Devil to Pay by Parkinson C. Northcote Page A

boats, one at Yarmouth to examine vessels passing the Needles, the other at St Helen’s to examine vessels passing Spithead. Goods for the island were usually sunk, therefore, in Sandown Bay by vessels which went on to Poole. One craft did this regularly (Sam’s lugger, thought Delancey) and the barrels were picked up by some local men (Henry’s gang, said Delancey to himself) who only used rowing boats out of Shanklin. The lugger would then put into Cowes to collect payment, this being on her next outward passage when her hold was empty. “Did the late Mr Buckley know of this?” asked Delancey and was told that he must have done. What he could not have known was the exact night when the run would take place. There were, of course, many other clandestine activities and the
Ros’s
cruising ground extended from Lyme Regis to Beachy Head. Delancey asked whether Sam ever had warning about the
Ros’s
intended movements but Isaac knew nothing about that. It was several years now since he had seen the light. It could be, though, that some revenue men were in the smugglers’ pay. Such cases were known and no seizure, come to think of it, had ever been made in Sandown Bay After a long conversation, interrupted by many pious platitudes, Delancey thanked Isaac for his counsel and undertook to lead an honest life.
    That evening Delancey was at the Pig and Whistle. He had originally supposed that this was the haunt of lower-deck as opposed to supervisory smugglers. He found that this idea was mistaken. The same people were there as he had met at the Rose and Crown but in a different mood and at a different hour. Clients of the Rose and Crown were all male and given to serious discussion about ways to cheat the customs and excise. By the time they reached the Pig and Whistle they were more inclined towards romance. There were women there, described by the innkeeper as his daughters and nieces, and tap-room conversation was more ribald and less technical. Voices were raised in discordant song or violent disagreement. Girls appeared, giggling, and vanished again half an hour at a time. Molly Brown was not among them at first and Delancey was not disposed to waste much time on the others. He listened for hours to Dan, Will and Henry, standing his round with nearly all he had left, but learnt nothing of any interest. While they accepted him as one of themselves, this was neither the time nor the place for talking business. They told stories and made jokes at the expense of Will, whose stupidity made him the natural butt of the others. When Molly Brown appeared she was followed by an old man with a fiddle. She sang, to his accompaniment, a rather sentimental song about a maid who died of love. Applause was perfunctory and, sensing the mood of the moment, she launched at once into a ballad entitled “The Flowing Can.” It was a popular tune and she illustrated the words with appropriate, if sketchy gestures showing how to heave the lead and reef the sail. Each verse ended with a rousing chorus in which everyone joined:
    We sing a little, we laugh a little,
    And work a little, and swear a little
    And swig the flowing can!
    Standing on a bench to sing, Molly made a striking figure. She was dark-haired and bright-eyed with a full figure and white skin, aged 25 or less. In vigorous action, manning the deck to clear the wreck, she displayed herself to some advantage, gaining tremendous enthusiasm over the last verse:
    But yet think not our fate is hard,
    Though storms at sea thus treat us,
    For coming home, a sweet reward,
    With smiles our sweethearts greet us!
    Now too the friendly grog we quaff,
    Our am’rous toast,
    Her we love most,
    And gaily sing and laugh:
    The sails we furl
    Then for each girl
    The petticoat display;
    The deck we clear
    Then three times cheer
    As we their charms survey.
    The last line was given special emphasis and the company present was privileged to see rather more of Molly before