The "Dock Rats" of New York; Or, The Smuggler Band's Last StandOld Sleuth
General
The "Dock Rats" of New York; Or, The Smuggler Band's Last Stand
Old Sleuth
Smuggling -- Fiction
Our hero gladly accepted the invitation; and when once aboard,
as it was a pleasant morning, the two even lay out upon the
deck, and Denman became quite confidential. He let the
detective into the secret of the real business of the crew of
the yacht, and told him that daily they were expecting a
schooner from the West Indies with a big cargo for them.
"How do you run it ashore?" asked the detective, innocently.
"Make a trip with us and we'll show you how the thing is done;
the fact is I'm a man or two short, and if you want to take a
rake in with us you're welcome."
"That's just the ticket for me!" answered Spencer Vance.
Our readers must understand that the detective had been
wonderfully diplomatic and cute to so readily, worm himself
into the confidence of Ike Denman.
The men at length went to sleep and slept far into the
morning. Ike Denman was the first to awake, seemingly, but in
reality the detective had been on the alert all the time.
The master of the "Nancy" was quite a different man in the
morning when burning under the after-effects of liquor than he
was when in the full fever of a jolly spell. As he opened his
eyes and saw our hero stretched upon the deck, he gave him a
lunge in the ribs, and as Vance opened his eyes, Denman
exclaimed:
"Hello! what are you snoozing there for, old man?"
The detective was on his feet in a moment.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
Denman appeared to have forgotten who our hero was, but in
reality he was only pretending to forget.
Denman was a good sailor, and a very cunning man; but at heart
he was a very ugly and desperate fellow, and not at all
distinguished by any of the generous traits usually
characteristic of jolly tars.
"What's the matter, captain?"
"What's the matter? I'm asking you who you are, and what you
are doing here?"
The detective came a little nearer, and assumed a surprised
air.
"Don't stand there, making sober faces. Who are you, and what
are you doing here?"
Denman was conscious that he was given to talking too much
when in his cups, and he was leading the new hand on to betray
just how much had been revealed to him.
"You shipped me last night, captain."
"I shipped you last night?"
"Yes; but if you don't want me as one of your crew, I'm
willing."
"Who are you, anyhow?"
"My name is Ballard. I told you who I was last night."
"What did you tell me?"
"See here, captain, it ain't necessary to go over all that
passed between us last night. If you don't wart to take me on
with you, say so, and I'll get ashore."
Denman laughed in a merry manner, and said:
"I reckon it's all right."
"I can prove it's all right, captain."
"How so?"
Ballard ran his eye over the yacht's rigging, and said:
"Would you take any suggestions from a man who had plenty of
experience in crafts of this sort?"
"I would; yes."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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