"They that builded the church," he answered.
"Well," I said. "It seems a certain foolishness to set the edifice so
close to the margin."
Again he chuckled.
"It was close, close, as you say; yet none so close as you might think
nowadays. Time hath gnawed here like a rat on a cheese. But the
foolishness appeared in setting the brave mansion between the winds and
its own graveyard. Let the dead lie seawards, one had thought, and the
church inland where we stand. So had the bell rung to this day; and only
the charnel bones flaked piecemeal into the sea."
"Certainly, to have done so would show the better providence."
"Sir, I said the foolishness _appeared_. But, I tell you, there was
foresight in the disposition--in neighbouring the building to the cliff
path. _For so they could the easier enter unobserved, and store their
Tcegs of Nantes brandy in the belly of the organ_."
"They? Who were they?"
"Why, who--but two-thirds of all Dunburgh?"
"Smugglers?"'
"It was a nest of 'em--traffickers in the eternal fire o' weekdays, and
on the Sabbath, who so sanctimonious? But honesty comes not from the
washing, like a clean shirt, nor can the piety of one day purge the evil
of six. They built their church anigh the margin, forasmuch as it was
handy, and that they thought, 'Surely the Lord will not undermine His
own?' A rare community o' blasphemers, fro' the parson that took his
regular toll of the organ-loft, to him that sounded the keys and pulled
out the joyous stops as if they was so many spigots to what lay behind."
"Of when do you speak?"
"I speak of nigh a century and a half ago. I speak of the time o' the
Seven Years' War and of Exciseman Jones, that, twenty year after he were
buried, took his revenge on the cliff side of the man that done him to
death."
"And who was that?"
"They called him Dark Dignum, sir--a great feat smuggler, and as wicked
as he was bold,"
"Is your story about him?"
"Ay, it is; and of my grandfather, that were a boy when they laid, and
was glad to lay, the exciseman deep as they could dig; for the sight of
his sooty face in his coffin was worse than a bad dream."
"Why was that?"
The old man edged closer to me, and spoke in a sibilant voice.
"He were murdered, sir, foully and horribly, for all they could never
bring it home to the culprit."
"Will you tell me about it?"
He was nothing loth. The wind, the place of perished tombs, the very
wild-blown locks of this 'withered apple-john', were eerie accompaniments
to the tale he piped in my ear:--
"When my grandfather were a boy," he said, "there lighted in Dunburgh
Exciseman Jones. P'r'aps the village had gained an ill reputation.
P'r'aps Exciseman Jones's predecessor had failed to secure the confidence
o' the exekitive. At any rate, the new man was little to the fancy of the
village. He was a grim, sour-looking, brass-bound galloot; and
incorruptible--which was the worst. The keg o' brandy left on his
doorstep o' New Year's Eve had been better unspiled and run into the
gutter; for it led him somehow to the identification of the innocent that
done it, and he had him by the heels in a twinkling. The squire snorted
at the man, and the parson looked askance; but Dark Dignum, he swore he'd
be even with him, if he swung for it. They was hurt and surprised, that
was the truth, over the scrupulosity of certain people; and feelin'
ran high against Exciseman Jones.
"At that time Dark Dignum was a young man with a reputation above his
years for profaneness and audacity. Ugly things there were said about
him; and amongst many wicked he was feared for his wickedness. Exciseman
Jones had his eye on him; and that was bad for Exciseman Jones.
"Now one murk December night Exciseman Jones staggered home with a
bloody long slice down his scalp, and the red drip from it spotting the
cobble-stones.
"'Summut fell on him from a winder,' said Dark Dignum, a little later, as
he were drinkin' hisself hoarse in the Black Boy. 'Summut fell on him
retributive, as you might call it. For, would you believe it, the man had
at the moment been threatenin' me? He did. He said, "I know damn well
about you, Dignum; and for all your damn ingenuity, I'll bring you with a
crack to the ground yet."'
