Later that evening Doctor Syn strolled into the bar of the Ship Inn, and called for drinks all round with a pipe of tobacco for himself.
Mrs. Waggetts filled his churchwarden clay and brought it to him with a glass of brandy. He rested according to his custom in his favourite corner of an ingle seat, and summoned the yokels one at a time to sit with him and chat. It was in this manner that he kept in touch with all the news of his widely scattered parish. While he was thus engaged the Welsh lawyer, Mr. Jones, entered the bar, followed unobtrusively by Mipps.
Mr. Jones bowed to Doctor Syn and invited him to take another drink. The fisherman sitting next to Doctor Syn politely and respectfully got up to make room for the stranger on the settle, and himself joined Mipps at the bar.
When the drinks had been served, Mr. Jones whispered behind his glass, 'I should like a word with you in private, reverend sir, for I have something to say which I fancy will interest you.' The vicar smiled and then asked in an undertone, 'About the Tontine?' Jones shook his head, looked across the bar to see that he was not being watched, and whispered back, 'No! The Scarecrow!'
'Really?' queried the doctor, raising his eyebrows in surprise. 'Well then, suppose we finish our drinks and take a stroll across to the sea-wall.' The Welshman agreeing, they left the inn together, and as soon as they were out of hearing from the villagers grouped about the door the Welshman said, 'Aye, Doctor, the Scarecrow is expected to ride this very night, and the revenue men are to be out in full strength. Now I confess to you that I am in the mind to see the fun.'
'If what you say is true, I should advise no such thing,' returned the vicar.
'Have you considered the danger? There will be fighting if the parties clash, and suppose, now, that a bullet strayed into your own head, you would leave me with the Tontine.'
'Now, that is certainly an idea, and one that you may profit by,' laughed the other. 'Indeed, were you to accompany me, you might press the trigger yourself, and being a holy man, the blame would fall on the rascal smugglers.'
'Yes, that is certainly an idea as you say,' nodded the vicar with a smile. 'Or perhaps you are persuading me to go with you in order that you may squeeze the trigger quicker than you did yesterday. For indeed, unless one of us kills the other, we may have to wait a plaguey long time for the other to die.'
'I think there is no danger of foul play between us now,' replied the Welshman. 'I have taken rather a liking to you.'
'Then you should not put temptation into my brain,' laughed the vicar. 'But to be serious, when did you get this information about the Scarecrow? And where?'
'I was told by the revenue officer from Hythe during dinner,' explained the Welshman. 'He urged me to keep the information to myself, but I take it that this injunction did not apply to you, and I consider that if anyone deserves to see this Scarecrow taken, it is the vicar of his parish.'
'Well, if you are bent on seeing the adventure,' went on the parson, 'you may be the safer for my presence, for certainly I have the excuse of visiting the Marsh at night. The fear of smugglers has never yet interfered with my duty to the sick, and at this time there happens to be an old woman very ailing in the mind and body, who I know would welcome my ministration in the night hours.
Indeed, having learned this very evening that she has taken a turn for the worse, I had intended to journey to her after dark, for the poor old soul fears the darkness and needs more comfort then.'
'Then make it as late as you can,' exclaimed the Welshman, 'and we may not only comfort her, but see something of he adventure too. My informant tells me that they expect something to happen between midnight and one in the morning. Apparently the Hythe officer is so confident about this time that he has arranged to take his highwayman prisoner from the cells here at eleven, and get him into safety at Hythe, before he need think of joining his fellows at Dymchurch again.'
'So he told you about the removing of the prisoner too, eh?' asked Doctor Syn. 'I know all is safe with you, but it seems to me that the fellow talks something freely for an officer of the Crown. However, I wonder now that he does not think it somewhat risky to move this popular rascal while the smugglers are on the move. They might attempt a rescue.'
'I said as much too,' agreed the other. 'But he maintains that these smugglers are a selfish lot of dogs, and would think first of their own gains.
Indeed, he says that they will have their minds so set upon their own business that he considers it the most propitious night in which to move his victim.'
'I hope he finds it so, with all my heart,' said Doctor Syn fervently. As they strolled along the sea-wall, Doctor Syn pointed out a fast-sailing cuter. 'Look,' he said, 'that is the revenue boat. How these fellows give away their own official game to their enemy! I know little of strategy, but surely it would have been better to have lain low, till the hour of action arrived! I begin to think that this Scarecrow manages his side more wisely.'
'I shall be very curious to see whether he is as clever as our great smuggler of the North Wales coast. But I think not,' said the lawyer.
They walked back to the vicarage, where they parted, Doctor Syn saying that he had work to do on a sermon, but it was agreed that the Welshman should call upon him at a quarter past midnight, and that they should then cross the weird Marsh and see for themselves whether there was truth or not in the information gleaned by the Hythe officer.
'We will cross the Marsh to old Mother Handaway's then,' said the vicar as he waved farewell. 'Whether we see anything or no, we shall at least be doing a small deed of mercy to a sick old woman who loves to hear the words of Blessed Scripture in the night hours.'
'I shall be with you, sir,' cried the other. 'At a quarter past midnight?'
'A quarter past midnight,' repeated Doctor Syn.
Doctor Syn, however, set out for Mother Handaway's directly it was dark.
He left the study door locked behind him, and he rode upon his fat little white pony with the two panniers full of good provisions to comfort an old woman.
He turned from the road, avoiding it, and rode across the fields, crossing the dykes by the many bridges, some of them old brick, but many of them a few planks. He knew them all in the dark. He found three of the larger bridges guarded by revenue men, who, on recognizing the good parson, warned him that the Scarecrow's wild riders were expected to be out later that night. One of these pickets, indeed, advised him to get home at once and out of danger.
'Whether there is such a person as this Scarecrow or not,' replied the parson, 'he shall never interfere with my bounden duty,' and with a cheerful good night, he jogged away into the deep darkness of the Marsh.
'There goes a brave parson and a good,' remarked on of the men.
Doctor Syn at last reached the hovel where the old woman lived, and after handing over the provisions he had brought for her, and giving her instructions as to how she was to behave under certain circumstances, he led his pony to the hidden stable, where the old witch lighted a lantern. He closed the secret door in the screen of bulrushes.
A quarter of an hour later this door opened again, and a tall, fantastically clad figure, wearing a hideous mask that shone with phosphorous, led out the wild black horse known as Gehenna. The weird rider, hearing the old woman close the door behind him, leapt on to Gehenna's back, dashed out of the dry dyke in which the stable was situated and then galloped away across the fields, leaping the dykes in the darkness. Neither horse nor rider needed sight upon the Marsh. They knew it only too well. Doctor Syn knew it by day. This tall devil knew it by night. Aye, my masters! The revenue man was right in this, for the Scarecrow was indeed once more 'out' upon the Marsh.
