Anderida Competition

11/7 saw the annual Anderida Story/Poem competition take place at the Hydro Hotel in Eastbourne.

There were only eleven story entries this year and my tale, ‘Smugglers’, came second. Here it is.

Smugglers

The bar of the Market Cross House was full. Amongst the assembled company were the village smugglers, of whom there were many. 1820 had been a good year so far and the remainder of the summer would yield more bounty.  Suddenly young Jake raised his voice.

‘I saw him. I swear I did. Saw his uniform, saw the blood on his head. Smashed it was.’

‘Mad you are boy. You saw nothing. Tis the dark, the shadows that twisted your mind.’

Jake would not settle. Darkness came late in summer and he knew no shadows could mimic the ghostly customs man he saw.

‘We are all to blame,’ said Collins, the Alfriston butcher by day, ‘We moved the white  stones. You helped move them yourself Jake so he couldn’t clearly see the safe path along the cliff.’

‘And I regret my action now but t’was not me who stamped on his hand as he clung on and cried for help. We could have saved him.’

‘So then what? What would we do with him? Let him go to fetch the others and the soldiers? There was no choice, no choice.’

Roper the blacksmith nodded his head.

‘We have a cellar full of fine oak casks that, come twelve of the clock, will be taken away and our coffers will be full again.’

There were murmurs of agreement from around the smoky bar.

‘Forget that interfering customs man,’ he added.’ he will have been washed out to sea on the last tide and tomorrow we will….’

Jake interjected.

‘I don’t want to go down there again. I’ll not go down there again. It don’t feel right it don’t.’

‘Oh, leave him, he’ll only jinx us with his madness, we don’t need him do we Collins?’

Collins, the leader, agreed. ‘Tomorrow night with no moon the next landing, of French brandy, will come in and we’ll be ready eh lads?’

There was ripple of agreement except for Jake who shouted, ‘You all do what you want but I tell you there will be consequences from what we did. You may think I’m superstitious but I fear a bloodbath. He will be avenged.’

The conviction in Jake’s voice left some of the gang looking shaken. The atmosphere in the bar of Market Cross House became heavy. The company finished drinking in silence and gradually drifted off home including Jake. Only Collins and Roper remained to load the casks when the carriage arrived at midnight.

The following night the gang went down to the mouth of the Cuckmere River to load the next consignment to be taken upstream. True to his word Jake did not go. When the following day dawned there was only one member of the gang who somehow escaped the onslaught of the customs men and soldiers. Just before they attacked he glimpsed an apparition. It was, as Jake had said, a pale shadowy figure with half his head missing. With a solemn nod, Jake  whispered, ‘I told them, I warned them.’