their instruments.
Some distance away, Percy blew louder on his whistle.
The Vicar, riding by him with the Captain, interrupted his remarks about the Tythe Barn which they were
approaching by turning to the water-carrier and saying, “That’s enough, my lad, for now.” They were walking their
horses, or rather the Captain was walking his, and Doctor Syn ambled along to keep pace, Mipps following at
respectful distance on his donkey.
Though the Vicar was chatting about the barn and pointing out the end of it jutting out behind the Vicarage, he
was mentally weighing up the naval officer.
As tall as himself, and sitting straight in the saddle as though he carried a ramrod in his back, his borrowed
charger gave him the advantage in height, so that from his little fat pony the Vicar had to look up at him.
The Captain’s face, he saw, was hard and deeply lined, but his one eye had a roguish twinkle. He had lost the
other against the French. His voice was deep and husky, and his neat-fitting uniform suggested that here was a man
who would keep his vessel trim and brisk. The look of the Captain reminded the Vicar of his own past, for just such
a man had Doctor Syn once been, when he had sailed under the black flag as Captain Clegg. By the time they drew
rein at the barn he had come to the conclusion he had expected to arrive at by what he had heard of Captain Blain,
namely, that here was a personality to whom even the dashing Scarecrow had better show respect.
Aye, Captain Blain was certainly an enemy who would give the best a good fight both with strength and wit.
“It’s a g ood barn, Captain,” remarked Doctor Syn. “Plenty of room inside it. My Sexton here, Mister Mipps,
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 drawclass="underline" “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,