At a quarter past eleven, a covered cart was pulled up outside the Court House cells. It was drawn by two horses, and two men sat on the box seat. One of these was the Hythe officer, the other the driver. Two riding officers, well mounted, and with pistols in their holsters, completed the party.
The beadle was awaiting them with his keys, and standing by him was the Welsh lawyer, his hat pulled down to his eyes and his figure muffled in a great driving coat.
The Hythe officer jumped down and addressed him with, 'So you are as good as your word, sir, and have come out to see the whole of the fun? The drive to Hythe will be dark, for the moon does not rise till later. But you'll see our prisoner safely gaoled, and then you may drive back with us in ample time to call for Doctor Syn. Has the reverend gentleman consented to accompany you?'
'He has,' replied the lawyer. 'But since I promised to wait upon him in one hour from now, I shall most likely be late.'
'We shall not waste time, you'll see,' laughed the officer. 'We shall go at the gallop. I have no wish to be late, either, as I intend to have the Scarecrow under lock and key with Jimmie Bone before the morning. That is, of course, if the Scarecrow rides tonight.'
'I hope so,' said the Welshman, 'for I shall then have two worthy adventures to recount when I get home again.'
'Don't raise your voice,' warned the officer. 'I have no wish to attract any attention.'
'All's quiet enough,' whispered one of the mounted men.
As though giving him the lie, there suddenly arose a peal of distant laughter.
'In the name of God what's that?' asked the lawyer.
'Drunken rascals in the “Ship's” bar,' explained the officer. 'I am glad to hear them. The village itself is a deal too still. Not a light; not a sound. But that roystering persuades me that they have had no hint of what we are about to do.
Rescue or no, the removal of the highwayman would at least have attracted a crowd. So let us hurry, and get him away while we may.' The beadle wanted no second bidding, for he was as anxious as any to be rid of a prisoner who had caused him so much pain and anxiety. Of Jimmie Bone he was definitely afraid. So he unlocked the outer door and led the way to the cell. No sooner had he swung the door open, than the officer with two of his men ordered the prisoner to mount the steps. His arms were tied behind his back, but his legs were loosened so that he could walk and mount the cart the quicker. The Hythe officer wanted no delay, and he saw to this himself in a brutal manner, for as the prisoner was heaved up by the front step of the cart, and ordered to climb over the box seat and lie down beneath the cover, the officer gave him a sudden push which brought the wretched man down on his face. One of the men climbed after him and sat on the box seat with his back to the horses, so that he could keep an eye on the prisoner. The Welshman was told to seat himself beside the driver and cling on tightly, as the pace would be fast. The officer himself, when all was ready, clambered on to the tail board and stood guard from the back.
Then with the riding officers on either side of the cart and keeping close to the great wheels, the party drew out on the high road and broke into a trot. Past the Ship Inn they went, and hearing loud laughter issuing from the bar, the officer was satisfied that all was well, for had a rescue been planned, he told himself that the rascals would keep quiet.
'As far as you like,' he called to the driver, and the horses were put to a gallop.
He felt further satisfied when they had passed the last of the Dymchurch farmhouses, for it was only in Dymchurch that he had held any fear of an attack.
For a mile or so on their way the road runs directly under the shadow of the great sea-wall—a straight road with which the driver and horsemen were familiar even on dark nights. Indeed so dark was it on this particular night that the whiteness of the road was invisible, but the blackness of the wall was guide enough, and the horses were driven and ridden at a full-stretched gallop.
When nearing the end of this long stretch, the officer cried out the warning, 'Be careful of the bend. We are nearing it.' The driver laughed back. 'Never fear, sir, I can take it full-pace, and we owe our prisoner a shaking.' The bend referred to was a sharp right-angled sweep, which the ancient road-makers had turned in order to avoid a dangerous swamp on the left hand, and a rising slope towards the sea-wall on the other. It is the spot where a few years later the sunken fortress known as the Great Redoubt was built to withstand the threatened landing of Bonaparte.
'Cling on tight, sir!' cried the driver to the officer, and then added to the Welshman at his side, 'Take care not to be unseated. You can see the sharpness of the turn, by the whiteness of the road there beyond. But trust me, I know the corner well.' The Welshman, though not able to distinguish the road along which they were now dashing, could not make out the white ribbon where it turned inland out of the shadow of the wall, while beyond which flickered the distant lights of Hythe.
Far from slackening his pace, the driver, wishing to show his skill, lashed his animals to an even greater speed.
Round the spun, the great right-hand wheel leaving the road. But before they were clear of the black shadow, the horses came down with a crash, the cart, jerking into the air, toppled out on to the road. The riding officer on the right side suffered the same fate, and was flung over his horse's head, whilst his companion on the left was pinned with his horse beneath the cart. The Hythe officer on the back lost his balance and fell into the edge of the marshy pool by the roadside, and was seized by six men who had ambushed themselves below the road, and ere any of the unfortunates realized that the accident had been caused by a taut wire drawn across the corner, they were charged down upon by some fifty hideously masked riders who had been hidden by the lofty slope that led up to the sea-wall.
Before they could recover themselves the whole party were made prisoners by the dismounted men, who like their fellows wore fantastic masks which made them unrecognizable. Then the wire which had thrown the horses was quickly unfastened from the posts on either side of the road, rolled into loops and placed on the saddle of one of the riders.
The Hythe officer, his wrists tied behind his back, was permitted to stand upon his feet, while his men were trussed with cords and laid down by the side of the road. The Welshman was seized by two men, but not tied.
It was then that a tall rider on a fierce black horse rode out from the others and roared in a deep croaking voice, 'The Scarecrow's apologies to Law and Order! We are here to save a valiant rascal from the gallows. Set Mister Jimmie Bone upon his horse!' The highwayman had been lifted from the inside of the overturned cart, and when his hands were freed, he was lifted on to his saddle.
'Where is the Welsh stranger?' asked the mounted Scarecrow.
'I am here,' retorted the little lawyer. 'Shaken up, it is true, but in spite of your violent attentions, unhurt.'
