keeps it all shipshape.”
The Captain surveyed Mipps critically, then a smile twisted his lips and creased his one eye, as though he found
the figure astride the old donkey comical.
Now Mipps only liked to be thought comical when he had uttered a remark which he intended to be funny, so to
show his resentment at the Captain’s quizzing, he dismounted from his donkey as though he were tumbling ashore
from a boat, and touching his hat to the officer in nautical style, remarked dryly: “P’raps if them men of yours was
told by someone with sense how close they is to the ‘oly churchyard, they would batten down their noise a bit.
There’s many a good Dymchurch corpse lying yonder, enjoying a well-earned rest, as the Vicar will agree.”
“We shall not disturb your corpses, Mister Sexton,” replied the Captain sternly, “unless I suspect that their
coffins contain contraband. ‘Twould be a good ‘hide,’ and has been put into practice before now. It is likely then
that I shall order my Bos’n to pipe all coffins on deck for inspection.”
“I fear, Captain,” returned Doctor Syn, “ that as Vicar of this parish, I could never countenance sacrilege.”
“Contraband in coffins is sacrilege enough, so that I shall be on the side of the Church, Reverend Sir, by stopping
it.”
As he spoke the Captain became aware of Percy, who had followed in order to obtain an agreement for the
sailors’ necessary supplies of water.
“And what’s that fool staring at?” he demanded.
Doctor Syn explained Percy’s office in the village and advised the Captain to follow the example of the Dragoons
and employ him.
“I’ll refer him to the Bos’n,” replied the Captain, “and what the soldiers pay, why, so will we.”
Percy shook his head at this and said in his monotonous drawl: “Soldiers earn little. Sailors a lot. And that’s
proper, as sailors comes first with King George. I never yet met a sailor what a miser, but all soldiers is poor fish.”
The Captain let out an explosive chuckle. “The village idiot is not only a flatterer, but a man of business it
seems.” He then shouted in his sea voice, “Bos’n!”
Up came that rotund sea-dog at the double, followed by his men, and at the Captain’s orders he took Percy under
his care, and after some haggling it was arranged that water should be brought to the barn whenever the casks
needed filling. Since this did not entail the sailors sending fatigue parties to fetch it, like the Dragoons, Percy
insisted on a slightly higher rate of pay, which the Bos’n, who was a jovial and good-hearted old dog, respectfully
advised his officer to accept.
This the Captain did with a further chuckle at Percy’s business capacity, and then ordered the Bos’n to book him
a room at the Ship Inn.
This was Doctor Syn’s cue to interrupt. “Forgive me, Captain, but I have heard that you are to be invited to the
Court House yonder as the guest of Sir Anthony Cobtree, our Squire, who is already entertaining Major Faunce,
whom you have just seen, and Mr. Brackenbury, his lieutenant of Dragoons. I venture to suggest, however, that you
will find yourself less restricted in my house. You may go and come, just as you please, even in the night hours.
My old housekeeper is used to me setting off at all hours upon this pony to visit my sick parishioners, who are
scattered far over the Marsh there.”
He pointed out across the flat expanse of dyke-divided pasturages that stretched away until it met either the sea or
sky. He then went on, while the Captain appeared to be obsessed in the Marshlands which the Parson had pointed
out. It was somewhere there, in that mysterious distance, that the equally mysterious Scarecrow rode at night at the
head of his phantom horsemen.
“Indeed,” went on the Vicar, “I am setting out now to see a poor old woman who is sick, with my panniers here
filled, as you see, with new-laid eggs and other nourishment. But I must not weary you with my parochial cares and
chatter, or you will think twice before accepting my invitation, which I sincerely hope you will at least consider.”
“I do, Parson,” replied the Captain, “and upon my soul, I thank you. Very seamanly of you, I’m sure. As to the
Court House, from what you tell me, I shall be glad not to reside there, for I can see that I should quickly come to
loggerheads with those officers of the Junior Service. No doubt with the Squire, too, for I hear that he resents
outsiders coming to enforce the law upon his territory, since he is the chief magistrate of the district.”
“He is of my opinion,” said Doctor Syn, “that if the land is used as a smuggler’s base, there are none of his
tenants who are in any way implicated.
“Which remains to be seen, Parson,” said the Captain sharply. “I intend to stamp out a smuggling that is known
to exist. And I shall do it in my own way, and only collaborate with those who are willing to take my orders. By the
way, Reverend Sir, without presuming to dictate to you as mine host, I should be glad of a room in your Vicarage
which has a casement looking out over the Marsh.”
