THE SCARECROW RIDES (20 page)

“No, sir, you are speaking the truth. Oi knows, because oi have been
turned away, and oi try not remember.” This was the nearest she ever
got to speaking of her past. Tears came into the old lady's eyes as she
continued: “We ain't all so good as you, sir, and that's the truth, but
there is a limoit and oi veriloi believe that when you see this Mipps
person you'll give him a small coin to move away, and oi doubt whether
the good Samaritan himself would even give him a small coin, but you're
too good to live, you are, sir. You'll be whisked up in a chariot one
day.”

“I hope not sincerely,” interrupted Dr. Syn.

“Ah, but you will, and oi'll go and tell the person to woipe his
filthoi shoes.” Mrs. Fowey curtseyed to the vicar and backed out,
closing the door, only to find that Mr. Mipps was already in the hall
with his sea-chest, and having overheard her last remark, retorted
promptly:

“They're as clean as if I was walkin' on the Admiral's planks, my
old gal. I give 'em a thorough 'do' with one of your cloths. Polished
the buckles, too. Now, do I wait here or march in there?”

“You'll leave that chest of yours outside,” replied Mrs. Fowey.
“It's filthoi.”

But Mr. Mipps, with his sea-chest on his shoulder, grinned. “It
ain't filthy, if that's what you mean by 'filthoi', and I ain't leavin'
it outside neither, in case someone what won't mind her own business
should muck about with it. There's jewels in 'ere. Jewels, my gal, what
'ud make the King's crown look silly, and wouldn't you just like to
trickle 'em with your fingers, eh?”

“What sort of jewels?” asked the housekeeper, in spite of all
impressed.

“Honyxes and rubies mostly,” replied Mipps casually.

“Any garnets? I likes a garnet.”

“Do you now? I don't,” answered Mipps. “And what a pity, for I give
away all my garnets. Pretty girl she was, too. Spanish. In Augustine.”

“Still, I dare say onyxes is nice?” allowed Mrs. Fowey kindly.

“A very classy stone, ma'am,” replied Mipps.

“Oi've read about 'em in the Boible, said the housekeeper
reverently. “They has 'em, it says, in the New Jerusalem.”

“Yes. They do go in for 'em there. It's the Jews,” explained Mipps.
They knows a good stone when they sees it.”

“Is that gentleman waiting to see me?” cried Dr. Syn from the study.
Then appearing at the door, he added: “Good morning, my good man. Now,
let me see. Where have we met before? I seem to know your face.”

“You was preachin' in the Seaman's Bethel on Johnny Cake Hill, New
Bedford, Massachusetts, sir,” said Mipps solemnly. “Your description of
them Ten Virgins, sir, was very tellin'. We all seemed to feel as how
we knew them young ladies personally by the time you'd done with 'em.
If you remember, sir, you made them foolish ones keep giggling and
simpering, and we all thought you did it very well.”

Dr. Syn smiled. “Did I?” he remarked drily. “Well, I don't remember,
but since you do, what's the odds? I recollect your face, however, very
well. What can I do for you? Step inside. Thank you, Mrs. Fowey. I
shall want your daughter to carry a letter to the squire presently.
I'll call you.”

Reluctantly the housekeeper withdrew, leaving, however, the door
communicating with the kitchen open in case she could hear any further
conversation connected with the jewels. But Dr. Syn had taken the
precaution of closing his study door behind the visitor.

“And what have you got in the chest, my god Mipps, that you hug it
so tightly. The gold bar?”

Mipps shook his head. “No, Captain.”

“Don't call me 'captain'—'vicar',” said Dr. Syn sharply.

“Yes, Vicar. No, Vicar,” replied Mipps, putting the chest down on to
the floor. “The gold bar got turned into guineas, and the guineas got
turned into different things what disappeared, such as drink, food and
lodging. Then there come a sort of longing to be quit of travel, and I
thought of home. I had no money for a passage, and merchantmen only
employed men they knew, owing to fear of pirates, so I shanghaied a
ship's carpenter in the Royal Navy and applied for his post for the
voyage home. Had to get home, you see, Vicar, just as they had to have
a carpenter. And what's more, Vicar, they got a better man than the one
I detained, as the captain told me so.”

“And how did you enjoy your time with the Royal Navy?” asked the
doctor.