'We will carry you with us some half-way to Dymchurch,' went on the Scarecrow. 'You will then make your own way to the village on foot. We understand that you were to wait upon Doctor Syn. So you shall, and you will tell him that the Scarecrow and his merry Night-riders have rescued the highwayman, and that, should he wish to help these officers of the law whom we are leaving here tied up, he had best send someone to free them at his discretion. If not, here they can lie for all we care till the morning, for there is little likelihood of travellers being abroad on a night when the Scarecrow's men run contraband. If he hastens, these poor fellows will not miss the fun, and we can have another brush with them. Are you able to ride, Mister Bone?'
'Aye, aye, Scarecrow,' laughed the highwayman.
'Then let us get you into safety as quickly as we may. We have to make the beach at Littlestone before the tide is up. Hellspite, you may fix our notice to the cart.'
A little man, who in spite of a witch's disguise put the Welshman strongly in mind, for some reason or other which he could not understand, of Mister Mipps, the Dymchurch sexton, rode forward on a mule and affixed to the wheel of the cart a piece of parchment on which was scrawled the words, 'The Scarecrow has rescued the highwayman.' This message the little figure nailed to the overturned wheel. Meantime others had unharnessed the cart-horses and got them to their feet, as well as the mounts that had carried the riding officers. Since the animals did not appear to be much hurt by the fall, they were mounted by four of the smugglers who had been on foot, the others leaping on to spare horses led by their colleagues. One of these addressed as Curlew was ordered by the Scarecrow to take the Welshman up behind him, and another named Raven was told to set the Hythe officer on a spare led horse.
'Half-way to Dymchurch you will set the Welshman down,' croaked the leader. 'Should we leave him here, he would untie these fools before we are ready for them. As to the Hythe officer, he must ride with us further afield. And now, my merry lads, we will dash on with our business, and may the night prove profitable!' Saying which, the Scarecrow, with Jimmie Bone riding behind him, led the company in a mad gallop along the high road.
Half-way to Dymchurch, when the moon first lighted the sky above the seawall, a halt was called while Curlew set down the Welshman, who was ordered to climb the steep bank of the sea-wall and to walk along the top of it to Dymchurch. He was further warned that, should he be seen to retrace his steps towards the scene of the accident, he would be fired at.
The weird cavalcade once more galloped on, and the little lawyer, clambering up the grassy bank of the wall, trotted along afoot in their wake.
The Night-riders turning in their saddles laughed as they saw his little figure silhouetted against the skyline.
It was not long, however, before they reached the outskirts of the village, where they were lost to sight from the hurrying lawyer, who did not see that the main body, instead of entering the village, skirted round behind the rookery on one side of the churchyard, and took to the Marsh, while the Scarecrow, the highwayman, and six others rode with their prisoner, the Hythe officer, into the square facing the Court House. What they did there took little time, though it occasioned a halt, after which they too followed their companions out on to the Marsh.
The Welsh lawyer followed stubbornly, and had no thoughts of turning back to help the trussed men, which was not altogether due to their threats of shooting, but largely because he was more than ever determined now to reach the vicarage and accompany Doctor Syn on to the Marsh. He told himself that his best plan was to report about the ambush and the highwayman's rescue, and let Doctor Syn deal with the situation. Despite the shaking he had endured when thrown so violently from the cart and the rough riding he had suffered, his chief emotion was that of excitement, which not only banished his fear, but made him feel proud of his personal share in such an adventure.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the village, the moon was already showing above the sea-wall, and lighting up the white gravestones in the little churchyard.
He was the more proud of himself when he considered how frequently the strongest man will become unnerved at having to pass by a churchyard at night, and yet here was he, looking at the tombs indifferently. For had he not ridden with the terrible Night-riders? How eager he was to tell this to Doctor Syn. The parson had scored off him at their first encounter, but now it was his turn, for Doctor Syn had assured him that he had never set eyes on the Scarecrow. As he hurried along by the low wall which divided the churchyard from the road, he wondered why the rooks were chattering in the great trees that topped the church. Every nest seemed to be alive, and several large birds were whirling up and down in the vicinity of the Court House. But even these black birds of ill omen failed to shake his nerve until he passed the corner of the wall and saw the reason of this unusual activity from the rookery. Then he was badly frightened.
The birds were swooping down to perch for a few moments upon the gaunt gallows that stood in the Court House Square. He remembered that when he had driven past it in the cart, this grim tree had been barren of its grisly fruit.
But now a man was hanging there, and as he approached, the moonlight showed him who the victim was. It was the Hythe officer.
The little lawyer was by now very badly frightened, but he rushed forwards clapping his hands to scare the gorging birds. As they circled up angrily into the night sky, he stretched up and felt the limbs. Still limp, but of death there was no doubt, for the rooks had been too busy. The hanging had been skilfully carried out. It had also been mercifully swift.
Shaking now in every limb, the lawyer tottered towards the vicarage. Doctor Syn had told him to tap for admission upon the garden door. As it was dark in the garden, since the moon shone upon the other side of the house, Doctor Syn had not shuttered his study window, but had let the candlelight shine out to guide his visitor. The casement also was wide open, and the Welshman, peering in, saw a bat flitting about the room, and darting at the lighted candelabrum. Although Doctor Syn had told him that he would be working till he called for him, the lawyer thought at first he could not be in the room, for surely no one could work with a bat flying about. As he peered further through the casement, however, he heard a gentle snoring. Then, as his eyes accustomed themselves to the dazzling candlelight, which shone upon the open pages of a large Bible, he saw the vicar sitting in his high-backed chair at the far side of the table. A quill pen was in his hand, which rested on the comfortable arm of the chair, and a serene smile lit up his face.
Doctor Syn was sleeping tranquilly, although the bat kept up its fevered flight so close to his face.
'Doctor Syn! Doctor Syn!' The lawyer's voice broke the silence in a hoarse whisper.
The sleeping vicar stirred. Then he gave a little start, and opened his eyes.
'It is I—Jones,' replied the lawyer.
Doctor Syn sat up, and rubbing his eyes, looked towards the open casement.
'Oh, it's you, is it?' he said pleasantly. The bat flew past his face and he jerked back. 'And a bat as well. Did you bring him with you to wake me?'
'Have you slept for long?' asked the lawyer. 'Because if not, I wonder if you have heard any unusual noises within the last half-hour?'
'What is the time?' yawned Doctor Syn. The bat flew close to him again and he rose quickly. 'I never could abide a bat,' he said, with a shudder that convinced the lawyer, who did not know that Doctor Syn had been at great pains to encourage the little creature into the room just before his arrival. 'We must get him out of this.' He picked up the candelabrum and placed it near the casement. 'If you share my dislike, stand aside. Good gracious yes, I have slept for at least an hour and a half.' He looked at the tall clock in the corner as he said this. 'Yes, I was penning a sermon for Sunday, and I glanced at the clock last exactly one hour and a half ago. I will leave the bat to fly out while I come round and open the door for you. Fancy falling asleep over my discourse! I hope it will not have the like effect upon my congregation.'
