happened to him during those absences was his own good business, and not ques tioned.

In their admiration, begrudged and yet sincere, the authorities in London wondered how the Scarecrow, with the

vast organization of hides and runners on the London road, was able to control the vaster plotting necessary across

the channel with the hated French. The luggers left some destination unknown except to him, on time and tide

which he ordained.

With French spies rife in London the Admiralty commissioned Bow Street Runners to obtain information from

these agents, not on political questions, but for some clue to lead them to the French headquarters of the scarecrow’s

shipping. That the Scarecrow had to visit France from time to time they guesses, and the packet-boats were watched

for anyone who might be him. They were cute enough to guess right. The Scarecrow did have to visit France, and

on those occasions Doctor Syn was forced to find an alibi for his clerical absence. This was simple. The Vicar of

Dymchurch was also the Dean of Peculiars, and in that capacity had to journey like bishops and archdeacons

amongst the clergy under him.

As the clergy of the Marshes affirmed in his praise, the good and generous cleric over them never grudged

spending some days in an endeavour to assist some remote parish. Therefore, when it became necessary for the

Scarecrow to visit France, Doctor Syn arranged a temporary leave from his parish in order to undertake some remote

visitation. On such occasion, Mipps accompanied him as his servant.

Doctor Syn’s parochial visitations took him frequently across the Sussex border to occupy the pulpit in the

picturesque town of Rye, in which resided many French families, descended from the Huguenot refugees, who had

never returned across the Channel. A thriving trade was done with these exiles by the onion boys, who with their

long poles and French blouses were a familiar sight to the townsfolk.

In Dymchurch, however, the onion boy was as rare a sight as an American Indian, so one day when an onion

bearer came slouching along the sea-wall and asked for the house of Monsieur Mipps, a crowd of laughing and

inquisitive school children accompanied him to the Coffin Shop, where Mipps soon sent them about their business.

Along with the sexton the boy asked, “Monsieur Mipps?” To which Mipps answered, “Monsieur Mipps, moi,

but I don’t want no onions.” From the string the boy detached one onion and handed it to the Sexton, who shook his

head emphatically.

The boy nodded vigorously and said, “Regardez.” With his little finger he pushed the on ion from the bottom,

peeled off the outer skin, and Mipps saw a small row of parchment sticking out from the top of the bulb. As he drew

it out the boy said, “L’Epouvantail.”

“And that’s Froggy for Scarecrow,” said Mipps. “A message, eh? That’s queer. Well, I’ll see it gets to him, and

find you a penny for your pains.

To make his promise good, Mipps retired to the back of the shop and found a penny from his secret store, but on

returning the onion boy had gone, and Mipps realized that he had not understood a word he had said. So with a

penny to the good he unrolled the parchment, only to find it was French writing. Curious to know what it was all

about, he decided to seek out the Vicar at once, knowing that the writing would not trouble Doctor Syn who could

write and speak French as well as English.

The Sexton found the Vicar in his study at work on a sermon, which he interrupted by telling the adventure of the

onion.

“To write letters is not encouraged in the Scarecrow’s legion.” Whispered Syn when he had signed to Mipps to

lock the door. “It must be something serious. Give it to me.”

The note was written in print hand, and Doctor Syn translated it to Mipps as he read.

“THE SCARECROW’S ORDERS FOR NEXT RUN MUST BE CANCELLED. OUR PRISONERS HAVE

MUTINIED AND SEIZED BOTH STORES AND ARMOURY. THEY DEMAND A LUGGER IN WHICH TO

RETURN TO ENGLAND AND FREEDOM. OTHERWISE THEY HOLD OUT, WHICH THEY CAN WEE DO

FOR SIX MONTHS OR MORE. THEIR ARMS COMMAND THE QUAY. THEY FIRE ON ANY MAN WHO

CROSSES IT. ANY COMMUNICATION IS MADE THROUGH THEIR WOMEN-FOLK. BY THE WAY THE

LAST PRISONER, HART, IS WITH THEM, AND HIS WIFE AND BABY REACHED HERE SAFELY. WE

CANNOT LOAD OUR CARGO. WE ARE SHORTHANDED AND UNDER THREATENED ATTACK. WE

HAVE GREAT NEED OF L’EPOUVANTAIL. YOUR SERVANT, DULOGE.”

Doctor Syn looked at Mipps and said quietly, “It is the first time that our prisoners have taken concerted action

against us.”

“Do you think it’s young Hart that’s put fight into ‘em?” asked Mipps. “The rest have all been there a long time.

Some of ‘em a very long time. Broken men with no hope and no spirit.”

Doctor Syn nodded. “Aye, Mipps. When I last saw them I thought of them as ghosts. Ghosts of their former

selves. But what could we do other than what we did? They were traitors all. As each one was tried by the Nightriders, he knew they deserved death, too. They were given their choice. Each man chose exile. Their lot might

have been far worse. Their wives and in some cases their children were kidnapped and sent after them, and those

who repented and promised loyal service in the future, were allowed married quarters. There was never complaint

against their rations. They live better than they would on Romney Marsh. True they have to work, and work harder

than they might have had to do at home, but they must never forget that they are working out their own salvation, for

I think the sin of treachery will be the most grievous count against a sinner in the Latter Day. There is something

behind this mutiny. I cannot think it is Hart. He expected to be sent to the Plantations by Captain Blain, when we

rescued him. He then expected death at our hands. Instead of which the wife and child he loved have been sent to

him in safety. At his trial at the Oast House he was penitent and grateful for the mercy shown him. Well, we must

go to France and look into it.”

“Let’s see,” said Mipps, “there’s eighteen prisoners besides hart, and all ablebodied men. That means we must

take our biggest boat, for we’ll need some thirty of our men to raise this ‘ere siege.”

Doctor Syn smiled and shook his head. “You and I, with the help of Duloge, will be enough to raise ‘this ‘ere

siege, as you call it.”

“I meant ‘that there siege,’ Vicar. Sorry,” replied Mipps, grinning. “But what about Jimmie Bone? He speaks

French same as you only not so good, and he knows the place well. He’ll want to come with us, too.”

“But I want him here, Mipps. He is the only one we can trust to take the Scarecrow’s place. Remember, Captain

Blain is still here, and we must not let him think that his presence has scared the Scarecrow. We will sail for France

tonight. I’ll go to the Squire now and tell him I am bound for Rye, and may not be back for a day or so.”

“And what are we going to Rye for this time?” asked Mipps. “We ain’t due to preach there, you know, till next

month.”

“You forget the confirmation candidates,” replied Syn. “The young people are so important. The future pillars

of the parishes, my good Mipps. I think I should tell them myself what a privilege it is for them to have the

Archbishop himself willing to lay his hands upon their heads.”

“All right, sir,” grinned Mipps. “Just so long as I know. I’ll tell Dymchurch that I has to go along with you all

the way to Sussex to tell the young ‘uns that the Aggerbagger is coming along to tap ‘em on the skulls hisself.”

“Aye, Mipps,” laughed Syn, “a little grumbling on your part will not be amiss. Neither will it be amiss if Jimmie