LOOSE CARGO.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 186, 7 August 1936, Page 15

LOOSE CARGO.

BY DUDLEY HOYS.

(SHORT STORY.)

THE collision occurred in tlie fog oIF tlic Kentish Knock. Fortunately for the Nagomba, it was a mere graze. Otherwise her three thousand tons of senility, held together by rust and barnacles, might have disintegrated. However, the shock writ? enough to bring a chorus of alarm from the miniature menagerie below. Captain Frewen sniffed, sent the mate and the carpenter down to inspect the extent of the damage, and wished audibly that those crimson-coloured animals would stop their noise. Through thirty years of mixed cargoes he had never ' efore carried wild beasts, and he never would again, if lie could help it. For instance, a lion letting out a- roar on the high seas—it -vasn't natural. It gave him the jumps. Why couldn't Luigi, the little Italian animal-man in charge, make them shut up? Captain Frewen turned to the quartermaster, a small, dour Scot named Macleod. "Crooners, aren't they ?" "Ay, sir." "Biast 'em!" "Ay, sir." • • • •

The mate returned. The damage, it appeared, was nothing inore than a slight dent above the water-line. He gave the information in a manner peculiarly his own, a manner somehow suggesting that if it hadn't been for him, the damage might have been much worse. Ho was like that. "Thank you, Mister Bragshay," said the captain. "We'll proceed dead slow. Seems to be getting thicker." "It is," said Bragshay. with that cocky finality.

Macleod. gave him a covertly hostile glance. He loathed Bragshay, for a number of reasons. He loathed him because he was very big, very powerful, with a wide red face, little brown eyes, and hands like hams. Pie loathed him because he was cocky. He loathed hi in most of all because ho was eternally talking about his remarkable adventures all over the world—lights with toughs on the Frisco waterfront, blood-curdling escapades in the low quarter of Shanghai, back-to-tlie-wall battles with South American dagoes—from all of which he had emerged victorious on account of his strength and courage.

Macleod. wagged his head and spat. That was his opinion • of Brngshay. "Those, howling animals below,"' began the captain, and stopped. There was a pattering on the dock beneath, and up to the bridge quavered the terrified voice of Luigi. "Mistair Captain, sairl You give-a the help, please, at once! Ohl Oh! Oh!" "What the hell's the matter with the man?"demanded the captain. Luigi's frightened lamenting rose through the' fog. From his mixture of Italian and broken English one fact became suddenly and horribly plain. The boa constrictor had escaped. It had been asleep for three days. Evidently awakened by the collision, it had flung its mighty coils against the cage, smashed two bars, and slithered clear. Fr.ewen blanched. "Where is it now?" he bawled. "Mistair Captain, sair, I do not know! I make-a the look for 'im." » * » • * Frewen cursed uneasily. Although no expert on boa constrictors, he was fully aware that this one, thirty feet of massive, slimy tubing, could wind round and crush the life out of a man in about ten seconds. Bad enough to have a thing like that loose on land. But at sea, and in a fog "Mister Bragsliay," he said quickly, "take this key. Get the revolver in my cabin. I daren't leave the bridge in this fo<*. Warn everybody, and make a search." He turned to the quartermaster. "You'd better help. Send up Smith to relieve him. Mister Bragshay. "Yes, sir." Bragshay stuck out his chest. . _ ... "You're not afraid of boa constrictors, Mister Bragshay 1" ; "I'm not, sir." Macleod grunted. . "Well, I am," said the captain. Shoot at sight. Luigi will probably cry about it,'but I cfin't help that." Three minutes later Bragshay was civimr Macleod his instructions as to the search. From that ham of a hand poked an automatic pistol, and Macleod eyed it covetously. He would much ' rather hunt for a boa constrictor with a pistol than without. . i Bragshay seemed to read his thoughts. "Windy?" he asked. „ i "Weel, I'm no sae keen onBragshay gave an aggravating laiJgn. "If you'd been up against a quarter o what I've been through, you d treat this as a joke. Still, I g™nt yo&re ajhimp of a man, and I'm a mighty handful. Some of the rough houses I—"I've hairdo' them, interrupted Macleod drily. , ■ like "They'd have pulped a 6 . hr nI P I you. But there, if you re windy, you d better take this automatic. "And what will ye do? _ "Me?" said Bragshay. passing him the automatic. He laughed ain y.' , al , lc tapped his massive chest. It won tt be ! the first time I've tackled trouble w it mv bare hands—nor the second, nor third, nor the fourth. Me? >; Don't you worry about me—littb man. "Losh!" muttered Macleod under h v breath, "ye're a swaggering windbag, i Still, he accepted the automatic fion Bragshay, and as lie moved off along i the fo>»gy deck he had to admit that tne 'man possessed courage. Searching un- ■ armed for a boa constrictor was no joke.

