“So it all went fair an’ soft, sir, as you may guess, till the oad officer got his pension and a new ’un came. He were very busy an’ zealousy, were this new officer, an’ people got displeased with him. He were out at all onseasonable times o’ night, dodging up an’ down the shore, an’ dropping unexpected on any boat’s crew as were layin’ up quiet for a smoke or a snooze. An’ he went nosing an’ sniffing up an’ down the place, most onneighbourly suspicious, routing about for tubs o’ brandy an’ gin, an’ trying to make troubles an’ misunderstandin’s among folks as were quite agreeable to let things go on pleasant an’ comfortable, just in the reg’lar oad way. So things had to be done a bit more cautious; an’ the chaps took care o’ their pistols an’ what not when there were a run, an’ young Robin Drake, he swore if the chief officer run up Agin him when there were a job goin’, he’d get a charge o’ lead—an’ two if one weren’t enough. Desprit young rip he were.
“Now, ’fore the new officer came, most o’ the stuff was took in on the straight run—just brought direct inshore an’ walked off. But this wouldn’t do with the new officer about; so the next crop was sunk. You see the Marsh End Sand?”
The tide was out, and the sand lay, a brown streak, out in the winking blue water two miles from where we sat.
“Well, a shade beyond that there’s the Oad Joe, a sand you onny see at bottom o’ spring tides. The tubs were sunk ’twixt the two, double-anchored, on four drift-ropes, an’ they were to be brote in on two seprit nights, two boatloads a night. So far settled, Eli Drake gives his brother Robin the straight tip about the guard-boat orders, an’ the first night half the crop’s landed neat an’ handy. ’Twere along there they landed ’em, just round that spit o’ the hill, where there’s a fair sheltered depth for a run in. ’Twere a pretty proper night, no moon, but not so dark as could be wished—’tis mighty odd how one moonless night’s a deal lighter’n another. Everything were ready—carriers waitin’ handy in a copse on the hill—an’ the two boats pulls in arl they can go, loaded up. You see we never wasted no time over the dash in; soft an’ cautious in the offing, if you like, but once arl’s clear an’ you put your nose inshore, bang you go in, whip your tubs onto the carriers, an’ shove away smart; an’ the carriers they went off smart too, ’fore any trouble could come along.
“Well, this time the carriers was lyin’ low in the copse, as I’ve told you. You know the copse—the farthest out bit o’ copsewood anywhere along these parts. ‘Umf!’ says one chap, sniffin’ hard. ‘I shouldn’t ha’ made count there’d ha’ bin a badger-earth this far out by the marshes!’
“’Umf! Umf!’ sniffs his mate, ‘I shoon’t ha’ thote it, nayther! Plain enough to smell, though,’ says he.
“This were just as the boats were puffin’ in. Robin Drake were in the first boat, an’ he jumps out a’most afore she touches. But afore a soul moves in the copse, afore one o’ the carriers has time as much as to straighten his legs, up jumps oad Nanny Lay in the very midst of ’em! Up she jumps, an’ goes a-mincin’ an’ a-skippin’ down to the boat, hoppin’ an’ dancin’ with her gown held wide in her hands. The carriers arl stands fair gastered, knowin’ as not a soul but ’emselves had a-laid down in that copse—a score of ’em, close as carrots.
“‘Good t’ ye arl,’ says Mother Lay, bobbin’ an’ caperin’. ‘Good t’ ye arl, if yell remember a poor oad woman, an’ buy good luck with one little tub! One little tub o’ the right liquor to warm my poor oad belly in my oad age! An’ woundy good luck shall go with every man o’ ye, an’ wither an’ blight on the King’s men—for one little tub, such as ye never gave me yet, though passin’ my door run arter run! One little tub for good luck!’ An’ she capers agen, an’ jines her thumbs overhead.
“The men were dunted dumb to see her, but Robin Drake, that feared for nayther man nor devil, he cussed her and warmined her, an’ made to drive her with a rope’s end. ‘Get off, ye naggin’ oad shanny,’ says he; ‘an’ shut your gab ’fore ye get summut to sing for!’
“But the rest o’ the men—older men, mostly—were a sight less daresome with a witch. ‘Shut your mouth, Rob Drake,’ says Stephen Allen, that was pardner in the venture, under his breath. ‘The run’s but begun. Don’t risk the ill-tongue on the crop if a tub’ll satisfy her. See, mother,’ says he, ‘take a tub an’ get scarce with it, an’ keep it out o’ sight!’ For there were few in these parts that dared go crossways with oad Mother Lay.