The Welshman leaned heavily on the casement sill. 'Never mind the bat,' he said, 'but as you are a man of charity, open a bottle of brandy, for the sights I have seen have weakened my knees.'
'I have brandy ready,' replied the vicar, 'for I thought we should need a drop before setting out, and I have also filled a flask to take with us. Ah, and there goes the bat out of the window, so I'll close the casement and let you in.' As soon as the Welshman entered the room he sank down heavily into a comfortable chair, while Doctor Syn poured out the brandy, which the lawyer drank greedily. 'That puts the heart into one again,' he said as his host refilled his glass.
'I cannot think how I could have slept so peacefully and for so long, with that nasty little creature flitting so close to me,' said the vicar.
'I venture to think, sir,' replied the other, 'that I have had the worse experience,' whereupon he plunged into the full details of his adventure, interrupted by Doctor Syn muttering such phrases as, 'Dear, dear! Is it possible? You amaze me! Astounding! Impertinent rascals!' At the end of the narrator's description of how he was set down to walk along the sea-wall, Doctor Syn said, 'No wonder you were frightened, sir, and needed brandy.'
'But I was not frightened then, sir,' exclaimed the lawyer, 'though I confess the sight of those hideously masked riders was fearsome enough. Indeed I was congratulating myself that I had taken part in such a unique adventure, which will afford me a good story for the rest of my life. No, sir, I was not afraid until I turned the corner of the churchyard and came straight up against the gallows with a corpse hanging from it.'
'What?' ejaculated Doctor Syn.
'Yes, sir,' cried the lawyer, 'and the damned rooks were already busy on the body. And it was the body of one of the men who had driven with me on the cart, and who had been carried off with me and the highwayman. To see a man you have spoken with only half an hour before in full vigour of manhood suddenly changed into food for churchyard rooks, is frightening in the extreme.'
'You don't tell me that the smugglers have hanged a revenue man?'
'Yes, sir. The Hythe officer is swinging from your gallows tree.' Doctor Syn's face pictured horror, righteous indignation, and then sorrow.
'Truly the ways of Providence are wrapt in mystery,' he said. 'This poor fellow may have been a hard man, but at least he followed his duty and died in the execution of it, just as the unfortunate and popular George Plattman did. And I have doubts that the criminals will ever be laid by the heels. That Providence should fight on the side of the law-breakers almost persuades one that the law must be wrong. But we must go immediately and lay this ghastly information at the Court House. The squire must be told of it, and the beadle sent to look after the body. Let us go.'
On the way to the Court House, Doctor Syn stepped across and gazed at the gallows. Then rejoining his companion, he shuddered as he said, 'You are right, sir. The poor fellow is beyond our help. We can only protect his body from the birds. That is the beadle's duty.' He rang the bell and learnt from the footman who admitted them that the squire had already been carried up to bed.
An acute attack of gout had followed a plentiful enjoyment of port, and Sir Antony Cobtree had thus been prevented from mounting the stairs without help.
Doctor Syn, in sending up a suitable message of sympathy, added that he had brought along with him Mr. Jones, the Welsh lawyer residing at the Ship Inn, who had imparted to him the gravest news which in his opinion the squire should be apprised of immediately.
The returning footman brought back word that the squire would receive them in his bedroom; whereupon Doctor Syn took upon himself to dismiss the footman in order that he might instantly rouse the beadle from his lodgings above the cells. He then told the Welshman to follow him upstairs.
They found the squire propped up with pillows and wearing a quilted dressing-gown over his nightshirt. His wig was on a stand hard by the bed and his head was crowned in a tall night-cap.
'Forgive me receiving you in bed, gentlemen,' he said, 'but this accursed gout is my excuse. Now what is this bad news you speak of, Doctor? Your servant, Mr. Jones.'
'Briefly this, sir. The highwayman, Bone, has been rescued and carried off by no less a person than the Scarecrow.' The squire chuckled. 'You call this grave news, old friend, but for myself, and laying aside my legal calling for the moment, I am not sorry that that fool of a Hythe officer has got it in the neck.' Doctor Syn sighed and shook his head gravely.
'Well, are you?' exploded the squire. 'Naturally, as a magistrate, I must not approve the escape of a prisoner of the Crown. But that wretched officer from Hythe was a deal too officious for my liking. I knew there was something very weak and pig-headed about him, when he refused a comfortable chair and my good sherry. It seems he has now made a real fool of himself, and I expect he will get it right in the neck from his superiors. He'll get one in the eye too from me at the inquiry.' Doctor Syn once more gravely shook his head. 'The Hythe officer has got a rope round his neck and rooks' beaks in his eye sockets. At the moment his corpse is swinging on the gallows of Dymchurch outside your window there.' The doctor's terrible announcement caused the squire to forget the attack of gout, as he cried out, 'What?' and leapt from his bed, tottering to the window which he opened wide, leaning out so that he could get a view in the moonlight of the gallows.
''Pon my soul you're in the right of it,' he said. 'There's a body hanging there. But who did it?'
'When you have heard Mr. Jones's narrative,' explained the vicar, 'you will agree with me that there is only one person who could have carried this out.
The dreaded and mysterious Scarecrow.'
'Well, if there really is such a person, and I have yet to know it,' snapped the squire, 'he goes too far when he uses the official gallows from whence to hang his enemies. I suppose I should do something at once, eh, vicar? But what the devil can I do?'
'The obvious thing is to summon the beadle,' replied the vicar, 'and in your name I have sent to rouse him. It is his function to deal with the body.'
'Of course it is,' agreed the squire. 'Tell him to deal with it at once. He must lodge it in the cells for the night. He must get men to help him.'
'I will go and instruct him,' said the vicar. 'He should be here by now. In the meantime I will leave you with this gentleman, Mr. Jones. As I told you, he has come to Dymchurch to inform me about the Tontine of which my father was a member. Mr. Jones was an eye-witness this night of Jimmie Bone's rescue, and can furnish you with all the details. He has actually spoken to the Scarecrow.'
