A VOLCANO INCIDENT.

Otago Witness, Issue 1899, 26 June 1890, Page 35

A VOLCANO INCIDENT.

In the is3ue of May 22 of this journal is a very interesting sketch under the above heading. It is indeed a case where people in the enjoyment of the evening little knew what might chance to them any moment. Only imagine dancing in a room under which was a barrel of gunpowder with a naked candle stuck in the powder, and the feelings of the host when he knew such to be the easel It is singular that in my younger days I knew of a case of this kind so very similar in its main features that I cannot help thinking it must have been father to the story told in the issue referred to. ft may have been, too, because I feel pretty sure of having given my version to print long ago. I have a story to tell some day about the adventures of a barrel of gunpowder in the old days of Otago, but just " enow," as we Scotch folk say, " I'll c'en ge ye t'other yun first."

What I am going to tell you about occurred a terrible long time ago. It was in 1842, when I was a young man. There can be no harm in mentioning names now, for of an almost certainty all the parties (but myself) will be dead. Ah, that is always the way with an old man's stories ! There was a wholesale grocer and wine merchant, a Mr (well, never mind his name), of Falmouth, who amongst other things owned two brigs and a good many fisher boats. Many a bit of fun some of the young fellows had with these ships and boats. The truth may be told now. It was before the days when the revenue officers had those little steamboats that have rendered smuggling so difficult along the coast, and many a dark night served better to run a cargo amongst the black rocks of Cornwall than to catch a few mackerel or pilchards for an overstocked market. Some day or another, when I have quite done with my old Otago friends, I may tell you a few queer stories of stormy nights and kegs of brandy, but at present I must inform you that smugglers sometimes have return cargoes like other ships, and one of these was gunpowder, which had to be delivered at Oporto. The Custom House people were pretty sharp there, and there was a very heavy duty on gunpowder, besides which there was no very handy way to land it in Spain along the coast, as kegs were landed in Cornwall. The only feasible plan was to contrive to avoid giving any cause for suspicion, and throwing the officers off guard, land it openly in the daytime under their very noses. A bold plan in smuggling is (as in everything else) the safest. So all the gunpowder was stowed away in earthenware jars, marked " Best Durham mustard " a coating of that material being placed on the top of each jar. When the officers came to examine the cargo they were introduced to the mustard, which was placed rather conspicuously in view, with no kind of concealment. The covers were removed from a few of them pointed to by the officers at random, and the captain of the brig stuck the candle (a naked one) into one of the pots, to give light for the examination of some other goods. When the party left the hold to partake of some refreshments in the cabin, the candle was still burning in the mustard pot, and the captain purposelessly left it there. When they got into the cabin he observed, as if it had just occurred to him, " Dear me, I forgot the candle ! Here, boy," to the cabin boy, who knew nothing about the powder, " go and fetch the candle here." No sooner had the boy gone than it occurred to Captain C that he did not know how thick the layer of mustard was, and that probably the candle had gone through to the powder, that it would want snuffing, and the boy might very well let a red hot piece of wick fall into the hole ; but he could not go after to stop him. Besides looking suspicious it would be too late, and so he sat still and waited.

Now imagine what he felt in the few minutes the boy was gone ! At any moment the ship and all that were in her might be blown to atoms ! Captain C was a brave man, and as boM a smuggler as ever landed a keg, but he assured me those two or three minutes contained more " double concentrated essence of funk" (the captain's own words) than half a lifetime, and I believe him, for I have had a little taste of the same feeling on more than one occasion myself, quite enough to judge by.

The ruse acted wonderfully well, as all the pots of mustard (to a great amount) were landed in open daylight, without giving the slightest suspicion. However, the bold skipper did not try the same trick a second time. Alas 1 how little we know indeed what is in store for us. Had my poor old friend Captain C only known what manner of death he was to die, and not so long after too, he might have prayed for the one he escaped so narrowly. Old Otago.

— A swallow can fly about 600 miles a day.

— The surface of the Forth Bridge requiring to be kept painted is estimated to be no less than 20 acres.

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