Doctor Syn A Smuggler Tale of the Romney Marsh (16 page)

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advantages. Why, we can set you in the way of rollin’ in a coach before we’ve done with you, and who knows, years hence, when you’re older than you be now, who knows but what you might not succeed to the headship. If anything was to happen to the great chief wot’s to prevent you from taken’ his place, eh? You’re smart, ain’t you? There’s no gainsayin’ that, now, is there, Missus Waggetts?”

“No, indeed,” replied that lady.

“Then take my tip, the straight tip of an old gentleman o’ fortune, and you join us.”

“What’ll I have to do and what is it I’m a-joinin’, though?” asked the boy.

“The great scheme of wool-runnin’,” said Mr. Mipps.

“Ah,” sighed Jerry, “I thought as much. And what am I to do, always supposin’ that I’m willin’ to join?”

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“We’ve a vacancy in the horsemen—a man short, you see, though we’ve got the horse. It’s Mr. Rash’s horse, but we’ve turned out the schoolmaster and kept his horse. He weren’t one of us, you see, so we found that we didn’t want him no more.”

“You’ve killed him?” cried the hangman, starting up.

“I didn’t say that,” retorted the sexton. “I merely remarked that we didn’t want him no more. And now just give me your attention. I’ve every reason to believe, and so has the great chief that I work for, that you are gettin’ very thick with that swap of a King’s captain. Well, now, don’t go suddenly a-givin’ him the cold shoulder, do you see? You can’t drop a friend all at once like a hot potato without excitin’ the gossip and suspicion of folk; so remember what I says and keep civil to him. But it’s my opinion that after to-night you’ll know which side you be on, for once get the thrill of the demon ride and you’ll not

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want to get dismissed. Besides, gettin’ dismissed by our chief ain’t exactly

what you might term a pleasant form of bein’ entertained.”

“And what do I do, Mister Sexton?”

“You’ll get told all in good time.”

“But what do the demon riders do?” persisted the boy.

“Frighten folk from the Marsh when the ponies are trottin’ under the wool packs.”

“And where do the wool packs come from?”

“From nearly every farm on the Marsh.”

“And they put it all in packs and send ’em down to the coast?”

“That’s the ticket, my lad. Pack ’em all up on ponies and bring back coffins full of spirit from France.”

“Coffins full of spirit from France?” repeated the amazed boy.

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“Yes, that’s why I’m a coffin-maker. What would you expect to see inside a nailed-up coffin, eh?”

“Why, a dead ’un,” said the boy.

“Exactly; and as folk ain’t particular fond of amusin’ themselves with a sight of dead ’uns they lets my coffins alone, do you see, and the spirit is treated with every respect and is allowed to go on its way very snug and all knocked up most particular solid.”

“And the head of it all’s the squire, is it?”

“I never said so,” replied the sexton quickly; “but the less you think and say on that subject the better, for those who know the identity of the great chief would sooner have their eyes put out than betray him; so don’t you hamper your young career with thinkin’ about it. All you’ve got to do is to obey.”

“And what do I get out of it?”

“Gold and the time of your life.”

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“And when do I start?”

“To-night.”

“To-night?” faltered Jerk much relieved, for he had thought of his promise to help the captain, and was greatly thankful that the dates had not clashed.

“At half-past twelve at Old Tree Cottage; but don’t go to the coffin-shop side. Tap at the back kitchen window.”

“And half-past twelve, you say?”

“That’s the time,” answered Mipps, holding out his hands and seizing Jerk’s in both his. “And I can tell at a glance that your a-goin’ to be a credit to the undertakin’.”

And a minute afterward he was gone and Jerk was sent by Mrs. Waggetts into the bar to polish up the tankards.

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About noon of the same day Captain Collyer, in walking through the village, found himself passing Old Tree Cottage, the lowlying residence of Sexton Mipps, with its coffin shop facing the street and its small farmhouse behind. Attracted by a great noise of hammering, the captain stepped up to the window and glanced in. Rows of coffins lined the walls and coffin planks were everywhere propped up against shelves containing everything imaginable. In the centre of the shop stood two black trestle-stools, and upon these funeral relics reposed a large coffin with no lid. Inside this gloomy thing sat Mr.

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Mipps. He was sitting straight up and hammering lustily upon the coffin sides, singing away with much spirit to the rhythm:

Oh hammer, hammer, hammer, And damn her, damn her, damn her, For I don’t fear my wife now she’s dead.