'Yes sir,' nodded the lawyer. 'And I woke up Doctor Syn to tell him what I shall now have the honour of telling you.' The squire limped back to his bed, and seeing that the vicar was about to leave the room in order to instruct the beadle, he called out, 'Just a minute, Christopher! Before you leave me, I should like to be sure that Mr. Jones has not got any artillery in his pockets?' Doctor Syn smiled and shook his head, while the squire, turning on the Welshman, added, 'I have a decided objection to being made a target of, Mr. Jones. I will take my chance of being winged at any time in fair fight, but I like shooting to be organized in a gentlemanly fashion.'
'I am not armed,' replied the Welshman. 'I see that you have heard how foolishly I behaved to the good doctor here, but believe me I shall not make such a fool of myself again.'
'No, you might be more successful and hit me,' retorted the squire.
The Welshman flushed with anger as he took off his heavy coat and threw it behind him on the floor. He then proceeded to take off his under-coat.
'All right! All right!' cried the squire testily. 'Just pat your breeches pockets, and I am satisfied. I can see that there is nothing dangerous in your waistcoat.' For the little Welshman was unbuttoning his waistcoat to show that he had no pistols concealed.
'All right, doctor,' said the squire. 'Get the beadle and give him his orders, and this gentleman can then tell me his story.'
It was a very frightened beadle that accompanied Doctor Syn and two of the squire's manservants to cut down the body from the gallows.
'I tell you, sir,' he whispered to Doctor Syn, 'that while this Scarecrow lives, not a man of us is safe. We shall all be murdered in our beds. He's a scoundrel, sir! A scoundrel!'
'I should not talk too loud against him if I were you,' warned the vicar, 'for this Scarecrow has given us full proof of his uncanny powers. If these rooks cawing above us hear what you say, they will tell the Scarecrow you are his enemy, and then they will be pecking at you next.' The grisly work was carried out under the supervision of Doctor Syn, who kept muttering, 'Poor fellow! Poor fellow!' while the beadle, sweating with fear lest the Scarecrow should suddenly appear and see what they were doing, urged them to hurry.
At last the body was placed in one of the cells and locked up, the beadle so scared that he refused Doctor Syn's invitation to take a drink in the Court House with the manservants, for the dread of having to walk the few yards back to his lodgings by himself. Instead he ran up to his bedroom and bolted himself in.
When Doctor Syn re-entered the squire's bedroom, the Welshman had just finished his detailed description of the night's adventure, and the squire was criticizing his behaviour with, 'But why didn't you approach the Scarecrow and pull his mask off so that we should know who the scoundrel is? Since your curiosity prompted you to go so far in what hardly concerns you, I think you might have let it carry you to a more useful termination.'
'I venture to suggest, sir,' returned the Welshman, 'that were you or any other to encounter that dreadful apparition on that black horse, you would not run the risk of supposing that the hideous face, lighted up as it appears by hell's fires, could be anything but the devil's own face. To find that it was no mask would be a shock to one's soul.'
'Nonsense and fiddlesticks!' exploded the squire. 'Of course it's a mask smeared over with sand phosphorus to scare feeble-minded and curious people from his unlawful business. The phosphorus from Dymchurch sands at low tide is famous the world over. Simplest thing in the world to daub a mask with it and make it glow! That sort of thing would never frighten me, though I confess I fear lunatic gentlemen who let off fire-arms for no excuse. But I have never been afeared of a Guy Fawkes on November the fifth.'
'Tut, tut, Tony!' admonished the vicar, who had entered unnoticed and had overheard the squire's peevishness. 'You must not suppose that this good gentleman from Wales is frighted by such things either. At least he is anxious to accompany me across the Marsh, for I have to visit old Mother Handaway, who lies so grievous sick. Mr. Jones is concerned with a notorious smuggler in his own country, and wishes to see what he can of our Marsh law-breakers. He has been informed by the unfortunate Hythe officer that a “run” is contemplated this very night at the time of high tide, and if we are to witness it, we should be setting forth immediately.'
'Oh, and pray what good will it do to the community at large if you do clap eyes on this Scarecrow?' asked the squire.
'Well, perhaps the two of us may find the courage to unmask him,' smiled the vicar. 'But I doubt very much whether he will have the impertinence to appear on the Marsh tonight, after what has happened. However, apart from the Scarecrow and whether we see him or no, I have my duty to perform to a sick old woman, and that I have every intention of carrying out.'
'Well, if you want me wake me,' yawned the squire. 'I shall have trouble enough in the morning when I shall have to deal with tonight's tragic happenings. It will mean an extensive inquiry and the calling together of the Lords of the Level. I assure you I have no intention of accompanying you, and I think you are mad to cross the Marsh at this hour. But you were ever an obstinate devil, doctor, and may no harm befall you.'
'Amen,' laughed Doctor Syn, leading the Welshman from the squire's bedchamber. As they left the Court House he informed his companion that he must first call in at the vicarage.
'You wish to arm yourself I presume,' said the Welshman. 'If you loan me a pistol, too, we shall be the more secure.' The doctor kept his reply till they were once more in his cozy study.
'Whenever I go out on duty, I arm myself with these—a Bible in one pocket and a flask of brandy in the other. My good sexton has already taken a basket of nourishment to the sick woman we are to visit, and it only needs a comforting exposition of the scriptures to complete her comfort. The brandy flask is for our own comfort, and to combat the Marsh ague which is so dangerous in these parts. Two of God's greatest gifts, Mr. Jones.'
'The Bible and brandy, eh?' queried the lawyer. 'Aye, Amen, for I think you are not far wrong.' Doctor Syn thought it best to leave by the garden door, which he locked from the outside, and dropping the key into his heavy coat pocket, he led the way through the garden and across the Glebe Field, which was flanked by a deep dyke and bridged by the masonry of the Romans.
At this ancient bridge were two coastguards who challenged their approach, but on recognizing the parson, warned him that it was perilous to cross the Marsh on a night when the Scarecrow's men were expected to be 'out'.
Doctor Syn silently congratulated himself that neither of the men belonged to the parties who had seen and spoken to him earlier on the Marsh that night.
'Aye, I know that they are “out",' returned Doctor Syn, 'for my companion here was an eye-witness when the highwayman was rescued and carried off.'
'What, sir? Has Jimmie Bone escaped us then?' asked one of them.
'There's no doubt about that,' replied the vicar gravely.
'Then the gallows tree will have one piece of fruit the less,' answered the coastguard, 'and for that I am not sorry.'
'You are wrong there,' said Doctor Syn. 'The gallows fruit has been cut down not an hour since, and in my sight, too, for the Scarecrow has hanged the officer from Hythe.'