"What had happened? Nobody knew, sir. But Exciseman Jones was in his bed
for a fortnight; and when he got on his legs again, it was pretty evident
there was a hate between the two men that only blood-spillin' could
satisfy.
"So far as is known, they never spoke to one another again. They played
their game of death in silence--the lawful, cold and unfathomable; the
unlawful, swaggerin' and crool--and twenty year separated the first move
and the last.
"This were the first, sir--as Dark Dignum leaked it out long after in his
cups. This were the first; and it brought Exciseman Jones to his grave on
the cliff here.
"It were a deep soft summer night; and the young smuggler sat by hisself
in the long room of the Black Boy. Now, I tell you he were a fox-ship
intriguer--grand, I should call him, in the aloneness of his villainy. He
would play his dark games out of his own hand; and sure, of all his
wickedness, this game must have seemed the sum.
"I say he sat by hisself; and I hear the listening ghost of him call me a
liar. For there were another body present, though invisible to mortal
eye; and that second party were Exciseman Jones, who was hidden up the
chimney.
"How had he inveigled him there? Ah, they've met and worried that point
out since. No other will ever know the truth this side the grave. But
reports come to be whispered; and reports said as how Dignum had made an
appointment with a bodiless master of a smack as never floated, to meet
him in the Black Boy and arrange for to run a cargo as would never be
shipped; and that somehow he managed to acquent Exciseman Jones o' this
dissembling appointment, and to secure his presence in hidin' to witness
it.
"That's conjecture; for Dignum never let on so far. But what is known for
certain is that Exciseman Jones, who were as daring and determined as
his enemy--p'r'aps more so--for some reason was in the chimney, on to a
grating in which he had managed to lower hisself from the roof; and that
he could, if given time, have scrambled up again with difficulty, but was
debarred from going lower. And, further, this is known--that, as Dignum
sat on, pretendin' to yawn and huggin' his black intent, a little sut
plopped down the chimney and scattered on the coals of the laid fire
beneath.
"At that--'Curse this waitin'!' said he. 'The room's as chill as a
belfry'; and he got to his feet, with a secret grin, and strolled to the
hearthstone.
"'I wonder,' said he, 'will the landlord object if I ventur' upon a glint
of fire for comfort's sake?' and he pulled out his flint and steel,
struck a spark, and with no more feelin' than he'd express in lighting
a pipe, set the flame to the sticks.
"The trapt rat above never stirred or give tongue. My God! what a man!
Sich a nature could afford to bide and bide--ay, for twenty year, if need
be.
"Dignum would have enjoyed the sound of a cry; but he never got it. He
listened with the grin fixed on his face; and of a sudden he heard a
scrambling struggle, like as a dog with the colic jumping at a wall; and
presently, as the sticks blazed and the smoke rose denser, a thick
coughin', as of a consumptive man under bed-clothes. Still no cry, nor
any appeal for mercy; no, not from the time he lit the fire till a
horrible rattle come down, which was the last twitches of somethin' that
choked and died on the sooty gratin' above.
"When all was quiet, Dignum he knocks with his foot on the floor and sits
hisself down before the hearth, with a face like a pillow for innocence.
"'I were chilled and lit it,' says he to the landlord. 'You don't mind?'
"Mind? Who would have ventur'd to cross Dark Dignum's fancies?
"He give a boisterous laugh, and ordered in a double noggin of humming
stuff.
"'Here,' he says, when it comes, 'is to the health of Exciseman Jones,
that swore to bring me to the ground.'
"'To the ground,' mutters a thick voice from the chimney.
"'My God!' says the landlord--'there's something up there!'
"Something there was; and terrible to look upon when they brought it to
light. The creature's struggles had ground the sut into its face, and its
nails were black below the quick.
"Were those words the last of its death-throe, or an echo from beyond?
Ah! we may question; but they were heard by two men.
"Dignum went free. What could they prove agen him? Not that he knew there
was aught in the chimney when he lit the fire. The other would scarcely
have acquent him of his plans. And Exciseman Jones was hurried into his
grave alongside the church up here.
