If pity be akin to love, then Doctor Syn, Vicar of Dymchurch, had a kindly feeling towards General Troubridge. The old soldier had been made a laughing-stock for having allowed the Scarecrow and his smugglers to slip through his fingers so many times, and no one delighted more in bringing up the joke against him than his twin brother, Admiral Troubridge, who was in command of Channel defence, flying his flag aboard the Vengeance in Dover harbour.
At last, however, the General found means to turn the tables and point back the finger of scorn at his brother, for a certain Captain Delacroix, commanding a French privateer, had for some months taken heavy toll of British shipping, and despite the most rigorous action on the part of the Admiralty, he yet remained successfully afloat. This fact enabled the General to reply to his brother's cruel lampoon of All the King's horses and all the King's men, Never will capture the Scarecrow agen, with All the King's sailors with cannon and ball Never will capture the Froggy at all.
Doctor Syn heard of this fraternal struggle and enjoyed the joke. Meanwhile the Frenchmen thrived in the Channel, just as the Scarecrow thrived on Romney Marsh.
Doctor Syn, meeting the brothers at dinner, jocularly suggested that the Admiral should employ the Scarecrow to catch the privateer, affirming that his mysterious and notorious parishioner, having never yet lost a smuggling lugger, must possess something of a nautical genius. “In fact, set a thief to catch a thief, my dear Admiral,” he laughed.
“I'd like to catch the Scarecrow,” the Admiral had replied, “just for the satisfaction of sending him in irons to my brother's Dragoons.” And then came the news that Captain Delacroix had captured the contraband cargoes of two luggers trading for the Scarecrow.
“Ho, ho,” chuckled Doctor Syn when he next met the Admiral. “If this news is true, then the Admiralty will have no more cause to worry you over such a water-rat as this Frenchman, for, believe me, the Scarecrow will never tolerate being robbed. There will be quick reprisal. The British thief will not be plundered by the French thief, you will see.” And that very night Doctor Syn sat with Sexton Mipps in the Vicarage study at Dymchurch. The shutters were fastened. The doors were locked. The Vicar sat at his large old oak refectory table, upon which had been pinned a chart of the Channel. He also kept referring to a list of vessels which the sexton had produced from an iron chest. For a long time the Vicar made notes and calculations.
“The Greyhound is the boat for our purpose, Mipps,” he said at last. “She's clipper built, fast and draws little enough water.” The sexton shook his head. “She's only armed fore and aft,” he objected, “two guns in all, while the Froggy carries fourteen, all heavier than them two toys on the Greyhound.”
“If the Froggy (as you disrespectfully call him),” smiled Syn, “expects me to lay alongside, he's mighty mistaken, for I am not such a fool as to give him a broadside target. Neither do I intend to give Admiral Troubridge a chance of broadsiding the Frenchman with any of his seventy-fours. That would not be sportsmanlike. If we cannot run a fox down with the hounds, we do not shoot him, I trust.”
“But what's old Troubridge got to do with it, sir?” asked the sexton.
“Oh, I'm just taking him along to see the fun,” replied Syn. “You will be dressed as Hellspite, I as the Scarecrow, and a double crew as Night-riders.
And if I give the Vengeance men a lesson in navigation I shall expect you to give them one in gun-laying.”
“Aye, that's talking,” chuckled Mipps. “I always said in the old days that I should have stayed Master Gunner and not been elected Master Carpenter.”
“You could lay a gun, I'll admit,” said Syn. “And I am hoping that you will show these Royal Navy lads how to do it.”
“But what'll happen?” asked Mipps doubtfully. “Supposin' that we get the best of this Frenchman—”
“Supposing?” asked Syn scornfully. “That rascal has robbed me of tubs. Can you doubt for a moment that I shall not get the best of him?”
“But remember what the Admiral told you,” cautioned Mipps. “He said he'd send the Scarecrow in chains to that damned old Dragoon his brother. You're never going to get into the General's clutches again?”
“My good Mipps, our mutual friend the Scarecrow may run a particular risk once, but next time he is wise enough to ring the changes. Your General will not get me a second time walking into Dover Castle as a prisoner. Be easy. The only risk in this adventure is the fact that we are collecting the flagship to act as our escort, but against that risk I gamble that the Admiral will first wish to capture the Frenchman and the Scarecrow afterwards. Now then, give me some more brandy and we'll lay our plans.”
A few days later, the Admiral, in response to Doctor Syn's request, was graciously pleased to show the learned cleric over his flagship. The Vicar greatly amused the Admiral with his innocent questions, his wonder, and his terror at having to climb rope ladders.
When all the mysteries of such a great ship of the line had been explained, Doctor Syn was led to the Admiral's cabin to partake of sherry before dining. It was while they were sipping their wine, and the parson was plying the Admiral with questions, that the old sea-dog picked up a paper from his chart-table. It was sealed, and on inquiry no one seemed to know who had placed it there.
Certainly the innocent parson with his naive questions on nautical matters was never suspected. He continued to blink through his spectacles at the wonders around him, till the Admiral broke the seal and roared out, “Of all the unparalleled pieces of impertinence!”
“Why, whatever—?” asked the parson.
“Your Romney Marsh scoundrel,” roared on the Admiral. “Listen, I'll read it to you. Tomorrow night, whatever sea may be running, I will be lying off the fairway opposite the entrance of Dover harbour, with my bow down Channel. I will signal you with a flasher. Three long and two shorts, till you reply. If you wish me to do what apparently the King's Navy cannot do, you will follow my stern lantern, which will be orange, at two cables' length, and I, the Scarecrow, will show you that I can capture this impertinent Frenchman Delacroix. I will further hand him over to you and thank you to keep him prisoner so that he cannot rob me of any more of my cargoes of contraband.
Now, Doctor Syn, did you ever hear such bragging nonsense in your life?”
Doctor Syn blinked through his spectacles and then replied mildly.
“Bragging? Well, I don't know. This Scarecrow, whoever he may be, has a curious knack of keeping his word, and if he captures this Frenchman for you, I fail to see that you will have cause of complaint.”
“Upon my soul,” retorted the Admiral, “I believe I shall go.”
“Of course you will,” replied Doctor Syn. “I cannot imagine you missing such an adventure.”
“You're right,” replied the old sea-dog. “I will not miss it. And if you've the mind, why, tomorrow night I'll give you a berth aboard the Vengeance and you shall see the fun too.” Doctor Syn shook his head. “And what should the old parson do in the midst of fighting men? No, sir, I am too fond of peace, aye, and of the land too.”
