this occasion, my dear capitan, and for this I am sorry, as I like to see you as usual. I tell you if they do not play the fair way, I will be responsible and be very vexed."

"Shut up, you blatherskite; the cargo is all aboard. Get into your boat quick, and remember what I have said to you when you can overcome the effects of your wriggling and dodging. Your cargo can only be delivered on one condition. Keep in mind what it is. Begone, and never let me see your evil countenance again."

Thus spoke the enterprising commander, who had begun to realize that he was having dealings with a gang whom he would have to fight in order to get his own. The engines were put at full speed, and kept at that until she was fifty miles north-west of Cape Spartel, when they were slowed so that she might not arrive before the appointed time. As the vessel trailed sinuously over the quiet sea, the captain's thoughts were centred on material things and the reception he was likely to have on meeting the men his mind's eye pictured as cut-throat ruffians. He had several conferences with the interpreter, whose look and speech he regarded as a revelation of villainy. He was tall and slim, with ricketty legs, dark shifty eyes, a low receding forehead, and a mouth and chin that indicated the animal. The captain felt instinctively the approach of trouble, and frankly told the wretch, who he knew was deceiving him, that every bale of tobacco would be held until after the freight was paid over in gold sovereigns; and with an air of ostentatious authority he gave instructions to have all the muskets and revolvers loaded and ready in case they should be required. The hideous scoundrel fixed his eye on the captain, and with ironic accent intimated he could not help being filled with concern when he heard the orders given to prepare the firearms.

"Capitan, we are not pirates; we are respectable men carrying on a respectable trade. You need not prepare anything; we are honest tradesmen."

The captain laughed heartily at this comic assurance of fidelity, and felt convinced that a deep impression had been made, as the interpreter shortly after was seen vigorously conversing with his two compatriots. The one had been introduced as the representative of the owner of the cargo, and the other the pilot, whose business it was to direct the captain to that part of the coast where the craft was awaiting the vessel's arrival. The treacherous dusk was casting its shadows over them, and had brought with it a weird sound of the moaning wind. The crew stood in little knots, talking earnestly to each other. Obviously they conversed of the night's work, and all the grave possibilities that lay in front of them. For the most part they wore an anxious look on their faces, but there was one there whose eye was full of sparkling fun, and whose face beamed with a self-satisfied expectation of exhilarating dangers. The captain called him to the bridge, and gave him some specific orders as to how he was to act when certain signals were given. The chaste and simple motto of "the blow first and jaw afterwards" guided him, and he was only profane when discipline demanded it. His superstitious tendencies were in an ordinary way an anxiety to him, but on the night in question the only signs he gave of being affected in this way was by the half coherent remark to the captain that he did not like to hear the shrill wail of the wind through the rigging; "it seems to be speaking to us of some trouble near at hand." Suddenly the interpreter called out, "I see the feluccas." In a moment all thought of the wail of the wind had disappeared, and this fine athletic seaman was commanding his men like a hero. He had been told by his captain that there would more than likely be rough work to do, and he prepared for it with a skill and vigour that left no doubt as to how his instructions would be carried out. "Give the signal at the proper time," said he, "and leave the rest to me." A shipwrecked crew was being taken home in the steamer, and these, together with her own crew, made the number look formidable, and although they were never requested to give assistance, they offered it in case of need. Undoubtedly the addition to the ordinary crew had a moral effect upon the Spaniards.

The craft came alongside, and her crew jumped aboard and commenced to handle the bales. They were peremptorily stopped by the captain giving instructions that not a single bale was to be allowed to pass into the lighters until the freight was paid and he had given orders. Soon there was a carnival of foes. The captain called to the interpreter to bring the man with the money to the saloon. The interpreter came but not the man. The former said the money was coming on the second lighter, but the one alongside must be loaded and sent away first.

"No, no!" interposed the captain; "no money, no bales." He would wait until the second lighter came, which could easily be placed alongside astern of the first one. In a short time number two came, and was moored as directed. A large number of men jumped aboard from both craft. The captain again called out to bring the man with the money, and again no one turned up but the interpreter. This time he was defiant. He put his back against the saloon side, folded his arms and began--

"Capitan, you see the number of people aboard your vessel. They can take her from you, if they so wish it. I tell you frankly we have no money; but, by God! we must and shall have the tobacco."

The captain had been reared amidst a race of men who had imbued him with the importance of hitting decisively and with promptness, when confronted with situations which demanded physical action. In an instant he had hold of the scoundrel, who, he was convinced now, was the leader of a plot to take the cargo by force. Under peremptory compulsion, the Levantine was rushed on deck, informed that he had miscalculated with whom he had to deal, and that any one who attempted to carry out his threat would be fired upon.

"I give you fair warning there shall be no half measures, and I command you to inform your friends what I have said; and also state to them that as soon as I have been paid my freight, they will not only be allowed to have the cargo, but I will instruct my crew to assist in the transhipment."