“A well-run ship it was, Vicar, and the discipline good. Put me in
mind of your old
Imogene
. So long as everything was just so and
spitted and polished, all was happy. I only had one unpleasantness the
whole voyage, and that come of contradicting the captain before his
lieutenant. They was arguing about Clegg, you see, and the captain said
he'd seen him. Had him pointed out to him in a tavern in San Juan, and
then, if you please, he starts describing him as tall, thin, handsome
and elegant, till I come all over in a cold sweat and said: 'Well, that
weren't Clegg, sir,' I says, 'and your informant didn't know what he
was talking about.' Then I told 'ow I'd been captured by this Clegg,
and got treated quite well till I was put ashore. I described him as a
great barrel of a man, thick-set, rough and ready, with great brass
rings in his ears, arms and chest covered with obscene tattooin's, and
a vocabulary unbeaten even in the British Navy. A real savage, I made
him out, but on the whole a jolly savage. In plain words, sir, I
described your enemy.”

Dr. Syn nodded. “That was good. That was clever. You were always the
man for me, and I believe still will be if you care to play a very
different game.”

“I'm game for anything, Cap—Vicar,” replied Mipps.

“Aye, but you may be game for too much,” warned the doctor. “In
other words, you may be too game to settle down.”

“But it's just what I want,” replied Mipps. “I never relished dying
violent like most of 'em. A quiet settle down and a good long solitary
chuckle about old days. That's me.”

“Suppose then that I give you a snug berth here as parish sexton,
can you keep your mouth shut? Can you forget that we two went
adventuring together? Can you forget that you ever saluted me as your
captain on the poop deck of the
Imogene
? Can you forget that I
was anything other than Parson Syn, Doctor of Divinity by degree of
Oxford University? Can you, above all, forget to talk about that great
barrel of a man, thick-set, rough and ready, with brass rings and
tattooings, eh?”

Mipps closed his eyes tight, and holding up his right hand,
responded: “All them things I solemnly forgets.”

Dr. Syn once more picked up his recovered copy of Virgil and began
to turn the pages lovingly.

“Digging graves, now,” he said casually, “I suppose you can manage
that?”

“I've had to dig one or two in my time, sir, and quickly. Don't you
remember that time when you and me—?”

Dr. Syn slammed the volume like the crack of a pistol. “No, Mr.
Mipps, I do not remember,” he said sharply. “I only remember to
forget.”

Mipps reproved himself by hitting his thigh with his clenched fist,
and biting his lip.

Dr. Syn opened the volume once more and continued in a casual voice.
“You can pull the bell for service?”

“Ain't I handled ropes and rung watches all my life?”

Dr. Syn frowned.

“In the Royal Navy, sir,” added Mipps with a wink.

“And since our village carpenter, dear old Josiah Wraight, has more
than he can do as foreman to the Lords of the Level, he has lately
refused to make coffins, a work he has never stomached, as he says, and
our dead have to be accommodated by an undertaker from New Romney,
which is not right, since I take it that Dymchurch is the centre of the
Marsh.”

“And should have its own undertaker most certainly,” nodded Mipps.
“And in mentioning me with such a job, I think you show great wisdom.
No one couldn't knock up a coffin quicker, solider nor more reliable. A
ship's carpenter of the Royal Navy is, I 'ope, qualified to measure up
any corpse at the double as they say. I'll make inquiries this very day
from the local doctor as to the names and addresses of his most likely
patients, and when he thinks he'll finish 'em off. I could make tactful
suggestions to the poor sufferers and find out in the course of
conversation whether they can run to oak, and if they has any fancies
as regards handles.”

“You will not be jocular on such a subject,” reproved the vicar.

“Not when addressing my ruler to the corpse, sir. Oh, no. Solemn as
an owl.”

“And understand that in my parochial factotum there must be no
strong language, and not much strong liquor. I shall expect you to set
an example to the parish.”

“And I'll set it,” said Mipps, with assurance. “You'll hear mothers
telling their babies to do as Mr. Mipps does, and be good children.”

“And remember—we have not been colleagues in America.”

“No, sir. But we'd better stick to that yarn of the Seaman's Bethel
what I spun for the old girl.”

“Very well,” allowed Dr. Syn. “We'll let that stand. But you must
refrain from 'old girling' Mrs. Fowey. She is a good soul, an excellent
cook, and if not popular with the village she is at least respected.”

