There was a loud succession of knocks on the living-room door. Puggie sat up straight in his wicker-back rocking chair where he had been rocking most of the afternoon. Who could it be? Puggie hadn't had a visitor since smallpox became an epidemic in his little West End hometown.

The knocks came again. They were louder this time and in more rapid succession. The door shook violently.

'Coming!' called Puggie. He jumped from his chair and made for the door half walking, half running. His hand was on the latch now and he was nervously pulling it aside to open the door.

'Evening, Mr. Puggie. This here telegram is for you, Sir. Please sign right here.'

The boy who brought the telegram could not have been more than fourteen years old. He watched intently as Puggie wrote every letter of his name, then with a curt 'Thank-you', whisked off down the steps.

The telegram was from Key West in Florida. It was signed Murray, that's all, and it contained only two words-COMING TOMORROW.

Those two words started the blood coursing again through Puggie's veins. He hadn't felt this for weeks and weeks. For some time now the only news in the neighbourhood was about whose husband, sister, or son fell down with the smallpox; who came near death's door, or what bush got boiled up for the cure. Puggie's wife had been down with the smallpox too, so he was really tired of being a home bird. The telegram was good news.

As Puggie walked back to his rocker, a smile broke across his face. Still smiling, he sat down, threw his head back on the tall back of the chair and closed his eyes. He recalled his very first meeting with Captain Murray, shortly after Murray arrived in West End on a trip in search of stone-crabs and crawfish. It turned out that neither the stone-crabs nor the crawfish were as important as the little bottle of rum Puggie kept in his house for whenever there was an illness.

As soon as it had been agreed that Puggie would be the Captain's local guide whenever he visited on his crabbing and crawfishing trips, Murray's tongue loosened up and he seemed to have been repeating over and over again, ‘I've got to have a drink, man.'

That's when Puggie took the Captain to his house and brought out the pint explaining that he kept it for sickness. That was also when Puggie realized that if he could just be a little bit more prepared for sickness, he could soon be rich.

His mind then went back to the days when he had to grow the peas and potatoes he hoped to have for dinner each day, when he had to chop and ship wood to Nassau for sale, when his wife made rope from sisal and dye from the dogwood bark, all to make a sixpence for a tin of corned beef, or a penny half-penny for a pound of sugar.

Now this little house had a radio with a battery that the wireless operator charged for him. He had a big icebox to store food in and even a bicycle to ride wherever he wished to go.

'Puggie! Puggie!' a woman's voice was calling. 'Who was it?' she cried.

'Who was who?'

'Who was at the door?'

'Oh the door! Just the telegram boy, dear.'

With this, Puggie's wife appeared looking excited. He handed her the telegram. She read. Her face lit up. They stood for a moment just grinning at each other.

Then her face slowly tensed into a quizzical frown and her lips parted as she tried to ask Puggie a question.

'Is it over?'

'Over?' he repeated.

'Yes, the quarantine ... the smallpox quarantine.'

'Oh, now Rita, why are you worrying yourself about frivolous things? Why .. ?'

'Oh, my goodness, Puggie . . .'

With this, Rita threw herself at Puggie's knees, almost causing him to lose his balance in the rocker.

'Puggie,' she begged, 'Now we don't want to go getting ourselves in no trouble. You see what happened to Cousin Harry last week? Getting locked up in the barracks is nothing that should happen to respectable people.'

Puggie took hold of Rita's hands and held them together for a while as he searched her frightened eyes with his.

'Look sweetheart, your husband has more sense than to do the foolishness Cousin Harry did last week and get caught, OK? Cousin Harry allowed the daylight to catch him smuggling his rum on board that American ship. And the next stupid thing he did was to take people along with him. He was asking for trouble and I don't blame the Commissioner for catching him and locking him up.'

Puggie explained to his wife that his plan was different, and he wouldn't be stupid enough to blow this chance for which he had waited so long.

The door of a little room at the back of Puggie's house was always locked. He opened it only when he was going to deposit another bottle of rum in his growing collection, or when he wanted to count the collection to see how well he was doing. He pushed Rita a little way from him, still holding her hands, and rose from the chair pulling her up with him. He led her to the back room and opened the door. The couple stood gazing at the rows of boxes stacked on the floor.

Now each box represented a pocketful of green bills. They needed those bills. They needed them badly especially since the smallpox quarantine. Puggie looked at Rita and she at him.

‘I've got to do it, honey. I've got to go out to the harbour to meet Captain Murray with this rum. But don't worry, I won't be caught and by tomorrow night we'll be rich again.'

They paused for a minute still gazing at each other, then withdrew from the room and locked the door behind them.

It was just after dark the following day. Puggie had just finished loading his little boat with the boxes of rum he had been collecting for weeks. He was tired but he could not afford to rest. He jumped in quite cautiously and used his oars to push the heavy boat away from the shore. It was quite a still night and there were no lights in the harbour as visiting boats were not allowed to come beyond the mouth of the harbour ever since the quarantine for smallpox had been imposed.

