The service over, everyone crowded out after the Cobtree ladies through the porch, for the squire had gone to the vestry. Merry sat huddled in his corner, intending to wait till the parishioners dispersed to their dinners.
The sexton avoided him and went to the vestry. The beadle had already avoided him and followed the Uptons into the churchyard to see what devilry they might not be up to.
But one man came along the aisle, and said: “Hallo.”
It was the Preventive Officer.
“A popular man, this Dr. Syn. The whole village is waiting for him out in the churchyard. I wonder if he's going to be for me or against me?”
“How should I know?” growled Merry.
“If he's for me, he'll lose his popularity quick, I know that,” said the Preventive man.
“Still of the opinion that smuggling's going on then,” replied Merry.
“So much so that I could have walked round this blessed church this morning and clapped my hands on all that's in it,” declared the officer.
“Then why didn't you do it?” demanded Merry. “I would, in your shoes. I'd give much to have your chance of getting my own back on 'em. Sneery lot of hypocrites. Oh, and make no mistake—they sneer at you just as they do at me.”
“I know that,” nodded the other.
“Then string 'em up and sneer back,” retorted Merry. “Ain't you got the laws of England and the whole blessed Constitootion at the back of you?”
“I've no one at the back of me, I tell you. What's the good of knowing who they are unless I can prove it, and how am I to prove it in the Dymchurch Court House? There's only one man they'd let me hang, and that's you.”
“Supposin' you had grounds, which you haven't,” corrected Merry.
“But I'll get 'em one day,” muttered the Preventive man.
“Aye, by God, and so will I,” cried Merry. “Suppose now I was to give you the proof you wants.”
“It would have to be 'proof absolute,' with you as witness, or you'd find yourself on the gallows before the lawyers had finished with you, aye, and I'd find myself dismissed the service for making the Government look foolish. No, it ain't so easy, my friend. There's some cases where duty towards the Government is to is to keep the peace by leavin' hornets' nests alone.”
“Bah,” cried Merry with disgust. “A man of courage routs 'em out. I would.”
“And so may I—one day,” replied the officer.
“And so, by God, I will—one night,” retorted Merry.
“Well, don't get caught up by no lawyers,” enjoined the other. “Leastways, not on Romney Marsh.”
Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the gentlemen from the vestry. Dr. Sennacharib Pepper, as people's warden and the squire as vicar's warden, had been counting the offertory with the help of the clerk of the Level. In lieu of any survivors from the wreck other than Dr. Syn, the offertory, which had been substantial, was to be devoted to Meg Clouder.
Dr. Pepper had expressed his doubts whether it was seemly to donate a church offertory towards funds for a tavern, but the squire had overruled him with: “Tavern be damned. It's to a poor young widow whose husband died in the service of his fellow-men. Besides, what's wrong with taverns? Nothing.”
They were still arguing on this theme as they walked slowly from the chancel into the body of the church.
Dr. Syn, still in his robes, left the group and approached Merry.
“Ah, Mr. Merry,” he said pleasantly, “I am glad to see you here. Another time, remember about that hat, won't you? And by the way, I have a little proposition to make to you which I fancy will be to your advantage.”
Then he looked at the Preventive man and held out his hand. “And are you a parishioner?”
“I'm the Preventive Officer here, sir.”
“Delighted to know you then,” went on Dr. Syn. “You hold a position of great responsibility. Keeping us all up to the mark in our loyalty to His Majesty's Government, eh? But I am quite sure that from what I saw of the parish this morning that they do not give King George's officers any trouble.”
“Appearances are sometimes on the deceiving side, sir,” returned the other ambiguously.
“Oh, come now,” argued Dr. Syn, “surely the men of Romney Marsh are loyal enough? I was delighted at the fervency of the amens when I prayed for the King's Majesty and the Royal family.”
“There's many a man, sir, who serves God 'cos it pays him to—”
“And quite right,” said Dr. Syn. “It should pay to be good and it always does.”
But the Preventive man was not to be drawn into argument. He was only stating facts as he saw them, so he went on: “And there's many men, most men hereabouts, I'll say that for 'em, who are loyal enough to the King. In time of war they'll fight and none better, but when they say 'Honour the King' they adds—”
“But first maintain the Wall?” queried the doctor. “Well, that's natural.”
“No, sir, they adds, 'and to Hell with the Revenue officers.'“
“I should be grieved to hear such a sentiment indeed,” replied the doctor.
“You'll hear it if you listens. Good day, sir.” And the officer strolled out of the church.
“Now, let me see, Mr. Merry,” went on the parson, “what exactly is your work?”
“I told you last night—odd jobs.”
“That's not very satisfactory, I'll be bound. Odd jobs mean odd payments, and surely it's better to have something regular. Now you'll work for me. As soon as certain documents come through from Canterbury, I shall be taking up my quarters at the vicarage. Once there, you will attend daily to the garden and carry messages; in fact, you will be my out-of-door lieutenant. Your pay shall be gone into, and fairly. In the meantime, whether I am vicar here or not, and for the moment I am legally but locum tenens, you will apply your elbow grease to the brass-work in the church. I am particular that brass should shine and good wood reflect a polish. You will start that to-morrow. In the meanwhile, I have put your name down on the list of subscribers for poor Mrs. Clouder. You have given a guinea, you understand. The rest of the captain's money has gone the same way, with the exception of what I have set aside for his grave and funeral, for which I feel responsible.”
“Easy to feel responsible over money what don't belong to you, ain't it?” growled Merry.
“Perhaps so,” replied the doctor pleasantly, “but in this case I happen to be responsible as executor for my good friend the captain, who on board the City of London, whether having a premonition of disaster or no who can say, asked me to act for him in the event of his death.”
“And what of his relatives, eh? His dependants?” asked Merry.
“I think that had the captain's belt remained around your waist, they would not have benefited much. As it happens, he had no relations or dependents, and I was pledged to see that such money as he had should be divided amongst the last crew he might happen to command. So you see, there was I, thanks to your dirty work, an executor with no one living to attend. Knowing the captain, I guessed that he would approve of the way I have handled his property.”
“I see,” replied Merry sarcastically. “And I start doin' church work to-morrow, do I?”
“We'll put it like that when you are a little more worthy,” replied Dr. Syn. “In the meanwhile, we will put it like this: From to-morrow you will give up odd jobs and work under my direction, and you will find yourself the richer. And while I think of it. The widow of poor Abel Clouder—”
“Aye, what of her?” demanded Merry.
“Like many other people in the village, she fails to understand you. I hope this lack of appreciation is merely due to the fact that your worth is not yet proved. But don't despair. We shall have you a pattern citizen yet—”
“I ain't goin' to be converted by no parson, so don't you think it.”
“But I do think it,” replied the doctor. “In fact, I'll lay my last guinea on it. However, in view of the fact that Mrs. Clouder is under a dreadful shock, I must forbid you to approach her. If you see her about in the village, you must turn another way. When you are in need of refreshment, you will go to the 'Ship Inn', or to the 'Ocean.' And talking of drink, you will in future, only drink in public. The habit of drinking brandy in your own room is not good for you. A publican is responsible for your sobriety, as you are not yet in a state to be responsible for yourself.”
“Oh, and any more orders?” sneered Merry.
“Not at present. But remember what I have said about Mrs. Clouder. If you trouble her but once, I shall repent the fact that I have saved you from the gallows, and the moment I repent of that, Mr. Merry, why, as God's my Judge, you shall hang there. So remember and go easy with the brandy. Goodbye, my good man. God bless.” And the parson hurried away to join the squire.