“‘Thank ye, an’ good luck, Master Allen,’ says the oad woman, bobbin’ like a string jack an’ grabbin’ up a tub. ‘An’ no thanks an’ no luck to them as calls me ill!’ An’ off she goes, a-hugging the tub afore her, up to the lane. ’Twere a fair heavy load for an oad woman like her, an’ she goes slow enough; but kickin’ an’ liftin’ her heels like jumpin’ Johnson.
“The carriers stood garpin’, but Rob Drake an’ Stephen Allen damns ’em back to their senses, an’ gets the rest o’ the tubs on ’em quick enough, an’ off they goes up the hill an’ along the lane quiet and safe; an’ so that night’s run came off all right. Though there were one more cur’ous thing. Oad Nanny Leigh couldn’t ha’ been more’n forty yards ahead o’ the first carrier when he set off at a trot, but arl the way up an’ past her cottage—a good half-mile—nayther he nor none o’ the others once clapped eyes on her agen; an’, true ’tis, the lane were the onny way for her to go!
“But Rob Drake were angry to have his word overborne, an’ called it sin to waste a tub on sich an’ oad trollops. An’ when he told his brother Eli, Eli thought so too. ‘I’ll surprise the oad witch,’ says Eli Drake, ‘an’ the tub sha’n’t be wasted arter all!’
“So next art’noon, towards dusk, up goes Master Eli Drake, mighty gay an’ knowin’, in his King’s uniform, to oad Mother Lay’s.
“‘Good evenin’ to ye, Mistress Lay,’ says he, standin’ in the door an’ lookin’ round the keepin’-room. ‘’Tis a fine day an’ looks like good harvest.’
“‘Aye, that it do, Master Drake,’ says the oad woman, lookin’ at Eli a bit sideways. For there were mighty little furniture in the place, an’ she was mindful that the tub weren’t so well bid as’t might be. Come to think of it, it do seem a wonderful odd thing that most o’ the witches I ever heard on were so poor in clothes an’ furniture; looks as though the devil were slippery in his bargains.
“So Mother Lay she looks sideways at Eli, and Eli he grins broad an’ impudent, an’ steps in unasked. ‘’Tis a hainish unpleasant business is mine, mum,’ he says, grinnin’ wider ’n ever, an’ starin’ this way and that about the place, up an’ down, an’ all round. ‘’Tis a hainish business, but it shouldn’t make neighbours bad friends. That’s a good big apron you’ve throwed under the kneadin’-trough, but I seem to see the shape of a tub o’ some sort under it. Surely not a tub o’ white brandy? No, surely not!’ An’ with that he stoops an’ lays hoad of it; an’ oad Nanny Lay she looks at him hard an’ evil.
“‘Ah! but ’tis!’ says Eli Drake. ‘A tub o’ moonshine, if ever I see one. Sorry to disappoint ye, mum; but ’tis my duty to seize this here tub.’ An’ he heaves it up on his shoulder, grinning an’ winking.
“‘Take care, Eli Drake,’ says oad Mother Lay, lookin’ more evil and dangerous than ever. ‘Take care how ye cross me!’
“Eli Drake laughs outright at her now, an’ for a moment the oad woman changed her tune. ‘Ah, Master Drake,’ says she, ‘’tis pleasant of ye to make your joke, but people might see the tub from the lane. Putt it down, now, there’s a deary, an’ we’ll hey a glass together. Come, ’taren’t neighbourlike to carry a joke too far!’
“Eli only walks out with the tub on his shoulder, laughin’ fit to crack. ‘I count I can carry it about as far as Leigh,’ says he. ‘At any rate, don’t worry—I’ll do my endeavour!’
“‘Now don’t ’ee be so hard on a poor lone woman,’ says the oad witch, pleadin’ an’ beggin’. ‘’Tis ill
for a fine King’s officer like you to take away the little drop o’ comfort from a poor oad widder, Master Drake. ’Tis sarten you don’t mean it. Master Drake, do ’ee let be!”
“Eli Drake cut her short ’twixt laughin’ an’ swearin’. ‘Let go o’ my coat,’ he says, ‘an’ take it lucky ’taint in my convenience to walk you off too!’ Because o’ course he never meant carryin’ the tub farther than his own house.
