Doctor Syn A Smuggler Tale of the Romney Marsh (12 page)

181

but still a corruption of the same old tune, which he roared and screamed in the very whirlwind of his uncontrolled madness:

“And all that isn’t ripped by the sharks outside Stands up again upon its feet upon the running tide.”

Taking the prostate body, he lifted it on to its feet and leered into its face; then letting go of it, he watched it fall and collapse in a heap.

“And it kept a-bowing gently and alooking with surprise At the little crabs a-scrambling from the sockets of its eyes.”

The captain then shouted, shouted at the top of his voice, and tore at the fast, firm shutter. The song ceased in the room. The light once more went out of

182

the jagged hole, and there was the noise of a falling body. Probably the girl had fainted. The shutters were strong and wouldn’t give.

“The back door!” shrieked the terrified Jerry. “The back door is open!” And around the back rushed the captain, followed by the boy. And as he ran he blew three shrill calls upon a silver whistle that he carried on a chain. The whistle was answered with another, and before the captain had found and opened the back door, the captain’s bo’sun had appeared from the bushes, followed by a strong party of the King’s men. The bo’sun made a light from his tinder box, and as they were finding a candle in the back kitchen they could hear some one moving about in the sitting-room.

183

Thank God somebody’s brought a light, for I don’t know what hasn’t happened here. Ah, Captain, it’s you, is it?” The speaker was Doctor Syn —he was calmly kneeling over the form of Mr. Rash. He had, in fact, propped his head upon his knee and was dabbing the bleeding face with his clean handkerchief. “Just get the brandy bottle out of that corner cupboard, will you, my man?” he said to the bo’sun. “The girl there has fainted. Nothing serious, just sheer fright.”

184

The bo’sun did And as he was ordered, and Imogene was quickly restored to consciousness.

The captain for the most part just stared at Syn and said nothing. Suddenly he passed his hand over his brow and wiped away the great beads of perspiration that had gathered there; then taking the brandy bottle from the bo’sun’s hand he took a long pull, and with a sigh sat down in the armchair, still staring at Doctor Syn with unconcealed amazement.

“Feeling a bit squeamish, Captain?” said the latter, smiling. “You’re right, it’s an ugly sight. More blood than necessary, though. Merely flesh cuts. Bruised a bit, too! Help yourself to brandy. Good evening, Jerry; pleased to see you. Here’s your poor schoolmaster got hurt. Feeling better, Captain? That’s good. The sight of blood does turn one up. Was it Hannibal or Hamilcar who never could reconcile himself to the sight of blood? I forget. Some great general

185

it was, though. The girl here is the same. Better, Imogene? Surely it was Hannibal, wasn’t it?”

“I am sure I don’t know, or care,” thundered the captain, standing up and turning desperately on the bo’sun. “Job Mallet, what in hell’s name is all this business? I’m dazed.”

But Doctor Syn went on speaking in his usual collected tones: “It’s all very horrible, I grant, but there’s no mystery, I assure you. We were all three chatting here quite pleasantly, when in leaps that mulatto of yours, attacks my friend the schoolmaster and all but kills him. I picked up a bottle and landed the brute a crack over the head. The bottle broke, and the madman turned on me, clapped a bit of broken glass in my mouth, which I expect is cut about a bit, and got away. I asked the girl to hold the light, and when she saw the schoolmaster’s face, why, over she went, candle and all, into a dead faint. Never saw such a thing in my life, but I tell you this, Captain: it’s your bounden

186

duty to get hold of that maniac and string him up to the nearest tree, for there’s not a man, woman, or child safe while he’s free.”

Then Doctor Syn helped them to move the still unconscious Rash into his own bedroom, leaving the bo’sun and two seamen in charge, the rest of the sailors returning to the vicarage barn; and finally muffling himself in his great cloak he proceeded to the inn to procure a room for the night. Supporting Imogene, he walked ahead, followed by the captain and Jerry Jerk holding a lantern.

“Potboy?” said the captain on the way.

“Sir?” said Jerry Jerk.

“Are we dreaming, or what?”