It never will be known now what this plant of grace intimated precisely to his colleagues, but the general impression was at the time that the captain's message had not been conveyed verbatim. Soon the babble of tongues charged the air and gave an impression of Bedlam. The captain had resolved upon a course of action which was strenuous. He had given certain orders to the chief engineer, and was standing on the lower bridge reviewing the situation, when the second officer came up to him and said in a whisper--

"The Spaniards are all armed to the teeth, sir."

"All right," said the captain, "they will soon be disarmed. Meanwhile, as a precaution, put our men on their guard. This business must be carried through vigorously, and with dash."

At this juncture the interpreter, apparently with the intention of breaking the deadlock, attempted to come on the bridge, and was warned if he put his foot on the ladder he (the captain) would jump on top of him. He did so, and the next moment he was flattened on the deck. The Spaniards, in great excitement, surrounded the two. At last, one of the shipwrecked men spoke to them in Spanish, and the master asked him if he could really speak Spanish. He replied in the affirmative.

"Then," said the captain, "translate to these men that I do not wish to hold the cargo, but that my agreement was for the freight to be paid immediately the craft came alongside."

This pronouncement seemed to make an impression, but they still coveted and cavilled for the goods. They endeavoured to persuade the master of the steamer, who had gone on to the bridge again, to anchor, and the money would be brought off in the morning. He prevaricated with them, and at the same time told the chief engineer secretly to put the engines easy ahead. She was brought head on to the sea, and the wind having risen, a nasty swell came with it, which caused the lighters to jump and put jerky strains on their moorings. A few of their crew jumped aboard, and were trying to pass additional ropes around the rigging of the steamer when the captain blew his whistle. In an instant the tow-rope of the forward lighter was cut; then it was that the Spaniards realized what was happening. They remonstrated with the captain; they shouted to each other excitedly; those that had not got aboard the feluccas flew along the deck and jumped, one after the other, on to their vessel as she swung round. Another shrill whistle, and the last rope of lighter No. 2 was snapped. Captain S---- called out to the interpreter, who was pleading piteously to allow them to have only some of the cargo, to jump at once if he did not wish to lose his passage, and to be taken away with the steamer. He quickly realized his true position, and sprang over the stern. It was supposed that he was picked up by one of the craft. They then commenced to fire wildly from the feluccas, but little harm was done, and in a brief time the steamer had travelled far outside the range of their guns, and was heading towards Cape St. Vincent, with the whole of the contraband aboard of a value of something like L5000. The question of how it was to be disposed of was a problem not easily solved. The first thought was to take it to Lisbon. This idea having broken down, the next thought was one of the Channel Islands (Jersey or Guernsey). This also, for specific reasons, gave way. It was then decided to take it to the port of discharge of the ordinary cargo; but after calculating all the trouble, the payment of duty, time lost, and possible legal technicalities, the captain resolved that the best and cleanest way of disposing of it was to jettison the whole of it. This decision brought him into sharp conflict with his chief officer, who entirely disagreed with such a course.

"Is it for this," he said, "that we risked being shot and having the steamer seized and confiscated? The tobacco belongs to us by right of conquest, as well as by moral right, and it will be an abomination to throw it overboard. Even if we make only a thousand pounds out of it, it is always something; but to put it into the sea would be sinful beyond description. I cannot bring myself to be a party to such a thing."

The decision of the captain was irrevocable, in spite of the persuasive eloquence of a deputation of the crew and engineers. So, after passing the Burlings, orders were given to cut the bales, save the packing, and shovel the tobacco overboard. This very nearly caused open revolt, but the captain made a few tactful statements which had good effect. He presented a case that could not be controverted, and they yielded to the inevitable. The jettisoning commenced with bad grace, and a continual growl was kept up until the captain himself was overcome by the sight of the beautiful tobacco being thrown away. He called a halt, after persuading himself that a new idea might be presented to the mind as time went on, which would show how a profit could be made without risking any vital interest; but this only endured for a couple of days. No really sound idea came, and so the work of destruction was resumed until only half a dozen bales were left, and it was resolved to hold these whatever happened. The mate was a sailor of the old school, and clung to the grog and tobacco traditions of the eighteenth century. He might have forgiven the purveyors of defective food, but if bad grog and tobacco were supplied there was no forgiveness for that, here or hereafter! He believed in the crew being served with grog whenever they were called upon to do extra work, such as shortening sail or setting it, and although he never allowed smoking when on duty, or expectoration on the quarter-deck, a skilful seaman was all the more popular with him if he chewed. His opinion was that they did better work, and more of it, when they rolled a quid about in their mouths. If his attention was called to a small boy who was practising the habit, a pride-of-race smile would come into his face, and his laughing eyes indicated the joy it was giving him. Then he would say, "Thank God, the race is not becoming extinct. I have always hope of a youngster turning out satisfactorily if he works well and chews well." As a matter of fact, his conviction was that a boy or man who adopted the practice did so instinctively because they were born sailors, and were true types of British manhood. Indeed, he regarded manhood as strictly confined to his own class, though on many occasions I have seen volcanic evidences of shattered faith. It was not so much the money value of the tobacco, but the _racial affection he had for it_ that caused him to feel indignant at the suggestion of it being thrown to the waves.

