And so we organized ourselves for our return. Molly Sarton firmly declined our offer to help her clear the table and do the washing up. Mr. Sarton then led the way outside and introduced us to Mick Crawly, an easy sort of fellow, yet at the same time, he seemed good and responsible.
“How did you know when we’d be finishing up?” Sir John challenged the driver.
“Ah, how did I now?” Crawly asked himself. ”Knowing Mrs. Sarton’s reputation as a cook, I was sure that it would take two hours of eating to do justice to any dinner of hers, and to that I added another half of an hour, for you’ve quite a reputation as a talker, sir.”
“Even here in Deal?”
“We’re not so distant from London as you might suppose, though it may seem we are.”
“Indeed it often does.”
Happy was I to note that Mr. Crawly’s hackney was of a size and shape comparable to those in London. I would not, in other words, have to ride atop the coach and hang on in fear as we rounded those tight corners which led up to great Mongeham. I climbed in last of all and found the interior quite spacious. All three of us were thus able to sit huddled together against the cold night air upon the same padded bench. It took but a moment to get us settled, and in a moment after that we were underway. Mick Crawly did not drive his team with the same merciless abandon as Lord Mansfield’s man, nor even Will Fowler’s lack of proper concern. He kept his horses moving at a reasonable rate up the narrow roads-no faster than was necessary. As we went, the gentle rocking of the coach soon put Clarissa to sleep.
Unexpectedly, Sir John turned to me and said, ”I met your Dick Dickens today, or perhaps Dickens belongs more properly to Mr. Perkins. In any case, I met him, and I was quite impressed by him.”
“Favorably?”
He chuckled at that. ”Ah yes, you plainly had doubts as to his conversion to the side of right.”
“In fairness,” said I, ”Mr. Perkins seems to have no such doubts. At least he voiced none after I was introduced to his Mr. Dickens.”
“Perhaps that is because the constable successfully underwent a similar conversion-or have you any reason to doubt its sincerity?”
“None at all.”
“Well, there you are.” He hesitated, then went on. ”I’m inclined to accept Dickens as he presents himself because he is in possession of a great deal of information and has been quite generous with it. He is most resentful that he and his troop of customs men have been kept inactive by that dreadful fellow, Eccles, whom we met at Lord Mansfield’s. By the bye, have you any idea why he has stopped all efforts on the Kent coast and blamed Mr. Sarton so unjustly?”
“None whatever,” said I, ”and I have sought some such reason without success.”
“Well, he hopes that by presenting the efforts of the customs and excisemen as fruitless and painting the darkest picture possible, he will get the Army to loan him a detachment of soldiers, cavalry preferred. He is a fool if he believes he will command them. Rather, some fool of a lieutenant will be commanding
”But that is all in the nature of a digression,” continued Sir John. ”What I wished to say is this: Mr. Dickens has not sat idle as his chief would have him. No, indeed. He has assembled a most excellent network of spies and informants in the smuggling trade or at the periphery of it. He told me more in a morning than I would have thought possible. He has promised to return tomorrow and tell me even more. Then shall we begin our planning. I do believe that with Mr. Perkins’s help and yours, we shall be able to make it work.”
SIX
I had no exact idea of the time, though I was sure that it was quite late at night. The moon had gained its apex and had started its downward transit. Yet it shone down upon the beach, seemingly as bright as it had only an hour before. Mr. Perkins and I were halfway up the bluff and well concealed behind a grassy hummock. We had successfully evaded detection half an hour earlier when a party of four men with two horses had passed no more than thirty yards away. They were now waiting, down on the beach, just as we were above. Unknown to them, two of Mr. Sarton’s constables also waited quite nearby; yet on that stretch of open beach, the constables were as near invisible as could be, for they had taken shelter beneath one of a number of fisher boats that lay up-ended upon the sand. We were all well armed. Two pistols and a cutlass had been issued by Mr. Sarton to each. And though there were but four of us, we would at least have the advantage of surprise.
There was a ship offshore. I could see it plain enough. It had the appearance of a sloop but was probably what I had heard called a ”cutter” there in Deal. When it hove into view, someone aboard sent up a rocket from a flink pistol. And one who seemed to be in charge of the party on the beach lit a spout lantern and aimed it at the cutter, thus showing that they were ready on the beach to receive the landing party. It had been planned a full three days ago that when the boat from the cutter came, and the four men constituting the landing party were involved in beaching it, the constables were to emerge from their hiding place and rush the smugglers, threatening to shoot any who resisted. Mr. Perkins and I were upon the bluff to stop any that might escape the constables below.
It was a good enough plan and might have worked just as Dick Dickens and Mr. Sarton intended it to, but for one matter. There were too many of them and not enough of us. What was unknown was how many men would arrive in the boat and how well they would be armed. Mr. Perkins, newly appointed as a Deal constable, grumbled about this to me unceasingly and had cautioned me early on not to be surprised if he were to improvise a bit when the time came.
Well, the time had come. The boat was now visible, pushing through the channel which cut through the sandbar. There were but three in the boat: two oarsmen and a passenger. Presumably, there was also cargo of some sort aboard-though I had no idea what could be so small yet of such value that it would make worthwhile the voyage of a cutter across the Channel from France. Two men of the four who had arrived with the horses waded out to the boat.
“Jeremy!” he whispered urgently.
“Yes, Mr. Perkins?”
“Do you reckon you can take care of any who flee up this little hill?”
”You may be certain of it.”
“Remember to shoot to wound and not to kill. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go a bit mad.”
What did he mean by that? I’d no idea until he jumped up from our safe cover, drew the cutlass from its sheath, and let out a scream the like of which had surely not been heard in England since the days when the wild Picts came down from the north to murder and pillage the poor Anglo-Saxons. Then did he begin the run down to the beach, continuing to emit terrifying shouts as he whirled the cutlass above his head like a Musselman in the throes of some murderous dementia.
I rose from our place upon the bluff that I might see him better-yet still better did I see those round the boat. The effect upon them of Mr. Perkins’s performance was like that of poor brutish creatures who stand in frozen awe when the lion attacks. Each of those who stood in the shallows now had in his hands a box of some dimension-the cargo. The horses, whose reins were held by one of the quartet, did not like those chilling screams of Mr. Perkins-no, not in the least; they stirred and pranced nervously and became altogether difficult to hold in check. Only the fourth of them managed to act: he drew from his belt a pistol and leveled it at Mr. Perkins; yet before he could fire, another pistol was fired at him-that of one of the constables; he staggered, wounded.
“Drop your weapons! This be the law!”
Then was all set in motion at once: the horses reared; he who held the reins kept tight hold, yet was thrown to the ground and dragged a bit in the sand; one of the oarsmen drew a pistol and attempted to return fire at the constables, but the powder flashed, fizzled, and failed to fire; the second oarsman and the passenger jumped into the water and began pushing their boat back out to sea in a most desperate manner; the two cargo handlers dropped the boxes they had taken from the boat and ran in opposing directions. So was it when Mr.