The captain, amused at the crude words, pushed open the casement and leaned into the room. Whether the sexton saw him or not the captain did not know, but the song changed immediately to a song of the sea:

There’s no swab like the captain, There’s no swab like the captain, Of all the swabs I’ve ever seen, With a diddle diddle diddle diddle diddle diddle dee, No swab like the captain.

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“A very appropriate song, Master Sexton,” laughed the captain.

Mipps turned round and surveyed the intruder.

“Why, knock me up solid if it ain’t the good captain! The gold of the high noon to you, sir, though there ain’t much gold in the sky to-day. I take it as a very friendly piece of impertinence that you should come and look me up so unexpected. Had I knowed of your arrival I’d have had these grizzly relics stowed away, for some folk has a distinct dislike to lookin’ at these last dwellin’ houses.”

“You are used to ’em, I suppose, by now?” said the captain.

“Oh, love you, yes, I don’t mind ’em. Some undertakers has fearful superstitions about coffins. Some won’t get in ’em to measure ’em. Lord! I always does. I lie down inside ’em and pops the lid on the top to see if it’s airtight.”

“Awkward if the lid was to stick.”

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“You may well say that, ’cos once it did. But it weren’t so much awkward as peaceful, for after I’d pushed and struggled for a power o’ time, I just resigned myself to my fate, feelin’ thankful that at any rate I had had the privilege of bein’ my own undertaker. I shall never forget my feelin’s when my last bit of breath came up and went out. It was just the sort o’ feelin’ you gets when you drowns, only more so. ’Cos when you drowns you sees all the bad actions of your life a-troopin’ before you, but gettin’ buried alive is different, ’cos you sees all the good actions wot you’ve done. Mind you, things I’d clean forgot. Little acts of kindness wot I thought could never have been recorded anywhere. Why, they all walked out, and I seemed to be greatly comforted, ’cos, you see, I thought as how I was quite in the runnin’ for heaven. In fact I was so pleased with my past self that I fairly kicked with delight, and that was the means of bringin’ me back to earth, ’cos over went these trestles, and the jar I got knocked the stuck lid off. No, I’ve been near gone these many times,

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and I only had to be passed through the parson’s hands and get knocked over the sconce with the sexton’s shovel, as Shakespeare says in the play, to be a real ‘goner,’ stiff and proper.”

“A horrible experience, Master Sexton,” returned the captain.

“It was in a sense. But I could tell you horribler. I takes a pride in my business, same as you might in yours. That’s why I went round the world.”

“Oh, you’ve been round the world, have you?” said the captain.

“Not once nor twice, but many times, and do you know why?”

“Perhaps the life of the get-rich-quick buccaneers appealed to you?” remarked Captain Collyer casually.

“There you go—suspicious. Can’t you adapt yourself for five minutes? Can’t you make an effort when you’re a-gossipin’ with honest folk to forget that there is dishonest ones? I never did see the like. Here we be chattin’ quite friendly, and forgettin’ our little differences, and you starts accusin’ me of bein’ a

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Captain Clegg or an England. Do I look like a bold pirate now? Lookin’ at me straight sittin’ up in this ’ere coffin, could you say that I looked like a swaggerin’ gentleman of fortune. No, you couldn’t. Very well, then, why go and make unpleasant insinuations against a respectable sexton o’ the realm? Mind you, I don’t say as how I didn’t come across some of that breed durin’ my travels, and I don’t say as how circumstance, that fickle woman, didn’t at time make me work for ’em. But not for long. I held no sort o’ likes with the likes o’ them, and though some of ’em had most engagin’ ways, it was easy to see that they was all of ’em unadulterated sinners. And swear? God bless your eyes, Captain, it made you blush like a damned woman to hear ’em.” swaggerin’ gentleman of fortune. No, you couldn’t. Very well, then, why go and make unpleasant insinuations against a respectable sexton o’ the realm? Mind you, I don’t say as how I didn’t come across some of that breed durin’ my travels, and I don’t say as how circumstance, that fickle woman, didn’t at time make me work for ’em. But not for long. I held no sort o’ likes with the likes o’ them, and though some of ’em had most engagin’ ways, it was easy to see that they was all of ’em unadulterated sinners. And swear? God bless your eyes, Captain, it made you blush like a damned woman to hear ’em.”

“And if it was not for gold and adventure that you went, may I ask what tempted you abroad?”

