Shag Harbour

Southland Times, Issue 22999, 19 September 1936, Page 21 (Supplement)

Shag Harbour

CBj,

Monte Holeroft)

Chapter 1 When Martin Lord came on board the Rata a little before sunset, the schooner was receiving the last of her cargo, and was almost ready for departure. A couple of Maori seamen were lashing down the hatch-covers, and the engineer was already in the cramped engineroom which housed his Diesel motor. In a little while the hawsers would be loosed. Martin looked about him uncertainly. A large case was being lowered by a wharf-side derrick, and as Martin moved out of the way, a couple of men guided it to a resting place against the main mast A few oil drums were already stacked here; the bulk of the cargo was safely under hatches, and only gear which could not suffer from the weather was allowed to be stored on deck. The case was the last thing to come on board, and as soon as it was in position, the deck-hands spread a tarpaulin over it and con-

tinued their lashing down. One end of the case as yet remained uncovered, . and Martin could see the consignor’s markings in black paint. A large X stood above two words—“ Shag Harbour.” He turned away rather hastily, and as he did so, a tall man with an officer’s cap on the back of a squarish head showed himself in a companionway aft. Martin caught his eye. “Good evening. I’m looking for Mr Hansen.” “You’ve left it too late, sonny. We’re due to leave in the next few minutes. I can’t see anyone now. Better hop back on to the wharf.” "My name is Lord,” said Martin quietly. The big man shot him a quick glance from under prominent eye brows. "Captain Lord’s youngster, are you?" Martin nodded. “That’s different, then. Got a message for me?” “Yes. It’s about Shag Harbour—” “Wait a minute!” said Hansen, speaking quickly. “Better come below.” Martin groped down a steep stairway into a narrow passage, and thence, following a light, into a cabin. Hansen indicated a chair.

“Now, my boy, let’s have it.” Martin found the keen eyes disconcerting. Hansen had an aquiline face which did not ♦.rouse confidence In the young. “Father wanted me to tell you not to receive any more cargo for Shag Harbour.”

Hansen stroked his chin, but showed no signs of surprise. "Did he give you a note for me? Or is he still not well enough to use a pen?” Something in the man’s voice tempted Martin to answer sharply. “My father has been ill, and it will be some time yet before he’ll be fit to come back and take command of the schooner. But he didn’t want to put anything in writing. He said you’d understand.” “And maybe I do. Looks to me as if the old man’s getting cold feet. What’s made him suddenly nervous?” “I don’t know. But he had a visit this afternoon from Mr Hawkins—”

"That’s the agent for these Shag Harbour consignments. What’s on his mind?”

“He looked very worried, and when he had gone father called me into hi! room and told gio to hurry

down here and see you. He said that Hawkins had found out something about the men at Shag Harbour, and that he would have gone to the police if he had seen any way of clearing himself. And father said they were all in the same boat. He and Hawkins had been deceived;

but the thing had been done si cleverly that they would have m hope of convincing a court the; were not in the conspiracy. I aske< father to tell me more about it, bu he said it could wait until I go back. The one thing for me to di was to hurry down to the Rata an< stop you from receiving any mor< stuff for Shag Harbour.” “I see." Hansen was still strok ing his chin. “Well, sonny, you cai run home and tell your dad that n< more Shag Harbour stuff has com< aboard. He’s got nothing to worr; about.” “But I saw—•” Martin stopped suddenly, uneasj under the cold blue eyes of Hansen “Well?”

“I was going to say that you must have made a mistake. I saw a case come on board a few minutes ago. It was marked for Shag Harbour.” “Was It, now? You’ve got keen eyes, my boy. Quite in the family tradition. One of these days you’ll be master of a ship, like your dad before you.” Martin resented the tone of Hansen’s voice.

“That may be so," he said quickly. “But what am Ito tell my father about the Shag Harbour cargo?" “We'll have to see about that. Wait here while I slip on deck and see if I can get the case back on to the wharf. Make yourself at home in the meantime.” . He left the cabin, closing the door behind him; and Martin leaned back on a tilted chair and surveyed the ceiling. At this time he was 16 years of age, and making a name for himself in the first fifteen at Wellington College. He was well grown for his years, and built for quick movement. There was a touch of red in his hair and a sprinkling of freckles on a face that was friendly, but not altogether goodlooking.