It was a long way to the ship and it was dark-so dark that Puggie could not see the movements of his own hands as he skulled his way to Captain Murray's boat. He was determined to do this job alone. He did not wish to have company to cause him trouble like Cousin Harry. Neither did he wish to share his gains.

Suddenly, after some half an hour of continuous oar-pushing, a little light flashed in the dark about two hundred yards from Puggie. His first reaction was to fall to the floor of the boat and remain quiet and still. The light flashed again and a third time. Then Puggie realized this was his signal and followed it.

'Hey, Puggie, is that you?' a muffled voice was saying. 'Captain Murray?' was the reply.

'By Golly!' cried the Captain, and paced the length of his boat eagerly till the two vessels could make contact.

The little boat hit the side of the bigger boat with force, sending Puggie on his back across the seat and boxes. 'By Golly!' exclaimed the Captain, 'I hope you didn't break ... break ... er ... those things.' 'Oh no!' whined Puggie as he picked himself up holding his hip, 'it's only me hurt. I sure wouldn't be fool enough to break up them treasures what I been saving up for so long.'

Another figure appeared on deck and soon Puggie's boat was fastened to the bigger one and the unloading operation started. Puggie swung to the Captain and the Captain to the man ... Puggie to the Captain and the Captain to the man.

It was quick but Puggie had just passed the last box upwards when the beam of a powerful revolving light started sweeping across the sea in the direction of the boat.

'My God!' cried the Captain, 'the coast guard! Up with the anchor! Start the engine! Secure the boxes! Make it, Puggie! Make it, man, back to the shore!'

Puggie didn't have to be told twice. He was off to the shore, or at least he thought he was. But what both Puggie and the Captain forgot was that the little boat was fastened to the bigger one.

'Blessed Jehovah!' cried Puggie when he realized what had happened.

'Captain! Captain Murray! Loose me man, loose me! I can't get away!'

The light swept nearer. But neither the Captain nor his men could hear as they were too busy pulling up the anchor and securing the boxes.

The light had swung right around now and just as it was enveloping the two boats the engine of the bigger boat revved up and sent her leaping forward, bursting the rope that fastened Puggie's boat to her side.

The force sent Puggie's boat in a frantic whirl on the tide. He clutched the side to steady himself, fell to the floor of the boat, rolled to one side, then to another, got up on his knees, clutched at the side again to reach for his oar, and tried to control the boat. He touched the oar, rose to his feet, and splash! he was swimming in the ocean.

From the glare of the powerful light that was now chasing the Captain's ship, Puggie could see his little boat bouncing about on the waves not too far from him. He fought hard against the tide and swam with all he had to reach it.

By this time the bright light had focused itself with blinding force on the Captain and all his frantic crew on the deck. The light almost blinded the men and, for a moment, they just staggered about shielding their eyes.

Then the Captain had presence of mind enough to shout, 'Let her go! Open up the engine, by Golly! Quick! To the Man-a'-war Bush!' Captain Murray never really knew just how close the coast-guard was to him and he hadn't waited to find out. This wasn't the first time, either, that the coastguard had chased him up into the Man-o'-war Bush. And as he sat on the deck behind the large clumps of bushes mopping the sweat from his face and allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the dark, he could see the coastguard's light retreating and he sighed with relief to know that no large coastguard could ever hope to enter that bush.

The chase had given Puggie a chance to retrieve his boat. It was dark but he welcomed the darkness. There might have been big, greedy sharks in the water beneath him, but just then that coastguard was more dangerous than all the sharks in the ocean.

He was sitting in the middle of his little boat again, wet and cold, but not for long. He, too, had to strike off to the Man-o'-war Bush, and there was no engine to help him. He expected the sweeping light to come after him again but it never did. Perhaps the coastguard didn't see his boat, just the Captain's.

There in his dark retreat Captain Murray soon realized that he was not alone. The Man-o'-war Bush seemed to have come alive as, one by one, he spotted some four boats, each behind some bushy clump. Captain Murray waited quietly, but he had not been there long when Puggie came racing along in his little boat. He had come to seek the Captain for his pay, and to invite him to be smuggled ashore for some fun at Cousin Ada's Guest House.

'Oh, no!' said the Captain, 'that's a little risky for me, man. You come on board here and let's have a drink till it's safe for you to make it home.’

Puggie climbed aboard. He and the Captain retreated to the cabin and popped the cork from the first bottle. As they poured a drink Captain Murray broke lustily into the strains of his favourite song:

Oh America have you thought it over,

Why did you vote this country dry?

For there are millions like me

Who drink more than tea

In the hot burning month of July.

So goodbye I'm leaving you soon,

I'll be back on the last day of June,

I can't stay over here, I must be over there,

If I don't I'll surely die.

I'm a man, for I'm a man

Who must have a little liquor

When I'm dry, dry, dry.

 

From Dr. Susan J. Wallace's book, Back Home.