“Blowed if I know; wish I did.”

On reaching the inn they all agreed that it was none too safe to walk abroad that night again, for fear of that sinister mulatto out upon the Marsh, so they

187

ordered the supper and rooms to be got ready, and for an hour or so the Doctor chatted of indifferent things, just And as if nothing had happened.

But the captain kept silent that night; he had many things in his head that he couldn’t understand, and the greatest of these was Doctor Syn, that pious old cleric, who was making himself so pleasant over a steaming bowl of punch; and as the parlour clock ticked on, and the room was filled with tobacco smoke which the parson kept sending in thin rings across the fireplace, the captain rubbed his eyes hard, fidgeted and shuffled in his chair, wondering when the dream would stop and he would find himself awake.

188

Presently the captain yawned and Doctor Syn rose and summoned Mrs. Waggetts. The captain yawned again and rubbed his eyes. Was he awake or dreaming? The last thing he remembered was drinking the hot rum punch and listening to a long story that he thought the Doctor would never finish. What a soothing effect that punch seemed to have on his faculties, for after that he was rather vague. He dreamt he was lifted up sleeping, lifted up by two men who had followed Mrs. Waggetts from the bar when Doctor Syn had called her. Was one of those men that insolent Sexton Mipps? He vaguely thought it was,

189

though he wouldn’t be sure. No, he wouldn’t be sure of anything! He thought he had been carried up to bed, but that was too silly, for who would carry him up to bed? Was it Doctor Syn who had said to Mipps on the stairs that he wasn’t going riding to-night for a thousand guineas, and that they must do without him for once? Then Mipps answered:

“That yellow beast ain’t alookin’ out for Clegg’s carpenter, is he? Well, I’ll go, it don’t want us both to-night.”

Then the dream got more confused than ever. There was a lonely reef in the coral seas, and on it was a weird figure calling. The captain seemed to be on a ship that was standing away from the reef, and all the time the figure kept calling. There was a full ship’s crew collected on the deck who were threatening two men. One was a familiar figure, a figure he had not seen often out of his dreams, and so was his little companion, and still the voice kept calling. The crew pushed forward a spokesman: he was a Chinaman—they

190

called him by a nickname—Pete. Pete sheepishly advanced and stammered out to the familiar figure, whom he addressed as “Captain,” to put the ship about, and take up again the lonely form calling from the reef. Pete’s argument was evidently useless, for as he turned to join his fellows, the tallest of the familiar figures stretched out his hand and caught the yellow man—he was clad in the scanty garb of a cook—and broke his naked back with a marlin-spike that the little companion of the familiar figure had handed to him. Then the crew were commanded to throw the body overboard or they would be served the same. This they did, and the sharks surrounded the ship, clacking their teeth. Then the breeze seemed to blow off the reef, and the familiar figure ordered the men aloft to unfurl the sails. They obeyed sullenly, and still the voice, getting fainter and fainter, called from the reef, and the breeze increased, and the captain and his mate ordered the men the quicker aloft.

“Get up aloft there, you dogs! Get up! Get up! Get up!”

191

The familiar figure then caught sight of the dreamer (though he wasn’t sure that he was dreaming even yet), and striding up to him ordered him aloft, and when he refused he dragged him up by the arm. The dreamer felt dizzy, for the sails were blowing in his face, and he thought he would let go, it was so like his first experience aloft; and he begged the familiar figure to let him go down, but the voice went on crying: “Up! Get up! Get up!”

Then the sail was pulled from his face, the wind blew through his hair, and he started up, catching hold of a stay (which turned out to be the bedpost), and letting the sail fall below upon the deck, which in reality was the bedclothes slipping to the floor, and still the voice cried: “Get up! Get up!” And he recognized there the familiar face of Doctor Syn, and by him his companion, Sexton Mipps.

“Get up! Get up!” the parson was crying. “What a fellow to sleep you are! Like waking the dead! Upon my soul, it is, Mr. Mipps.”

192

The captain rubbed his eyes again.

The sun was streaming through the window, which was open, and a good stiff breeze was blowing in from the sea.