Martin’s father was captainowner of the Rata, and had been laid up with an illness which hung over him all the more stubbornly for nervous fears about his beloved schooner. The Rata traded to small ; ports of the North Island, pene- . trating lonely harbours and crossing • dangerous bars to riverside towns, i Captain Lord had a way of think- ■ ing that the vessel was never en- ' tirely safe in hands other than his i own, and more than once Martin had suspected that he had been > troubled ever since he had replaced i his mate with Hansen, who was ■ now acting-captain. Although he had no evidence to back his suspi- . cions, Martin could not help think- ; ing there was something not quite , right about this fellow. There was a sound of tramping feet on the deck overhead, and somebody was shouting. Martin got up to look out of the porthole, and saw that a large steamer was moving slowly past them The long dark hull slid by; and then he saw the end of a jetty which also, strangely enough, appeared to be moving. A line of hills with the sunset glow above them rose against the edge of the water, and in the middle distance were masts and funnels and

the angles of wharf buildings growing black in the fading light. He turned from the porthole and listened to a faint pulsing sound from within the schooner. The Rata was under weigh.

He moved quickly to the door, thinking that if this were a joke it had gone far enough. But the door was locked. And now it was clear that his suspicions of Hansen had not been without foundation. He moved about the little cabin in a fume of impatience, and when at last the door opened again he made a rush for the companion-way. But Hansen stood at the threshold and forced him back into the cabin. “Not so quickly, young fellow!” "I’ve got to get out of here! Father will be waiting to see me. He’ll be worrying.” , “Not so much as I’a be worrying if I knew you were back in Wellington with wild stories about Shag Harbour. Put your mind at rest, my boy, and settle down to a taste of life at sea. You’re going to be a passenger for the next few days.” ’“And what are you going to say about it afterwards.?. Do you think my father—”.'

"Listen, son,” said Hansen, stand® ing over Martin with folded arms, “What your father thinks or does isn’t going to matter to me when this trip is over. It’s the last time I’m taking this crazy old tub up the coast. And I’m not going back to Wellington. See?” “You've kidnapped me!” said Martin hotly, “and even if you don’t go back to Wellington, you’re going to find it hard to explain that away to the police.” “There aren’t any police within 50 miles of Shag Harbour. And by the time you put them on my trail I’ll be well out of their reach. That’s all you need to know for the time being. You can get up on deck now; and if you take my advice you’ll make the best of things. You’ll find it a long way back to port if you fancy yourself as a swimmer. The water’s choppy—• and mighty cold.” He turned aside, as if the interview were at an end; and with an angry glance at him, Martin left the cabin. He went up the com-panion-steps and felt the north-east wind on his face. The Rata was dipping to the choppy seas which moved white-crested across the strait. Short waves came slapping against her hull, and the air was damp with spray. The sun was down, and the headlands were shadowy. A strong light flashed from Cape Palliser as they faced north-east up the coast. Beyond that light, somewhere in the city whose glow lay reflected in the sky above the coastal hills, his father would be waiting for him. As far as he knew, there was no way of letting him know what had happened. For several days—and longer, if the weather was against them—he would be cut off from the world and in the hands of a man he believed to be a scoundrel. Under his anxiety, however, were other feelings: a rising curiosity and a not unpleasant sense of adventure. What was there at Shag Harbour which was of so much interest to Hansen? As far as he knew, the place was little more than a narrow and rather deep inlet on a patch of deserted coastline. He was thinking of these things when a dim shape loomed alongside him at the rail. The wind was high, and it was necessary for the newcomer to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Young Martin Lord! What on earth are you doing here?”

Martin looked round. A shaft of light came from the aft companionway and fell across a somewhat grimy face. And at the sight of this man a new hope rose swiftly in Martin. “Bill Maddren!” “Engineer of the Rata, and at your service, young man. But what’s it all about?”

“I’ve been kidnapped!” Maddren looked swiftly along the decks to see if they were being watched. But the man at the wheel was a good dozen paces away, and the wind was against him. Maddren leaned closer to Martin.

“Follow me down into my private glory-hole.” They balanced themselves across the sloping deck, and in a few moments were groping their way towards the engineer’s cabin.

(To be continued.) A Prayer Here is a fine old prayer that wa» probably said by old and young; I see the moon, The moon sees me: God bless the sailors. And bless me,