“I think that can be managed,” returned Doctor Syn. “And if you can allay the pangs of hunger for another two
hours, I can do myself the pleasure of dining with you. I must needs be some little time with old Mother Handaway,
who is as greedy for a long reading of the Scriptures as she is for good things to eat. I will send a message to the
Squire informing him that you are to be my guest, unless you would rather tell him yourself when you call to present
your credentials.”
“I have no credentials to present to him, nor any,” retorted the Captain. ‘I think rather it will be the other way,
and that I shall be demanding credentials from one and all. My position is like this, reverend Sir. The Preventive
men on this portion of coast, not able to cope with this notorious Scarecrow, who is terrorizing the neighbourhood,
frightening folk from the Marsh yonder, while he runs his contraband, first applied to General Troubridge at Dover
for some Dragoons, and then, since the Scarecrow still worsted these, they further approached the General’s brother,
Admiral Troubridge, who handed me the commission, for it seems that the Admiral is anxious to beat his brother at
the game of Scarecrow-scaring. I presume that most people here realize the vast sums that are involved. Yes sir,
vast sums, of money that never find their way to the Revenue coffers. It’s money that never find their way to the
Revenue coffers. It’s my duty to see that this state of things comes to an end, and you can lay to it I’ll do that duty
to the best of my powers, by thunder, and take no interferences neither. As for you, reverend Sir, I can promise you
this. Aboard your quarters I’m your guest, and will not worry you about my business outside. You will find me
courteous, and ready to join you in any general conversation, or in a game of chess or backgammon if you’ve the
fancy. Whatever I think of folk in your parish, I’ll keep to myself and not put you in an awkward position. That’s
fair, I take it?”
“Perfectly fair,’ assented the Doctor. He then turned to Mipps who had naturally heard the whole conversation.
“Mister Mipps, you will about-ships with your donkey, and give Mrs. Fowey the necessary orders from me for
the Captain’s accommodation in the panelled room overlooking the Marsh. You will then trot after me, across the
Marsh. You will easily catch me up, as I must do little more than a walk, or I shall be breaking the eggs.”
“Aye, aye, Vicar,” exclaimed Mipps, once more perching himself upon Lightnings’s hindquarters, and
manipulating the reins as though pulling round the rudder of a boat.
“Queer fellow that Sexton of yours,” remarked the Captain. “More like a seaman than a sexton, what with his
tarred pigtail sticking out like a jigger-gaff, and the way he steers that animal.”
The Vicar laughed. “Mipps has been a ship’s carpenter in his day, and aboard a man-of-war, too. As good an old
rascal as you’ll find upon acquaintance. Aye, Captain, you’ll come to like Mipps well enough.”
“I dare say. He seems a bit of an oddity to me though,” returned the Captain.
“A character certainly allowed the Vicar. “But take it from me, who have known him these many years under
trials and blessings, a good one. In spite of whimsicalities he is at heart a good and kind little fellow.”
“I know the type well,” nodded the Captain. “He is a one-man’s servant, and as such would be faithful to the
last, no doubt.”
Doctor Syn perhaps perceived that the Captain was attempting somehow to drive him into some toil, so he
answered quickly: “No, he is faithful and kind to the whole parish, young and old. That water-carrier, for instance,
is blessing him at the mo ment, since Mipps fashioned that yoke for him, to make his work the easier. And he did it
too, out of his own leisure time. Even new-born babies take to Mipps.”
“Well, if the Scarecrow gets me on the Marsh one of these dark nights,” laughed the Captain, “I’ll be glad if you
will not only read the prayers over my coffin, but write my epitaph, too. If you give me such a character as you give
to this sexton behind his back, I think I shall have a better chance in the next world.”
“And as Mipps will tell you shortly, Captain,” laughed the Doctor, “no one can knock up a coffin better than he,
so you see your corpse would be in the best of hands. But joking aside, I trust that your presence means an end to
Death stalking the Marsh at night.”
“I’ll take the first step in that direction then,” said the Captain, dismounting and handing the reins to one of his
men.
“And that is?” asked Doctor Syn.
“Billeting my men,” replied the Captain.
The Vicar responded to his salute with a benedictory gesture, and then walked his pony out upon the Marsh road.
A quarter of an hour later he was overhauled by Mipps who had put Lightning to the nearest point of a hand
gallop which that animal could be persuaded to accomplish.