The second day subsequent to this conflict, it was the first mate's afternoon watch below. He had partaken of his midday meal, and went to the bridge to have a smoke. As he looked down at the bales of goods, he said to the second mate--

"However the thought of destroying that beautiful stuff can have entered the mind of man I cannot fathom. I think I have got him persuaded to leave well alone. It must be nothing short of stark lunacy."

And the two men were agreed that had their captain _been as short of it as they_ had been one time and another he would not talk such foolishness. The chief mate intimated that he was going to have a nap, but that his mind was torn with presentiment which he could not speak about calmly. At four o'clock when he came on deck he was made aware of what had taken place during his watch below, whereupon he lapsed into a kind of inarticulate stupor, and could not speak the unutterable. He placed his right hand on his brow, and then on his left breast, and stood gazing at the long Atlantic rollers, which had the appearance of an uneven reef of rocks. The stage of stupor and grief was superseded by that of resigned indignation. He plaintively called out--

"Well, I'll--be--teetotally--d----d! Miles of sea to be paved with that beautiful tobacco! Retribution will come to somebody; and, by thunder! it should come with a clattering vengeance. I will never forget the sight as long as I have breath."

The captain came up to him, and seeing that his mind was centred on what he regarded as not only a calamity but a crime, he was so much amused at his ludicrously pathetic appearance that he laughingly repeated--

"Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand, and the sound of a voice that is still."

The inappropriate words were merely used as a piece of chaff, but Mr. S---- was not in a chaffing mood, so he retorted that he did not see where the humour came in, and there was nothing to laugh at, and so on. He then walked on to the bridge, and he and the captain were not on friendly speaking terms any more during the voyage.

At midnight on the sixth day after parting company from the Spaniards, the vessel was hove to to take a pilot aboard. Captain S---- took him aside as soon as he boarded, and asked him in an undertone if he ever did anything in the contraband line. He held up his hands as though he were horrified at the suggestion, and exclaimed--

"Not for the world, captain!"

"Very well," replied the captain; "you go below, and I will join you in a minute or two, after giving orders to the steward to make tea for us."

As a matter of fact, he remained behind to give orders to the mate to throw overboard the remaining six bales, which was a further trial to the grief-stricken officer; and having done this the captain joined the pilot, and entered into conversation with him. The two men were not long in discovering that they each belonged to the brotherhood of Freemasons. This put them on easy terms at once, and encouraged the pilot to inquire into the meaning of the words spoken to him on boarding.

"I do not quite know how I stand in relation to that," said the captain. "Indeed, I am perplexed as to the plan I ought to adopt. So many difficulties confront me as the scheme of development goes on; but so far as I have been able to work out the problem, I think my attitude must be straightforward, and that I should make a full voluntary statement to the authorities. Meanwhile, if you pledge me your Masonic honour to keep it a secret until I have made it public, I will tell you the whole story."

The undertaking was readily given, and long before the whole story was told, the pilot's Christian virtues had broken down. At frequent intervals while the narrative was being told he interjected, "Oh! why didn't you tell me?" His mind was transfixed. Then the processes of it became confused. The vision of wealth and the reckless squandering of some of it took possession of him, and with uncontrolled zeal he called out--

"My God! what a story! O captain, why didn't you tell me what it was at once, and not waste time? Let us get to work without delay. I will undertake to land what you have got on an island and share the proceeds with you."

"Too late, too late, my friend. You have thrown away an opportunity which may never come to you again," replied the master, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Transactions of this kind are done spontaneously and with vigour--they are not to be dreamed about."

"I admit my error, captain; but, oh! how was I to know? Surely you do not mean to tell me that the balance of the tobacco has been thrown overboard since I came here?"

"Yes, it is all gone. We do not hesitate when we face the inevitable, no matter what the sacrifice may be."

"Well, I'm blowed!" soliloquized the pilot. "It will take me some time to get over this little bit of history."

"I daresay," said the captain; "but it is time you took charge--she is now within your jurisdiction. What do you say to going on the bridge? You will find the chief officer there, with whom you may condole, if it be safe for a stranger to speak of so delicate a subject to him. You will, perhaps, find him stupefied with grief and shame at the unpatriotic conduct of his commander, and I daresay his language will impress you with the venerable traditions cherished by his class when things are supposed to have gone wrong."

The pilot greeted the chief officer cordially, but did not receive a very polite response to his attempts to draw him into conversation about his recent experiences, and was cut short in a sailorly fashion by being told if he wanted any information about experiences, as he called them, to go and ask "that ---- fool of a skipper about it."