'Good God, sir!' muttered the other man. 'If that is so then none of us are safe from the scoundrel.'
'Are you alone here?' asked Doctor Syn, 'or are any of your fellows within call?'
'They have been recalling the pickets to the sea-wall, sir,' replied the coastguard. 'We are awaiting our signal now from a “flasher”.'
'And what might a “flasher” be?' asked the Welshman.
'A flint-lock without a barrel,' explained the doctor. 'So you are mustering on the sea-wall, eh?'
'Aye, sir, we'll need every man there, if the Scarecrow attempts a landing.'
'Well, let us hope the night passes safely for all concerned,' said the parson.
'There has been enough violence, God knows. Poor George Plattman and now the Hythe officer. Your fellows who escorted the highwayman towards Hythe were left by the smugglers trussed up upon the roadside, according to my friend here, so unless they have escaped, your force will be the weaker.'
'We are under-forced as it is, sir,' said the man. 'No doubt this night's work will cause the Dymchurch squire to apply for a troop of dragoons from Dover Castle.'
'The Scarecrow has outwitted the dragoons before,' replied Doctor Syn sadly. 'I fear that the only chance of catching the scoundrel comes from himself.
His impertinent daring may one of these nights over-reach itself, and then we shall have a hanging in Dymchurch at which all good citizens will rejoice.
Well, good night, my friends, and may God keep you from its perils!' The two companions then proceeded on their way towards Botolph's Bridge, which crossed dyke water to enable wayfarers to reach a lonely Marsh inn called 'The Shepherd and Crook'.
As they approached the bridge they saw a party of men in the moonlight.
'More coastguards,' said Doctor Syn. 'I suppose they are also awaiting their recall. They are wearing masks. I never knew them do that before. The other fellows were not wearing them. These are evidently more cautious, and don't wish to be recognized by the smugglers if they encounter them, for the Scarecrow has a way of taking revenge upon his enemies, and once seen taking an active part against him, they are marked men. I think under the circumstances, I should feel inclined to wear a mask myself.'
'And so should I,' agreed the Welshman. 'This Scarecrow seems the very devil to deal with.' It was a party of six guarding the bridge and one of them cried out, 'Who goes there?' Doctor Syn called back, 'I am the vicar of Dymchurch, and this is a friend of mine. We are on our way to visit a sick old woman who lives on the Marsh between Burmarsh and St. Mary's.'
'Then our information is correct,' remarked the man who had challenged them. 'I take it, reverend sir, that your friend's name is Jones, a stranger to these parts.'
Doctor Syn looked at the Welshman with a mystified expression. 'That is quite right, my man,' he said to the coastguard. 'Mr. Jones hails from the mountains of North Wales. A far cry from our beloved Marsh.'
'Then you will both put your hands above your heads,' ordered the coastguard.
'What on earth for?' asked the doctor, nevertheless obeying since he perceived that two of the party were covering them with pistols.
'Scarecrow's orders, and he'll tell you what for himself,' was the astounding answer. 'We are about to take you to him. Search them for weapons!'
'We are not armed, I assure you,' promised the doctor. 'And why should we be searched when you know who we are? Are coastguards also in this devil's pay?'
'Aye, we know you well enough, but you do not know us,' replied the other.
'We are no coastguards, though we look like them, no doubt. We are loyal members of the Scarecrow's band, and you can consider yourselves his prisoners.'
'But neither coastguard nor smuggler has ever hindered me in the execution of my sacred calling,' objected the vicar. 'I tell you I am not out upon the Marsh to spy, but to bring comfort to an ailing member of my flock.' The masked man laughed. 'Aye, we know all about old Mother Handaway.
As to her comfort, it has already been provided for. Mr. Mipps, your sexton, took her some provisions earlier in the night.'
'You are well informed,' replied Doctor Syn.
'The Scarecrow knows everything,' said the other. 'And that you will know full well when you meet him, as you are about to do. But in order to meet him you must consent to have your eyes bandaged, so that you do not know the whereabouts of his secret meeting-place.'
Doctor Syn turned to his companion with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders. 'I suppose we must submit with a good grace,' he said.
Their next half-hour was uncomfortable. With two of the smugglers on either side of him and their eyes securely blindfolded, the prisoners were hurried along across the fields. They were pushed down steep banks and plunged into dyke-water, then dragged across and hoisted up the opposite banks, while tall bulrushes tripped their feet and lashed their faces. At last, however, a halt was called. They heard a key turn in a squeaky lock and a further squeaking of an old door being swung open on rusty hinges. They were then warned that they had to mount steps and were supported up a short flight, when they were again halted while the door was locked behind them.
Doctor Syn sniffed and muttered to the Welshman, 'Hops! It would seem that we are in an oast-house.'
It was then that a deep voice boomed out, 'Uncover their eyes, and since they have spied upon the Scarecrow, they shall have the privilege of seeing him before going to their death.' The bandages were immediately torn from their faces, and it was a fearsome spectacle that confronted them. By the light of torches which four fantastically dressed figures held above their heads, the prisoners saw a semi-circle of some dozen men, masked, cloaked and booted, who were grouped behind a hideouslooking devil who sat upon a barrel.
A painted mask that gleamed with phosphorus hid his real features, and gave him a terrifying appearance. From his shoulders a ragged but voluminous cloak served as a hellish background to his agile figure, clad in a weatherbeaten black riding suit which was completed with tight-fitting black boots drawn up to the thighs. Upon his head was a high-brimmed black three-corner hat from which flowed long whisps of horse-hair and was trimmed with a tail of ravens'
feathers. From the side pockets of the jacket there showed the heavy butts of horse pistols, and from a heavy belt, which supported a brace of small pistols, hung a long sword.
'Doctor Syn,' croaked this terrible figure, 'if I had not heard the best opinions of you from the poor of Romney Marsh, who are the richer for serving me, you would long since have been sleeping in your own churchyard, with an epitaph of violent death upon the headstone. I have been lenient with you. But when you use the excuse of your sacred calling to spy out the mysteries of the Marsh, you have presumed too far, and no more tolerance can be shown to you.
Since it is your wish to witness the Scarecrow's men landing a cargo, you shall be put in a position to do so. And a safe position as far as we are concerned, for the very sand and sea which you shall watch will carry your soul away on the full tide. For your companion, this stranger, who accompanies you on your long journey, I have no regrets. He has chosen to thrust his nose into matters that in no way concern him, and must therefore take the consequence. Your fate will teach others to fear the Scarecrow and to leave his business alone, and so, since you are doing me a service just as that Hythe officer I hanged tonight has done, I do you both the compliment to wish you a pleasant journey on the running tide. Good night.' He then turned to his followers and added, 'Their graves are ready dug by the last posts of the breakwater by Henley's Herring Hang. I think that at the next low tide the green crabs will have rendered them unrecognizable. Those who are named for the funeral party will complete their work and then rejoin us on the beachy stretch of Littlestone. Cover their eyes.'