“Very neat, Vicar, the way you manoeurvred the Captain’s lodging,” he remarked. “it’ll be a close eye on him,
eh, sir?”
“That’s so, my good Mipps. From tonight it will be watch and watch about between us two. If we know his
moves beforehand we can the better check ‘em, and I fancy even then that he will give us a good run for our
barrels.”
In and out the winding dyke-bordered lanes they walked their mounts till old Mother Handaway’s hovel appeared
in sight, and then Doctor Syn broke a silence that had lasted some quarter of an hour.
“By his suspicion of your coffins, Mister Sexton, I gather that this Captain is too well-informed. We may have to
employ new methods, and here is one for passing the word to all concerned that has only just occurred to me. Yo u
remember those two bits of wood I floated in Percy’s buckets? He likes them. They are useful since they prevent
the splashing. Make him a present of some well-shaped floats that will appeal to him as a toy appeals to a child. I’ll
suggest that you make them like the four suits in a pack of cards. Two aces of each. Chisel and polish them well.
On his rounds, see that he makes your Coffin Shop the first port of call, in order that you may tell him which pieces
to float. We will arrange a code together before I return to dine with the Captain. After dark we will meet those
concerned at Doubledyke. Before they leave the Oast House, where our meeting is to be, they will all have been
instructed in the code, and in future the innocent lad, Percy, can carry the Scarecrow’s orders to every cottage in the
parish.”
“That’s a pretty notion,” chuckled Mipps, “and I marvel that we never thought on it before.”
Doctor Syn certainly did not read the Scriptures to old Mother Handaway, for there was much to don on the
Scarecrow’s business. Not that the old hag would have profited had he read to her, for she was a mad old thing
whom the distant villages upon the Marsh held to be a witch. Perhaps she had every reason to think she was, for did
not the Devil himself visit her, sometimes in the shape of the good Vicar of Dymchurch, and sometimes riding past
her cottage as the dread Scarecrow? And had he not given her many golden guineas for service rendered? She had
had little to do for such high payment, since it was Jimmie Bone, the Highwayman, who groomed the Scarecrow’s
horse which she guarded in her underground stable, the entrance of which was so cunningly hidden by the stack of
dried bulrushes in the side of the deep dry dyke that ran before her cottage. This was deep enough to conceal a
mounted man form the Marsh around.
Unless anyone happened to be in the dyke itself, the opening of the secret door could never be seen, but the three
men who used it always took the greatest precautions to ensure that no one was about
The dry dyke, some said, had been made by the Romans at their first landing, but the stable had been built
probably by some independent smuggler years back. Mother Handaway’s grandfather had told her the secret of its
entrance, and she had kept it to herself till she first hid the Highwayman there, at a time when hard pressed and
wounded he had otherwise been caught and hanged.
A good hiding-place and none better, hidden also by the cowshed, and with grass growing from good soil on its
roof. Inside, the roof was groin-spanned, made by masons who knew their business and who were aware that it had
to stay for generations. Once, it was lain down, in some local history, that somewhere in the vicinity of the dry dyke
was an ancient building of sorts, but naturally the Handaways never allowed the interested parties to search for it.
Certain it was to the Vicar, the Sexton and the Highwayman a most excellent dry stable.
The other dykes in the vicinity of the farmyard were all live dykes filled with water, and there were many at this
point of the Marsh that intersected, while the mist ribbons that rose up around their banks gave ample hiding-place
to the farm itself. From a distance it was exceedingly difficult to say what was going on around Mother
Handaway’s,. On the other hand, anyone at her cottage could discern anyone moving on the Marsh for a
considerable distance.
Although there was on this occasion no need for caution, it was taken.
Inside the stable the tall Highwayman received them, endeavouring to conceal his yawns, for he had been out on
the Dover road till the early hours of the morning on his illegal business.
On a rough table at the far end beneath a lighted stable lantern, there was set out a heap of watches, rings, and
other trinkets, with a strong leather bag from which a heap of guineas and crown pieces had been spilled.
“ A good night’s taking,” laughed the Vicar. “ It seems I am come at an opportune moment to collect my tythes.”
“ Which I always pay you, you will own,” replied Gentleman James.
“ Aye, Jimmie Bone is the only honest Gentleman upon the road.” Said Mipps.
Both the pony and donkey had been led into the stable, and were quickly stalled. The vicar first entered
Gehenna’s stall, and made a fuss of the magnificent creature known too well by the Revenue men as the
Scarecrow’s phantom horse. He then went into the next stall and patted Mister Bone’s charger, a black animal like