“Now, good sailors, we will trouble you for your arms. Pass them up to good Job Mallet and he shall stretch his legs and lay them at my feet.”
But again Job Mallet lost his head. He arose in the ditch and sang out bravely: “You and the rest of you are damned cowards in silencing the mouth of our captain. Had he his voice you know what he’d say—‘Shoot and be damned to you!’ and well you know it. Why don’t you meet us in fair fight, you damned cowards, instead of using such devil’s tricks?”
“ ’Cos we ain’t so bloody-minded as the good King’s bo’sun,” answered Hellspite in a piping voice, which drew forth a great laugh from the devils.
One of the seamen, considering that all eyes were now upon the bo’sun, leaped from the ditch and made a rush for Hellspite with his naked cutlass. Five or six pistols cracked behind him and over he fell, face downward in the road. Every shot had taken effect: he was dead.
“Oh, do keep your little heads, you silly King’s men!” wailed Hellspite, “for look how we’ve spoiled that nice little man. He’s no use now to fight the French, no use at all. Oh, what a pity, what a pity, what a pity!”
Again came the cry of the curlew, seven times.
“Now, then, those weapons!” ordered Hellspite sharply, “and if they don’t come along quick we’ll put this captain out of service along with his man there.”
There was nothing for it but to obey. They were in the demons’ power. The sailors had found that the smugglers were good shots and that they meant business. No, there was nothing for it but to hand over their arms to the bo’sun, who with bad grace laid them upon the roadway, whence they were picked up by the jack-o’-lanterns, who bore them into the barn.
“Now, then, my fine fellows,” said Hellspite, “we’ll plump this ’ere captain on the road. You will pick him up if you want him and take him home to bed, for the dawn ain’t far off, and as the wool packs are safe and away, we’ll bid you good repose.”
The captain was accordingly lifted from the donkey and laid upon the road. The sailors were filed up around him, and conducted ingloriously back to the vicarage barn. Three devils, having been told off for the purpose, bore away the body of the dead seaman, so that before the dawn lit up the Marsh there was no sign of smugglers anywhere, and Jerry Jerk, after disrobing with the others at the coffin shop, was packed off home to bed by Beelzebub, where, without disturbing his grandparents, he fell immediately to sleep, and dreamed his whole adventure over again.
Just as the dawn was breaking Mipps was returning from the vicarage barn, where he had deposited a bundle of weapons outside the door, when he saw a yellow-faced man creeping along the field by the churchyard wall. As he watched the figure disappear into a deep dyke he muttered: “I wonder if that there thing is real or unreal? I wonder if he did get off that reef in his body? If he did, what the blarsted hell’s he findin’ to live upon? and if he ain’t—well, God help one of us in this ’ere place!” And he scurried back to the coffin shop like a sneaking rat.
XXIX
Captain Collyer Entertains an Attorney from Rye
It was something of a difficult position which Captain Collyer was called upon to face. That he had cut a ridiculous figure no one was more conscious than himself, and being made absurd before his own men made the situation doubly difficult. But Captain Collyer preserved his dignity in a most meritorious manner.
When the smugglers had gone and the bo’sun had freed him from his bonds, he stood up in the barn and addressed the sailors: “My men,” he began, “we have been badly beaten. Without a blow you were forced to lay down your arms, which I well know must have been a hard thing for you to do. After I had given the bo’sun orders of the night’s plan I went out to verify certain suspicions that I had formed against certain folk upon the Marsh. I was congratulating myself on how well I was succeeding, when I found myself a helpless prisoner in the wretches’ hands. I had walked blindly into a very clever trap. As you saw for yourselves, my captors made such a complete job of me that I was helpless to speak to you or give you any sign. Under the circumstances, I must thank the bo’sun for his gallant behaviour. I appreciate what he did, for he saved my life, although perhaps I could almost find it in my heart that he had acted otherwise, for a good seaman’s death is now on my hands—brave Will Rudrum, who was shot dead on the road. I also cannot find it in my heart to reprimand Joe Dickinson for his fit of laughter, because nobody saw the humour and disgrace of my position as much as I did myself. But when a man’s life is forfeited all humour slips away, and so it has for me and for you, I’m sure, who were Will Rudrum’s comrades at arms. I am very thankful that my life has