“Certainly, Captain. It was the love of my work. The zeal to have a look at other sextons, vergers, and undertakers and see what they were a-doin’ with the

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business. But Lord love you, Captain, I soon found as how funerals was done on different plans abroad. Why, I could tell you some things I seed with regard to burials abroad what ’ud make your flesh creep—aye, and now, too, thought the sun is high in the heaven.” different plans abroad. Why, I could tell you some things I seed with regard to burials abroad what ’ud make your flesh creep—aye, and now, too, thought the sun is high in the heaven.”

“Well, I’ve an hour to spare, Master Sexton. What do you say to coming along to the Ship and enjoying a drink and a friendly pipe?”

“I thinks I can do one better than that, thankin’ you kindly,” said the sexton, vaulting with marvellous dexterity out of the lofty coffin to the floor, “for I’ve baccy, pipes, and good brandy all to hand, and if you’d care to spend an hour with Sexton Mipps and listen to his babbles, why, light your ‘strike me dead’ and gulp your spirits and settle your hulk in that there coffin, what hasn’t got no passenger inside—so don’t be frightened—and we’ll shut the window, for it’s a-blowin’ the fire out; and if you ain’t cozy, well, it’s not the fault of the sexton, is it now?” And then Mr. Mipps, after busily providing his guest with

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the requisites for smoke and drink, and after splitting up a coffin plank to renew the fire, sprang back into the coffin, sitting snug with a glass of brandy and his clay pipe. The captain also was ensconced on a coffin in the corner, and to the crackle of the split coffin plank upon the fire the sexton began to yarn.

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Funerals may be divided into three classes, for there be solemn funerals, there be grizzly funerals, and there be funny ’uns. The funniest funeral I ever did see was in China. Do you know, Captain, they very seldom buries out there? They leaves the blasted coffins above ground. The whole of the countryside is a-littered with ’em. For untidy burials China waves the flag, and they has other very funny customs about funerals out there, too. When a fellow goes and dies out there it’s a devil of a business he has to go through before he gets fixed up final. Every family out there ’as their own very particular priest,

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you understand, and this very particular priest is always a very sly sort o’ dog. The dead ’un is put into the coffin, and then the family pays their sly dog a considerable sum o’ money in exchange for very hard prayers wot the sly dog makes for ’em to his gods. He goes away and prays for weeks on end, askin’ his gods just where exactly the family ought to bury their dead ’un to enable him to get into heaven by the most convenient route. And as the sly dog gets paid all the time he’s a-prayin’, you can bet your wig that he pretends to string them prayers out to some length. And I can tell you those Chinese parsons were up to one or two smart wrinkles. I’ll tell you about a certain Ling Fu Quong. Well, if I hadn’t rung the curtain down, as the stage players say, upon that gent’s little comedy, I believes he’d be drawin’ in a salary now for a fellow what died some forty years ago. You see it happened like this: I had had business deals on with a smug-faced Chinese merchant wot did business at Shanghai. Well, when I was about to sail for the old country, old smug face came to say how sorry he

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was I was a-goin’ to leave, and hoped he’d have the pleasure of doin’ business with me again when I come back. Well, we started talkin’ and I told him that I should very much like to see a Chinese funeral, and old smug face said that he would gladly oblige me, because a very particular old uncle of his had died and his funeral was shortly to take place. Well, the upshot of it all was that I was invited to go up the river on smug face’s boat to Soochow, where he lived and where his uncle had died, a city some sixty miles away or thereabouts. So there I accordingly went. Have you ever been on one o’ them large sampans, Captain? No? Well, it’s a long sort o’ boat, fitted up very snug indeed, with flowers all trailin’ over the side, and all fixed up to look like an old homestead sailin’ on the river. After a very pleasant trip—and, Lord love you, I did make that old Chinaman laugh tellin’ him things, for I could speak their lingo very well, you understand—well, after a very pleasant trip we gets to Soochow, and a rummy old place it was. It stood right on top of the river, with its old walls runnin’ I accordingly went. Have you ever been on one o’ them large sampans, Captain? No? Well, it’s a long sort o’ boat, fitted up very snug indeed, with flowers all trailin’ over the side, and all fixed up to look like an old homestead sailin’ on the river. After a very pleasant trip—and, Lord love you, I did make that old Chinaman laugh tellin’ him things, for I could speak their lingo very well, you understand—well, after a very pleasant trip we gets to Soochow, and a rummy old place it was. It stood right on top of the river, with its old walls runnin’