HISTORY of SUSSEX
Blinker Pays his debts: Page 2
In the 1820's - there were three coastguards and their families in occupation
of the station at Crow Link, which consisted then of one block of whitewashed
buildings divided into two separate dwellings, and another cottage, nearer
the cliff edge, now in ruins and partly vanished over the cliff.
The chief and eldest of the Preventives was Mark Johnstone, a stern and
weather-beaten man of over fifty who had served under Nelson at the Nile
and elsewhere. The other two were John Hardwick, and Gordon McNaish. the
former aged 32, the other 43. Hardwick looked younger than his age and provided
a contrast with his companions by his gaiety of demeanour and youthful spirits.
McNaish, though a man of few words and endowed with the solemn deliberation
characteristic of the Scot, obviously preferred the company of Hardwick
to that of the somewhat forbidding Johnstone. Indeed, since the death of
his wife some years prior to our story, the Scotsman had occupied a room
in the Hardwick's cottage rather than live alone, and being without child
of his own, lavished all the affection which lay hid beneath that shaggy
and almost comic exterior on little Mary Hardwick, aged seven.
She was not the only child in the community, for Johnstone had a boy,
Ted, aged thirteen, who seemed to cherish for his unapproachable father
something of the regard which a dog might show. As far as Ted's recollection
went back there was always the heavy hand of his father laiden with no sentimental
half-heartedness. Ted's unconscious philosophy on life accepted this as
being as inevitable as the rise and fall of the tide on the beach below.
Indeed, it would probably be fair to say that, every time the boy received
a blow or a beating, the rebellious heart which by rights should have beat
in his breast would have been found under the ribs of McNaish, who used
to chafe and swear under his breath on these occasions, and only under his
breath when Mrs Hardwick or Mary were present. But, whenever possible, where
Johnstone went, there Ted followed.
In summer the man would go down on the rocks at low tide collecting lobsters
and shellfish, and somewhere about you would have found Ted's clothes in
a little pile and their owner splashing about in the sun-flecked wavelets,
lying in the warm rock-pools, or whiling the time away with those strange
playthings which the sea always offers to childhood. This, indeed, was the
only relaxation which he was allowed, and he owed this to an obsession which
his father had, only too rare amongst seamen - he insisted on Ted learning
to swim. The ex-sailor had had the distinctly unpleasant experience of having
his ship sunk under him in a naval battle, and, since Ted was destined for
His Majesty's Navy, Johnstone was determined to see to it that the King
should not lose a good man if it could be avoided.
On all other occasions there was no idling for Ted, and, could you have
seen him on the January day when our story opens, he would have appeared
bent nearly double under a load of driftwood, returning from Cuckmere Haven.
The two had been over at the river for that purpose all afternoon, and having
crossed two of the Seven Sisters - Haven Brow and Short Brow - had halted
for a brief rest on Rough Brow.
The day had been quiet and sunny on shore; but a persistent sea-fog had
prevailed, and now, towards sunset, the mist began to thicken. Ted had put
down his load and gone with natural boyish curiosity, to look over the edge.
Suddenly he started back, ducking at the same time:- " A boat, dad
! " he called excitedly. "Curse ye! ye young fool!" exclaimed
his father. " Did they see we?" Without waiting for an answer
he strode to the edge, threw himself down at full length and cautiously
wormed himself to the very brink. Right underneath was a small boat, being
rowed along slowly, as close as was practicable to the cliff; and, it being
nearly high tide, there were already several feet of water there.
There were five men in. the boat, but even their weight could not account
for the deep draught. Under the thwarts, however, there appeared to be stowed
something bulky, covered over with a tarpaulin sheet. In the stern-sheets
sat a figure with a wide three-cornered hat, and, as his face was constantly
turned upward. Johnstone could plainly detect a large black patch over one
eye. " Blinker ! " he exclaimed. " and they're making for
the Haven ! "
He hastily scrambled back and jumped to his feet. " Look, dad,"
said Ted. " there's a ship. ' Johnstone clutched the boy's shoulder
and followed the direction of his finger. There, sure enough, about half
a mile out was the dim hull of a ship, stern on to the shore and even now
fading again in the fog. "French!" muttered he. "I could
tell her cut anywhere." In a trice he had sized up the situation. Under
cover of the fog the contraband ship from France had crept up close to the
shore where she had transhipped her cargo to the waiting beat of the notorious
"Blinker" Eldridge, and now that astute smuggler was doubtless
on his way to enter the Cuckmere on the top of the tide and convey his booty
up to Alfriston.
