have had another scheme in my head for that tobacco business, and when our ally across the Channel is informed of

it, he will delight in carrying out my instructions. Although the casks must carry bones and nothing else upon this

voyage, it will free them from any further suspicion. The Customs people always fear being made fools of twice in

the same manner. Certainly the Captain will be blamed for the foolery this time, and they’ll all feel shy of any

future cargo of bones.”

“We must be careful, however, not to implicate young Lee, for when no tobacco is found the Captain will be very

angry, and suspect young George of having passed the word of warning to the Scarecrow’s men. We must, of

course, avoid Hythe till the empty casks have been shipped, and I don’s think George will be so stupid as to come

over Dymchurch way.”

“He’ll be far t oo busy fitting the casks for that, sir,” said Mipps. “It’s a pity we didn’t have them casks made

over in France, then none of this would have happened.”

“Nonsense,” laughed the Vicar. “They have to last for many a voyage, and the shop in Hythe turns out better

work than they can manage over there. Besides, it is a lesson to us not to be too greedy. I was in two minds about

the tobacco being packed with the first consignment of bones. And now fate has warned us to be cautious. I am

right about the revenue men being reluctant at repeating an experiment that has failed them. They will not damage

our casks a second time, believe me. The innocent bones will teach them a lesson.”

Mipps chuckled. “They ain’t forgot the lesson they learnt over the Providence of Folkestone.”

Doctor Syn nodded. “Aye, that was a case in point. When we fitted her with a false bow we put no contraband

inside it on the first trip. You remember that I feared information had leaked out, and we took no chances. In those

days we employed one or two fellows who had not learnt to keep their mouths shut in the waterside taverns, and so

our beautiful false bow was broken open upon her first arrival. But having to pay for wanton damage to the

structure made them shy of unripping her again. And so it will be this time. The very sight of bones in casks will

make the rascals sheer off, you’ll see. They’ll avoid bones as they avoided searching for kegs aboard the Flower of

Rye. You recollect how we covered them with sprats, and delayed getting to port till they stank the harbour out?”

Mipps laughed. “Aye, that was a good trick of yours, Vicar. We’ve run some queer cargoes in the past.”

“And have not lost our ingenuity, I hope,” replied the Vicar. “So here’s to us, and to the Captain’s

disappointment over the bones.” Doctor Syn paused, and then added, “When does your onion-boy come here

again?”

“Expected him today,” replied Mipps, “but the Channel’s choppy, and it may be tomorrow. Whatever the

weather, he’ll be here then.”

“I’ll have his parchment ready by tonight, then, said Syn. “I’ll instruct Duloge to pack that tobacco in different

fashion, this trip.”

“Have you thought it out how, sir?” asked the Sexton.

Syn filled his churchwarden pipe and lighted it leisurely. He then sat down in his high-backed chair, and

appeared to be merely enjoying the flavour of the smoke. Mipps, knowing this to be a sign that his master was

thinking, kept silence. At last the Sexton saw his expression change to a frown, which lasted some thirty seconds,

and then give place to a pleasant smile.

“He’s thought of something,” said the Sexton to himself.

The Doctor went on smiling and smoking, now and again giving vent to an audible chuckle.

“Aye, Master Carpenter,” he said at last. “I have thought out ‘how’. That tobacco shall come over on the decks

of the Plough and Strawberry. What is more, should the Captain remain after he has examined the casks, he will see

the tobacco slung ashore without any suspicion. He could even handle the stuff and not recognize it as contraband.”

“And might one ask just how, sir?” asked the Sexton.

“You may,” agreed the Vicar. “Duloge has not got a very satisfactory coopers’ shop over yonder, but we cannot

criticize his rope factory. That he can turn out good rope, you’ll admit. Very well, then. The tobacco can be

twisted tightly into rope lying aboard coming under suspicion. It can be slung on to the quayside and removed

under their very noses.”

Mipps nodded, and then of a sudden looked doubtful as he remarked: “When connected with ‘Free Trade’ a rope

ain’t a pleasant thing to contemplate. It would be a bad thing to hang even with tobacco twist round one’s throat.

Let’s hope the Froggies thre ads it well.”

“Duloge is proud of his rope, and justly so,” replied Syn. “I don’t anticipate that he will make it carelessly when

there is good twist inside.”

Mipps nodded once more. “Aye, he’s clever enough for a Frenchman, and would be a man after my won heart if

he could only speak the King’s English. But he’s got good English courage, as well as the cunning of a foreigner. I

will say that for him.”

“Courage and cunning are the two qualities that you and I must cultivate to the full,” said Syn. “We must be very

bold and very sly until such time as we can rid ourselves of this Captain Blain, for both these qualities he has very

highly developed.”

The eyes of the little Sexton twinkled, and his face became wreathed in smiles as he exclaimed: “Now you are

talking sensible, Vicar. Rid ourselves of Captain Blain, eh? I’ve been waiting to hear them blessed words of

comfort. And the sooner the better, I says. He seems to have got on to me with his nasty suspicions, and once on to

me who knows as how it won’t be you next, sir? And apart from us there’s that poor young George. We wouldn’t

have him sent to sea by the Press Gang, I knows.”

“We will not, Mipps,” replied Syn. “We must watch the Captain closer than ever. He suspects you, and that

means he’ll watch you closer than ever. And what you say about me is right, too. I have become aware lately that

he is trying hard to pump up from me the truth about my past. He is a great lover of the sea. He knows its history.

Only the other night he kept me up late telling me stories about Captain Clegg in the Caribbees. Tales of my old

self, Mipps, and very creditably told too. They were painfully correct, and as I listened I lived some exciting times

over again, I assure you. Here and there I longed to add details of which he had not heard. As it was I feigned a

disbelief in such wild adventures. I had a longing to take him by the throat and to tell him that Clegg was never

hanged at Rye, but had lived to choke the life out of an inquisitive sea captain. I found that feeling growing on me

when he began to sing my old chanty, ‘Here’s to the feet what have walked the plank. Yo -ho for the dead man’s

throttle’. Little did he guess how near death he was at that moment. One pounce and the dead man’s throttle would

have been at his throat. Do you know what saved him, Mipps?”

“What did?” asked Mipps. “Whatever it was, was a pity.”

“Aye, and a pity it was,” nodded the vicar, with a smile. “He sang it so badly, Mipps, and all the while I thought

of our roaring devils sending the same tune down the wind and waves, and my rage against him was blown away,

because I felt he was not worth the killing.”

“Well, I’m glad you thinks better of it now, sir,” said Mipps. “I know that nothing would delight the Nightriders

more than to get the word to take him off your hands. They resents him staying on at the vicarage, drinking you

good liquor, though I has had it pointed out that it is the only way for me to keep an eye on him on behalf of the