"And therein he lay for twenty year, despite that, not a twelvemonth
after his coming, the sacrilegious house itself sunk roaring into the
waters. For the Lord would have none of it, and, biding His time, struck
through a fortnight of deluge, and hurled church and cliff into ruin. But
the yard remained, and, nighest the seaward edge of it, Exciseman Jones
slept in his fearful winding sheet and bided _his_ time.
"It came when my grandfather were a young man of thirty, and mighty close
and confidential with Dark Dignum. God forgive him! Doubtless he were
led away by the older smuggler, that had a grace of villainy about him,
'tis said, and used Lord Chesterfield's printed letters for wadding to
his bullets.
"By then he was a ramping, roaring devil; but, for all his bold hands
were stained with crime, the memory of Exciseman Jones and of his promise
dwelled with him and darkened him ever more and more, and never left him.
So those that knew him said.
"Now all these years the cliff edge agen the graveyard, where it was
broke off, was scabbing into the sea below. But still they used this way
of ascent for their ungodly traffic; and over the ruin of the cliff they
had drove a new path for to carry up their kegs.
"It was a cloudy night in March, with scud and a fitful moon, and there
was a sloop in the offing, and under the shore a loaded boat that had
just pulled in with muffled rowlocks. Out of this Dark Dignum was the
first to sling hisself a brace of rundlets; and my grandfather followed
with two more. They made softly for the cliff path--began the ascent--was
half-way up.
"Whiz!--a stone of chalk went by them with a skirl, and slapped into the
rubble below.
"'Some more of St. Dunstan's gravel!' cried Dignum, pantin' out a
reckless laugh under his load; and on they went again.
"Hwish!--a bigger lump came like a thunderbolt, and the wind of it took
the bloody smuggler's hat and sent it swooping into the darkness like a
bird.
"'Thunder!' said Dignum; 'the cliff's breaking away!'
"The words was hardly out of his mouth, when there flew such a volley of
chalk stones as made my grandfather, though none had touched him, fall
upon the path where he stood, and begin to gabble out what he could call
to mind of the prayers for the dying. He was in the midst of it, when he
heard a scream come from his companion as froze the very marrow in his
bones. He looked up, thinkin' his hour had come.
"My God! What a sight he saw! The moon had shone out of a sudden, and the
light of it struck down on Dignum's face, and that was the colour of
dirty parchment. And he looked higher, and give a sort of sob.
"For there, stickin' out of the cliff side, was half the body of
Exciseman Jones, with its arms stretched abroad, _and it was clawin' out
lumps of chalk and hurling them down at Dignum_!
"And even as he took this in through his terror, a great ball of white
came hurtling, and went full on to the man's face with a splash--and he
were spun down into the deep night below, a nameless thing."
The old creature came to a stop, his eyes glinting with a febrile
excitement.
"And so," I said, "Exciseman Jones was true to his word?"
The tension of memory was giving--the spring slowly uncoiling itself.
"Ay," he said doubtfully. "The cliff had flaked away by degrees to his
very grave. They found his skelington stickin' out of the chalk."
"His _skeleton?"_ said I, with the emphasis of disappointment.
"The first, sir, the first. Ay, his was the first. There've been a many
exposed since. The work of decay goes on, and the bones they fall into
the sea. Sometimes, sailing off shore, you may see a shank or an arm
protrudin' like a pigeon's leg from a pie. But the wind or the weather
takes it and it goes. There's more to follow yet. Look at 'em! look at
these bents! Every one a grave, with a skelington in it. The wear and
tear from the edge will reach each one in turn, and then the last of the
ungodly will have ceased from the earth."
"And what became of your grandfather?"
"My grandfather? There were something happened made him renounce the
devil. He died one of the elect. His youth were heedless and
unregenerate; but, 'tis said, after he were turned thirty he never smiled
agen. There was a reason. Did I ever tell you the story of Dark Dignum
and Exciseman Jones?"