Read Online The Maggie by James Dillon White - Free Book Online

furthermore, I’m putting Mr Pusey aboard to see that you do.’ His jaw jutted belligerently. ‘Right?’
    The Skipper said, aghast, ‘But, Mr Marshall, I assure ye, we’re more capable of doing the job for ye! It’s entirely unnecessary for ye to go to the additional expense of . . .’
    â€˜I’d rather you didn’t speak of the expense,’ Marshall said. ‘If you knew how much you’ve cost me already . . .’ He turned to Pusey, who was nodding with sour approval in the background. ‘And look here, Pusey – if for any reason, any reason whatever, he fails to have you in Ardrishaig by five o’clock, call the police. Right?’
    Pusey looked vindictively at the Skipper. ‘Yes, sir.’
    Marshall said, ‘Spend the night in Ardrishaig if necessary, but see the stuff safely loaded on the other boat. I’ll expect you back in London sometime tomorrow.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    With the situation under control at last Marshall had another incredulous look at the Maggie . Then with a glance towards the Skipper he went, shaking his head, towards Miss Peters and the waiting car.

Chapter Ten
    With an unbearable air of superiority Pusey watched the Skipper in his hour of defeat. Standing dismally against the bridge he was looking at the hired car jolting down the canal road as though even now by some miracle Mr Marshall might relent and allow the Maggie to proceed. But there was no respite. The car disappeared round a belt of trees and for a few moments a cloud of dust hung in the still air. The old lady, realising that they did not want her to open the bridge, went slowly back to her cottage. Pusey remained as victor of the field.
    He said, ‘Are we ready to proceed?’
    The Skipper turned and came towards him reluctantly. He stood on the bridge and looked with disgust down the canal glistening in the sunlight. But he made no move towards the Maggie .
    Pusey asked petulantly, ‘I said : Are we ready to proceed?’
    The Skipper answered gruffly, ‘We canna go yet.’
    â€˜And why not?’
    â€˜We’re waiting for the mate and the boy.’
    â€˜And,’ Pusey asked, in a superior voice, ‘where are the mate and the boy?’
    The Skipper did not reply, but Pusey, who now wouldn’t trust him an inch, saw him exchange glances with the engineman. It seemed that they were looking anxiously towards the woods which flanked the canal road.
    â€˜Where are the mate and the boy?’
    As if in reply two shots sounded from the woods. Although muffled by the trees they were obviously not far away, and the Skipper, as though careless now of the consequences, nodded towards a wooded hill astern.
    Pusey turned, but could see no movement in the peaceful countryside: the silent road, a copse of trees, the rising hill, and, in the distance, a line of purple mountains. He asked, ‘Where are they? What are they doing?’ The Skipper turned away and in a moment another shot sounded, nearer than before. Suddenly comprehending, Pusey said, ‘They’re poaching!’
    His indignation seemed to amuse the Skipper and the engineman. The Skipper was grinning as he climbed on to the Maggie . ‘That’s an ugly word, Mr Pusey. Out here we have more delicacy. We call it ‘‘The Sport’’.’
    â€˜I don’t see anything amusing in breaking the law,’ Pusey said, in his Sunday-school voice.
    They watched in silence for the mate and the boy to appear, but there was still no movement. They heard a distant shout and then a faint crackle that might have been someone walking through the dry undergrowth. A rabbit hopped out on to the road and began nibbling at the grassverge. A pheasant rose in alarm and flew across the canal with clacking wings.
    It seemed to Pusey that it was beneath his dignity as master of the situation to wait any longer and he said firmly, ‘Very well, as