A Smuggler Tale of the Romney Marsh

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could beat the devil hisself for blasphemy when he was put out. But I wasn’t afraid o’ him; he was one you could size up like. But Clegg—oh, he was different. Show me the man wot could size up Clegg, and I’d make him Leveller of Romney Marsh, aye, King of England, supposin’ I had the power. There was only one man wot I ever seed wot made Clegg turn a hair, and that was a rascally Cuban priest, but then he had devil powers, he had. Ugh!” And the sexton relapsed into silence. His listeners watched him, and, watching, they saw him shiver. What old scene of horror was flashing before that curious little man’s mind’s eye? Ah, who could tell? No living body, for the crew of the Imogene had all died violent deaths one after another in different lands, and since Clegg was hanged at Rye, why, Mipps was the only veteran left of that historical ship of crime, the Imogene.

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“Pray get on with the business in hand, Mister Mipps,” said Mrs. Waggetts, “for though I declare I could a-listen to you a-philosophizin’ and a-moralizin’ all day long, young Jerk is all agog. Ain’t you, Jerry?”

“That’s so,” replied young Jerk. “Please get on, Mister Sexton.”

“I will,” said Mr. Mipps. “You may wonder now, Jerry Jerk, how it has been possible for a swaggerin’ adventurer like I be, or rather was at one time, when I was a handsome, fine standin’ young fellow aboard the Imogene—I say you may fall to wonderin’ how I come to be a sexton and to live the dull, dreary life of a humdrum villager. Well, I’ll tell you now straight out, man to man, and when I’ve told you, why, you’ll understand all the mystery wot I’m a-gettin’ at.” The sexton smote his hand upon the table so that all the breakfast dishes jumped into different positions on the table, and the two words he said as his fist crashed down were these: “I couldn’t!”

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“Couldn’t what?” asked Jerk, whose anxiety for the breakfast dishes’ safety had driven the context of the sexton’s speech from his mind.

“Couldn’t live a humdrum life after the high jinks I had at sea.”

“But you did, Mister Sexton, and, what’s more, you’re a-doin’ it now,” replied young Jerk with some show of sarcasm.

“And very prettily you can act, can’t you, Hangman Jerk?” said Mr. Mipps, winking. “I declare you’re a past-master in the way of pretendin’. Well, pretendin’ all’s very well, but it’s often plain-spoken truth wot serves as a safer weapon for roguish fellows, and it’s plain-spoken truth I’m a-goin’ to use to you, believin’ in my heart that if ever there was a roguish fellow livin’, and one after my old heart, why, Hangman Jerk is that fellow.”

“Please get on, Mister Sexton,” said Jerry, feeling rather important.

“Yes, get on, get on,” repeated Mrs. Waggetts, “for I’m a-longin’ to hear how he takes it.”

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“Can you doubt? I don’t,” replied Mipps. “I beet my head he’ll take it as a man, won’t you, Jerry Jerk, eh?”

“I’ll tell you when I knows wot it is,” replied the boy.

“Why, what a talky old party I’ve become. Time was when I never uttered a word—but do—ah, I was one to do. And much and quick I did, too.”

“We knows that very well, thank you, Mister Sexton,” said Jerry. “That is, we knows it if we knows your word can be relied upon.”

“You may lay to that,” said Mipps, “and you may lay that in our future dealings together you can depend on me a-standin’ by you as long as you lay the straight course with me.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” responded Jerk. “Now p’raps you will get on?”

“Well,” said the sexton, “I must begin with the Marsh—the Romney Marsh. No one knows better than you that she’s a queer sort of a corner, is Romney

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Marsh. I’ve seen you a-prowlin’ and a nosin’ about on her. You scented excitement, you did, on the Marsh. You smelt out a mystery, and like a lad of adventurous spirit you wanted to find out the meanin’ of it all. Very natural. I should have done the same when I was a lad. Well, now the whole business is this: the Marsh don’t approve of people a-nosin’ and a-prowlin’ after her secrets, see?” And the sexton’s face grew suddenly fierce: all those lines of quizzical humour vanished from around that peculiar mouth and left a face of diabolical cruelty, of cu

“Oh, the Marsh don’t approve, eh? And who or what might be the power on the Marsh to tell you so?”

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“The great ruler o’ the Marsh—the man with no name who successfully runs his schemes and makes his sons prosperous.”

“That’ll be the squire, then,” said Jerry promptly, “for he’s the Leveller of the Marsh Scots, ain’t he? He makes the laws for the Marshmen, don’t he?”

“He does that certainly,” agreed the sexton. “But whether or no he’s the power what brings luck to the Marshmen—Marshmen, mind you, worthy of the name—neither you nor me nor nobody can tell. Sufficient for us that the Marsh is ruled by a power, a mysterious power, wot brings gold and to spare to the Marshmen’s pockets.”

“Ah, then,” said Jerry, with his eyes blazing, “then I was right. There are smugglers on the Marsh.”

“There are,” said the sexton; “and it’s wealthy men they be, though you’d never guess at it, and darin’, adventurous cusses they be, and rollickin’ good times they gets, and no danger to speak of, ’cos the whole blessed concern is

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run by a master brain wot never seems to make mistakes, and it was this same master brain wot agreed that you should share the privileges o’ the Marsh, and I was ordered to recruit you.”

“Oh! and what’ll be required o’ me?” asked Jerk, “supposin’ I thinks about it.”

“You’ll be given a horse, and you’ll ride with the Marsh witches, learn their trade, and be apprehended to their callin’.”

“And how do you know I won’t blab and get you and your fellows the rope?” asked Jerry bravely.

“Because we’ve sized you up, we ’as, and we don’t suspect you of treachery. If we did, it wouldn’t much matter to us, though I should be right sorry to have been disappointed in you, for I declare I don’t know when I took to a young man like I ’as to you. You’re my fancy, you are, Jerry. Just like I was at your age. Mad for adventure and for the life of real men.”

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“Yes, but just supposin’ that I did disappoint you, Mister Sexton? It’s well to hear all sides, you know.”

“Aye, it’s well and wise, too, and I’ll tell you. If it was to your advantage to betray us—to that captain p’raps—well, I daresay you’d do it now, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” said Jerk; “all depends. P’raps I might, though. You never knows, does you?”

“No, you never knows. Quite right. But you’d know one thing: that go where you would, or hide where you liked, we’d get you in time, and when we did get you it ’ud be short shrift for you—you may lay to that.”

“I daresay,” said Jerry, “unless, of course, I got you first.”

“You’d have a good number to get, my lad,” laughed the sexton. “But it’s no use a-harguin’ like this. You won’t betray us when it don’t serve your turn to do so, and it won’t do that, ’cos we has very fine prospects open for you, and