Two days later General Troubridge and Major Faunce of the Dragoons rode along the high-road towards the Walnut Tree Inn. It was already dusk, but light enough for them to discern Doctor Syn awaiting them on his white pony. He led them up the hill to the copse where the brushwood lay in readiness for the next night's “run”.
“As my letter told you, General,” whispered the parson, “here is most excellent cover for your whole regiment. I have ascertained that the men from Bonnington and Hawkhurst are detailed to wait on Aldington Knoll to receive the tubs. They will of necessity dismount here to hide the tubs in this ditch. The Scarecrow will be here to see that they cover the goods with this brushwood.
Your case against him will be much stronger if your arrest the lot of them while hiding the contraband. If you attacked them openly on the Knoll, they would abandon the tubs and scatter, while here you will have them at your mercy.”
“And precious little mercy they will get too,” replied the General. “Doctor Syn, your strategy is good. So good, in fact, that it seems a pity you were not a soldier yourself.”
“But I am,” replied Doctor Syn, solemnly removing his clerical hat and casting his eyes up to heaven.
“What a good man!” thought the General.
“I only hope that I shall not be held responsible for these wretches' deaths,” went on the parson. “It is a dreadful thing to have man's blood upon one's conscience.”
“You need not worry, sir,” replied the General. “You are making a brave stroke on the side of right and justice.”
“I pray that my conscience will continue to tell me so,” replied Doctor Syn piously.
Tuesday night was dark, and the sea calm. The conditions for the landing were ideal. General Troubridge had taken precaution to warn the Sandgate Custom officers against preventing the landing.
Into Dymchurch Bay the smuggling fleet crept close to the beach, and under the direction of the tall Scarecrow upon his magnificent black horse the tubs were dragged ashore by willing hands. The first two hundred were carried by men on slings, two tubs to a man, and within a quarter of an hour from anchoring, this procession started for the hills, where they were glad enough to hand over their heavy burdens to the Ransley crowd, who accepted them some hundred strong.
Not a hint of these Bonnington men's treachery had been passed to the Dymchurch Night-riders. Doctor Syn and Mipps had seen to that. Having secured the remaining tubs upon the pack ponies, off trotted the wild cavalcade with shrieking witches guarding them and led by the Scarecrow himself.
Thinking that they would naturally follow the tub-carriers who had preceded them with the first lot to the hills, they were astonished at being led through Romney and Lydd out on to the wild shingled wastes of Dungeness. But they trusted their Scarecrow, and on being called to halt, they unslung the cargo into a deep dip of the shingle and covered it with a vast landslide of pebbles.
As the first streaks of dawn lit up the desolate peninsula not a sign of a tub could be seen upon the Ness, and on the Scarecrow's order to scatter in small parties for home, every man knew that the hiding-place was known to their leader and that in his own good time he would give orders to shift it into more commercial spots.
In the meantime Ransley, well pleased that his men had stolen the first two hundred tubs without a blow, had led his men to the new hiding-place, where disaster awaited them. When the Dragoons closed in on them and pushed them into the ditch upon the tubs, Ransley, seeing that the game was up, advised his followers to surrender without firing a shot, for by such a policy he hoped to save himself and them from the extreme penalty.
The next morning the news crept from inn to inn upon the Marsh that through their own treachery the Bonnington men were huddled together under lock and key in Sandgate Castle, in company with two hundred good tubs. The loss of the latter was taken philosophically by the successful Marshmen, since the gain on a thousand lying snug in Dungeness would be considerable.
When the tubs had been stored in a cellar of the Castle, General Troubridge kept the key himself and set a strong guard outside, fearing an attempt at rescue by the Scarecrow's men. He also took steps for an immediate trial in the Castle, to be presided over by the Warden of the Cinque Ports, thus preventing any local magistrates from showing indulgence.
The trial caused a great stir. When it became obvious that the Scarecrow himself had not been caught, the Crown pressed hard for the extreme penalty.
Both judge and jury were biased against the prisoners. Everyone, including the prisoners, guess the verdict would be death. The final case for the prosecution took place on a Saturday, and was such a long and venomous tirade that the court had to be adjourned till the Monday, when judgment would be given.
That Sunday, after Morning Prayer, Doctor Syn thought so sadly upon the state of old Grandmother Ransley that he saddled his pony and rode over to Bonnington. He found her prepared for the worst, but terribly distressed for her two young grandsons, who were, she said, “but yet upon the threshold of life", and she could hardly be comforted even though Doctor Syn promised to do what he could in the way of pleading for mercy.
When the Judge took his seat upon the Monday he picked up a sealed paper that lay upon his desk, and read, To be opened and read out by the Judge to the prisoners.
He broke the seal and read, “The Scarecrow's compliments to the learned Judge, and will he inform the prisoners that the Scarecrow has no intention to rescue them. Their treachery be upon their own heads.” This caused a sensation, for no one could explain how the paper had come to be there. Doctor Syn, who had asked to be in court in order to read the wretched prisoners a homily upon repentance, asked to see the paper. He then produced another in the same handwriting, which he said he had found pushed beneath his Vicarage door that morning. It was as threatening, he said, and read out, “If the Reverend Doctor Syn attempts to rescue the prisoners in Sandgate he will fall foul of the Scarecrow.”
“But how does the scoundrel think that you could rescue them, even if you wanted to?” asked the Judge.
“Because,” replied Syn, “I have mentioned to one or two folk a theory, which if proved true would certainly save these men from the rigour of the law.”
“What theory?” asked the Judge.
“Well, would this Scarecrow, knowing the prisoners' treachery, as he undoubtedly did—well, would he have wasted two hundred tubs of expensive spirits with which to bait his trap? I have not heard that the contents of the tubs have been examined. If they contain contraband, then no doubt the prisoners can be condemned; but knowing something of the greed of this Scarecrow, it seems to me doubtful. Ought not the tubs to be examined?”
The defending Counsel, who had undertaken the case with no hope for success, clutched at this straw, and insisted that what Doctor Syn had said was only just. The consequence was that General Troubridge went himself to the cellar to investigate.
After some time he came back to the crowded court with a face of thunder.
“The tubs contain dirty water!” he ejaculated.
“And there is no law in England that can hang a man for carrying tubs of that,” cried out the triumphant Counsel for defence.
And so it was found. Whereupon the prisoners, blessing the wisdom of Doctor Syn, were cautioned and acquitted.
“But what made you get the scoundrels off like that?” asked Mipps, when that night he and the Vicar discussed the matter together by the study fire.
“The thought of that old woman's distress as she lay praying on her bed at Bonnington,” replied Doctor Syn with a smile. “Besides, Mipps, it seems to me a good thing for our safety that Doctor Syn, by the act he performed today, goes in fear of his life from the dreaded Scarecrow.” Whereupon Mipps grinned.