“When she saw nothin’ ’ud change him, she let go all an’ cursed. ‘I warned ’ee, Eli Drake’ she screamed: ‘I warned ’ee an’ ye wouldn’t listen. I begged ’ee an’ ye laughed at me. Listen or laugh, laugh or listen, you’ll rue this minute when ’tis too late! You’ll rue this minute on earth above an’ in hell fire below! Go home, go home, Eli Drake; go home laughin’ with your stolen tub; go home to your bed an’ make the most o’ this night’s rest, for your next will be a bitter one! I’ll putt upon ye heavier an’ sooner than ye know—you an’ your twin brother too, that tried to rob me first!’
“Eli Drake laughed till the tub jiggled on his shoulder, as he walked down the lane. An’ oad Nanny’s voice followed him out o’ sight.
“‘Go on, go on!’ she says, ‘yow ha’r’t far to travel. What I can’t do myself I can putt it on others to do! Make the most o’ your time, you an’ your brother both!”
“Robin laughed as much as Eli when he heard the tale, an’ they both sat down to stick a gimlet in the tub and drink luck to the next run. Only their mother fared uneasy. ‘You shouldn’t ha’ done it, Eli,’ says she; ‘’twill lead to trouble, sarten. Take it back now, and call it all a joke, do! Take it back, an some other little thing with it, to pacify her!’
“But the boys only laughed again, an’ poured her out a glass of brandy-an’-water, which she wouldn’t take. She were a little, quiet woman, were Mrs. Drake, far unlike her sons, though they fared mighty fond of her, both of ’em. But as for givin’ heed to what she said—not them.
“The two brothers went to bed together merry enough that night, after they’d unplugged the gimlet-holes more than once, an’ more than twice. Eli was off guard for the night, and the two slep’ sound and heavy. But their mother was wakeful. Mighty still it is o’ quiet nights down on the marshes, as you know, an’ she, lyin’ awake with her window open, for ’twere summer weather, might ha’ heard the grass growin’, pretty nigh. She lay awake and uneasy; an’ in the black of the night there carne a sound of something scuffling past very quiet outside. ’Twere no human thing, surely, an’ nothen on four feet that she could fix on as very likely; not the dog, for he were chained behind in the yard, nor the cat, nor a rabbit, for neither scuffled that way. ’Tis likely she never thought of a badger.
“She lay an’ listened, an’ heard the thing go brushin’ along as far as t’ other bedroom window, where her sons were, an’ there it stopped. An’ at that the dog behind woke an’ began sniffin’ an’ whinin’ an’ shakin’ his chain.
“Barrin’ the dog, she heard no more for a good while, an’ then ’twas somebody walkin’ about in her sons’ bedroom. At this she got up an’ went out an’ along to their door. ’Twere not loud footsteps, an’ she guessed it were either Robin or Eli on his bare feet. So she called. The footfalls stopped, but there was no word of answer. So she called again, an’ made to open the door. Now that door, sir, was just on a common latch, no more; such as you lift with a finger. The latch lifted easy enough, but the door might ha’ been nailed for all it ’ud budge, top, bottom, or side.
“Mrs. Drake thumped an’ called. ‘Robin!’ she called. ‘Eli! Be you sleep-walkin’? Why d’ye hold the door?’
“There came not a sound but the footfalls again. They went across the room an’ stopped; and then the bed creaked an’ bumped, an’ all were quiet.
“Mrs. Drake made no doubt but that one o’ the two had got up asleep an’ putt the chest o’ drawers across the door. So she went back to her room, meanin’ to slip on a shawl an’ a pair o’ shoes, an’ go and look in at the other bedroom window. She’d scarce got to her door but something made her change her mind, an’ she ran back to call louder an’ push harder. An’, behold you! no sooner was her hand on the latch than the door opened, free an’ easy. The door opened, an’ there, on the casement-sill opposite, was a black shadowy something that turned its head, with a long sharp snout. It turned its head an’ then bundled out o’ window neck an’ crop, scratchin’ down the ivy an’ scufflin’ off over the garden; an’ the dog outside jumps wild on his chain, and howls like Bedlam.
“Mrs. Drake was near to drop with fright, but she ran across an’ banged the casement, an’ catched it. An’ then she smelt, an’ the place was full of what the carriers had sniffed in the copse the night afore—the stink of a badger.
“‘Robin! Eli! Wake up! Are ye well, my boys?’ she called; an’ shook the nearest by the shoulder.
