she might rely. He was guiltless. She relied on him to sell the sheep to the best advantage, for he was grasping and keen to drive a bargain. But when he had the money she knew that less confidence could be reposedon him. He could think of but one thing at a time, and if he fell into company, his mind would be occupied by his jug of beer, his bread and cheese, or his companion. He would not have attention for anything beside.
"Mother," said Mehalah suddenly, "has the canvas bag been touched since Abraham brought it here?"
"No."
"You have been in your seat all the while?"
"Of course I have. There was no one here but Rebow. You do not suspect him, do you?"
"No, I have no reason to do so."
Mehalah dropped her brow again on her hands. It was in vain to question Abraham. His thick and addled brain would baffle enquiry.
She stood up.
"Mother, I must go after George at once. He was with Abraham on the road home, and he will tell us the truth. It is of no use questioning the old man, he will grow suspicious, and think we are accusing him. The tide is at flood. I shall be able to catch George on the Mersea hard."
"Take the lanthorn with you."
"I will. The evening is dark, and there will be ebb as I come back. I must land in the saltings."
Mehalah took a lanthorn from the ceiling and kindled a candle end in it. She opened the drawer of the table and took out a pistol. She looked at the priming, and then thrust it through a leather belt she wore under her guernsey.
On that coast, haunted by smugglers and other lawless characters, a girl might well go armed. By the roadside to Colchester where cross ways met, was growing an oak that had been planted as an acorn in the mouth of a pirate of Rowhedge, not many years before, who had there been hung in chains for men murdered and maids carried off. Nearly every man carried a gun in hopes of bringing home wild fowl, and when Mehalah was in her boat, she usually took her gun with her for the same purpose. Men bore firearms not only for the sake of bringing home game; self-protection demanded it.
The mouth of the Blackwater was a great centre of the smuggling trade; the number and intricacy of the channels made it a safe harbour for those who lived on contraband traffic. It was easy for those who knew the creeks to elude the revenue boats, and every farm and tavern was ready to give cellarage to run goods and harbour to smugglers.
Between Mersea and the Blackwater were several flat hol ms or islands, some under water at high-tides, others only just standing above it, and between these, the winding waterways formed a labyrinth which made pursuit difficult. The traffic was carried on with an audacity and openness unparalleled elsewhere. Al though there was a coastguard station at the month of the estuary, on Mersea 'Hard,' yet goods were run even in open day, under the very eyes of the revenue men. Each public-house on the island, and on the mainland near a creek, obtained its entire supply of wine and spirits from contraband vessels. Whether the coastguard were bought to shut their eyes or were baffled by the adroitness of the smugglers, cannot be said, but the taverns found no difficulty in obtaining their supplies as often and as abundantly as they desired.
The villages of Virley and Salcot were the chief landing-places, and there horses and donkeys were kept in large numbers for the conveyance of the spirits, wine, tobacco and silk to Tiptree Heath, the scene of Boadicaea's great battle with the legions of Suetonius, which was the emporium of the trade. There a constant fair or auction of contraband articles went on, and thence they were distributed to Maldon, Colchester, Chelmsford, and even London. Tiptree Heath was a permanent camping gr ound of gipsies, and there squatters ran up rude hovels; these were all engaged in the distribution of the goods brought from the sea.
Though the taverns were able to supply themselves with illicit spirits, unchecked, the coastguard were ready to arrest an d detain run goods not destined for their cellars. Deeds of violence were not rare, and many a revenue officer fell a victim to his zeal. The story went that on Sunken Island off Mersea, a whole boat's crew were found with their throats cut; they were transported to the churchyard, buried, and their boat turned keel upwards over them.
The gipsies were thought to pursue over-conscientious and successful officers on the mainland, and remove them with a bullet should they escape the smugglers on the water.
The whole population of this region was interested in this illicit traffic, from the parson who allowed his nag and cart to be taken from his stable at night, and received a keg now and then as repayment, to the vagabonds who dealt at the door far inland in silks and tobacco obtained free of duty on the coast.
The gipsies intermarried with the people, and settled on the coast. The life of danger and impermanence was sufficiently attractive to them to induce them to abandon their roving habits; perhaps the diff erence of life was not so marked as to make the change distasteful. Thus a strain of wild, restless, law-defying gipsy blood entered the veins of the Essex marshland populations, and galvanised into new life the sluggish liquid that trickled through the East Saxon arteries. Adventurers from the Low Countries, from France, even from Italy and Spain � originally smugglers � settled on the coast, generally as publicans, in league with the owners of the contraband vessels, married and left issue. There were neither landed gentry nor resident incumbents in this district, to civilise and restrain. The land was held by yeomen farmers, and by squatters who had seized on and enclosed waste land, no man saying them nay. At the revocation of the Edict of Nantes a large nu mber of Huguenot French families had settled in the 'Hundreds' and the marshes, and for full a century in several of the churches divine service was performed alternately in French and English. To the energy of these colonists perhaps are due the long extended sea-walls enclosing vast tracks of pasture from the tide.
Those Huguenots not only infused their Gallic blood into the veins of the people, but also their Puritanic bitterness and Calvinistic partiality for Old Testament names.
In spite of this infusion of strange ichor from all sides, the agricultural peasant on the land remains unaltered, stamped out of the old unleavened dough of Saxon stolidity, forming a class apart from that of the farmers and that of the seamen, in intelligence, temperament, and gravitation. All he has derived from the French element which has washed about him has been a nasal twang in his pronunciation of English. Yet his dogged adherence to one letter, which was jeopardised by the Gallic invasion, has reacted, and imposed on the invaders, and the V is universally replaced on the Essex coast by a W.
In the plaster and oak cottages away from the sea, by stagnant pools, the hatching places of clouds of mosquitos, whence rises with the night the haunting spirit of tertian ague, the hag that rides on, and takes the life out of the sturdiest men and women, and shakes and wastes the vital nerves of the children, live the old East Saxon, slow-moving, never thinking, day labourers. In the tarred wreck-timber cabins by the sea just above the reach of the tide, beside the shingle beach, swarms of yeasty, turbulent, race of mixed-breeds, engaged in the fishery and in the contraband trade.
Mehalah went to the boat. It was floating. She placed the lanthorn in the bows, cast loose, and began to row. She would need the light on her return, as with the falling tide she would be unable to reach the landing-place under the farmhouse, and be forced to anchor at the end of the island, and walk home across the saltings. There was a yellow grey glow in the west over the Bradwell shore, its fringe of trees, and old barn chapel standing across the walls of the buried city. Othona stood sombre against the light, as though dabbed in pitch on a faded golden ground. The water was still, and it reflected the sky and the stars, with such distinctness that the boat seemed to be swimming in the sky, among black tatters of clouds, these being the streaks of land that
