Doctor Syn looked at Mipps and said quietly, “It is the first time that our prisoners have taken concerted action
against us.”
“Do you think it’s young Hart that’s put fight into ‘em?” asked Mipps. “The rest have all been there a long time.
Some of ‘em a very long time. Broken men with no hope and no spirit.”
Doctor Syn nodded. “Aye, Mipps. When I last saw them I thought of them as ghosts. Ghosts of their former
selves. But what could we do other than what we did? They were traitors all. As each one was tried by the Nightriders, he knew they deserved death, too. They were given their choice. Each man chose exile. Their lot might
have been far worse. Their wives and in some cases their children were kidnapped and sent after them, and those
who repented and promised loyal service in the future, were allowed married quarters. There was never complaint
against their rations. They live better than they would on Romney Marsh. True they have to work, and work harder
than they might have had to do at home, but they must never forget that they are working out their own salvation, for
I think the sin of treachery will be the most grievous count against a sinner in the Latter Day. There is something
behind this mutiny. I cannot think it is Hart. He expected to be sent to the Plantations by Captain Blain, when we
rescued him. He then expected death at our hands. Instead of which the wife and child he loved have been sent to
him in safety. At his trial at the Oast House he was penitent and grateful for the mercy shown him. Well, we must
go to France and look into it.”
“Let’s see,” said Mipps, “there’s eighteen prisoners besides hart, and all ablebodied men. That means we must
take our biggest boat, for we’ll need some thirty of our men to raise this ‘ere siege.”
Doctor Syn smiled and shook his head. “You and I, with the help of Duloge, will be enough to raise ‘this ‘ere
siege, as you call it.”
“I meant ‘that there siege,’ Vicar. Sorry,” replied Mipps, grinning. “But what about Jimmie Bone? He speaks
French same as you only not so good, and he knows the place well. He’ll want to come with us, too.”
“But I want him here, Mipps. He is the only one we can trust to take the Scarecrow’s place. Remember, Captain
Blain is still here, and we must not let him think that his presence has scared the Scarecrow. We will sail for France
tonight. I’ll go to the Squire now and tell him I am bound for Rye, and may not be back for a day or so.”
“And what are we going to Rye for this time?” asked Mipps. “We ain’t due to preach there, you know, till next
month.”
“You forget the confirmation candidates,” replied Syn. “The young people are so important. The future pillars
of the parishes, my good Mipps. I think I should tell them myself what a privilege it is for them to have the
Archbishop himself willing to lay his hands upon their heads.”
“All right, sir,” grinned Mipps. “Just so long as I know. I’ll tell Dymchurch that I has to go along with you all
the way to Sussex to tell the young ‘uns that the Aggerbagger is coming along to tap ‘em on the skulls hisself.”
“Aye, Mipps,” laughed Syn, “a little grumbling on your part will not be amiss. Neither will it be amiss if Jimmie
Bone dressed as the Scarecrow is seen by Captain Blain riding the Marsh while we’re away. We must be in the
mouth of the Somme by daybreak, and for that the wind sets fair. Name ten men for the lugger, with you and I to
navigate. We will not waste time and tide, but come back with a run of good cargo. I’ll instruct Jimmie Bone in the
hidden stable tonight before we set out for France.”
That night a lugger went out with the tide from Littlestone Beach. Five of the ten Nightriders aboard took the
first watch while their fellows rested in the fo’c’sle. The Scarecrow himself set the course, and kept the helm till
three in the morning when he called Mipps from the aft cabin.
“Hellspite, you will wake me at dawn,” he ordered, “when we shall be within the mouth of the Somme.”
“Aye, aye, Scarecrow,” replied Mipps beneath the hideous devil’s mask, which every Nightrider wore when on
the Scarecrow’s business.
The night was pitch dark, and the lugger showed no lights, so that she was hailed neither by ship not boat until
just as dawn was breaking in the river-mouth a throaty tenor voice echoed across the calm water with the cry of
“L’Epouvantail.”
Although the water on the shelter of the river-mouth was smooth, there was a breeze stirring which rapidly
brought the two vessels closer, the lugger and a fishing boat carrying a lug sail.
Through his mask, which looked more than ever hideous in the fair growing light, Mipps hailed back, and then
gave orders for heaving to so that the smaller boat could fetch up alongside. He then went to the cabin and roused
Doctor Syn.
“If I know Duloge, he will be in this boat that’s hailed us,” said the doctor, adjusting his Scarecrow mask. “And
what is more, I know why he is there. In all the years I’ve worked with him I find I can admire him more and more.
Perhaps this is conceit, but his brain always works in accord with mine own. What he does under certain
emergencies, why, so do I, and vice versa. We think along the same courses. Duloge is in that boat because he
wants to head us off before we enter our harbour. He has evidently something important to tell us, and he has timed
our arrival with his usual skill. Help him aboard and bring him here, where we can talk in private, for we must
know the situation before we land.”
Duloge was a colossal creature, who on rare occasions of necessity looked magnificent in rough clothes, when he
would shame his servants’ manhood by lifting casks and stowing them, while four men working on one cask at a
time took longer.
His appearance in more normal times, however, was marred by his love of effeminate finery. Descended from a
long line of ancestors who owed their name to the sea fortress which they had held for centuries, the present master
of castle and harbour liked to dress in the latest mode from Court, which, as Doctor Syn told Mipps, ill-became the
grand old bull. Even his booming voice he trained to a languid tenor in order to show his fellows an aristocratic
superiority. He was rich, because his ancestors had been sea rovers, which was a gentlemanly term for pirates, and
since casting in his valuable lot with the Scarecrow, he had become much richer. His vanity in clothes had
persuaded him to spend most of the night in an open boat dressed as thought he might have been attending a Royal
levee. A contrast indeed to the fantastic rags of the Scarecrow who received him in the dirty aft cabin of the lugger.
Their meeting was cordial, and while Mipps served them with brandy their conversation was carried out in
French, Doctor Syn explaining in English the vital points to his lieutenant.
The Frenchman concluded with: “My dear L’epouvantail, although the situation is annoying and the rascals think
they have the whip hand, this is not so. True they hold the stores of liquor and food, and with the weapons from the
armoury could sustain a siege, but against that they are also houses with the powder magazine, and if I chose to
jeopardize the safety of my chateau, I can blow them to their Kingdom Come whenever I feel disposed. As you
know, the store-house was at one time the kitchen of the old castle, before the present chateau was built. In the roof
there is a secret door which opens into the great chimney. The disused hearth is stacked with powder down, which