Doctor Syn by Russell Thorndyke (7 ebook reader TXT) đź“•
"Come, now," giggled the landlady, "not to us, Mister Mipps. Not the way we gets it."
"I don't know what you means," snapped the wary sexton. "But I do wish as how you'd practise a-keepin' your mouth shut, for if you opens it much more that waggin' tongue of yours'll get us all the rope."
"Whatever is the matter?" whimpered the landlady.
"Will you do as I tell you?" shrieked the sexton.
"0h, Lord!" cried Mrs. Waggetts, dropping the precious teapot in her agitation and running out of the back door toward the school. Mipps picked up the teapot and put it on the table; then lighting his short clay pipe he waited by the window.
In the bar sat Denis Cobtree, making little progress with a Latin book that was spread open on his knee. From the other side of the counter Imogene was watching him.
She was a tall, sli
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“Bio wed if I know; w^ish I did.”
On reaching the inn they all agreed that it was none too safe to walk abroad that night again, for fear of that sinister mulatto out upon the Marsh, so they ordered the supper and rooms to be got ready, and for an hour or so the Doctor chatted of indifferent things, just as if nothing had happened.
But the captain kept silent that night; he had many things in his head that he couldn’t understand, and the greatest of these was Doctor Syn, that pious old cleric, who was making himself so pleasant over a steaming bowl of punch; and as the parlour clock ticked on, and the room was filled with tobacco smoke which the parson kept sending in thin rings across the fireplace, the captain rubbed his eyes hard, fidgeted and shuffled in his chair, wondering when the dream would stop and he would find himself awake.
PRESENTLY the captain yawned and Doctor Syn rose and summoned Mrs. Waggetts. The captain yawned again and rubbed his eyes. Was he awake or dreaming? The last thing he remembered was drinking the hot rum punch and listening to a long story that he thought the Doctor would never finish. What a soothing efi’ect that punch seemed to have on his faculties, for after that he was rather vague. He dreamt he w^as lifted up sleeping, lifted up by two men who had followed Mrs. Waggetts from the bar when Doctor Syn had called her. Was one of those men that insolent Sexton Mipps? He vaguely thought it was, though he wouldn’t be sure. No, he wouldn’t be sure of anything! He thought he had been carried up to bed, but that was too silly, for who would carry him up to bed?^ Was it Doctor Syn who had said to Mipps on the stairs that he wasn’t going riding tonight for a thousand guineas, and that they must do without him for once? Then Mipps answered:
“That yellow beast ain’t a-lookin’ out for Clegg’s carpenter, is he? Well, I’ll go, it don’t want us both tonight.”
Then the dream got more confused than ever. There was a lonely reef in the coral seas, and on it was a weird figure calling. The captain seemed to be on a ship that was standing away from the reef, and all the time the figure kept calling. There was a full ship’s crew collected on the deck who were threatening two men. One was a familiar figure, a figure he had not seen often out of his dreams, and so was his little companion, and still the voice kept calling. The crew pushed forward a spokesman: he was a Chinaman—they called him by a nickname—Pete. Pete sheepishly advanced and stammered out to the familiar figure, whom he addressed as “Captain,” to put the ship about, and take up again the lonely form calling from the reef. Pete’s argument was evidently useless, for as he turned to join his fellows, the tallest of the familiar figures stretched out his hand and caught the yellow man—he was clad in the scanty garb of a cook—and broke his naked back with a marlin-spike that the little companion of the familiar figure had handed to him. Then the crew were commanded to throw the body overboard or they would be served the same. This they did, and the sharks surrounded the ship, clacking their teeth. Then the breeze seemed to blow off the reef, and the familiar figure ordered the men aloft to unfurl the sails. They obeyed sullenly, and still the voice, getting fainter and fainter, called from the reef, and the breeze increased, and the captain and his mate ordered the men the quicker aloft.
“Get up aloft there, you dogs! Get up! Get up! Get up!
The familiar figure then caught sight of the dreamer (though he wasn’t sure that he was dreaming even yet) , and striding up to him ordered him aloft, and when he refused he dragged him up by the arm. The dreamer felt dizzy, for tlie sails were blowing in his face, and he thought he would let go, it was so like his first experience aloft; and he begged the familiar figure to let him go down, but the voice went on crying: “Up! Get up! Get up!”
Then the sail was pulled from his face, the wind blew through his hair, and he started up, catching hold of a stay (which turned out to be the bedpost), and letting the sail fall below^ upon the deck, which in reality was the bedclothes slipping to the floor, and still the voice cried: “Get up! Get up!” And he recognized there the familiar face and form of Doctor Syn, and by him his companion. Sexton ]Mipps.
“Get up! Get up!” the parson was crying. “What a fellow to sleep you are! Like waking the dead! Upon my soul, it is, Mr. Mipps.”
The captain rubbed his eyes again.
The sun was streaming through the window, which was open, and a good stiff breeze was blowing in from the sea.
“What the devil!” said the captain. “Oh, it’s Doctor Syn, is it? What’s the time?”
“Just on ten o’clock,” said the cleric.
“Ten o’ what?” bellowed the captain, leaping out of bed.
“Clock,” repeated Mr. Mipps.