“What the devil!” said the captain. “Oh, it’s Doctor Syn, is it? What’s the time?”

“Just on ten o’clock,” said the cleric.

“Ten o’ what?” bellowed the captain, leaping out of bed.

“Clock,” repeated Mr. Mipps.

“I’ve overslept. Thing I’ve never done in my life. Been dreaming, too. Nightmares—horrible! But what do you want? Is anything the matter?”

“I think there is,” said the Doctor quietly.

“And so do I,” said Mr. Mipps.

“What? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

193

“I don’t quite know yet, it may be nothing at all, but I don’t like the look of it.”

“The look of what?” shouted the captain.

“The vicarage,” replied the vicar. “Put on your clothes quickly, Captain, and come and see. I think there’s something wrong.”

194

The captain was not long in tumbling into his clothes. Meantime, the sexton sat upon the bed, which neither of the other two seemed to think extraordinary or even familiar. The captain now and then addressed a sharp question to the Doctor, which the Doctor did not answer, nor indeed did the captain seem to expect an answer. The Doctor was standing by the window, his gray hair blowing in the stiff sea breeze that filled the room. Suddenly they heard a little shaking noise upon the bed, and, turning, perceived the little sexton, with tears rolling down his cheeks, given up to the most ungovernable

195

laughter, and yet it was not laughter, for the sexton made no noise. He just let his body quiver and heave and the tears roll on over his thin cheeks. Yes, he was lost in a fit of unmanageable giggles.

“What the thunder’s amusing you?” roared the captain; and he hurled the bolster at the sexton’s head.

Mipps was himself again upon the instant.

“Blessed if I knows,” he gasped, “but thank you kindly for that bolster whack, for if something hadn’t happened I believe I should have bust.”

“But what is it? There must have been something to make you laugh like that.”

“If there was, I’m blessed if I knows wot,” returned the sexton, “for I gives you my word that I never felt solemner than I does now, no, not never in my life.”

Doctor Syn took no notice of this extraordinary occurrence.

196

When the captain was dressed they all three set out for the vicarage.

“Well, now, what is wrong with it?” said the captain, surveying the little house that looked so pretty in the morning sun.

“That’s just what we want to know,” answered Doctor Syn. “In the first place, short of forcing the door, I don’t see how we’re going to get in. The place is all locked up, and, though we have battered and hammered on the doors and windows for a good hour, we can get no answer from the sailors inside.”

“And my men in the barn, where are they?” said the captain, looking across at the building in question.

“I’m afraid, Captain, that you are too liberal to your men, for their rum barrel is empty and the whole lot of them are still asleep.”

The captain swore and walked to the back door, raised his foot, and with one kick sent the door in, splintered and cracked from the bolt sockets.

197

“Neatly done!” remarked Doctor Syn, “though who’s to pay for a new door?”

But the captain did not heed him, nor care a brass farthing for the door, he was bent on investigating the house, which he did, followed by Mipps and the Doctor and Jerry Jerk, who had appeared from somewhere, nobody quite knew where.

The kitchen was empty, so the captain opened the door of the sitting-room; it was very dark because of the closed shutters.

The captain strode across to the broken window, threw it open, and unbolted the shutters, which, swinging back, let in the light of day. In the corner of the room opposite the window lay the two sailors who had been left to watch with the bo’sun. Both were bound and gagged, and one of them was moving. The captain loosed the bonds with a clasp knife, and the fellow seemed to recover his senses.

198

“What does this mean, my man?” said the captain.

The sailor turned and pointed to the body of his friend. It lay half propped up against the wall, and above it was a large splintered tear in the whitewashed plaster. And then the captain saw and understood, for the neck of the propped-up body had been cruelly pierced, although there was no sign of a weapon; but some weapon had transfixed that body to the wall and then been plucked out, so that the body had collapsed amid a mesa of broken plaster.

“It’s Bill Spiker, sir,” said the sailor. “He’s dead! He was a good gunner, sir, too. We wanted Spiker, sir, to fight the French—and he’s dead!” And the sailor broke off blubbering.