The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN - Thorndike Russell - Страница 47
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Scarecrow. There are lots of ways we can do it. We can come at night and take him from his bed, and then he can
either be found a-hanging on the gallows, or not be found beneath the slime of the sluicegates.”
“My good Mipps,” said the Vicar in reproving tone, “I happen to be very sane at the moment. My rage which
was blown away, has not returned, and I shall not forget that the man is at least my guest.”
“But you spoke just now of getting rid of him, sir,” pleaded Mipps, at the same time producing his great claspknife and looking at it sorrowfully as it lay on the palm of his dirty hand. “There are some people whom I wouldn’t
pity at killing. Your guest happens to be one. If ever a man was ripe for the plucking, I thinks he is. And you’ve
only to give me the hint, and he’s as good as.”
The Doctor shook his head. “He is at least a dangerous enemy, and I have ever had a regard for such a one. We
have had many to deal with in our time,. I think you’ll agree with me there, Master Carpenter?”
Mipps grinned. “Aye, that we has, Cap’n. The other night, or rather the other early morning, ‘cos it was after
we’d got back from a secret meeting at the Oast house, I was a-swinging in my hammock, thinking as how a drop of
sleep was overdue and badly needed, I starts in to count the individuals what we have had to remove from this
terrestrial globe, because of their iniquities towards us, as the Bible says, and believe me, sir, I got into very high
figures before I did get a wink of sleep, and there was a lot more victims waiting to be called for to show a leg.”
“But none of them went unjustly, Mipps,” said Syn sadly. “At least I like to think so.”
“They all of ‘em deserved a good deal more than what they got,” declared Mipps with conviction. “And I’d so
‘em all over again, only I’d do ‘em a bit slower if possible.”
“I sometimes suspect you of being a bloodthirsty little rascal, my good Mipps,” said the Vicar reprovingly.
Mipps answered stoutly, “If I thought that my pet spider, Horace, was annoying you, sir, I’d tread on him, and
not feel sorry neither.”
Syn laughed. “I must confess that I do not share your affection for Horace, but every man to his tastes. Since
you like spiders and I don’t, no doubt I am the loser. Does he keep well, by the way? I have neglected to inquire
after him lately, I think.”
“As fat as ever, and could do with a shave on all eight legs,” said Mipps with enthusiasm.
“I fear he would not last long were I to be accommodated in your hammock,” laughed the Doctor. “I could sleep
sounder in the condemned cell at Newgate than in proximity with that brute.”
“Oh, I likes to see Horace run out and squint at me from the beam above me,” went on Mipps.
“Never any tremors that he might fall upon you?” asked the Vicar.
“He wouldn’t hurt hisself if he was to fall from the rigging,” replied Mipps seriously. “But talking of Newgate, if
my hands ain’t as black as Newgate knocker. Must have been sitting down there in the corner.”
“Mrs. Fowey would not take that as a compliment,” laughed the Vicar. “But run along and wash ‘em at the
pump, and if she catches you at it tell her that it was dirt from the bell-rope when you pulled it for service. We must
not fall out with our housekeeper.”
Mipps chuckled and withdrew. Doctor Syn took from a drawer a sheaf of foolscap. On the top page of it were
noted ideas for his next Sunday’s sermon. But the Vicar did not look at them. He produced a tiny piece of
parchment from another drawer, and laid it upon the sermon paper. He then selected the finest pointed quill from a
silver tray, and began to write in minute letters instructions in French for his agent, Monsieur Duloge, who managed
the Scarecrow’s organization across the Channel. Before he had finished this, Mipps returned to the study, and was
asked to wait.
The vicar chuckled as he wrote, and when the ink was dry he rolled the tiny missive tightly and said: “I think the
fashioning of these ropes will be an artifice after our fat dandy’s heart. I have also suggested the possibility of spare
running-blocks with sheaves made of tobacco pressed very hard, instead of wood. Ever since I gave him the notion
of shipping logs, hollowed out and packed with tobacco, he has been seeking in vain for fresh inspiration. Duloge is
one of those lazy people who seems incapable of thinking out original things in his own head, but he is a rare one for
perfecting the ideas of others. Let this go over with the onion-boy, and g ood luck to our cargo of bones.”
The onion-boy duly arrived upon the following morning, and carried back Doctor Syn’s orders, signed by the
figure of the Scarecrow. From the same bulb which concealed this list of instructions there had come over a note in
French to the effect that a large consignment of bones was awaiting the empty casks for their shipment, and although
the Plough and the Strawberry would only be delayed one day for the packing, the Scarecrow must not expect the
next big run on their armed fleet for at least three weeks, for as the Scarecrow had himself pointed out, the vessels
had been hard worked of late, and all keels needed careening. This job was now in hand and was a necessity in
order to maintain the maximum of speed required for showing fast vanishing sterns to the revenue cutters. This
meant a waiting time for the Scarecrow’s men on the Marsh, so that things moved quietly enough in Dymchurch,
and the Captain’s men had a slack time of it too, with no rumours of a ‘run’ to stir them into action.
The Captain himself was well content to wait, knowing that he would at least be able to show his zeal to the
Admiralty just as soon as the casks of bones appeared from France. This proof of his ability he needed badly, for he
had already been rapped over the knuckles by his chiefs at Whitehall for not showing any victory against the
smugglers. He had also been reproved privately by the Admiral at Dover, who resented being worried by the
bigwigs of London. And now, even the resident Revenue men at Dymchurch began to talk of his lack of initiative.
But Blain was a had man, and his shoulders were broad enough to bear the burden of abuse, for he was confident
that in the long run he would show the bigwigs a thing or two.
The meeting between the Bos’n and George Lee, as arranged by the Captain, was duly kept upon the Thursday
evening, when the cooper reported that the casks were not only finished, but were awaiting shipment that very night,
and that the Plough and the Strawberry would be ready to leave the wharf on the early morning tide. George Lee
was also able to inform the Bos’n of the approximate date for their return with the cargo. This he had learned from
the longshoremen.
This satisfactory news from the ‘Red Lion’ in Hythe caused the Captain to show his good faith towards his
informant, by sending word to the Press Gang, who were being very busy along the coast, that although the young
cooper might appear to them as a profitable victim, he was on no account to be touched, as he was secretly aiding
the Admiralty by procuring certain information that was needed.
Unaware of this himself George Lee came into trouble from another source, but one from which Doctor Syn was
eventually able to free him.
As it transpired later, someone in Dymchurch had seen the cooper enter the Vicarage with the Captain and
Doctor Syn, and having watched the house saw him later come out and walk away with the officer, engaged in
earnest conversation. Inquiries form the Henley family established the fact that George’s visit had nothing to do
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