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Page 72
'People o' the Hills,' said the Bee Boy, throwing half of his potato
towards the door.
'There you be!' said Hobden, pointing at him. My boy--he has her eyes
and her out-gate sense. That's what _she_ called 'em!'
'And what did you think of it all?'
'Um--um,' Hobden rumbled. 'A man that uses fields an' shaws after dark
as much as I've done, he don't go out of his road excep' for keepers.'
'But settin' that aside?' said Tom, coaxingly. 'I saw ye throw the Good
Piece out-at-doors just now. Do ye believe or--_do_ ye?'
'There was a great black eye to that tater,' said Hobden indignantly.
'My liddle eye didn't see un, then. It looked as if you meant it
for--for Any One that might need it. But settin' that aside, d'ye
believe or--_do_ ye?'
'I ain't sayin' nothin', because I've heard naught, an' I've see naught.
But if you was to say there was more things after dark in the shaws than
men, or fur, or feather, or fin, I dunno as I'd go far about to call you
a liar. Now turnagain, Tom. What's your say?'
'I'm like you. I say nothin'. But I'll tell you a tale, an' you can fit
it _as_ how you please.'
'Passel o' no-sense stuff,' growled Hobden, but he filled his pipe.
'The Marsh men they call it Dymchurch Flit,' Tom went on slowly. 'Hap
you have heard it?'
'My woman she've told it me scores o' times. Dunno as I didn't end by
belieftin' it--sometimes.'
Hobden crossed over as he spoke, and sucked with his pipe at the yellow
lanthorn flame. Tom rested one great elbow on one great knee, where he
sat among the coal.
'Have you ever bin in the Marsh?' he said to Dan.
'Only as far as Rye, once,' Dan answered.
'Ah, that's but the edge. Back behind of her there's steeples settin'
beside churches, an' wise women settin' beside their doors, an' the sea
settin' above the land, an' ducks herdin' wild in the diks' (he meant
ditches). 'The Marsh is justabout riddled with diks an' sluices, an'
tide-gates an' water-lets. You can hear 'em bubblin' an' grummelin' when
the tide works in 'em, an' then you hear the sea rangin' left and
right-handed all up along the Wall. You've seen how flat she is--the
Marsh? You'd think nothin' easier than to walk eend-on acrost her? Ah,
but the diks an' the water-lets, they twists the roads about as ravelly
as witch-yarn on the spindles. So ye get all turned round in broad
daylight.'
'That's because they've dreened the waters into the diks,' said Hobden.
'When I courted my woman the rushes was green--Eh me! the rushes was
green--an' the Bailiff o' the Marshes he rode up and down as free as the
fog.'
'Who was he?' said Dan.
'Why, the Marsh fever an' ague. He've clapped me on the shoulder once or
twice till I shook proper. But now the dreenin' off of the waters have
done away with the fevers; so they make a joke, like, that the Bailiff
o' the Marshes broke his neck in a dik. A won'erful place for bees an'
ducks 'tis too.'
'An' old,' Tom went on. 'Flesh an' Blood have been there since Time
Everlastin' Beyond. Well, now, speakin' among themselves, the Marsh men
say that from Time Everlastin' Beyond, the Pharisees favoured the Marsh
above the rest of Old England. I lay the Marsh men ought to know.
They've been out after dark, father an' son, smugglin' some one thing or
t'other, since ever wool grew to sheep's backs. They say there was
always a middlin' few Pharisees to be seen on the Marsh. Impident as
rabbits, they was. They'd dance on the nakid roads in the nakid daytime;
they'd flash their liddle green lights along the diks, comin' an' goin',
like honest smugglers. Yes, an' times they'd lock the church doors
against parson an' clerk of Sundays.'
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