Making of Captain Clegg Page #3

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Bringing it now, Mr. Rash.

Wait a minute. Has somebody

been out here with you?

No, no one.

Where have you been all this time, girl?

The Squire's here with his

party. Take this in to him.

Hurry now.

Pigeon pie.

It always amazes me how Mrs. Rash

gets so many birds under one crust.

She's a Dymchurch woman.

What goes on under the crust of

this village would surprise anyone.

Rash, bring out some Madeira and

open a bottle of Chateau Lafite.

I have already taken the

liberty of doing so. Splendid.

One moment, Mr. Rash. I was told

you didn't stock wines in this inn.

No, sir. But the Squire

generally keeps a few bottles...

from his own private cellar here.

And a very pretty wine it is,

too. And a pretty duty it pays.

Or should, then.

By thunder, sir, are

you suggesting that...

Perhaps you'd like my cellar book?

I cannot believe he...

The Captain is only complimenting

you on your choice of wine.

I hope you'll sample my little

stock. If you stay long enough.

I should be pleased to.

Where have you been? You're

late. I'm sorry I'm late, sir.

But that doesn't answer my

question. Where have you been?

You left these outside, sir.

I was otherwise engaged, Father.

Wenching again, I'll stake my wig.

My son. The free thinker.

Fair shares for all,

and all that nonsense.

You don't get it from me,

I can assure you of that.

What do you think of it?

What with that and his wenching...

You should be very glad that

he has an eye for the ladies.

It's high time one of the Cobtrees

introduced some good looks into the family.

What is it, Bosun?

It's about the billets for

the men. What about them?

There ain't none. There's not an

empty room in the whole village.

Should I march the men

back to the ship, sir?

Yes. I suppose you could. Just a minute.

What sort of men are they, Captain?

The sweepings of Chatham, I'll be bound.

They're as fine a body

of men as you'll get.

Yes, but they won't object to

discomfort? They're used to that.

There is a barn of mine they can use.

It's around the back of the

church. The boy will show you.

Go see about it, Bosun. Aye, aye, sir.

I do seem to have made rather a mess.

I better just slip down into

the bar. Mrs. Rash will...

give me a damp cloth.

I'm so sorry. Excuse me.

Thank you very much, Squire, for the...

On the way.

Give us a song, He can't sing.

We don't want no words, just a

melody. Give him the note, Dad.

Not until your song.

Go on. One, two...

Stop it. Let him go.

Give us a kiss, then.

It must be the drink.

Can't think what's come over the

heathen creature, Your Reverence.

Generally, he's as quiet as a

lamb. What on earth's happening?

My apologies, Parson.

Bosun, what happened?

One of your men got

a little out of hand...

but then our local ale is rather

strong. Please, it's of no consequence.

Shall I get the men outside, sir?

Sooner the better it would seem.

Yes, Bosun, march them off. All right.

Come on, you rum-swilling

rats, outside, come on.

Free thinkers, the lot of them.

This wouldn't have happened in

the old King's time, you know.

Well, let's get back to

our pigeon pie. Come on.

I understand it was you, Squire,

who found the body of Tom Ketch...

in the marsh this morning?

Well? Have you any idea how he died?

Dr. Pepper says it was heart failure.

If that's what he says he died of, then

that's how he died, as far as I'm concerned.

More pork, Blyss? No, thank you.

Heart failure.

It was rather sudden, wasn't it?

I don't know if it was sudden

or not, I don't very much care.

Neither, sir, do I very much care

for the tone of your questions.

I'm sure the Captain is

only trying to do his duty.

Let him do it with a little

respect for his betters.

Why are you so interested

in this man, Ketch, Captain?

I might as well tell you. Since

he can come to no more harm.

It was Ketch who told me

of certain activities...

he knew were going on here

in Dymchurch. What activities?

Smuggling.

If there was any smuggling

here, I'd know about it.

You forget that I am

to be chief magistrate.

How do you think Ketch died, Captain?

Thank you. I don't know.

All I've heard is some cock and bull

story about being frightened to death...

by phantoms.

Phantoms, ghosts, spooks.

You haven't heard, of the

Romney Marsh phantoms, Captain?

Are they some local superstitions? Don't

tell me you believe in them, Squire.

Would you kill an albatross

or set sail on a Friday?

No, I wouldn't, but... Local

superstitions of yours, Captain?

But have any of you seen any

of these so-called phantoms?

You, Squire? You, Parson?

I know many honest men, whose word I

trust implicitly, who have seen them.

I've seen them, sir.

You have?

What do they look like?

They were horrible.

Their horses seemed to move

without touching the ground...

or even making a sound.

Their faces were like

nothing on this earth...

glowing as if...

they were on fire.

How many were there?

A dozen or more, it was

difficult to tell, Father...

they kept appearing and disappearing.

They disappeared 'cause they weren't

there. Except in your fevered imagination.

You'd change your tune if

you saw them for yourself.

If I ever saw them, sir,

it's this I'd change.

To water.

Now with your leave, I must see that

my men are bedded down for the night.

Bosun, here we are.

Thank you, boy.

Here. Give him this.

Lovable little creature, isn't he?

What happened to him? He

fell foul of Capt. Clegg.

The pirate? Aye, that's him.

He attacked Clegg's wife, so they say.

So they left him to die on a

desert island in the South Seas.

But we were up on Clegg's heels

at the time and we picked him up.

Lucky for you we did.

Is he always like this? No, he's

all right, in the ordinary way.

Tonight something

seems to have upset him.

He ain't his usual happy self.

Get back!

See, he's frightened of fire, boy.

You know, he doesn't seem

to like the look of you.

Some people have that effect on him.

And when he is like that...

he'd just as soon slit your throat...

or claw out your

gizzards as look at you.

So the local people really believe

in these marsh phantoms, Parson?

They're very devout here, they

don't meddle with forces of darkness.

You're a doctor of divinity, don't

tell me you believe in them, too?

I believe in the power of good and evil.

Good night, Vicar.

Good night, Mr. Mipps.

I know that strange,

devilish forces do exist...

with powers beyond the

comprehension of mere mortal men.

It's best not to

antagonize those forces.

I saw them.

What in heaven's name, man...

Oh, God! The phantoms...

they passed so close I

could have touched them.

Steady, man.

I saw them just as close

as you are to me now.

I never want to see their likes again.

Where did you see them? In

the village? Village? No.

They're out there. On the marshes.

They scared the wits out

of me. Where on the marshes?

Where? North, south,

east, west, where, man?

I couldn't say exactly.

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