Текст книги "The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN "

Автор книги: Russell Thorndike

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5

THE SCARECROW FACES MUTINY

Although the revenue authorities were perfectly aware that the Romney Marsh Nightriders owed their continued

success to the amazing audacity of their leader, the Scarecrow, they did not know that this Phantom horseman, as

many supposed him to be, owed his safety to the extreme caution he displayed when moving amongst his

parishioners as Doctor Syn. The Vicar of Dymchurch could go out upon the Marsh by night as well as by day

without suspicion.

It was generally accepted that this Parson was a man who took his cure of souls very seriously, and to be seen

riding slowly back to his Vicarage in the early hours of the morning, was to him but an occasion for having further

blessings poured upon his head. A good man who claimed the sorrows of the humblest cottager as his own, and

regarded the lowest hovel with the same importance as he did the Court House where the Squire resided. His

genuine affection for young and old, his geniality, wisdom and uprightness, had created in the minds of all a saint

who has as great an influence upon the Marsh for good as the scarecrow had, in the same district, for evil. Even

those secret ones who were made rich by the dark activities of the Nightriders were fearful that their mysterious

leader might one day seek revenge upon their good old vicar, who considered it his duty to attack the crime

smuggling from the pulpit. But for all the Parson’s exhortations, greed, fear, and amongst the younger a love of

adventure, prevented any of the contraband runners from betraying their leader to the fearless old Doctor of Divinity

they loved.

Little did they know that all these admirable qualities in Doctor Syn ensured the safety of the Scarecrow. Only

the Sexton and the Highwayman, his close lieutenants, knew with what careful foresight the Parson proceeded to

keep his double identity secure.

His strictest rule was a complete separation of his two personalities, both so strong in their own way. And to this

end it was only in a state of great emergency that he allowed the figure of the Scarecrow to darken even secretly the

closeness of the Vicarage. As Doctor Syn he would leave his home, and as Doctor Syn he would return. What

happened to him during those absences was his own good business, and not ques tioned.

In their admiration, begrudged and yet sincere, the authorities in London wondered how the Scarecrow, with the

vast organization of hides and runners on the London road, was able to control the vaster plotting necessary across

the channel with the hated French. The luggers left some destination unknown except to him, on time and tide

which he ordained.

With French spies rife in London the Admiralty commissioned Bow Street Runners to obtain information from

these agents, not on political questions, but for some clue to lead them to the French headquarters of the scarecrow’s

shipping. That the Scarecrow had to visit France from time to time they guesses, and the packet-boats were watched

for anyone who might be him. They were cute enough to guess right. The Scarecrow did have to visit France, and

on those occasions Doctor Syn was forced to find an alibi for his clerical absence. This was simple. The Vicar of

Dymchurch was also the Dean of Peculiars, and in that capacity had to journey like bishops and archdeacons

amongst the clergy under him.

As the clergy of the Marshes affirmed in his praise, the good and generous cleric over them never grudged

spending some days in an endeavour to assist some remote parish. Therefore, when it became necessary for the

Scarecrow to visit France, Doctor Syn arranged a temporary leave from his parish in order to undertake some remote

visitation. On such occasion, Mipps accompanied him as his servant.

Doctor Syn’s parochial visitations took him frequently across the Sussex border to occupy the pulpit in the

picturesque town of Rye, in which resided many French families, descended from the Huguenot refugees, who had

never returned across the Channel. A thriving trade was done with these exiles by the onion boys, who with their

long poles and French blouses were a familiar sight to the townsfolk.

In Dymchurch, however, the onion boy was as rare a sight as an American Indian, so one day when an onion

bearer came slouching along the sea-wall and asked for the house of Monsieur Mipps, a crowd of laughing and

inquisitive school children accompanied him to the Coffin Shop, where Mipps soon sent them about their business.

Along with the sexton the boy asked, “Monsieur Mipps?” To which Mipps answered, “Monsieur Mipps, moi,

but I don’t want no onions.” From the string the boy detached one onion and handed it to the Sexton, who shook his

head emphatically.

The boy nodded vigorously and said, “Regardez.” With his little finger he pushed the on ion from the bottom,

peeled off the outer skin, and Mipps saw a small row of parchment sticking out from the top of the bulb. As he drew

it out the boy said, “L’Epouvantail.”

“And that’s Froggy for Scarecrow,” said Mipps. “A message, eh? That’s queer. Well, I’ll see it gets to him, and

find you a penny for your pains.