Elsewhere in the fog, Bragshay pursued his part of the hunt with a sort of hearty assurance. Knife-throwing Chinamen, Frisco crooks, Malays running anfok, boa constrictors—they all came alike to him. Better for them to acknowledge his superiority and submit quietly. Much better. Definitely Bragshay hoped he would be the first to spot the boa constrictor. He didn't know exactly what he would do if lie found it, but it would be something tough and businesslike. It would teach that little squit Macleod not to doubt the stories of a He-Man. The minutes passed, and no great shout broke the silence to announce the discovery of those deatli-containing coils. Bragshay told himself that they might hunt for hours and hours without success. It behoved him to use his brains as well as his brawn. A boa constrictor came from a warm country, and therefore it liked warmth. Where was another warm spot in the Nagomba? The cook's gall n y. Bragshay slapped his thigh and groped his way towards the galley. * * * »

The fog was certainly thicker. It drifted and wavered before his eyes like wet wool. But it wasn't too thick to hide from him something dark and low, something within a few feet of the galley door, something that shouldn't have been there —a swollen, sinister coil. Bragshay halted. He held his breath, stood there motionless. Jumping Jake! What a chance to squash the doubts of that little squirt Maclead once and for all. Bragshay licked his lips. They felt dry, despite the moist fog. Slowly and quietly he peeled the long oilskin off his massive body. Then he made an elephantine leap forward, swept the oilskin down over the coils, ran staggering under the weight to the rails, and heaved his capture overboard. His roar of triumph brought Taffy, the cook, scuttling out. "What is it? Why you make this noise ?" "The boa constrictor!" panted Bragshay. "Caught him!-—just there. Threw my oilskin over the coils, snatched up tlie lot, and chucked liim overboard. "Must have been attracted by the warmth of your galley, Taffy. If I hadn't caught him, he might have had you." "Indeed," burst out Taffy, husky with admiring gratitude, "you are a ferry brave man, so you are!" "Oh, it's nothing." "What's nothing?" asked a voice, and out of the fog loomed Macleod. "The mate, he has caught the great snake!" gabbled Taffy. "It was about here, yes, and I did not know, and it might have crushed and eaten me, mind you! And he picked it up and threw it into the sea. Was effer a man so brave and strong?"

Bragshay shrugged Ir < shoulders. "Oh. it's nothing," he said airily. "I grant you he looked a bit ugly-like. He started to rear up that wicked-looking head of his," he added for Maclcod's benefit, "but I was too quick for him." He glanced with tolerant contempt at the automatic in Maclcod's hand. "So that can go back to the captain's cabin, little man." "Ay, sir," said Macleod respectfully, and his mouth twitched. "laffy, he went on. "I wis going to make some fend-offs. I broclit along a heavy coil, which I wis going to dry in your galley. I dumped it here. Where wud it be?" Luigi's voice started shouting: "Mistair Captain, pair, I find 'im! 'E crawl back to oage!" Macleod looked at the wilting Bragshay and murmured: "Gie a moil enough rope, and "