on Execution Dock.
“But it is not my way to talk. I never believed in it as a policy. Not even my Bos’n realizes that I am going to
put my hands on the Scarecrow upon the night of the twenty-third, or how I am going to do it. I shall give orders
when the time comes, and then he and the men will be surprised at our success. I knew I could get him sooner or
later, and so I could afford to ignore the scoffers. But what a hanging it will be, Doctor.”
The Vicar repeated the word ‘Hanging’, and then added, “Have you remembered that the Prince of Wales has
declared himself the rascal’s protector from that fate?”
“Parson, Parson,” laughed the Captain. “You forget that you used up that way of escape for your rascally
parishioner when you saved that Old Katie from the gallows. I don’t suppose even you would have the temerity to
go to the Prince again with that request.”
“I have quite a natural abhorrence for the gallows,” returned the Doctor, “and would do anything to save even
this Scarecrow from such a barbarous end.”
It was after this conversation that Doctor Syn made a discovery which annoyed him. As he went about his lawful
calling as spiritual head of the Marsh he found that two of the Captain’s best men had been detailed to dog his steps.
He demanded an explanation.
“I suppose I owe you that at least, Parson,” said the Captain. “I have every reason to believe that the Scarecrow
knows that his number is up on the night of the twenty-third. What would I do in his place? Give up the planned
landing? Perhaps, but that is not his way. He is too arrogant to give up anything o f his own planning. But knowing
that it was you, Doctor Syn, who used influence with the Prince to save Katie, he will try to get into communication
with you. He knows he can trust you as a person. He has the right to come to you for advice. Not that he would
take it, but he might possibly be able to persuade you, with you natural abhorrence to hanging, to go once more to
the Prince. Therefore since he may come to you I intend to know everyone who gets into contact with you, for your
own protection, as well as for my own satisfaction.”
The days that followed were anxious ones for the Vicar and his Sexton.
“How much did the Captain know? Was his confidence in his success merely a bluff?”
Doctor Syn thought not.
That he had something to go upon was obvious, as one of his first steps was to set a guard not only outside the
Vicarage, but also within sight of Mother Handaway’s upon the Marsh.
However, a watch upon the secret stable had been anticipated by Doctor Syn. Jimmie Bone was there to look
after the horses, and there had been stored enough provisions for man and animals to cope with such an emergency.
Jimmie Bone could withstand a siege, but Mipps had a further comfort.
“There’s this to it, sir,” he said to the Vicar, as he helped him on with his Geneva gown before taking Evensong,
“when we has to get into the stables and can’t wait no more it will only mean that them good little sailors will have
to get a crack on their heads.”
“And a clumsy way it would be,” replied the Vicar. “I imagine I shall be able to show the Captain a better trick
than that.”
The days followed without incident. Doctor Syn went about his parochial business escorted at a respectful
distance by the sailors, and the Captain went about his, silently but with a growing attitude of confidence.
To avoid Mother Handaway’s would have been to create suspicion. Doctor Syn rode over there as usual and the
sailors had to wait outside and listen to his deep voice reading the old woman many a passage from the Scriptures.
Several times Mipps urged the Vicar to abandon the landing on the twenty0third, but Syn replied that if they were
to be hindered by every danger that presented itself, they might just as well quit the business altogether.
A few days before the dreaded date, when Mipps nerves were stretched to the breaking-point, the Vicar patted
him kindly on the shoulder, and told him that there was no cause to worry since he had solved the difficulty in his
own mind.
To the Captain he said later: “I shall be giving your sailors a rest for three days, as far as watching me concerns
them, for I am due to attend an important ecclesiastical meeting in the Lower House of Convocation, which means I
must be in Westminster. The good Squire has placed his coach at my disposal, and he prefers his own armed
servants to guard his vehicle from the dangers of the road, to sailors. The coach will not be able to accommodate
my watchers, excellent fellows as they are.”
“I have no jurisdiction to place my men on the Squire’s coach, and unless I choose to ride behind you to London
independently you will not be watched.”
Doctor Syn could see that his departure for London annoyed the Captain for all that.
“I can promise you one thing,” remarked the Vicar when he was ready to set off, “and that is I shall be back in
my parish for the twenty-third. As a matter of fact I shall be with you the day before.” He then added: “If you are
contemplating a pitched battle against the Scarecrow’s gang that night, there will be heavy casualties no doubt, and
my ministrations to the suffering will be needed. I shall be ready to attend the sick and dying, whether amongst your
men or the Scarecrow’s.”
Doctor Syn did not enter the Lower House at Westminster. He went instead to Carlton House, on a personal visit
to the Prince of Wales.
Although the anteroom was thronged with notabilities, amongst whom were two bishops, he had the extreme
satisfaction of being summoned to the Prince’s presence before all others. The last to arrive, he was the first to be
admitted.
The bishops, to be sure, put their bewigged heads together wondering why an obscure rural dean should be
preferred before lawn sleeves. Neither could they understand why the Prince should be so far interested in one of
their own cloth, since it was usually his way to admit first of all those rich enough to pay up some of his debts.
However, when, after some half-hour the striking-looking parson was brought to the Presence Chamber door by the
Prince himself, they felt it incumbent upon them to pay court to him before he left the anteroom, and they eyed with
a good deal of curiosity the sealed letter which the parson held, addressed to Admiral Troubridge, Admiralty House,
Whitehall, in the Prince’s own handwriting.
But Doctor Syn, though exceedingly polite and respectful to his superiors, was as tight as an oyster for
communication as Captain Blain.
To be quite candid neither of the bishops had ever known the Prince to be so condescending to a member of the
cloth, and his last words had puzzled them. Why had the Prince of Wales said to a country parson: “I have told the
old boy to do exactly as you ask. A promise is a promise, Doctor, though I think you have been guilty of cheating.
You’ve kept me very strictly to the letter of it rather than to the motive which made me make it. You ask a favour
for this fellow, and I don’t really like what I’ve seen of him. Never mind. Have it your own way, and if you want to
repeat the request at any time for yourself, it still holds good. And at a word, if things don’t fall out as you planned
‘em, tell me and there’ll be the devil to pay for the old boy. If you come up to London for a sermon let me know. If
you come up for any reason, apart from preaching, still do so, and you can regale me with some more of those tales
about the heathen you have met. God bless you, Parson, and think well what I’ve told you about lawn sleeves.