Smuggler's Moon

“I see, but give us some idea of it, will you? What-without being exact-did you say approximately?”

“All right, sir, I would say that the burden of it was that I, with my one arm, was a better man than any one of them-no, better than all three of them.”

“Was this issued in the way of a challenge?”

“I don’t think so, sir. It was more like a statement of fact.”

In spite of himself, the magistrate smiled at that. ”Continue.”

“Well, right then the three of them put their heads together and commenced to whispering amongst themselves. Then, making a few nasty remarks and a lewd gesture or two, they walked out of the Turk’s Head, and I thought to myself, ‘Good riddance!’ Well, I sat about long enough to finish my ale and decided it was time to leave. Well sir, I get outside, and I find them waiting for me. One of them says, ‘We’ll just see if you’re as good as you think you are.’ And in all modesty, sir, I do believe I proved myself to them. Just one more thing: I suppose I did not fight fair-or let’s say I did not fight usual. But not havin’ but one arm, I believe I’m entitled to a little leeway in that way. Yes, I did butt, and yes, I did kick-in truth, I’m quite good at kicking-but there was three of them and just one of me.”

“You may sit down, Mr. Perkins. Constable Trotter, will you come forward, please?”

The constable did as his chief bade him to do; he took his place before him, his feet well planted, his hat tucked under his arm.

“Will you give me your account of it from the time you came upon the scene?”

“Yes sir.” He cleared his throat and began his tale. In truth, he had not much to tell, for by the time he had come along, the three troublemakers from the Turk’s Head were all down upon the pavement, moaning in pain or senselessly silent. In fact, Constable Trotter might have taken Mr. Perkins to be one of the crowd of onlookers who had gathered outside the Turk’s Head, except that when one of the trio shifted and attempted to rise, ”the one- armed man” (as the constable described him) stepped forward and delivered him a swift kick in the backside. Having seen this, he seized Mr. Perkins by the shoulder and, his club at the ready, asked him if he were the party responsible for this.

Now to quote Constable Trotter: ”He cheerfully responded that he was, and that he’d been keeping them quiet, just waiting for me to come along. He also offered diverse weapons which, he said, he had taken from them: knives, iron knuckles, and suchlike. These I’ve shown you, and you have before you now.”

“And so he gave you no trouble?” asked Mr. Sarton.

“Oh no, sir, none at all-quite the opposite. He got them on their feet so’s I could put the hand-irons on them. I only had two sets with me, so I cuffed them each-to-each, and told him to come along, too. And he did-without so much as a word in argument.”

As it developed, all were marched off to the Good King George, which served the magistrate as a gaol, when needed. I later learned that the inn had been put to this use since the old gaol had burned down near a year before. The town fathers had not yet found money to build another. The three from the Turk’s Head were locked up in a single room; since Mr. Perkins was already a registered guest, he simply retired to his assigned room and slept the night in the bed he’d grown used to. And here he was now before the magistrate, about to be judged along with his victims.

Mr. Sarton dismissed the constable and instructed all four to come before him, which they did. ”Now,” said he, ”as to the charges against you three, by your own admission you were drunk-nor should I wonder at that, for after all, two days of continuous drinking will indeed produce such a result! And so I fine you ten shillings each on that charge. As for brawling, certainly you are guilty of it. Nonetheless, you suffered so by your wrongdoing that it would be excessive to fine you in addition to what you have already paid in bruises and bumps. So if you will step over and pay the court clerk to the amount of ten shillings each, you may then leave.”

The three exchanged glances. Clearly, they were pleased by what they had heard. They hastened to the clerk, and each made a separate pile of coins before him. By the time I might have counted to a hundred, they were gone.

“Now, Mr. Perkins, if you will step forward, let us discuss your case. I am here in rather an awkward position. I tend to believe your story in its details and not the one told by Mr. Samson Strong. You see, my usual method is to listen to both sides and make a reckoning somewhere between the two. I have never supposed that when two stories were told me which covered the same events that one was completely true and the other completely without truth-that is, until now. I tend to accept your version of it absolutely-and that for a couple of reasons. First of all, I know those men are capable of just what you describe. I have heard it said often that they were in the owling trade, as they told you. And drunkards they may be, but they are dangerous men, and you had best keep an eye out the back of your head for them, for at your back is where the next attack will come.” At that point he paused.

“Yes sir,” said Mr. Perkins. ”I’ll do that, sir.”

“And secondly, I tend to accept what you tell me because it is you doing the telling.”

“How’s that, sir?”

“Simple enough. I consider myself a fair judge of character, and yours impresses me. I should be very surprised if I were to find that you had lied to me in the details, as you call them-and disappointed, too. In short, I like the way you conduct yourself. And so, Mr. Perkins, I dismiss the charges against you. You gave me your word that you were not drunk when you entered the Turk’s Head, and I accept your word on that. And as for the charge of brawling, what you told me-and what I heard from Constable Trotter-convinces me that you were defending yourself against an unprovoked attack. And so, sir, you are free to go. But before you do, I wonder if you would mind stepping closer that we might discuss a confidential matter.”

Mr. Perkins hesitated, perhaps as puzzled by the request as I was, but then he came forward and leaned across the table. What passed between them then came to us only as unintelligible murmurings. Their conference did not last long-a minute or two at most-and when it concluded, Mr. Perkins came erect once more and bobbed his head in a little bow, which was for him quite unusual. He turned round then and started for the door, but as he passed near to us, he rolled his eyes, indicating (to me at least) that he had just been given a great surprise.

I leaned to my left and whispered this into Sir John’s ear. He, in turn, gave a rub to his chin, and whispered to me, ”Catch him up and tell him to wait until I arrive. Then come and fetch me.”

I scrambled past Sir John and Clarissa and to the door-then into the hall and out the door to the street. I need not have hurried so, for I found Mr. Perkins just beyond the door.

“Ah, Jeremy lad, have I something to tell you!”

“And I want to hear it, but so does Sir John. Wait for us.” He nodded his assent and moved out of sight of the windows.

“We’ll be back soon as ever we can,” said I to him.

Re-entering, I found Sir John in conversation with Mr. Sarton. Clarissa stood close beside them. I perceived after a moment that Clarissa was about to be interrogated by Mr. Sarton regarding her discovery of the as-yet- unnamed corpus. Sir John was taking his leave, promising to return within the half of an hour.

“Jeremy has promised to take me for a walk,” said he, ”that I might smell the sea air. Nothing clears a man’s head like the smell of the sea. Don’t you find it so, Mr. Sarton?”

“In half of an hour then, sir. Our guest should be coming along at about that time.”

I wondered at that, but so eager was I to learn Mr. Perkins’s secret that I did not trouble Sir John once we were outside. Having spied our friend at the end of Middle Street, where he had withdrawn, we hastened to him. Yet I noticed that Sir John was having a bit of difficulty keeping up the pace he himself had set.

“Is your hip troubling you, sir?” I asked him.

“A bit, but that is my affair, Jeremy. I’ll not have you nagging at me like Lady Kate.”

“As you say, sir.”

We met Mr. Perkins at a point halfway to the corner of the street. He was as eager to tell Sir John as he had been only minutes before to tell me.

“I’ve no intention of guessing, Mr. Perkins, for you will surely tell me.”

“He offered me a job.”

“He what?”

“Mr. Sarton offered me a place as constable here in Deal.”

“Well,” said Sir John, ”what did you say? Did you accept?”

“I said I would have to think about it. He said that he understood that, right enough, and if I wished to talk