Dennis Wheatley - The Launching of Roger Brook

The elegant figure of Droopy Ned drifted across his mind, bringing him fresh hope for a moment. He felt that he would be perfectly safe in confiding his whole story to Droopy and that the eccentric young nobleman, having a passion for jewels, would probably buy the whole collection from him; or at least, arrange a sale and see that he was not cheated. But the question was, would Droopy be in London?

All the odds were that he would not. At this season it was as good as certain that the Marquess of Amesbury would be at his seat, Normanrood, in Wiltshire, and that Droopy would spend at least a fortnight there taking leave of his family before setting out on the Grand Tour. It was probable that he would spend some days in London before actually leaving for the Continent but when that would be it was impossible to guess and it was even probable that he might elect to cross to France by the more direct route from Southampton.

In any case, it seemed to Roger, it would be a poor gamble to count on Droopy being at Lord Amesbury's London house before mid-August and, in the meantime, a country boy with little ready money but a hoard of jewels stood a terrible risk of becoming the prey of the sharks that infested the poorer quarters of the capital.

While he was still pondering the thorny problem of converting his treasure into cash the outer door was thrust open and Dan Izzard came in. With a cheerful "Good day, young Squire" to Roger, the smuggler advanced to the narrow counter and banged upon it with an empty pewter pot. The serving maid came out of the back room and greeted him with a smile.

"Is Master Trattle in?" asked Dan; and on the girl nodding, he added: "Then go fetch he, wench, and I'll thank thee for it."

A moment or two later the burly, red-faced landlord appeared and asked Dan's business.

The smuggler cast a casual glance over his shoulder at Roger, then leaned over the counter and, lowering his gruff voice, began to talk to the landlord.

Roger was still absorbed in his own affairs and, at first, did not pay much attention to the conversation. It was evident that Dan, knowing him to be "safe" was indifferent as to if he listened or not, and he had jumped to it at once that the smuggler was arranging the shipment of a new supply of illicit spirits for the inn. But as his gaze rested idly on Dan's broad back a sudden idea came to him.

For some minutes the two men continued their low-voiced talk; then, with a muttered: "That suits me, well enough; us'il make it four nights from now," Dan turned away.

"Dan!" Roger called. "Wilt join me in a glass?"

The smuggler paused, halfway across the room. "Aye, Master Roger; I never say nay to a dram o' good liquor. I'll drink 'e's good health in a noggin' o' rum."

Mr. Trattle poured the drink and disappeared to resume his after­noon nap. Dan picked it up and, with a smile, came and sat down at the table.

Lifting his glass he said: "Well, here's long life to 'e, young Master. 'E've grown quite a bit since I last clapped eyes on 'e, and soon it'll be Mister Brook that us'll all be touchin' our caps to."

"That's it, Dan," Roger smiled back, as he sipped his own cordial. The spontaneous lead that he had been given lent itself to the idea he was developing, and an easy distortion of facts came quite readily to his tongue. "My father is by way of getting me a midshipman's commission, and I hope to be at sea in a month or two."

"Well, jus’ think o' that now! 'Tis a fine life though; 'tis a fine life, Master Roger."

"I've never doubted that," Roger lied, adding after a second: "But it will take a lot of getting used to, and it's that which worries me. I'll just die of shame, Dan, if I'm sick the first time my ship leaves port on a voyage."

"Why should 'e be, Master Roger?" Dan asked him in surprise. " Ts seen 'e often in they little yachts sailin' round the island when it were blowin' quite a bit, an' 'e seemed merry as a grig."

"But that's different," Roger objected, "I may be sick as a dog in a big ship once she's out in the open sea."

"Nay, 'tis not as different as all that. In a tempest, now, many a strong man's belly turns over on 'im 'fore it's blowed itself out; but 'e've naught to fear given normal weather."

Roger sighed and looked down into his glass. "I would that I felt as certain as you do that I'll not make a fool of myself. You see, I've never sailed farther than along the coast to Poole, or up to Southampton, and I haven't an idea what it's like in mid-channel."

" 'Tis no different, I tell 'e," Dan assured him; but he was now regarding the boy with thoughtful sympathy, assuming that some old salt must have scared him with tales of waves as high as mountains; and, to his simple mind, there was nothing strange in a land-lubber believing that it was always rough out in unprotected water.

Having planted this seed in the smuggler s mind, Roger pretended to shrug away his own worries and asked: "How are things with you, Dan?"

"Oh, well enough, Master Roger. There's only one real worry I got. That bastard Ollie Nixon 'as swore to get me, an' 'e's darn nigh done it a brace o' times since Whitsuntide."

Roger knew that the man referred to was the Chief Excise Officer of the district, whose main business it was to put down smuggling, but a special bitterness in Dan's tone impelled him to ask:

"Why has Mr. Nixon got his knife into you, particularly, Dan?"

" 'Tis on account of an affair last winter, over Poole way. Ollie Nixon's young brother were the leader of a squad o' Preventive Men. They catched some chaps comin' up a chine wi' pack-horses, havin' jus' landed a cargo, an' there were a real set-to."

"I remember hearing of it," Roger put in. "One of the gang hit young Mr. Nixon over the head with a cudgel and he died of it. The Justices have never been down on smuggling, but they won't stand for murder, and 'twas murder, right enough. There was a big reward offered."

"Aye; fifty guineas, no less, for any of 'em who'd turn King's evidence, an' a free pardon into the bargain; but they ne'er laid hands on the wicked devil that done it."

"Does Ollie Nixon think that you were mixed up in that affair, then?"

"That's the rig of it, Master Roger. Though as God is my witness, my order to my lads has ever been to jettison the cargo an' take to their heels at first sight o' the Preventives. Better by far lose a cargo than be forced into a fight where a killing may happen."

"You're right there, Dan, and 'tis hard that Nixon should be endeavouring to pin it on you, since you're innocent."

"He'll not pin it on me. There be no way he can do that. But 'tis fixed in his mind that 'twas my lugger lying off shore that night, an' that one o' my lads dealt the blow. So he's swore he'll get me, be it by fair means or foul."

You're off again soon, aren't you? I was just behind my father in the conservatory when you came to the house last night, and you said something to him of another trip."

"Aye, aye; an' to-night it is. I'll be droppin' down the river wi' the turn o' the tide soon arter midnight."

Roger sprang his mine. "Take me with you, Dan."

The smuggler's eyes opened wide at the request, and he quickly shook his head. "Nay, Master Roger. 'Tis a crazy thing you ask. Should the Cap'n learn of it he'd ne'er forgive me."

"He won't learn of it," Roger said firmly, and added with swift invention: "He believes I'm lying away from home to-night at Colonel Thursby's house; and as they are not on speaking terms he'll never find out that I didn't."

Again Dan shook his head. "Nay, that will not serve 'e. Us'll be gone three days, and unable to land 'e again till four nights from now."

"Oh, but it will," Roger parried, "I'd planned to stay with the Thursbys for a week. I can easily ride over to Highcliffe this evening, make my excuses, and say that I'll not be coming to them till Saturday."