"Blinker " was the prince of contraband men at Alfriston.
Time and again the Preventives had been within an ace of securing him,
but never could they catch him red-handed. Years before, in a scuffle with
the coastguards at Tile Barn. a pistol shot had been fired so close to his
face as to destroy his left eye, and, owing to his habit of wearing a large
black leather patch over that organ, like a horse's blinker, he had earned
the nickname of " Blinker " Eldridge.
The prospect of capturing the clever smuggler urged Johnstone to immediate
action, and a scheme of comparative simplicity leaped to his mind. "
Run home," he commanded Ted, "tell 'em to launch the boat and
come round to Cliff End. I'm going to try to hold 'em up till the boat comes.
No, boy. leave the wood here and run." With perhaps the faintest sign
of reluctance the boy sped off down the slope of Rough Brow, and Johnstone
turned westwards again. Dusk was already coming on, and, by the time he
had retraced his steps as far as Cliff End, the Cuckmere Station was invisible
in the twilight fog.
The inflowing waters of the high tide were lapping the steep flanks of
the hillside, and the width of the Haven was at its greatest. Johnstone
saw that the smugglers would have little difficulty in. entering tile river
and in passing up to Alfriston unseen from either side; yet he guessed that
they would hug the eastern shore rather than risk detection by the Cuckmere
Station across the water.
The wash of thousands of years of tides had caused erosion of the hillside
at Cliff End, and, in consequence, there was a precipitous drop at the junction
of river-valley and sea, becoming less formidable inland as the slope becomes
less steep. Johnstone looked round for a suitable observation post and found
it behind an ant-hill above a more practicable slope. In any case he would
not be noticeable in the darkness; but, if there was going to be any shooting,
it was just as well to have some kind of screen in front. He lay down therefore
and, taking his two pistols from their cases, laid them upon the mound before
him. It was cold and damp, and presently the shivering of his own body made
it yet more difficult to hear anything through the rhythmic swish and lap
of the wavelets below.
There! Surely that was the plop of oars? Yes, there it came again. He
strained his eyes into the gloom and dimly made out a deeper shadow on the
water some thirty or forty yards out. What was to be done? If he let them
pass, they were as good as escaped. No. he must try to hold them up; at
least the sound of the shots would bring the Cuckmere men across in their
boat. He picked up a pistol and aimed at the moving shadow.
The crash of the shot was instantly answered by an exclamation from the
boat, and then, to Johnstone's surprise, two flashes stabbed the darkness
below him. The bullets flew wide, smashing into the furze-clump behind him.
At that moment there were rapid footsteps on the turf above, and a body
flung itself down beside him. It was Ted. "Plague on ye, boy!"
growled his father, "get out of this!". " I'm going to reload
for you, dad," whispered Ted, breathlessly but appealingly. Johnstone
made no reply but passed the powder and shot across. He was once again sizing
up the position. Evidently the smugglers had landed a couple of men on the
shore to give warning of any attack from that side. He could hear them now
wading cautiously along in the shallow water below. The boat had stopped
and seemed to be about to turn. Johnstone raised the other pistol and fired
again. They must be held up at all costs.
To his satisfaction, when the dazzle of the flash had passed off, he
saw the craft much nearer the bank. A voice in the darkness murmured, "
The water's coming in!" Good! He had holed her below water. But now
sounds to the right indicated that the two men on shore were climbing the
hillside, doubtless to attack from behind.
The idea of personal danger never crossed the coastguard's mind; but he
could not afford to be put out of action yet. " Watch behind there!"
he rapped out to Ted. " I'm doing that, dad," said Ted with more
than a suspicion of fear in his voice. " What'll we do if they surround
us?" The answer was precluded by a shot from the boat which struck
the ant-heap, spattering earth in Johnstone's mouth and eyes.
Spitting and wiping the dirt from his face, he sighted on the boat once
more and returned the shot. Almost on top of his report came another from
the boat, and Johnstone's right hand fell powerless on the mound "
Curse 'em! they've got me! ' he groaned. A voice from the bushes behind
called out, " It's only old Johnstone; we've got him!" At the
same time there was the sound of running towards them.
Ted twisted round and discharged the pistol, which he held in his hand,
into the darkness. It, was followed by a cry and a crash in the furze -
and silence. "Good boy!" whispered Johnstone thickly, as with
the aid of his teeth, he wrapped his handkerchief round the injured wrist.
" Now, then, let's have the other pistol; I can shoot left-handed well
enough." The grating of the boat's keel a little further to the right
indicated the trend of events. They had landed; but what for? To mend the
leak or to settle scores with the Preventive man?
