A Smuggler Tale of the Romney Marsh - Thorndike Russell - Страница 51
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?It?s Clegg! It?s Syn!? shouted one of the King?s men.
?And we?ve shot that damned little sexton, too!? shouted another, for Mipps lay flat on his face, with his fingers outstretched upon the deck.
Collyer rushed into the cabin, while the men reloaded a pistol in case the head of Doctor Syn should rise from the sea.
?Bring a light!? shouted the captain.
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The cabin was small, but larger than might have been expected from the size of the craft. When a lantern had been passed through, it showed a little room whose walls were the sides of the boat. On one side was a heavy little flap table, fixed into the ribs of the boat with rusty iron sockets. Upon this table, flat down on his face, indeed in the very position that Morgan Walters had appeared upon the vestry table, was Doctor Syn.
?My God!? cried the captain. ?Look at the face!? The dead face pressed against the table was indeed a face of horror, for driven right through the neck was Clegg?s harpoon, and the hideous grin on the Doctor?s usually benign old face was entirely abominable to look upon.
?It?s Doctor Syn! It?s Clegg!? ejaculated the three seamen who had entered the cabin. ?Then, in God?s name, what did we shoot out there??
?The mulatto,? said the captain. ?He has been here before us.?
?Then we shot the mulatto, sir!? exclaimed one of the men.
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?You shot the sexton,? cut in the captain, ?but for the mulatto?well, it?s my honest opinion that?but there, that sort of thing is beyond a sailor. Here you!? he addressed one of the sailors, ?just get a piece of sailcloth from the deck and we?ll stitch this body up, and you two help me get this damned harpoon from his neck. There?s a ballast shot in our boat that?ll do for his feet, for I?m not going to take this body ashore. It might cause a fresh outcry among the people. Besides, now that old Clegg?s log is entered, I?ve no desire to hang his body in chains. It?s a barbarous custom. If ever a man deserved to be buried at sea, Clegg did, for rascal though he was, he was a wonderful seaman, so a seaman?s grave he shall have, or I?m no sailor.?
Suddenly a cry arose from the man who had gone from the cabin in search of the sailcloth.
?What is it?? called the captain.
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?My God!? cried the sailor, dashing back into the cabin, ?the sexton! the sexton!?
?What of him?? demanded the captain.
?He?s not dead! He?s not dead!? yelled the man.
?All right! all right!? said the captain. ?Will he live to hang??
?But he ain?t there at all, sir!? shouted the sailor.
?Not there?? cried the captain.
?No, sir, he?s gone, and there?s no signs of him anywheres.?
So they had not even shot the sexton, for as soon as the captain came out of the cabin door he saw that the body had gone, true enough. Mipps, indeed, who had not been touched by the three bullets, had bided an opportunity and let himself quietly over the side away from the cutter, and struck out through the water with a stronger and quicker stroke than any one would credit such an ancient man to possess.
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They searched for him to no avail, and they searched for the mulatto?s body to no avail, and the horrible corpse of Doctor Syn was buried that night at sea by the captain?s orders, sewn up in a sail with a shot at his feet, so his song came back to him for an epitaph:
?A pound of gunshot was tied to his feet; And a ragged bit of sail was his winding sheet.?
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Chapter 38
Dymchurch-under-the-wall
The next day war was again declared with France and every available man was pressed into service. Collyer was recalled from Dymchurch with all his men, and he was one of the first to fall under Nelson?s command. His death was the saving of many necks in Dymchurch, for he had found out about everything. The demon riders and their steeds he could have marked down by day, and he had discovered how they transformed themselves, for in Mipps?s coffin shop he had come across a recipe for the preservation of the sand phosphorous with which the sexton used to daub the riders and horses. The
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object of these men was to scare people away from the Marsh when the packponies were out bringing the wool from the Marsh farms to the coast?people who were not in the wool-running scheme. With the death of Doctor Syn came the death of the wool-running. Sir Antony discovered in the vicarage much money stored away, and a sea-chest full of great valuables which Clegg had evidently amassed in the Southern Seas. A bar of gold and a wonderful ruby were sufficient in themselves to create a comfortable fortune, and as Doctor Syn had left a will leaving everything to Imogene, Sir Antony stretched a point and kept matters to himself, for he was afraid that the wealth would drift to the Crown by law. However, as Leveller of the Marsh Scotts, he found that it was easy enough to hush affairs up, for the French war was in everybody?s mind. So eventually Denis married the daughter of the Incan princess, the adopted daughter of Mrs. Whyllie of Rye, though Sir Antony could never really prove her origin, but he would never admit even to himself that most probably Doctor were sufficient in themselves to create a comfortable fortune, and as Doctor Syn had left a will leaving everything to Imogene, Sir Antony stretched a point and kept matters to himself, for he was afraid that the wealth would drift to the Crown by law. However, as Leveller of the Marsh Scotts, he found that it was easy enough to hush affairs up, for the French war was in everybody?s mind. So eventually Denis married the daughter of the Incan princess, the adopted daughter of Mrs. Whyllie of Rye, though Sir Antony could never really prove her origin, but he would never admit even to himself that most probably Doctor
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Syn had been romancing. The secret of England?s treasure died with Clegg, but whether that was only a lying excuse of the scoundrel to get away from Dymchurch, the squire could never make out. Jerry Jerk grew up and became the Maidstone hangman, and Dymchurch remained under the wall. But although Doctor Syn was succeeded by more righteous vicars, none was so popular as he had been, and the few Dymchurch men who survived the French war missed the long extempore prayers on a Sunday and the dry-as-dust sermons preached by a man who was a man before he became either a parson or a scoundrel, for scoundrelism is after all only a point of view of some community, and Dymchurch folk would have welcomed back Syn knowing that he was Clegg, because they all knew him to be a daring, dashing fellow and a dear old man. sermons preached by a man who was a man before he became either a parson or a scoundrel, for scoundrelism is after all only a point of view of some community, and Dymchurch folk would have welcomed back Syn knowing that he was Clegg, because they all knew him to be a daring, dashing fellow and a dear old man.
Dymchurch is very quiet again, and the wild adventures of the few days recorded in this book were forgotten after Trafalgar, but the Doctor was never
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forgotten by those who knew him, and it would bring tears to their eyes did anybody chance to sing his quaint old capstan song:
?Here?s to the feet wot have walked the plank; Yo ho! for the dead man?s throttle. And here?s to the corpses floating round in the tank; And the dead man?s teeth in the bottle.
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