“Leave her to me, Vicar. I'll butter her up.”

“Yes, but don't overdo it. You have an infernal habit of
exaggeration. Your clothes, for instance. They will never do. There is
something comic about them.”

“Comic? My clothes?” Mr. Mipps was very surprised.

“Certainly. I must get Mrs. Fowey to alter an old coat of mine.
Black.”

“A bit gloomy, ain't it, Vicar?”

“Sextons and undertakers generally are, and one must conform to
type. Do you suppose it didn't hurt my vanity to cut off my hair? And
you must discard that eye-shade. It is merely an affectation on your
part.”

“Not wear my blog, sir?” Mipps was amazed.

“Certainly. It makes you look too like a damned little pirate.”

“Instead of a 'oly little sexton, eh? Any more discardations, sir?”

“Yes. If you want to talk about the sea, you will confine your
reminiscences, true or otherwise, to adventures in the Navy.”

“In plain words, not too much jaw about the Jolly Roger, eh?”

“No mention of it.”

“Certainly, sir. Unless to drink damnation to it. Though, come to
think of it, I've got one of the old flags in my sea-chest wrapped
around your old harpoon head. Now, surely, Vicar, it's right and proper
to run it up on top of the shed wherever I make my coffins. Skull and
crossbones. Most appropriate. And where do I knock up my coffins and
sling my hammock?”

“I'll bespeak a cottage for you. There's one available called 'Old
Tree' at the other end of the village, and next door there is a small
barn that will do for your workshop. The ground will want clearing. It
has been used for a dump.”

“Dead cats and kettles? I knows. I'll soon clear it ship-shape.”

“Your position as sexton and verger will entitle you to sit at the
lowest desk of the pulpit, and since you can both read and write, you
can not only lead the Responses and Amens during service, but will earn
a little more helping me to keep the parochial books and registers.”

“That makes me sexton, undertaker, verger, bell-pull and clerk.”

“A great responsibility, Mr. Mipps. You see then that your conduct
must be exemplary.”

“The blessed Archbishop himself won't look no 'olier than me, I
gives you my word, sir. I'll be sober, diligent and take a pride in my
work, whether it be births, marriages or deaths.”

“And one thing more,” said Dr. Syn, “and perhaps the most
important.”

“Something else for me to do?”

“No. Something else you must never do. Wait here a minute and I'll
tell you.”

Dr. Syn went into the hall and once more opened the livery cupboard
in the far corner. He returned with two glasses and a bottle.

“French brandy, Mr. Mipps. I drink to our better acquaintance and to
our settling down.”

“And I drinks my respecks, sir.”

“Thank you. And talking of French brandy, Mr. Sexton—I hope you
find it to your taste?”

“Very nice and mellow, thankee, sir,” said Mipps, passing his glass
for more.

“The Frenchmen are up to other tricks than fighting,” went on Dr.
Syn, “and I warn you, Mr. Sexton, not to traffic in any way with their
brandy-runners, for that smuggling goes on, I have no doubt. This part
of the country being independent and lying so handy to the French
coast, there is a good deal of illegal money to be made with
comparative safety. But it will not be so for long. Romney Marsh holds
its independence only on its good behaviour. She is pledged against
smuggling. She has promised and vowed to maintain the excise laws of
England, and periodically suspicious Government officers show
themselves inquisitive. That is the danger always. That is why I am
ever exhorting my flock, for whom I feel responsible, not to traffic in
any way with those devils across the water.”

“But surely, Vicar, no Frenchman dares to venture over the Channel
these days?”

“I have every reason to believe that they do occasionally,” replied
Dr. Syn. “Though most of the venturing is done from this side to
theirs. I think also our fishing boats do not meet their French rivals
in mid-Channel with the antagonism that one looks for in patriots.”

“Well, what I says it, 'maintain the laws and the discipline,” said
Mipps stoutly. “For even though the Government makes you curse, there's
always the King, God bless him.”

“Yes, there is always the King, as you say,” agreed the vicar.

“Though, come to think of it,” went on Mipps, “I don't see no harm
in robbin' the French of good brandy when you can.”

“No, no. That won't do, Mr. Sexton. It is a dangerous sentiment, and
one that I will not tolerate. There must be no such talk, if you
please, and no dealings with the brandy-runners, and you will kindly
oblige me by drinking to the sentiment.”