The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN - Thorndike Russell - Страница 27
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Hastings waters. What’s she doing here?”
“Asking for death. Well, give it her,” replied Syn. “She’s dirty by her name. Give her a dirty end. Sink her.”
“But we can avoid her by out-sailing. And there’s a mist to creep into at the river mouth,” objected Mipps. “And
we have Handgrove aboard,” went on the Sexton. “We have had the luck to get him so far, and we need not risk
failure now.”
“Engage the enemy,” ordered Syn. “We have had luck with us for two days and nights. We have quelled a
mutiny, recaptured a venomous prisoner, and now we’ll play our third card, which will appal our enemies. Sink the
Ferret.”
“But, sir…” faltered Mipps.
Doctor Syn interrupted sharply, “Engage the enemy.”
Mipps went out on deck saying to himself: “Well, when he gets captured, I shall follow him. But if I gets
captured he’ll rescue me. So engage the enemy it is.”
The Four Sisters was a Littlestone boat, and could carry a crew of twenty-five. She was a vessel of good size,
with roomy holds, and had once borne a French name, for she had been a privateer and had been taken by the
Romney Marsh smugglers in a sea fight. She looked smart, was easily handled for speed and could show a quick
stern when chased by anything more powerful in guns, carrying herself only four six-pound carronades.
As the first gun discharge shook the little cabin, Doctor Syn, dressed as the Scarecrow, went on deck to hear
Mipps cry out: “We’ve unstepped her mast at the first shot. No w to bring down her other, and the Ferret will have
on sea-legs.”
“But she still has her teeth,” laughed the Scarecrow, as a broadside fell short of the Four Sisters. “Give her the
rest of the guns below the water-line and then make for the river mouth. Look out.” As he spoke the cutter had
swung round and delivered another broadside. Once more it fell short, though decidedly nearer. The cutter went
about again, but before she could release another broadside the guns of the Four Sisters had struck her below the
water-line.
“If we give her another chance she’ll hit us,” laughed The Scarecrow. “Show her our stern and head for the mist
bank with every stitch we’ve got. The Ferret’s boats are undamaged. There will be no drowning if she sinks.
Cram on the canvas.”
Duloge heard the gunfire and trembled. He calculated that it must be the Scarecrow’s lugger being intercepted
either by British or French patrols.
He would have trembled more had he been able to see the game little Ferret, though holed badly, turn once more
and give chase, to the cheering of her sailors.
The prisoners heard the firing, and gathered it was the British ship sent to rescue them, trying conclusions with
some French man-of-war. But they dared not leave their cottages for fear of being shot down by Duloge’s armed
sentries.
As the dawn stole in they had a pleasant surprise, for they were aroused by a British naval officer attended by two
bluejackets, who ordered all prisoners to dress quickly and to muster on the quay in front of the main store-house.
Within a few minutes of such news a crowd of excited men, women and children were hurrying to the harbour
side.
A strange and glorious sight awaited these poor exiles.
The servants of Monsieur Duloge were roped together on one side of the quay, with their captured muskets
stacked in front of them.
Standing apart, roped and gagged, they saw the elegantly dressed Duloge. His sword had been taken from his
sheath, and lay before him on the cobble-stones. To them his mighty bulk seemed shrunken with dejection. It was
obvious that the British Navy had dealt quickly with him and his sentinels.
Lying in harbour they could see the Four Sisters with the White Ensign flying from her peak, telling them that
the scarecrow’s favorite lugger had been taken at last.
One thing puzzled them. The officer in charge of the King’s men was inspecting a hole in the centre of the
cobbled quay. It was about six foot long and three broad. Two of his sailors were standing shoulder deep in it with
spades.
“She’ll do now, sir,” said one of them.
“Then tumble up, and fall in with the others,” ordered the officer.
The two men obeyed smartly, and joined four of their mates who stood on guard with drawn cutlasses.
Turning to the prisoners the officer said: “You are no doubt glad to see His Majesty’s uniforms for once in you
lives, eh? Well, you may thank your colleague Handgrove for braving escape with information. In a few minutes
you will be given an opportunity to prove your loyalty by obeying an officer of the crown. Six of you who can
handle a musket, and no doubt you all can, step forward. Master-gunner serve them out with the Frenchmen’s
arms.”
While this order was being carried out he called down the quay steps, “Bring up your prisoner, and let us put an
end once and for all with this Scarecrow nonsense.”
Up the steps marched four sailors with drawn cutlasses. They had a prisoner limping in their midst, and at the
sight of him the prisoners who held the muskets cried out, “The Scarecrow!”
“The Scarecrow is taken,” laughed a woman from the back. “We are free! We are free! It is true.”
“Quiet there,” ordered the officer, as he picked up a board that had been lying near the ominous hole in the
ground. He held it up so that all who knew their letters could read.
Those who could repeated the chalk inscription to those who were too ignorant:
HERE LIES A TRAITOR
THE SCARECROW
The guards pushed the prisoner to the edge of the hole which was indeed to be his grave. He was bound and
gagged over his famous mask. Addressing the armed prisoners the officer said, “You will cover him carefully and
when I give the word, fire.”
“Don’t look so fearful now, does he?” laughed one of the armed prisoners. “Ain’t so tall and upright as he was
when bullying us.”
“Poor devil,” muttered Hart, the youngest of them. “I’ve had a bit of the torture they serve out to make men
speak and betray. They’ve no doubt given him a taste of it.”
“Quiet there,” thundered the officer. “Present arms. Stand clear from him. Fire.”
To the cries of hysterical women and frightened children the six muskets cracked. The figure of the Scarecrow
sagged forwards on his knees and toppled into the open grave.
“Pile up those muskets,” ordered the officer. “Ready with your spades, my lads, but first rip off the scarecrow’s
mask.”
The two sailors with the spades jumped into the grave and ripped off the corpse’s gag and mask.
“He’s dead all right, sir,” said one of them.
“Now all of you except the children file past this grave and look at this dead traitor’s face,” said the officer.
“Think, too, whether you were wise or foolish to betray your one-time leader.”
The prisoners in morbid curiosity hurried to the open grave. And then screams of terror broke the silence of the
chill morning. For as they looked down upon the rag-clothed corpse they saw the glazed eyes of their colleague,
Handgrove, looking up at them.
Laughing, the sailors drove them in a herd from the grave at the point of their cutlasses, and then from the quay
steps appeared the figure of the real Scarecrow.
“Fill in the grave and make his epitaph correct,” he ordered.
The officer wrote tow letters more to the writing on the board, and held it out to that they could read the added
word ‘to’.
HERE LIES A TRAITOR
TO
THE SCARECROW
“Let this be a warning to you all,” cried the scarecrow. “These sailors are my men from London. Their uniforms
were purchased by Hellspite from the junk-shops there. Disobey Monsieur Duloge again and there will be other
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