To make his promise good, Mipps retired to the back of the shop and found a penny from his secret store, but on

returning the onion boy had gone, and Mipps realized that he had not understood a word he had said. So with a

penny to the good he unrolled the parchment, only to find it was French writing. Curious to know what it was all

about, he decided to seek out the Vicar at once, knowing that the writing would not trouble Doctor Syn who could

write and speak French as well as English.

The Sexton found the Vicar in his study at work on a sermon, which he interrupted by telling the adventure of the

onion.

“To write letters is not encouraged in the Scarecrow’s legion.” Whispered Syn when he had signed to Mipps to

lock the door. “It must be something serious. Give it to me.”

The note was written in print hand, and Doctor Syn translated it to Mipps as he read.

“THE SCARECROW’S ORDERS FOR NEXT RUN MUST BE CANCELLED. OUR PRISONERS HAVE

MUTINIED AND SEIZED BOTH STORES AND ARMOURY. THEY DEMAND A LUGGER IN WHICH TO

RETURN TO ENGLAND AND FREEDOM. OTHERWISE THEY HOLD OUT, WHICH THEY CAN WEE DO

FOR SIX MONTHS OR MORE. THEIR ARMS COMMAND THE QUAY. THEY FIRE ON ANY MAN WHO

CROSSES IT. ANY COMMUNICATION IS MADE THROUGH THEIR WOMEN-FOLK. BY THE WAY THE

LAST PRISONER, HART, IS WITH THEM, AND HIS WIFE AND BABY REACHED HERE SAFELY. WE

CANNOT LOAD OUR CARGO. WE ARE SHORTHANDED AND UNDER THREATENED ATTACK. WE

HAVE GREAT NEED OF L’EPOUVANTAIL. YOUR SERVANT, DULOGE.”

Doctor Syn looked at Mipps and said quietly, “It is the first time that our prisoners have taken concerted action

against us.”

“Do you think it’s young Hart that’s put fight into ‘em?” asked Mipps. “The rest have all been there a long time.

Some of ‘em a very long time. Broken men with no hope and no spirit.”

Doctor Syn nodded. “Aye, Mipps. When I last saw them I thought of them as ghosts. Ghosts of their former

selves. But what could we do other than what we did? They were traitors all. As each one was tried by the Nightriders, he knew they deserved death, too. They were given their choice. Each man chose exile. Their lot might

have been far worse. Their wives and in some cases their children were kidnapped and sent after them, and those

who repented and promised loyal service in the future, were allowed married quarters. There was never complaint

against their rations. They live better than they would on Romney Marsh. True they have to work, and work harder

than they might have had to do at home, but they must never forget that they are working out their own salvation, for

I think the sin of treachery will be the most grievous count against a sinner in the Latter Day. There is something

behind this mutiny. I cannot think it is Hart. He expected to be sent to the Plantations by Captain Blain, when we

rescued him. He then expected death at our hands. Instead of which the wife and child he loved have been sent to

him in safety. At his trial at the Oast House he was penitent and grateful for the mercy shown him. Well, we must

go to France and look into it.”

“Let’s see,” said Mipps, “there’s eighteen prisoners besides hart, and all ablebodied men. That means we must

take our biggest boat, for we’ll need some thirty of our men to raise this ‘ere siege.”

Doctor Syn smiled and shook his head. “You and I, with the help of Duloge, will be enough to raise ‘this ‘ere

siege, as you call it.”

“I meant ‘that there siege,’ Vicar. Sorry,” replied Mipps, grinning. “But what about Jimmie Bone? He speaks

French same as you only not so good, and he knows the place well. He’ll want to come with us, too.”

“But I want him here, Mipps. He is the only one we can trust to take the Scarecrow’s place. Remember, Captain

Blain is still here, and we must not let him think that his presence has scared the Scarecrow. We will sail for France

tonight. I’ll go to the Squire now and tell him I am bound for Rye, and may not be back for a day or so.”

“And what are we going to Rye for this time?” asked Mipps. “We ain’t due to preach there, you know, till next

month.”

“You forget the confirmation candidates,” replied Syn. “The young people are so important. The future pillars

of the parishes, my good Mipps. I think I should tell them myself what a privilege it is for them to have the

Archbishop himself willing to lay his hands upon their heads.”

“All right, sir,” grinned Mipps. “Just so long as I know. I’ll tell Dymchurch that I has to go along with you all

the way to Sussex to tell the young ‘uns that the Aggerbagger is coming along to tap ‘em on the skulls hisself.”

