MEMORIES OF KENT

Evening Post, Volume CIX, Issue 101, 1 May 1930, Page 22

MEMORIES OF KENT

OLD SMUGGLERS' HAUNTS

THE WALNUT TREE

Once upon a time the Ship Hotel at Dymchurch, in Kent, had its adventures not unconnected with unlighted ships; that crept up to the shore at night. But as the Revenue men became more numerous an activity that was the Ship's moved'to the "Walnut Tree, at Aldington, six miles inland. If you stand on the ■ Roman wall which, forms the curve of Dymehurch Bay, and but for which Aldington Knoll would yet be licked by the sea as it was when the centurions knew it —if you stand on this wall on a moonless night, withia fair breeze coming out, of the east over tho risen tide, you may, if you please, recapture the past, writes Jack Hemiiig in tho "Daily Telegraph. " Look first to seaward. You may sec, presently, a distant light, cautiously shown, a mere flash over the water. Turn quickly towards Aldington, and an answering light will, appear, fairly high up. Wait patiently and still, but bo alert, for all that you are now to expect will occur in utter darkness and in almost unbroken quiet. Listen for the scrunch of keel oh sand, and perhaps the slightest squeal of'salt-ladeu tackle; then, from.landward, the sound of men scrambling carefully up the steep bank to the wall top, and the 6dd tapping as tliey move on the toes of their heavy boots along down: the steps to the water's edge. In a minute or two one of them will reappear, with' % bulky burden on his sliouiderV At the top of the grassy slope down to the -land he will lay down the object he is carrying, and they will slither, side by side, down to the bottom. Here the man again lifts, his load, and heads oft' northwest into the .' darkness. After him come the others, similarly burdened, a dozen or more in iile.' Fall in behind them if you have an hour or two to spare and are sure of your feet, for their route is a tricky one. It curves in. many ways, s/Smetimes turning almost at right-angies, and at one place leading to a single plank .across a canal—that which frightened Napoleon. You ' will wonder how these coarsely-shod, laden figures follow such a path, with never a false step, and with only an occasional ■ grunt of exertion. ■■'-,- ' !■■ THE UNUTTERED WORD. At length, all being well, you will arrive at the bottom of the s,lope above which sits the Walnut Tree. There is a road here—it is much the same today,as it was then —but it is avoided. The up way is through sundry cultivated areas (they are stillithere), carefully skirted, and finally through a wicket-gate giving on to a tiled path. . At the end of this a door stands open, and as the men approach,a trail rises eerily'from the floor within, revealing a flight of stairs vanishing down into' blackness. The first man descends to the bottom; the second, half-way down, passing below' his charge and those of his companions. ■■ When all is done and the trap lias been closed and covered with a table, the tense atmosphere eases a little. A man goes outsido and -whistles, -just so, and three men emerge from vantage points, while a fourth descends •from the look-out (that u;e know) in the roof. The lamp'is lit, and as the men seat themselves on the benches and you become accustomed to tho light you get your first sight of them. .For the most part middle-aged (for discretion); well built (of necessity); aglow with health and tanned by outdoor living; covered with thick jerseys from hip to neck; sea-booted and hatless. If you should be aijle rest awhile; take bread and cheese, at the common board, and in due course you will hear such a roaring of rollicking song—folk verses and chanties all mixed up—as you never heard before. Tales of hairbreadth escapes from you know who will bo told again to the accompaniment of the fiercest growls and oaths. ' All in all you will enjoy it—if you are one with,true men. And you may roam these parts the rest of your days, but you will never hear from real. Kentish people the word—well, the French call it contrabandier. '

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