He was not long in doubt, for a couple of flashes darted up at him, and
Ted gave a stifled scream. " Hurt lad?" demanded the man quickly.
Ted was feeling himself. " Are you hurt, lad? For God's sake tell me!
" The boy had never heard that note in his father's voice before, and
he felt tempted to exaggerate the hurt for a moment; but, realising the
urgency of the situation, he answered with a badly simulated laugh, "
No, dad; it just cut across the back of my leg."
A diversion now occurred, for the sound of oars came in from the sea.
" They've come ! " exclaimed Johnstone under his breath. Evidently
the smugglers, by their boat, had also heard it, for there was a rapid colloquy
in excited tones from their direction. "Back!" came "Blinker's"
deep voice through the darkness, and Johnstone could hear the footsteps
of the smugglers running along the shore.
Suddenly from the bushes just above them somebody rushed out and dashed
past towards the steep slope in front. Johnstone's pistol rang out, and,
with a wild cry, the unseen form crashed down the intervening thirty feet
to the water's edge. "Shine the lantern on 'em, boy! " commanded
the Preventive man. Ted, with numbed fingers, unhitched the dark lantern
from his father's belt and set about striking a light. "Quick, quick!"
urged his father, "they're pushing the boat off!" Despite the
cold and his excitement, at last Ted got the flame going and lit the lantern.
"On the boat boy, on the boat!" directed Johnstone. Ted pushed
back the dark slide and turned the feeble ray upon the smugglers. There
was "Blinker" standing on the edge of the water, which had by
this time gone down some way leaving the boat, heavy with her contraband
cargo, badly stranded on the mud.
Two other men were assisting him with every effort, to move her off, but
she only yielded an inch or two at each heave. "Hands up!" came
McNaish's voice from the left, and at the same moment, the coastguards'
boat grounded with a crunch. It was impossible to see what the newcomers
were doing, for it was essential to keep the smugglers in the light, thereby
rendering it, easy for the Preventives to see them while remaining, themselves,
in the sheltering darkness.
To McNaish's command the smugglers paid no heed: but, with renewed endeavours,
they got their boat on the move, and she began to float off. Bang! went
a pistol, and one of the gang dropped his arm to his side, staggered a few
steps towards dry land and sat down nursing his shoulder.
The other man ceased his efforts to climb into the boat and put up his
hands: only " Blinker," now more than waist deep, still clung
to the gunwale as the boat drifted out. Keeping her hull between himself
and his pursuers, he edged her out; but he had forgotten Johnstone on the
hillside above him. Steadying his uninjured arm on the mound before him,
the Preventive man took careful aim and fired. " Blinker's " head
dropped, his fingers lost their grip on the boat, and she slid away leaving
the smuggler's body face downwards, and still, in the water. Hardwick appeared
in the circle of light, wading out towards the unconscious man. "Let
him drown!" roared Johnstone as he slid down the slope to where McNaish
was securing the prisoners.
Unheeding the older man's words, Hardwick reached out and grasped the
wounded man's collar and brought him ashore. As he was doing so, the bow
of the Cuckmere coastguards' cutter entered the lantern rays. In a few moments
they had captured the drifting contraband boat and returned with her in
tow. They got out and gathered round where Hardwick and the others stood
by the dying smuggler. Hardwick felt his wrist. " Still alive,"
he said, " let's have some brandy." One of the Cuckmere men went
back to the captured boat and returned with a cask. " Why didn't you
let him die where he was?" growled Johnstone. " I'll not stand
by and see a brave man drown," replied Hardwick. " ' Blinker '
always fought square."
He broke open the cask with a stone and poured a few drops into "
Blinker's " mouth. The veteran smuggler opened his eyes. His glance
travelled round the circle of faces, and he smiled faintly. Hardwick knelt
beside him, endevouring to staunch the blood which welled from a wound in
his chest. " Thank'ee, Hardwick", he murmered. "thank'ee,
ye're the first Preventive man to do me a good turn; but it's no good, it's
no--- " His voice broke abruptly and his head fell back.
There was a dignity in the old man's face, and even in the notorious
black patch, which inspired respect even in death, and the coastguards stood
silently round the body till young Ted suddenly collapsed in a dead faint.
It is to be feared that the Preventives made more of a fuss of Ted than
his father approved when they found his shoe full of blood and a nasty gash
across the back of his calf; but, at any rate, the occasion was a great
one, for it marked the end of " Blinker " Eridge's gang. Our story,
however, must pursue its way a little further...............
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