'I warn you,' cried the vicar, 'that if any harm befalls us there will be such an outcry on the Marsh as even your ingenuity will not silence. Every house will be searched and every hiding-place laid bare by the military. You will be betrayed by your own arrogance, and just as surely as George Plattman and the Hythe officer have been murdered by you, so will you hang upon the Dymchurch gallows.'
'Stow your croaking, you old rook,' ordered the Scarecrow, 'or I shall have your beak covered as well as your eyes!'
'But you cannot possibly mean to kill us,' faltered the Welshman. 'I am willing to pay a good sum for ransom.'
'If you think to bribe me you are mistaken. The Scarecrow is above that.'
'But not above murder, it would seem,' replied the lawyer. 'I have powerful friends in Wales who will soon set the machinery of the law against you, even though they fail to do so here.'
'It is a far cry from Wales, sir,' laughed the Scarecrow, 'and I have never yet feared a piece of toasted cheese. And let me warn you that if you talk any more your death shall be even more ghastly than the one I have planned for you.
Cover their eyes, my merry devils, and let us be done with this delay.'
The next journey was even more trying to the prisoners than the previous one, for on being led out of the oast-house with their eyes once more blindfolded, they were hoisted on to two spare horses and told to take a firm grip on the manes, as the reins were held by the riders detailed to lead them.
They travelled at a good pace, and in silence, for when Doctor Syn sniffed and remarked that his nose told him they were heading across the Marsh in the direction of the sea, he was rudely ordered to keep his mouth shut.
For the most part the party moved quickly at a sharp canter. Every now and again the prisoners were warned to hold tighter and the pace was increased to a gallop to enable the horses to leap the dykes; but a good deal of the way was made along the Marsh roads, which were smoother going than the dyked fields.
At last the prisoners were told to lean forward, and the horses climbed a steep slipway that brought them on to the top of the sea-wall. Along the way they trotted for a hundred yards or so, and then down another slipway which brought them to the beach. On the hard sand the going was straightforward. After a short gallop the party drew rein, and the prisoners were dragged from their horses. Opposite the tall wooden building known as Henley's Herring Hang, where the fish have been dried and smoked from time immemorial, there is a breakwater which runs out from the sea-wall. It is fashioned from the oak of wrecks, and consists of two rows of heavy planks reinforced with planks, holding together great boulders and masses of pebbles whose weight breaks the force of the fiercest waves.
Around the end piles nearest the sea two pits had been dug, uncovering some four foot or so of the stakes below sand level. Into these pits the prisoners were dropped, and their feet were lashed securely to the posts. Still blindfolded, their arms were dragged behind them and tightly lashed with cords around their wrists. Many coils of rope were then wound round their bodies and the posts, and with two spade that had been hidden under the heaped-up sand the pits were quickly filled up again. Piled up to their chins, the sand was then beaten down hard.
It was then that Doctor Syn broke the silence. 'We can at least claim the promise of your dastardly Scarecrow that our eyes should be uncovered, for he said that we should have the privilege of witnessing his landing of the cargoes.
For my own part, I would rather watch death coming with open eyes.' Promptly the bandages were wrenched from their eyes, and it was then that the Welshman fully realized the horror of their situation, for as he saw the long lines of wave after wave floating towards them on the level sand, he let out one piercing scream in desperation. One of the smugglers dug a spadeful of sand and flung it in his face. 'Stop that, or I'll pile sand over your head, and the crabs will get you before the salt-water. Why don't you take it calm, like the reverend gentleman?'
The threat silenced the Welshman's voice, though his terror was still made manifest by his chattering teeth.
'We must hurry,' whispered the spokesman of the smugglers. 'Look!' Round the promontory of Dungeness a string of five sailing boats appeared.
As they swept round into the bay the moonlight caught their canvas. They were the Scarecrow's luggers bringing the brandy kegs from France. Then they disappeared into the black background of the land.
'Time we joined the Scarecrow,' went on the leader of the party. 'Get to your horses, all but Curlew. Have you looked to the priming of your pistols, Curlew?'
'Aye, aye, Raven, and I've borrowed a third from Seagull, in case of a misfire.'
'You know what you have to do?' asked Raven.
'Aye, aye,' replied Curlew. 'If the prisoners cry out for help, I puts bullets in the backs of their heads.'
'Your horse is tethered under the sea-wall,' went on Raven, 'and cannot be seen. You sit behind 'em in the shadow of the breakwater and then you'll be out of sight too.'
'We've forgot one of the Scarecrow's orders, Raven,' said one of the smugglers who had picked up the spades.
'What's that, Seagull?' asked the Raven.
'The board. It's hid where Curlew sits, and I have the hammer and nails.'
'Bring it here, Curlew, and show it to the prisoners.' Curlew handed Raven a board on which was crudely pained the following inscription:
'So rot the bones of all the Scarecrow's enemies.'
This the Raven held before the prisoners' eyes, ordering the parson to read it aloud, which Doctor Syn did in a firm voice, which caused a burst of laughter from the now mounted smugglers.
'Silence, you fools!' ordered the Raven. 'Nail it up, Curlew, and not too much noise with it either.' Seagull produced a hammer and two nails from his pocket, and helped Curlew to fix it across the tops of the posts, high above the prisoners' heads.
On the last stroke of the hammer, Raven said with a chuckle, 'There's the last nail in your coffins, gentlemen. As for you, Mister Parson, you'll shortly know whether there's any truth or not in the Heaven you're so fond of preaching about. It will be a cold clammy journey there, I'm thinking.'
'Look, Raven,' cried Seagull, who had now mounted. 'There's the flasher from Limestone Beach. It's going in “twos”. That means the Revenue men are somewheres on the sea-wall between us. We'd best take to the Marsh and come out behind 'em.'
'No, we'll gallop the beach, and chance a stray shot or so,' ordered Raven.
'We'll waste good time on the Marsh. Follow me and keep your horses to the sea edge as far from the wall as possible. A splashing or so won't hurt us. It ain't as if we have to drink sea-water like these gentlemen. Now I wonders which of them four eyes the crabs will feast on first. There's the flasher again.
