“No man can stand on the gallows without coming face-to-face with his soul!”

Spoiler alert – there’s a barely-disguised double role for one of the main stars of this film. If you don’t want to know, look away now. I don’t want you getting all annoyed, tracking me down and subjecting me to a brutal ear-slitting and tongue removal. Neither of which would stop me from typing this stuff, but I’d have to put the subtitles on when I was watching the films, which would be vaguely annoying.

Why did you mention that revolting torture stuff, Chris? You may well ask. Well, I’ll tell you. Because so perish all who betray Captain Clegg, that’s why. And that’s how the film starts. With the unseen pirate Clegg overseeing just such a punishment for one of his naughty crew, leaving the man to rot on a desert island, as we learn it is 1776.

Then ‘tis immediately 16 years later (1792, if you’re counting), and we’ve moved from the high seas to Romney Marshes in England. Where the locals are being spooked by a mixture of stock footage of animals and a bunch of skeletal “marsh phantoms”. Plus some equally spooky moving scarecrows.

At this point, apparently fresh from filming Carry On Jack, the navy arrive. Led by Captain Collier (the marvellous Patrick Allen, forever known – in our house, anyway – as “the Barratt Homes man”), they are on the lookout for smugglers. They also have history with the aforementioned Clegg, who they’ve never actually met, but who led them a merry dance across the high seas back in the day.

Luckily, they’ve hit illegal smuggling ring paydirt here (not that they know it yet). The town is riddled with underground tunnels linking all the main buildings, and it appears most of the townspeople are in on the inevitable bootlegging activity. Led by the seemingly sweet-natured Doctor Blyss (Peter Cushing), a clergyman who may or may not be (but is) the long-thought-disappeared Captain Clegg. Also happening is a romance between the squire’s son Harry (Oliver Reed) and the landlord’s daughter (not that one) Imogene (Yvonne Romain).

Given this is Peter Cushing they’re dealing with (clearly relishing the double role) you’d think the navy would be stumped. Because they are, in the main, a bunch of cockney berks. But they have an ace up their sleeve, a human “ferret” who is the man marooned by Clegg at the beginning of the film (Milton Reid).

After checking out the body of a local victim of the “marsh phantoms” (“Frightened to death!” / “What by?” / “He didn’t tell us, being dead.”), the navy bring in their “ferret”, who immediately attacks Doctor Blyss. But they fail to make the connection, and the ferret can’t tell them, given he has no tongue to speak of (or with). And further distraction comes in the form of a local, who bursts in giving it the full beans, acting-wise, having seen the phantoms: “They had no faces! Only skulls!”

Things were already feeling a bit Carry On, but the entire film now takes a further turn into comedy territory, with Cushing breaking the fourth wall, and some shenanigans with the villagers trying to hide their moonshine in a nearby windmill. The sailors spend most of the film getting their steps in, marching from one place to another trying to catch people at it (but not, admittedly, “at it” in a Carry On way).

But then we get back on track, with murder, and mayhem, and a big fire (although weirdly, not at the end of the film).

This is a film which is unjustly filed under “not quite horror”, which is a shame because it looks really expensive, and is far more effectively spooky than most of the “proper” horrors being churned out at this point by Hammer.

The supporting cast is amazing (Michael Ripper! David Lodge! Derek Francis!). And the derring-do gets derring-done with gusto. So what if it doesn’t make much sense and everyone seems to suddenly quite like someone who until five minutes ago they wanted to bring to justice for multiple crimes? And what exactly was the point of the scarecrows, other than to look cool?

It's all great stuff, and let’s face it, you can’t really go wrong with a tale of smugglers and ghosts.