“Aye, Mipps,” laughed Syn, “a little grumbling on your part will not be amiss. Neither will it be amiss if Jimmie

Bone dressed as the Scarecrow is seen by Captain Blain riding the Marsh while we’re away. We must be in the

mouth of the Somme by daybreak, and for that the wind sets fair. Name ten men for the lugger, with you and I to

navigate. We will not waste time and tide, but come back with a run of good cargo. I’ll instruct Jimmie Bone in the

hidden stable tonight before we set out for France.”

That night a lugger went out with the tide from Littlestone Beach. Five of the ten Nightriders aboard took the

first watch while their fellows rested in the fo’c’sle. The Scarecrow himself set the course, and kept the helm till

three in the morning when he called Mipps from the aft cabin.

“Hellspite, you will wake me at dawn,” he ordered, “when we shall be within the mouth of the Somme.”

“Aye, aye, Scarecrow,” replied Mipps beneath the hideous devil’s mask, which every Nightrider wore when on

the Scarecrow’s business.

The night was pitch dark, and the lugger showed no lights, so that she was hailed neither by ship not boat until

just as dawn was breaking in the river-mouth a throaty tenor voice echoed across the calm water with the cry of

“L’Epouvantail.”

Although the water on the shelter of the river-mouth was smooth, there was a breeze stirring which rapidly

brought the two vessels closer, the lugger and a fishing boat carrying a lug sail.

Through his mask, which looked more than ever hideous in the fair growing light, Mipps hailed back, and then

gave orders for heaving to so that the smaller boat could fetch up alongside. He then went to the cabin and roused

Doctor Syn.

“If I know Duloge, he will be in this boat that’s hailed us,” said the doctor, adjusting his Scarecrow mask. “And

what is more, I know why he is there. In all the years I’ve worked with him I find I can admire him more and more.

Perhaps this is conceit, but his brain always works in accord with mine own. What he does under certain

emergencies, why, so do I, and vice versa. We think along the same courses. Duloge is in that boat because he

wants to head us off before we enter our harbour. He has evidently something important to tell us, and he has timed

our arrival with his usual skill. Help him aboard and bring him here, where we can talk in private, for we must

know the situation before we land.”

Duloge was a colossal creature, who on rare occasions of necessity looked magnificent in rough clothes, when he

would shame his servants’ manhood by lifting casks and stowing them, while four men working on one cask at a

time took longer.

His appearance in more normal times, however, was marred by his love of effeminate finery. Descended from a

long line of ancestors who owed their name to the sea fortress which they had held for centuries, the present master

of castle and harbour liked to dress in the latest mode from Court, which, as Doctor Syn told Mipps, ill-became the

grand old bull. Even his booming voice he trained to a languid tenor in order to show his fellows an aristocratic

superiority. He was rich, because his ancestors had been sea rovers, which was a gentlemanly term for pirates, and

since casting in his valuable lot with the Scarecrow, he had become much richer. His vanity in clothes had

persuaded him to spend most of the night in an open boat dressed as thought he might have been attending a Royal

levee. A contrast indeed to the fantastic rags of the Scarecrow who received him in the dirty aft cabin of the lugger.

Their meeting was cordial, and while Mipps served them with brandy their conversation was carried out in

French, Doctor Syn explaining in English the vital points to his lieutenant.

The Frenchman concluded with: “My dear L’epouvantail, although the situation is annoying and the rascals think

they have the whip hand, this is not so. True they hold the stores of liquor and food, and with the weapons from the

armoury could sustain a siege, but against that they are also houses with the powder magazine, and if I chose to

jeopardize the safety of my chateau, I can blow them to their Kingdom Come whenever I feel disposed. As you

know, the store-house was at one time the kitchen of the old castle, before the present chateau was built. In the roof

there is a secret door which opens into the great chimney. The disused hearth is stacked with powder down, which

they would think surely to drop loose powder down, which they would think but soot, and at our convenience lay a

train across the roof and through the door. I think the chateau walls would bear the shock somewhat easier than they

could. Since the rascals watch the windows I thought of letting myself down into the fireplace and surprising the

vermin from the back. With my back to the powder barrels they would dread to fire, and my long sword would have

been a match against their cutlasses. That was an alternative against the powder train.”

“I should have thought of that myself,” replied Doctor Syn.

“But I couldn’t put it into practice,” explained the Frenchman, “by reason of my cursed girth. I found I should

need more powder than I had to blow me through the secret door. It’s small, quite small.”

“But Mipps and I could do it,” said Doctor Syn, “and when we spring our surprise, you could attack them from

the front with my ten Nightriders.”

Duloge nodded. “I envy you your part in it. Surprises are enchanting, but fat men find them difficult. With a

rope a thin man could be lowered without noise.”