Three times! That means ride like hell.' Saying which the Raven kicked up his horse, headed for the wave, and followed by his fast-flying companions, swerved round in the water's edge and galloped away.
The wretched prisoners watched them cover some half of the journey and then saw a line of flashing from the sea-wall, followed by a crackling report.
'It's the revenue men firing at them,' whispered Doctor Syn. 'If only they'd come our way!'
'It would only mean a bullet in your heads,' whispered the voice of Curlew.
'I knows my orders.' A scattered volley was returned by the galloping smugglers in the direction of the wall, which the revenue men promptly answered. This resulted in a scream, as a horse plunged forwards and fell kicking in the waves. The others rode on.
'They got one of the spare horses, that's all,' chuckled the voice of Curlew.
'Well, horse-flesh is cheaper than man's.' The spare horse was left to its fate, and the smugglers, after letting off a few more shots, were out of range, heading for Littlestone.
'Scarecrow's luck as usual,' laughed Curlew. 'They'd best not follow or they'll find themselves outnumbered. There's two hundred marshmen “out” tonight.'
'I only pray that they do not number any of my parishioners,' said Doctor Syn.
'There's more from Dymchurch than from anywheres,' replied Curlew. 'I'm one myself, though you'd never guess who. Perhaps you never guessed that the most pious-looking of your congregation was the Scarecrow's men.'
'I should have been a sad man had I suspected it,' returned the vicar. 'And I could almost wish that you had kept me ignorant. I should have liked to go to my death believing in my people.'
'Well, you can't, and that's a sure thing. Mind you, we ain't supposed to know who's who ourselves, and we don't know, though we has our notions.
Raven, for instance. Now I bet a guinea I do know who he is. I may tell you when the waves are in your nostrils, just by way of cheering you up and giving you a surprise. Regular attendance he gives at church, and no one sings the hymns louder. Did it never strike you as remarkable that so many poor fishermen and farm hands was able to put so much money in your collecting bags? You've the Scarecrow to thank for that! Be generous of a “Sunday in the bag” was one of his favourite orders, and the Scarecrow's orders must always be carried out.'
'Dear, dear,' sighed Doctor Syn, 'and I have even thanked God for the noble efforts my poor have made to help the poorer. No doubt, then, I have often spoken to this man you call the Raven. No doubt also that you guess at the identity of the Scarecrow.'
'No, I have no idea. No more has no one else,' returned Curlew. 'Our own identities are secret and known only to him and his go-between-us, who shall be nameless. I think this go-between knows who he is, but he's the only one, and that's how he works it all so safe.'
'But not safe for very long,' replied the doctor. 'They say that dying men are often privileged to prophesy about the future, and I who see the tide of death approaching am about to prophesy to you of your leader. This night's black work will finish him and bring him to trial. Your own arrests will follow his.
He will turn King's Evidence against you.'
'Not the Scarecrow!' interrupted Curlew. 'He has never forsaken his men who have been faithful.'
'That is no matter,' retorted Doctor Syn. 'Without his leadership you will betray yourselves, and all of you will hang. Now, Mister Curlew, and I call you that name for want of your better one, has it occurred to you that you can save your neck by freeing us, here and now? I give you my sacred word that only good will come to you by the action.'
'You heard what the Scarecrow said about bribery,' replied the guard. 'I think there is none of us who would betray him, even with the rope about our necks.'
'Then you throw away your own life as well as ours,' warned Doctor Syn.
'That's as may be. But I would rather suffer the punishment of the law than the penalty for disobeying the Scarecrow.' Meanwhile with every wave the water drew nearer to the prisoners, and as the relentless line approached the Welshman kept up a low whimpering groan.
'Won't be long before that moaning of yours will turn to gurgling,' said Curlew. 'Why don't you take it brave like the parson? He ain't frightened same as you.'
'Oh, but indeed I am,' replied the doctor, who was glad of the hint. 'I defy anyone not to be frightened when facing certain death. I could face it bravely enough were I lying sick in bed, but this is too horrible, and I'll not accept credit where none is due. Believe me, I am frightened in the extreme.' This confession made the Welshman whimper the more violently, which was exactly what Doctor Syn meant it to do, and he registered the opinion that his companion in misfortune was not to be depended upon in peril.
Just then there came another crackle of shots, followed by a tremendous volley. Then across the water they heard a mighty cheer.
'That sounds as though the revenue men are driven off,' chuckled Curlew.
'And it also looks as though further revenue men are going to their help,' said Doctor Syn. 'Unless I am mistaken that long boat tacking from Hythe is the Dover patrol boat, the revenue cutter.'
'Arriving too late as usual,' sneered Curlew. 'She'll never make Littlestone before the cargo is landed and then the Scarecrow's luggers will have gone, and the goods on the backs of the pack-ponies.'
'There's another boat in her wake,' said Doctor Syn. 'But she appears to be taking a shorter tack towards shore.'
'A fishing boat,' explained Curlew. 'Nothing to do with the cutter. Now get this clear into your heads. If you shouts for help I'll empty these into your heads,' and the prisoners felt the barrel of pistols pressing into the backs of their skulls.
'We are not stupid, unless perhaps we decide to make our deaths the more sudden,' replied Doctor Syn. 'Besides, the revenue men are heading the cutter further to sea, and I suppose are trying to head the luggers off on their way to Dungeness and deep water. The little boat is making good way, though.'
'The waves are making good way too,' sneered Curlew.
The water was now only a foot or so from their faces, and the Welshman was chattering with fright. Doctor Syn began the recital of a prayer, but was ordered by Curlew to keep silent.
A few more waves and the water touched their chins, and it was only the pressure of the pistol from behind that prevented the Welshman from screaming.
A few minutes more and the water was round their necks and covering their strained-up chins. In the meantime they saw the fishing boat down sail directly opposite them about fifty yards off shore. They could see the fisherman busying himself with his tackle.
'If you attract his attention,' warned Curlew, 'I'll pistol you and run. But no doubt he's one of the Scarecrow's men, who has been keeping a weather eye on the cutter. In any case you'll get no help from him.'
'I'm frightened,' moaned the Welshman. 'I don't want to die! It's awful!'
'It is awful indeed,' whispered Doctor Syn. 'I am frightened too, but I am trying to pray and should advice you to do the same. May God give you the courage to play the man.'
The Welshman, who, being shorter than the vicar, was lower to the water, spat violently as the first wave reached his mouth.
'God have mercy on you!' whispered Doctor Syn. 'May He give you strength to face the end bravely.' The Welshman spat again.
