THE DYNAMITE HULK
No one who has not visited Canvey would believe that so lonely and
out-of-the-world a spot could exist within thirty miles of London. Just
as we sometimes find, within half-a-dozen paces of a great central
city thoroughfare, where the black and pursuing streams of passengers
who throng its pavements never cease to flow, and the roar of traffic
is never still, some silent and unsuspected alley or court into which
no stranger turns aside, and where any sound but that of a slinking
footstep is seldom heard,--so, bordering the great world-thoroughfare
of the Thames, is to be found a spot where life seems stagnant, and
where scarcely one of the thousands who pass within a stone’s throw has
ever set foot.
Where the Thames swings round within sight of the sea, there lies, well
out of the sweep of the current, a pear-shaped island, some six miles
long and three miles broad, which is known as Canvey.
Three hundred years ago it was practically uninhabitable, for at high
tide the marshes were flooded by the sea, and it was not until 1623
that James I. invited a Dutchman named Joas Croppenburg and his friends
to settle there, offering them a third for themselves if they could
reclaim the island from the sea. This offer the enterprising Dutchman
accepted, and immediately set to work to build a sea-wall, which so
effectually protects the low-lying marsh-land, that, standing inside
it, one seems to be at a lower level than the water, and can see only
the topmost spars and sails of the apparently bodiless barges and boats
which glide ghost-like by.
But the most noticeable features in the scenery of Canvey are the
evil-looking dynamite hulks which lie scowling on the water like huge
black and red-barred coffins. Upwards of a dozen of these nests of
devilry are moored off the island, and they are the first objects to
catch the eye as one looks out from the sea wall.
In view of the fact that the position of Canvey in regard to one of the
greatest water highways in the world is like that of a house which lies
only a few yards back from a main road, one wonders at first that such
a locality should have been selected as the storage place of so vast
a quantity of a deadly explosive. That it was so selected only after
the matter had received the most careful and serious consideration of
the authorities is certain; and though very nearly the whole of the
shipping which enters the Thames must necessarily pass almost within
hail of the island, the spot is so remote and out of the world that it
is doubtful if any safer or securer place could have been found.
The dynamite magazines consist, as the name indicates, of the
dismantled hulks of old merchant vessels, which, though long past
active service, are still water-tight. One man only is in charge of
each hulk, which he is not supposed to leave, everything that he needs
being obtained for him by the boatman, whose sole duty it is to fetch
and carry for the hulk-keepers.
Not only is a hulk-keeper who happens to be married forbidden to
have his children with him, but even the presence of his wife is
disallowed, his instructions being that no one but himself is under any
circumstances to come on board.
These rules are not, however, very rigidly complied with. A hulk-keeper
is only human, and as his life is lonely it often happens that when
visitors row out to the ship he is by no means displeased to see them,
and half-a-crown will frequently procure admittance, not only to his
own quarters, but to the hold where the explosive itself is stored
in small oblong wooden boxes, each containing fifty pounds. Nor are
instances unknown where the solitude of a married hulk-keeper’s life
has been cheered by the presence of his wife, the good lady joining
her husband immediately after an inspection and remaining with him
until such time as another visit may be looked for. Even if the fact
of her presence on board becomes known on the island the matter is
considered as nobody’s business but the inspector’s, and the love of an
officer of the Crown is not so great among watermen and villagers as to
lead them to go out of their way to assist him in the execution of his
duty.
Had I not had reason to suppose that Mullen was somewhere in the
neighbourhood of Southend, the possibility of his being on one of these
hulks would never have occurred to me. But the more I thought of it the
more I was impressed with the facilities which such a place afforded
for a fugitive to lie in hiding, and I promptly decided that before I
dismissed the hulks from my consideration I must first satisfy myself
that the man I was looking for was on none of them.
A point which I did not lose sight of was that it was quite possible
for a hulk-keeper who was taciturn by nature, and not prone to
encourage gossip, to remain in entire ignorance of what was taking
place throughout the country, and of the reward which had been offered
for the apprehension of Captain Shannon. In fact there is at this
moment in charge of one of the hulks off Canvey a man who is never
known to go ashore, to receive visitors, or to enter into conversation.
Whether he is unable to read I cannot say, but at all events he never
asks for a newspaper, so that it is conceivable that he may not
know--happy man!--whether the Conservatives or Liberals are in power,
or whether England is ruled by Queen Victoria or by Edward the Seventh.
The first thing to be done was to make out a list of the dynamite
hulks--just as I had made a list of the boats off Southend--and then to
take the vessels one by one and satisfy myself that no one was there
in hiding. I need not more fully describe the details of the various
inquiries than to say that, in order to avoid attracting attention,
they were made as at Southend by the waterman Quickly.
Most of the hulks are moored in the creek within sight of Hole Haven,
where the principal inn of the island is situated, and all these we
were soon able to dismiss from our calculation. But there was one hulk,
the “Cuban Queen,” lying, not in the shelter of the creek, but in a
much more lonely spot directly off Canvey, in regard to which I was not
able to come to a conclusion. It lay in deeper water, nearly a mile
out, and no one seemed to know much about the man in charge except that
he was named Hughes and was married. He very rarely came on shore,
but when he did so, returned immediately to his ship without speaking
to anybody, and it was generally believed on the island that he often
had his wife with him. That he _had_ some one,--wife or otherwise,--on
board I soon satisfied myself, and that by very simple means.
The man whose duty it was to wait upon the hulk-keepers was, I found,
a methodical sort of fellow and kept a memorandum book in which he
wrote down the different articles he was instructed to obtain. This
book Quickly managed to get hold of for me, and on looking over it I
saw that from a certain time,--dating some months back,--the supply
of provisions ordered by Hughes had doubled in quantity. This might,
of course, be due to the fact that his wife was on board; and, indeed,
Quickly reported that the hulk attendant had remarked to him, “Hughes
have got his old woman on the ‘Cuban Queen.’ I see her a-rowing
about one night in the dinghy.” But I had made another and much more
significant discovery when looking over the book,--a discovery which
the presence of Hughes’ wife did not altogether explain. This was _that
not only had the quantity of food supplied to Hughes been largely
increased, but that the quality too was vastly superior_.
The man in attendance on the hulk had probably failed to notice this
fact, and I did not deem it advisable to arouse his suspicion by making
further inquiries. But I at once decided that before I put against the
name of the “Cuban Queen” the little tick which signified that I might
henceforth dismiss it from consideration, I should have to make the
personal acquaintance of “Mrs. Hughes.”