A Midnight Ruse

A MIDNIGHT RUSE

By Woodpecker

Provided by Kerry Moore

Thinking back seventy-four years memory brings to mind a little cutter that used to sail up and down the river in front of our home. About a mile up the river there was an illicit still of considerable dimensions. As evidence there still remains a little clay dam across what was once a tiny stream. One of the young fellows gave me a taste of that brew and I am the only one now living that has had this experience.

The cutter having loaded the allotted number of casks would return to the harbour and fill up with firewood. Now it happened that just as they were about to leave a Customs officer came on board. He had made his way from one of the other harbours, tired and hungry. He was well-treated and supplied with plenty of whisky. After imbibing perhaps too freely he fell asleep on the skipper’s bunk. This was just what the crew wanted. So with a boy steering, the skipper and mate released enough firewood to remove the casks of spirits and carefully buoyed them in one of’ the bays en route, after replacing the firewood. As the cutter discharged her cargo, anxious eyes watched for the casks of spirits they expected to see but the ruse had worked.

“Wood-pecker” – aka A H Meiklejohn