“I’ve overslept. Thing I’ve never done in my life. Been dreaming, too. Nightmares—horrible! But what do you want? Is anything the matter?”
“I think there is,” said the Doctor quietly.
“And so do I,” said Mr. Mipps.
“What? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“I don’t quite know yet, it may be nothing at all, but I don’t like the look of it.”
“The look of what?” shouted the captain.
“The vicarage,” replied the vicar. “Put on your clothes quickly. Captain, and come and see. I think there’s something wrong.”
THE captain was not long in tumbling into his clothes. Meantime, the sexton sat upon the bed, which neither of the other two seemed to think extraordinary or even familiar. The captain now and then addressed a sharp question to the Doctor, which the Doctor did not answer, nor indeed did the captain seem to expect an answer. The Doctor was standing by the window, his gray hair blowing in the stiff sea breeze that filled the room. Suddenly they heard a little shaking noise upon the bed, and, turning, perceived the little sexton, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, given up to the most ungovernable laughter, and yet it was not laughter, for the sexton made no noise. He just let his body quiver and heave and the tears roll on over his thin cheeks. Yes, he was lost in a fit of unmanageable giggles.
“What the thunder’s amusing you?” roared the captain; and he hurled the bolster at the sexton’s head.
Mipps was himself again upon the instant.
“Blessed if I knows,” he gasped, “but thank you kindly for that bolster whack, for if something hadn’t happened I believe I should have bust.”
“But what is it? There must have been something to make you laugh like that.”
“If there was, I’m blessed if I knows wot,” returned the sexton, “for I gives you my word that I never felt solemner than I does now, no, not never in my life.”
Doctor Syn took no notice of this extraordinary occurrence.
When the captain was dressed they all three set out for the vicarage.
“Well, now, what is wrong with it?” said the captain, surveying the little house that looked so pretty in the morning sun.
“That’s just what we want to know,” answered Doctor Syn. “In the first place, short of forcing the door, I don’t see how we’re going to get in. The place is all locked up, and, though we have battered and hammered on the doors and windows for a good hour, we can get no answer from the sailors inside.”
“And my men in the barn, where are they?” said the captain, looking across at the building in question.
“I’m afraid. Captain, that you are too liberal to your men, for their rum barrel is empty and the whole lot of them are still asleep.”
The captain swore and walked to the back door, raised his foot, and with one kick sent the door in, splintered and cracked from the bolt sockets.
“Neatly done!” remarked Doctor Syn, “though who’s to pay for a new door?”
But the captain did not heed him, nor care a brass farthing for the door, he was bent on investigating the house, which he did, followed by Mipps and the Doctor and Jerry Jerk, who had appeared from somewhere, nobody quite knew where.
The kitchen was empty, so the captain opened the door of the sittingroom ; it was very dark because of the closed shutters.
The captain strode across to the broken window, threw it open, and unbolted the shutters, which, swinging back, let in the light of day. In the corner of the room opposite the window lay the two sailors who had been left to watch with the bo’sun. Both were bound and gagged, and one of them was moving. The captain loosed his bonds with a clasp knife, and the fellow seemed to recover his senses.
“What does this mean, my man?” said the captain.
The sailor turned and pointed to the body of his friend. It lay half propped up against the wall, and above it was a large splintered tear in the whitewashed plaster. There were blood marks on this part of the wall. And then the captain saw and understood, for the neck of the propped-up body had been cruelly pierced, although there was no sign of a weapon; but some weapon had transfixed that body to the wall and then been plucked out, so that the body had collapsed amid a mess of broken plaster.
“It’s Bill Spiker, sir,” said the sailor. “He’s dead! He was a good gunner, sir, too. We wanted Spiker, sir, to fight the French—and he’s dead!” And the sailor broke off blubbering.
Just then they all became aware of a moaning overhead.
“What’s that?” said Mipps, beginning to giggle.
Indeed the uncanny atmosphere of the vicarage that morning had upset them all.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said the captain, “for I’ve had my fill of horrors. I don’t mind blood and I don’t mind fighting, but these mysteries are horrible. What the devil is that moaning?”
“That’ll be Job Mallet, captain’s bo’sun,” said the sailor.
“Or Rash, the sick schoolmaster,” said Doctor Syn.
But Mipps said nothing; he had left the room and was now out in the passage, suffering from another attack of giggles.
“Damn that sexton’s body and soul!” ejaculated the captain; “his giggling gives one the creeps. What’s tickling him now.f^”
“Unstrung,” muttered the vicar, as he followed the captain up the dark stairs to the bedroom.
There in the bed, last night occupied by Mr. Rash, lay the fat bo’sun on his back, with his face gagged up and covered with a nightcap. Dreadful moans he was making as he lay there.
The captain pulled the bedclothes off, and discovered that the faithful fellow was tied to the bed. Grateful he looked, though troubled, when the captain cut his bonds and pulled him up; and he owned in a shamefaced manner that he never had endured such a horrible night in his life, and that Parson Syn (saving his presence) must be the foul fiend himself to be able to sleep in such a devil-haunted house.
Doctor Syn went downstairs and fetched the brandy bottle, and administered a good dose to the bo’sun, and also to the other seamen who had followed them upstairs.
“And where’s
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