CHAPTER XVII
AFTER THE WHISKEY SMUGGLERS
When Willie reported to his Chief, that individual dropped his work and leaned back in his chair. He was smiling with satisfaction.
“Well, Willie,” he said, “they telephoned down that they have at last landed that fellow Simonski, and that you had a great hand in it. Tell me what happened.”
Willie told the story in detail.
“He’s clever all right,” said the Special Agent. “We had almost come to the conclusion that he couldn’t be carrying the gems himself, but must be employing a carrier whom we would not suspect. You see, we have secretly examined his stuff on various occasions. We’ve had secret agents traveling on the boat with him. We’ve tested his cane and his umbrella. We’ve emptied his tube of tooth paste. We’ve even surreptitiously removed the heels of his shoes while he was asleep. We’ve cut open his soap. We’ve looked in every place we could think of. That’s probably why the inspector paid no attention to Simonski’s cane. His canes have been under scrutiny before. But they seemed to be all right.”
“So did this one,” said Willie. “If it had not been broken, we should probably never have found the diamonds. The inspector thinks it was made especially for this trip. It was no patent cane that you could open and put together again. You’d have had to chop this cane to get it apart. It had been bored out for a distance lengthwise, from the bottom up. But the diameter of the hole was small. The diamonds, with the thinnest of cotton wrappers, could just be stuffed into it. The end of the opening flared, like the sides of a long, slender cone. A piece of wood had been fashioned to fit this opening exactly, and the bottom of this plug was the ferule of the cane. The plug was glued in tight. It was as solid as veneering on fine furniture. I believe it could never have been pulled out. There wasn’t the slightest mark or crack to show that the cane was ever plugged. It appeared perfectly solid. And it was so slick and fresh that it must have been newly made.”
“Likely you are correct. He probably got a new cane on each trip. Doubtless it was done by expert workmen at considerable cost. He could afford to, according to what the inspectors telephoned me about the value of the diamonds seized. But I guess Simonski won’t be buying any more canes soon. He’ll get a prison sentence out of this. Sheridan told me you were sharp, but when I sent you to the Majestic I didn’t think that you would really accomplish anything.”
“It was mostly luck,” said Willie. “If the cane had not broken, I doubt if we should have found the diamonds. You never saw a nicer piece of work in your life than that cane.”
“Well, luck or no luck, we got Simonski, and that’s the thing we wanted. The department is immensely pleased.”
The department was no more pleased than Willie was. He was entirely in earnest when he said that the discovery of the diamonds was due to luck, for, had not Simonski momentarily lost his self-control and the cane been broken, it is doubtful if the gems would have been found. None the less, the seizure helped Willie greatly.
Among other things, it helped his bank account. Rather, it gave him one. For his pay was increased and he was now able to save a little each week. It also put him on an even better footing with Mr. King, though the Special Agent by this time had come to think very highly of Willie.
After the exciting days Willie had been passing through, life now seemed very tame. It was as though Willie, after a tempestuous voyage through rapids and rough seas, had suddenly sailed into a placid bit of backwater, where there was no current at all and not wind enough even to stir the surface. Day followed day and week followed week as quietly as time had gone by back in Central City. Like any active lad, Willie loved excitement, and he began almost to chafe under the monotony. For there was little to do besides routine work. Long ago Willie had become familiar with these routine tasks, and there was no longer even the interest of novelty attaching to them.
In one way Willie’s work altered slightly. More and more the chief had to use Willie for wireless communication. This was due to the increasing activities of rum runners. The “dry Navy” of the regular prohibition enforcement officers consisted of submarine chasers that had been built during the war. These were low, speedy craft, about one hundred and ten feet long, with a speed of twenty knots an hour. Every one of these boats was equipped with a complete sending and receiving apparatus of the most efficient type, with both spark and continuous wave transmitters and receivers, and operated by currents of 110 volts. Operators were on duty aboard the various units of the fleet at all hours, in order that there might be no delay in receiving orders, or in dashing off after a rum smuggling vessel.
But, although these vessels of the dry Navy were so completely equipped in this respect, they were sadly lacking in another. Their crews were civilian forces who were practically without authority on the water. Actually, it was always necessary for an officer of the customs department to sail with this fleet, since the customs forces have practically unlimited authority of hail, search, and seizure. Whenever the Special Agent had sound information as to probable violations of the prohibition law, this fleet was at his disposal. And as information came to him frequently, there was much need to communicate with the different vessels of the fleet.
In addition to these craft, there were several other boats that were used for chasing rum runners. These craft were part of the outfit of the Collector of the Port of New York. Among them was a boat, called the Surveyor, used especially to convey searching squads from point to point and to go down the Bay after rum runners. With all these craft at his command, the Special Agent had a considerable fleet of fast power boats.
For a time Uncle Sam searched rum laden boats far out on the high seas, and rum runners were rather cautious. But when other nations protested against such search beyond the three-mile limit, the practice was discontinued. At once whiskey smugglers grew active. Boats came from Bermuda, the Bahama Islands, Cuba, and other West Indian ports, laden with drink. As long as they remained more than three miles from shore, Uncle Sam could not touch them. So these ships dropped anchor just outside the danger zone and there disposed of their cargoes to rum runners in fast power boats. As this practice increased, the little fleet of law enforcement vessels grew busier and busier, and Willie was increasingly useful in communicating with them by wireless.
