“A gert hearse wi’ feathers an’ a tall man in front, an’ four hosses all blacker’n the fir-wood they comed from. An’ the moonlight shone through ’em where they moved away to the churchyard; an’ I fainted, I reckon, then come to an’ sped away afore they returned.”
“They’d have been there again in an hour or two,” declared old Cramphorn. “That’s the way of it. Ten o’clock or so they sets out, an’ back they come by midnight or thereabouts.”
Then the stranger rose to retire, but before doing so he declared his identity.
“I may tell you, neighbours, that I be the Preventive Officer sent to work along with the cutter from Dartmouth. My name be Robert Bluett, an’ I’m an old man-o’-war’s man an’ a West countryman likewise. An’ I look to every honest chap amongst ’e to help me in the King’s name against lawbreakers. So all’s said.”
A murmur ran through the company.
“Question is what be honest an’ what ban’t. Things ban’t dishonest ’cause Parliament says so,” growled a long-faced, sour man. “Free tradin’s the right answer to wrongful laws, an’ ’tis for them up-along to mend Justice, not rob us.”
Jonathan Godbeer, however, stoutly applauded Mr. Bluett.
“I be just a simple fisherman myself,” he said; “but what I can do against they French rascals I will do. You may count upon me.”
Mr. Bluett regarded Johnny Cramphorn and saw that the patriarch’s eyes were fixed on Godbeer and full of amazement.
“You to say that!” he murmured, “you—when us all knows—but ban’t no business of mine, thank the Lord. At least you may count upon an old man to stand by the King and his lawful laws, same as I always have and always will so long as I be spared.”