Duloge then explained that his chief reason for meeting the lugger was to prevent them from steering into the

harbour, which would have put them under the direct fire of the mutineers, and he now proposed that they should

stand in as near as possible and then land the crew from his own boat upon a beach protected from the store-house

by the harbour wall, adding that this could be done the quicker by using another fishing boat which was beached

close to the spot where he proposed to land them

Since time was important in order that if all went well Doctor Syn and his men could make their return voyage

that night, both vessels were headed towards the distant harbour of Duloge. While Mipps looked after this, the two

leaders remained in the cabin and elaborated their plan of attack.

As it was broad daylight when the first boat-load touched the beach, it was useless to attempt concealment, since

the windows of the row of white cottages set aside for the prisoners’ married quarters faced the sea, and despite the

early hour a crowd of women and children were discussing the arrival of the Kent lugger. This fact, however,

Doctor Syn turned to his own advantage, and only waited till all his men were landed before putting it into

execution. The landing took longer than Duloge had hoped because the other fishing boat he had counted on was

nowhere t o be seen. He conjectured that his own servants must have taken her out to catch fish for his table.

At the head of his men the Scarecrow strode up the beach and confronted the women, while Duloge went to the

chateau to find a rope. In a stern voice he addressed them. “I am sorry you have allowed your men to mutiny, when

I have treated them with mercy. Well, my punishment will be as sudden as their revolt. You may think I have

brought my Nightriders here for the purpose of attack. That would be foolish, since we have but to show ourselves

upon the quay to be fired at from the cover of the store-house. I am too fond of my faithful followers for that. No.

They are here to remove you all, women and children, from your comfortable cottages. You will be taken aboard

the lugger to a destination unknown to you menfolk. It is a fitting punishment that they shall never set eyes on you

again. You will be prisoners in another chateau belonging to Monsieur Duloge. It is far from here, and guarded by

rough and desperate men. There will be no comfort there. Nothing but prison walls, hard work, scanty food, and no

husbands or fathers.”

“That they may know your fate and theirs I will allow you half an hour to visit them and say farewell for ever.

You will go to them now, and when I fire a pistol as a signal, you will take immediate leave in order to get aboard

with your children. Any by the way, you can add this for their comfort. With great care and upon the shortest

commons they may hold the siege for six months. Then they may starve for all we care, since other arrangements

have been made to keep our cargo trade alive. But tell them that although they successfully surprised Monsiuer

Duloge, that clever French gentleman is no fool, and can turn the tables any time we think fitting, since beneath the

cobble-stones of the store-house floor there is a powerful mine of gunpowder ready trained to prevent our valuable

consignments from falling into enemy hands. Go now. You have but half an hour.”

When the women and children, including Fred Hart’s wife carrying her baby, had disappeared round the corner

of the quay, the Scarecrow ordered his men to await the command of Duloge, and signing Hellspite to accompany

him, he strode towards the chateau. Here they met Duloge carrying a length of rope, who led them by way of the

stables and cowsheds to an outside staircase which brought them on to the roof of the store-house.

As he pointed to a small oak door, concealed behind a flying buttress of the great chimney, doctor Syn whispered

to Mipps: “Do you hear their chattering panic? Of course the women will never leave their men, but they’ll be

mightily in their way when we surprise them.”

Duloge unlocked the little door, which let out a babel of voices from beneath. Peering down into the chimney he

let down one end of the rope to the required length, making fast the other round the buttress, for Doctor Syn

preferred to climb down rather than be lowered, and the deep embrasure of the chimney corner hid the rope.

Taking a silent farewell to Duloge they watched him go down the staircase and meet half a dozen of his servants

armed with muskets. Giving him time to join the Nightriders, they waited, peering down into the chimney. They

could not see any of the mutineers, for, ignorant of the small door, they had not considered placing a watch in the

hearth. Slowly and silently Doctor Syn lowered himself through the little door, gripped the rope and slid down

behind the powder barrels. Mipps followed. They had landed safely and without attracting attention, for the noise

in the store-house was deafening.

All were talking at once. Some arguing that they would do well to keep the women and children with them and

save them from the voyage on the lugger, and others saying that it was better to let them go in case the Scarecrow

ordered the store-house to be blown up. This set some of them to work upon the floor in order to discover if

possible where the mine was hid.

