The COURAGEOUS EXPLOITS OF DOCTOR SYN - Thorndike Russell - Страница 23

Vicarage, when he was dining with you, how difficult it was to get things settled quick-like at the Admiralty? We’ll

get time, with luck.”

Before Mipps left his master to take over the watch, they discussed their plans in full detail. Mipps raised two

objections.

“Even to save time, Vicar,” he said, “it’s madness for Doctor Syn to ride Gehenna. The Scarecrow’s horse

should never be associated with you. Gehenna must attract attention. An animal in a thousand. Even by riding on

the secluded road, as you must, someone is sure to notice you.”

Doctor Syn shook his head. “I cannot borro w from the Squire’s stable because I am believed to be in Rye.

Besides, he has nothing so fast or so strong as Gehenna. And certainly if I were to take side lanes and bridle paths, I

should be noticed, as you say. No, I shall drop you at Ashford before dawn and then ride up on the Dover road. It

will be faster going, and the turnpike keepers are well used to fast-mounted messengers riding on the King’s

business between Dover and London. And there is one man I can trust to hide Gehenna in the city. The landlord of

the Mitre Inn will see to him. Is he not one of our biggest receivers? He would only put a rope round the his neck if

he betrayed us. Besides, old Bubukles makes too much profit from us to do any such piece of stupidity. Any by the

way, Mipps, I have always found that the truth is safer than a lie. In case the Squire takes it into his head to ride

over to the Mermaid Inn at Rye to visit me, as he sometimes does, you will leave a letter for him at the Ashford

coaching office for the down mail. I will write it now, telling him that I have to visit the Archbishop at Lambeth.

Fortunately His grace is there, and I shall make the confirmation candidates at Rye my excuse for being in London.

Now help me to finish this bottle and then on deck with you. I know that you can snatch some sleep upon the

coach.”

The bottle finished, Mipps left his master chuckling over his letter to the Squire of Dymchurch.

Now Captain Blain, billeted at the Vicarage as the guest of Doctor Syn, was most anxious to see his host come

back from Rye, since during the night of his departure he had been awakened by the noise of horsemen. Cautiously

peering through the shutters, he had seen the Scarecrow himself, with some half-dozen Nightriders. He had seen

one of them dismount and write with a piece of chalk upon the stable door. Determining if possible to wing the

Scarecrow, he had crossed to his bed to snatch his loaded pistol from under the pillow, but as he returned to open the

shutters and the casement a shot had struck one of the diamond-shaped panes, and by the time he had recovered

from his rage and his surprise, he saw the Phantom Horseman riding away into the Marsh. Groping his way

downstairs, he had found a lantern and had gone out to examine the writing upon the stable door. Signed with the

Crude sketch of a Scarecrow, the chalk message read, “Friday, low, tide.”

He was glad he had crept from the house, because the next morning the chalk message had disappeared. So upon

that Tuesday he told the Bos’n that the men would have no night duty till Friday. Clever as he had proved himself,

Captain Blain never suspected that the message had been written for his benefit, and his alone. Anyway there were

no revenue men out upon the Tuesday night when the lugger ran ashore at Littlestone, was met by the

Highwayman, impersonating the Scarecrow, and all the valuable cargo of good brandy was landed safely and carried

across the Marsh on pack-ponies to the ‘hides’ upon Lympne Hill.

Half an hour after the last keg had been safely stowed, and the pack-ponies had been dispersed to their various

stables, Gehenna the Scarecrow’s famous horse, was being saddled by Jimmie Bone, the Highwayman, in the secret

underground stable, adjacent to Old Mother Handaway’s hovel and farmyard, in the lonely centre of the Marshland.

The Scarecrow changed from his fantastic rage into the elegant black clericals of Doctor Syn. Hellspite similarly

became once more the respectably dressed servant, Mipps, who had helped the Highwayman to attack loaded

holsters and saddle-bags to Gehenna’s harness. Into the deep pockets of guineas, and having given Mipps the letter

which he was to post by the down mail from Ashford for the Squire, declared himself ready for the road. The great

horse was led out of the stable. The door was secured behind them, and the Doctor leapt into the saddle, Mipps

scrambling up behind him.

Bending down from the saddle, Doctor Syn gripped the Highwayman’s hand and whispered: “See that further

hints of a great run reach Captain Blain and the Kings’s men for Friday. But there will be no run of course. It may

take some days to run Handgrove to earth.”

“I hope you may get him, sir, replied Jimmie Bone, “alive or dead.”

“ If he lives we shall get him alive,” said Doctor Syn, “and after see him dead. Our luck will hold good. Within the

last twenty-four hours we have crossed the Channel, put down a dangerous mutiny, unearthed the plot of a rascal,

and run a good cargo of contraband. And now we ride on the track of the rascal, and I doubt not that we shall pull

him down. Good-bye.”

Despite his double load, Gehenna broke immediately into a gallop and thundered away across the Marsh.

It was still night when Mipps slid from Gehenna’s back and bade his master farewell outside the town of

Ashford.

The Doctor Syn rode hard. With his hat pulled well down over his eyes, and a black scarf hiding his chin, no one

would have thought that this magnificently mounted gentleman in the black, well-cut riding coat, was a country

parson. His rapid progress was misunderstood, for at every turnpike he would bend low in the saddle and whisper to

the keeper: “There are French spies abroad. I ride on the King’s business. Should any question you, as to whether I

have passed on this black horse, you will shake your head. You are, I take it, loyal enough to welcome and bury

King George’s secrets with one of his guinea spades? You have not seen me pass, eh?”

The turnpike keepers only wished that such messengers could ride upon the King’s business every day.

Gehenna reached Ely Place before dinner-time, and was safely lodged with mine host of the ‘Mitre.’ Half an

hour later the Vicar of Dymchurch sat in the waiting-room of the Admiralty in Whitehall, having requested an

interview with Admiral Troubridge.

Having the profoundest respect for the brave parson who had from every pulpit of the Romney Marsh, publicly

attacked the crime of smuggling, the old sea-dog did not keep him waiting. In fact, he was delighted to see him.

“We are desolated, my dear Admiral,” said the parson, “that you have left Dover for the Admiralty. I fear that

your successor will not be interested enough to back me up against these smugglers that give our Marsh villages so

bad a name. Had you remained in our vicinity, I think that between us we might have got the better of them. But I

fear I tire you. You have now greater responsibilities, and cannot be interested, even in our notorious Scarecrow.”

“On the contrary, Reverend Sir,” beamed the Admiral, “I always asked you for information when I was at Dover,

and I take it you have called upon me now to give me some. I shall welcome it and you, for I am still resolved to

catch this Scarecrow of the Marsh.”

“I fear, sir,” replied Doctor Syn, “that my purpose in London is to call upon His Grace of Canterbury at Lambeth.

I shall have to repot to His Grace that since your leaving us the Scarecrow has been more daring than ever. I fear