The Smuggler's Cave

by George A. Birmingham

Gladys did more than summon the performers. She summoned everyone else too, insisting that the whole village should turn out. She even gave, in the name of the vicar, a totally unauthorised order to the schoolmaster that the children should be released an hour before the proper time. The schoolmaster knew quite well that the vicar had sent no such message; and would have acted without authority if he had; but he wanted to see the rehearsal himself, so he pretended to believe Gladys. In this he showed not only self-indulgence but wisdom. It was doubtful whether he could have kept the children in school if he had wanted to.

Mrs. Eames's arrangements had been carefully made, and the great scene thoroughly thought out. Old Bunce's boat, representing the lugger, lay a hundred yards off the mouth of the cave. At the oars sat eight of the steadiest and most reliable men in the village, chosen to be the crew of the lugger on the day of the performance. With these men there was no trouble at all. They took the business seriously and were ready to do exactly as Mrs. Eames bade them. They sat, over their outstretched oars, ready to pull to the shore the moment the signal was given.

Tommy Whittle and his mentally deficient brother were the signallers. At the actual performance they were to light a flare on top of the church tower. At rehearsal they merely waved a flag from the churchyard wall. The lighting of flares in broad daylight would have been foolishly wasteful, and they could not get into the tower, even for purposes of rehearsal, because the vicar kept all the church doors locked. Their part was clear, and Tommy thoroughly understood it. His brother, in spite of his feebleness of mind, was quite capable of doing what he was told. Indeed he was more likely to obey orders literally and swiftly than a man who could think for himself; which shows that it is a mistake to develop the intelligence of soldiers, trade unionists, the rank and file of political parties, and others who depend on discipline for their efficiency.

On the green beside the boat haven, where the nets were dried and the geese paraded, it was arranged that eight pack horses should stand ready to be loaded with smuggled goods. Each horse was to be in charge of two girls. This was perhaps not strictly in accordance with historical precedent, but Mrs. Eames felt that some female parts were required and the holding of the heads of pack horses seemed the most suitable thing for girls to do. Only one horse could be secured for the rehearsals, so the sixteen girls took it in turn to hold the creature.

On the occasion of the great rehearsal summoned by Gladys the whole sixteen girls turned out and argued fiercely, each pair alleging that it was their turn to hold the horse. Mrs. Eames's first duty, when she came down with her party from the vicarage, was to settle this dispute, a very difficult thing, for the mothers of the girls were all there eager to support their daughters' cause. This made a total of twenty-eight women (four mothers had two daughters each), who all talked at once and loudly. Perhaps only Mrs. Eames among living Englishwomen could have talked down so many competitors. The horse itself, an elderly wise beast, strolled about the green, nibbling at the grass. It would have been there when wanted even if no girl had held its head. Village maidens, when intent on claiming their rights, are voluble. Their mothers, having had more practice, talk even more and faster. All, mothers and daughters, talked at once. Sir Evelyn, who walked with Mrs. Eames at the head of the party from the vicarage, looked hopelessly at the turmoil. Jimmy and the two girls stopped at the edge of the green, waiting to see how Mrs. Eames would deal with the situation. Her plan was simple. She talked faster, louder and with shorter pauses for breath than anyone else. One by one the girls were battered into silence by a hailstorm of words. One by one their mothers gave up the unequal contest. Then Mrs. Eames selected two girls to hold the horse, and, by way of compensation for disappointment, promised that a little later Mary Lambert would teach them all the proper way to do it, the way proper to the occasion, the way horses are held on the stage.

"Miss Lambert," said Mrs. Eames, "is a real actress, and she knows all about pageants and exactly how things ought to be done. As soon as the rehearsal is over you shall all come back here and she'll show you."

Mary Lambert had never held a horse in her life on or off the stage. She said so to Mrs. Eames in an appealing whisper.

"Or if she doesn't teach you that," said Mrs. Eames, "she'll teach you something else quite as nice. But you must keep quiet now and let me get on with the rehearsal. What will you teach them, Mary?"

"I'll teach them to dance," she said. "I'll teach them my Nautch Girl dance. It's tremendously fetching and they'll be able to learn their part quite easily. You'll be able to fit it in somewhere, won't you, Mrs. Eames?"

Sir Evelyn protested feebly against a Nautch Girl dance in a pageant of eighteenth century English life; but he was not allowed to say very much. Mrs. Eames welcomed the proposal and explained just where and when the dance could take place.