Encouraged by the success of individual vessels in disposing of their cargoes of booze, whiskey ships began to come in greater numbers. One day the marine observers at Atlantic Highlands and Sandy Hook sighted a great fleet of vessels approaching. Two steamships and fourteen schooners dropped anchor near the Ambrose channel and a little east of the Ambrose lightship, just beyond the three-mile limit. The steamer was apparently a tanker. The sailing ships appeared to be fishing smacks that had been converted into rum runners. The flotilla was a rum fleet from the Bahama Islands.
At once a swarm of small power boats put off from shore to meet them. The prohibition forces were caught napping. In a few hours’ time thousands of cases of forbidden intoxicants could be carried ashore. There was not a prohibition boat about, to enforce the law.
The instant word came to Mr. King from the marine observers, he rang his buzzer for Willie. “Get into touch with our boats,” he directed, “and order them to prepare for instant action. Have the Surveyor come to the Battery landing for me. I’m going to take personal charge of this expedition. We’re going to stop this rum running. These smugglers are a desperate bunch. We’ll have to meet them on their own grounds. Desperate diseases require desperate remedies.”
Willie hastened to his wireless. Ship after ship answered his signals, replying that they were ready for an instant dash after the smugglers. But from the Surveyor he could get no answer at all. Again and again he flashed out her signal. Then he called another of the Collector’s boats, to see if he could learn what was wrong with the Surveyor. The answer came back that her operator had suddenly been taken ill and had gone to the hospital. The relief man was ashore. There was no one on the Surveyor to operate the wireless.
Willie reported this to his Chief. For a moment Mr. King considered the situation. “There’s only one thing we can do, Willie,” he said. “You’ll have to go along and operate the Surveyor’s wireless. I can’t direct a fleet without a wireless operator.”
Willie could scarcely restrain himself for joy. So far he had had no end of good luck in being allowed to take a hand in operations against smugglers, but this was the greatest good fortune yet. To have a part in actually running down smugglers on the seas was a piece of luck too good to be true. Willie could hardly believe his ears. He wanted to give a war whoop, but somehow he restrained himself, and answered quietly, “I’m ready now.” But his heart was beating wildly with excitement.
“Get your overcoat and cap and the heaviest wraps you can find,” said Mr. King. “It’s already late in the day. It will be dark long before we can get near that rum fleet. And you’ll freeze to death if you aren’t warmly clothed.”
In a second everything was astir in the office. All the secret agents in the building were ordered aboard the patrol fleet. Orders were issued to clerks and stenographers. Revolvers were inspected and loaded. Fresh ammunition was tucked into coat pockets. Caps, gloves, overcoats, and outer footwear were produced and pulled on. And in a very few minutes the little party was hurrying across Battery Park to board the Surveyor. Willie hustled along beside his friend Easterly. But the pace was too rapid to permit conversation. In fact, Willie fairly had to run to keep pace with his longer legged companions. The booze forces had stolen a march on the enforcers of the law and there was not a second to lose.
The Surveyor was already at the boat landing. A member of the crew stood on the wharf, looking for the party. The Special Agent leaped aboard, followed by his little company. The sailor cast off the line that held the Surveyor, the engine began to roar, and the little craft drew quickly away from the landing. Not many hundred yards offshore the sub chasers and the other craft of the little fleet were gathered. Already customs agents had boarded them and they were idling on the tide, like restive horses champing their bits, eager to be off. The Surveyor headed directly for this flotilla.
“I suppose those sub chasers are the fastest units of our fleet,” said Mr. King to the captain of the Surveyor.
“Much the fastest, sir,” said that officer.
“And the Collector’s boats are about of one speed, I suppose.”
“Just about. We can run together very nicely, sir.”
The Special Agent turned to Willie. “Tell those sub chasers to make all speed possible,” he said, “surround the rum fleet, and try to cut off any small boats they can. Tell them they can go the limit if it is necessary. Be sure they have rifles and ammunition.”
Willie entered the little cabin and sat down at the wireless instrument. He strapped on his headpiece, threw over his switch, and sent the fleet call flashing abroad. But before he followed with a single order, he called out to Mr. King:
“What about the cipher? I don’t know it, though I know you use one.”
“Never mind the cipher. Go on and give the orders in English. And make it plain that we have guns aboard and will use them if it is necessary. If these rum runners want to listen in, we’ll give them something worth listening to.”
Willie swung back to his instrument. He had had an instant response from each unit of the fleet. “All sub chasers,” he flashed out, “put to sea at top speed. Surround the rum fleet. Try to intercept any power boats still taking cargo or not yet within reach of shore. Use whatever force is necessary. Load your rifles and use them if need be. Take every possible chance to capture the runners.”
From the sub chasers came flashing acknowledgments of the order, while instantly a mighty roar of powerful motors went up and the sub chasers shot forward through the dark waters of the harbor like the long, lean, nautical greyhounds they were.
“Call the Collector’s boats,” said Mr. King, “and tell them to stay together. The sub chasers will scare all the rum runners away from the rum fleet, long before we could get near. Most of these fellows will make for the Jersey shore. We haven’t the remotest chance of intercepting them. Even the sub chasers couldn’t catch many of them. But some of them will try to make a get-away by heading directly for the harbor here. They’ll wait until the sub chasers are through the Narrows and then make a dash from beyond the three-mile limit. Our part of the job will be to intercept them. We’ll go through the Narrows and cruise back and forth across the harbor entrance. It will be a mighty clever boatman that can get by us unseen.”
Once more Willie threw over his switch and sent a call flashing through the air. “Keep pace with the Surveyor,” he called, when he had gotten responses from the other craft. “Proceed through the Narrows, and take up patrol stations across harbor entrance. Don’t let anything get by you. If necessary, shoot. If they fire back, shoot to kill.”