When Syn slipped round the barrels and stood behind them in the centre of the hearth, he saw several of them

trying to dig up cobbles with their cutlass points. The married ones were fondling their wives and children. He

noticed Fred Hart with tears streaming down his face as his wife was showing him their baby. One of the window

guards had left his musket against the wall and was stroking the hair of his ten-year-old daughter. The other guard

was more zealous to his duty, and was watching the quay with his barrel resting on the window-sill and his finger on

the trigger. He at least was prepared for a sudden attack. But not from behind, and no one was more surprised than

he when he knew that the Scarecrow’s pistol had picked his trigger hand for his target. A sharp pain which made

him cry out above the deafening reports of the Scarecrow’s pistol and his own musket, which he fired

spasmodically.

The terrified cries of ‘The Scarecrow,’ as men and women turned to see the Avenger in their midst, were allowed

by his hard voice.

“We shoot to kill the first man who moves!”

Had any man been brave enough to take him at his threat, he would not have been able to , for the women saw

the two figures with pistols in each hand, and they clung to their husbands desperately, while the children huddled to

them in terror.

“This will teach you what you should have known,” went on the hard voice, “that you cannot play the Scarecrow

false. Look behind you.”

The two small windows bristled with barrels held by the Nightriders and the servants of Duloge. That colossal

dandy had been quick and silent in attack.

“And now for the cause of this mutiny,” said the Scarecrow. “I must have the reason and the ringleader. You

have raised no complaint before. Fred Hart was the last to be condemned and sent here. Was it you, Fred Hart?”

Before he could answer another spoke for him. “No, Scarecrow. Fred Hart owned he deserved his punishment,

and only asked us whether we thought the Scarecrow would keep his word and send over his wife and child. From

the first he was against the mutiny, and only joined because we all did.”

There was a long silence, during which the hideous head of the Scarecrow slowly faced each mutineer in turn.

Then he spoke again. “The ringleader in Handgrove. He has been betrayed two of his fellow Nightriders to the

authorities, after extorting monies from them under threat of exposure. If you remember I rescued those tow men,

his victims, from the Dymchurch cells, and sent Handgrove here for life. Handgrove is the ringleader, but Fred Hart

is to blame. Now listen, Hart. Because of your wife and child, I am once more inclined to be merciful to you, and

to you all. Not so to Handgrove. Where is he?”

No one answered.

“I see,” went on the Scarecrow. “You do not know where he is, eh?”

A sullen chorus of ‘No’ from the mutineers.

“But you know where he has gone, eh?”

The mutineers looked at one another uneasily, but no one spoke.

The Scarecrow continued, “Monsieur Duloge, will you ask your servants who took your missing fishing boat?”

Duloge turned from the open window and jabbered in French to the servants behind him. Then, with no attempt

to conceal his panic, he cried out through the window: “None of my people had the boat. My God! Then it means”

The Scarecrow completed his sentence: “It means that these men shut themselves up in this store -house to

conceal Handgrove’s absence. It means that Fred Hart told his fellow-prisoners of the huge reward offered to

anyone who could break up our gang. It also means the Handgrove has sailed in that boat to lay the information

about this place. Am I right, Fred Hart?”

“Aye, Scarecrow,” replied Hart. “He sailed last night. He is going to the Admiralty to appeal for a rescue ship to

bring these missing families back to England. He will stipulate for a free pardon for all here.”

“You will now lay down your arms,” said the Scarecrow. “All of you will load the lugger. We will not sail with

an empty cargo-hold. The women and children will return to the cottages, which, by the way, are all undermined,

and Monsieur Duloge intends to blow them up if he perceives the least sign of mutiny again. Remember that you

are in our hands, not we in yours. I sail tonight, but shall return in person for the next cargo which will be run in a

few days’ time, when I shall require all prisoners to attend the execution of Handgrove. Unbar the door and get to

your work.”

Leaving Mipps and the Nightriders to see to the loading of the contraband, the scarecrow and Duloge walked to

the chateau for dinner.

“That was a good idea of yours,” said Duloge, “about the undermining of the cottages. Shall I get my servants to

put that work in hand?”

“Why worry?” aske d the Scarecrow. “They believe it. But you look very troubled, my friend. Why?”

Why?” repeated the Frenchman. ‘Is not this Handgrove on his way to your Admiralty?”

“But it is a long way to London by open boat,” replied the Scarecrow. “He had provisions, of course, but no

money for the road it he lands at a nearer point. Unless he sells the boat to buy a horse.”

“He will do that if he is wise,” said Duloge.

“But the price of a boat will not buy such an animal as I shall ride,” laughed Doctor Syn. “The lugger, too, is

fast. I think that I shall catch him.”

“And if you do not?” asked Duloge ruefully.

“Then I shall wait for him inside the Admiralty,” was Doctor Syn’s reply. “Take heart, my friend,” he added

cheerily. “We have done well. Today we quell a mutiny. Tomorrow we must catch a traitor.”