Devil to Pay by Parkinson C. Northcote

Ike’s conversion with all the sorrow that chapel-goers bestow on those who have fallen from grace. “One thing I’ll say for him,” said Henry. “He’s never split on his old-time friends. He told me he never would and he hasn’t.” From subsequent remarks it would seem that Ike’s silence was well-advised. “What does Ike do for a living these days?” asked Delancey of Dan. “He’s a ship’s chandler with a place in Hog Lane,” came the reply. But Henry was still bewailing the loss of a friend. “Why, I ask
why
should he go and turn preacher? I’d rather be a loblolly boy or a Frenchie! I’ll never speak to him again, the scow-bunking lubber!” More ale was called for and all agreed that Ike had been disloyal and ungrateful and that he deserved to be married to that sallow-faced Hannah.
    From hours of conviviality all that Delancey could gather was that Henry’s gang was relatively unimportant but that its activities hinged upon the occasional visits of a man they called Sam, probably from the mainland. He concluded that Isaac Hartley would be a useful source of general information, and that Sam (whose surname nobody mentioned) was said to be interested in a local girl called Molly Brown. Pleading unspecified business, but undertaking to meet his friends again that evening at the Pig and Whistle, Delancey slipped away while Henry was in the middle of another diatribe against preachers. He went first of all to the barber’s for a shave and accepted the barber’s advice about where to dine. There would be good value, he was told, at the eating house in Hog Lane. So there was and Delancey felt better after his hot-pot and cabbage. He found nearby the sign “ISAAC HARTLEY, SHIP CHANDLER,” and boldly entered the shop, asking to see what boat-hooks they had in stock. Isaac was evidently in a small way of business, providing mainly for fishermen, his shop probably avoided by his old associates. He was no serious rival for George Ratsey, already well known as a sailmaker. He had time for gossip and Delancey described himself as one of the redeemed, bred up in Surrey Chapel Sunday School but sorely tempted of late by some dealers in contraband. He asked Mr Hartley whether he regarded smuggling as actually
sinful?
Isaac took full advantage of this opening. Leaving his boy to take charge of the store, he took Delancey up to his loft, where he kept his rope yarn and twice-laid, his tallow and pitch. Sitting on a bolt of canvas, he explained at length that smuggling was indeed a sin. Doubting perhaps whether his argument had carried conviction, he went on to insist that it did not even pay. Fortunes might be made in Hampshire, at least by the men who financed the trade (with hellfire as their ultimate reward), but here in the Isle of Wight the game was not worth the candle. More could be made honestly, with salvation to follow.
    Delancey learnt a lot that afternoon. Isaac, he discovered, was less of a preacher than his former mates were inclined to assume. He was much under Hannah’s thumb, however, and her ideas were evidently strict. In talking about his old trade, though, there was a note of nostalgia in his voice. Those, evidently, had been the days! True to his vow he would name no names but he was not averse to describing the trade as a whole. Gradually the picture was revealed of the region known to him. The men of property who financed operations were centred upon Dorchester; John Early, Esquire, being obviously the chief of them. The landing places included various creeks from Bridport to Portland and from there to Christchurch. Apart from Christchurch itself the most important smuggling centres were Abbotsbury and Poole. All Isaac’s detailed information was, in fact, about Poole. Smuggling vessels were based there and traded mainly with Alderney. Few of them came near the Isle of Wight for the collector there kept two armed