“He was heavy in sleep, an’ ’twas a moment or two ’fore he woke enough to grunt an’ wonder. He was all right, ’twould seem, an’ so was t’other; an’ they scarce said it but they were fast asleep again. They hadn’t tapped the tub for nothing, them jolly twins.
“Their mother was thankful to find ’em unhurt, but she was frighted an’ bemazed at the whole thing. She could only hope that the thing on the sill had been no farther; though she was sore troubled an’ distressed. So she dressed herself, an’ walked about the rest of the night, an’ sat, an’ worried, an’ peeped into the young fellows’ bedroom every now an’ then. There was no more to disturb her, ’cept that at first, as she began dressing, she heard a queer sort o’ snarling bark two or three times outside the garden fence. She guessed it to be a stray dog, or a fox, though the noise were far unlike either. That was because she den’t know the voice of a badger; few do, for ’tis a silent beast, mostly.
“In the morning Robin an’ Eli rose up dry an’ sick an’ surly. Bad heads an’ bad mouths they’d both on ’em got. Sarten to say they’d had a good few turns at the brandy tub, but it had never served ’em so before, such purely good stuff as ’twas. They snapped an’ snarled at one another every turn.
“‘Pah!’ says Robin. ‘Place smells like a sty. Couldn’t ’ee leave the window open, same as I set it?’
“‘Leave the window open?’ says Eli. ‘I did. Ye shut it yourself, dang ’ee.’
“‘An’ who’s a-been at my pistols?’ says Robin. ‘I left ’em in the drawer, an’ here they’re atop o’ the chest. Loaded, too! I’d a-swore I drawed the charges yesterday. Seems you’ve been a-sleep-walkin’!’
“Sleep-walkin’ yourself!’ growls Eli. ‘I ha’n’t touched your pistols. Pity you can’t hold a drop o’ liquor like a man. Ugh!’
“He puffs and spurts with his dry mouth, an’ presently draws out from his lips two stiff black hairs. ‘What’s this?’ he says. ‘Mouth like a mortar-mill, hair an’ all. An’ on the bed, too; stinkin’ black hair, like a polecat’s. What sort o’ brute ha’ ye been harbourin’ in here, ye drunken lump?’
“So ’twent till they were nigh at blows, them two brothers as had never quarrelled in their lives afore. An’ they were as short an’ snarly with their mother, too, an’ would listen to nothing she had to say about the affairs o’ the night; till the poor woman went away an’ cried. An’ the fear was on her, hard an’ heavy an’ black; for she knew that oad Nanny Lay had been with ’em in the night, an’ these were no more her sons as she’d known ’em, but men bewitched.
“So the two brothers went about growling an’ snapping an’ scowling, an’ sometimes almost fighting. But most of the day they kept apart. Now, the night to come was app’inted for running the rest of the tubs o’ brandy. There had to go a night between, ’cause the carriers wouldn’t work two nights together; an’ they’d be little good for smart work if they would, for need of sleep. ’Twere Eli’s turn for night guard, an’ as he were going out, says Robin: ‘The rest o’ the crop’s comin’ in tonight. How about time?�
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“‘Time yourself!’ says Eli, an’ swears. ‘Time yourself, an’ go about your smugglin’ your own way. I’m a King’s man, I am!’ An’ he slouched off, black as thunder.
“‘King’s man!’ shouts Robin. ‘I’ll give ye King’s man, ye sulky brute!’ An’ he’d ha’ rushed after Eli to strike him, but his mother held him back, an’ prevented him. He pushed her away, swore worse than Eli, an’ presently went off on his business. An’ his mother sat at home, an’ cried again.
“Well, that night the boats pulled off, an’ lifted the rest o’ the crop o’ tubs all fair an’ easy, without a kink. ’Twere a good night for the job, moonless an’ cloudy, an’ darker than the first night. Robin Drake gave little thought to his brother’s talk, knowing well enough the reg’lar rounds o’ the preventive boats. The carriers were all in to time, waiting in the copse, just as before. All being clear, as far as could be guessed, in came the boats, over the Marsh End Sand, hard as men could pull. In they came, an’ Robin Drake an’ Stephen Allen had a pair o’ tubs on the first carrier almost as soon as they’d touched bottom. The carriers swarmed round, the boats were half unloaded, and some o’ the men were getting off, when—
“‘Halt, there!’ comes a roar from the hill-spit behind the copse. ‘Stand, every man o’ you, in the king’s name!’
The Arthur Morrison Mystery Page 130