 Chapter 15 of To Have and To Hold by Mary Johnston Chapter 15 in Which We Find the Haunted Wood On the outskirts of the Haunted Wood we dismounted, fastening the horses to two pines. The Italian we gagged and bound across the brown mare's saddle. Even as noiselessly as Indians, we entered the wood. Once within it it was as though the sun had suddenly sunk from the heavens. The pines of magnificent height and girth were so closely set that far overhead, where the branches began, was a heavy roof of foliage, impervious to the sunshine, brooding dark and sullen as a thunder cloud over the cavernous world beneath. There was no undergrowth, no clinging vines, no bloom, no color, only the dark innumerable tree trunks and the purplish brown scented and slippery earth. The air was heavy, cold and still, like cave air, the silence as blank and awful as the silence beneath the earth. The minister and I stole through the dusk, and for a long time heard nothing but our own breathing and the beating of our hearts. But coming to a sluggish stream as quiet as the wood through which it crept, and following its slow windings we at last heard a voice, and in the distance made out dark forms sitting on the earth beside that somber water. We went on with caution, gliding from tree to tree, and making no noise. In the cheerless silence of that place any sound would have shattered the stillness like a pistol shot. Presently we came to a halt and ourselves hidden by a giant trunk looked out on stealers and stolen. They were gathered on the bank of the stream waiting for the boat from the Santa Teresa, the lady whom we sought lay like a fallen flower on the dark ground beneath a pine. She did not move and her eyes were shut. But her head crouched the negris, her white garments showing ghost-like through the gloom. Beneath the next tree sat Dickon, his hands tied behind him, and around him my lowered carnails, four knaves. It was Dickon's voice that we heard. He was still speaking, and now we could distinguish the words. So, Sir Thomas chained him there, he said, right there to that tree under which you are sitting, Jackie von Holm. He looked incontinently, shifted his position. He chained him there with one chain around his neck, one around his waist, and one around his ankles. Then he sticks me a bodkin through his tongue. A groan of admiration from his audience. Then they dig before his very eyes aggrave. Shallow enough they make a two, and they put him into it, uncoffin'd with only a long white shroud upon him, the man he murdered. Then they cover the grave. You're sitting on it now, you other Jackie. Goddamn tried the rascal-address and removed with expedition to a less storied piece of ground. Then they go away, continued Dickon in graveyard tones. They all go away together. Sir Thomas and Captain Argel, Captain West, Lieutenant George Percy and his cousin My Master, and Sir Thomas's men. They go out of the wood as though it were a curse, though indeed it was not half so gloomy then as it is now. The sun shone into it then, sometimes, and the birds sang. You would not think it from the looks of it now, would you? As the dead man wrought it in his grave, and the living man died by inches above him, they say the wood grew darker and darker. And darker. How dark it's getting now. And cold. Cold as the dead. As auditors drew closer together and shivered, Sparrow and I were so near that we could see the hands of the ingenious storyteller, bound behind his back, working as he talked. Now they strained this way, and now that, at that piece of rope that bound them. That was ten years ago, he said, his voice becoming more and more impressive. Since that day nothing comes into this wood. Nothing human that is. Neither white man nor Indian comes, that's certain. Then why are not there chains around that tree, and why are there no bones beneath it on the ground there? Because Jackie's all the man that did that murder walks. It is not always deadly still here. Sometimes there's a clanking of chains, and a bodkin through the tongue can't keep the dead from wailing, and the murdered man walks, too. In his shroud he follows the other. Is not that something white in the distance yonder? My lord's four nays looked down the arcade of trees, and saw the something white as plainly as if it had been verily there. Each moment the wood grew darker, a thing in nature since the sun outside was swiftly sinking to the horizon, but to those to whom the tale had been told it was a darkening unearthly and portentous, bringing with it a colder air and a deepened silence. Oh, Sir Thomas Dale, Sir Thomas Dale! The voice seemed to come from the distance and bore in its dismal cadence the melancholy of the damned. For a moment my heart stood still, and the hair of my head commenced to rise. The next I knew that Dickon had found an ally, not in the dead, but in the living. The minister standing beside me opened his mouth again, and again that dismal voice rang through the wood. And again it seemed, by I know not what art, to come from any spot rather than from that particular tree behind whose trunk stood Master Jeremy Sparrow. Oh, the bodkin through my tongue! Oh, the bodkin through my tongue! Two of the guards sat with hanging lip and lackluster eyes turned to stone. One at full length upon the ground bruised his face against the pine needles and called on the virgin. The fourth, panic-stricken, leaped to his feet and dashed off into the darkness to trouble us no more that day. Oh, the heavy chains, cried the unseen specter. Oh, the dead man in his grave! The man on his face dug his nails into the earth and howled. His fellows were too frightened for sound or motion. Dickon, a hearty rogue with little fear of God or man, gave no sign of perturbation beyond a desperate tugging at the rope about his wrists. He was ever quick to take suggestion, and he had probably begun to question the nature of the ghost who was doing him such yeoman service. Do you think they've had enough, sit Sparrow in my ear? My invention flagged. I nodded, too choked with laughter per speech and drew my sword. The next moment we were upon the men like wolves upon the fold. They made no resistance, amazed and shaken as they were. We might have dispatched them with all ease to join the dead whose lamentations yet rang in their ears, but we contended ourselves with disarming them and bidding them be gone for their lives in the direction of the Pamunki. They went like frightened deer, their one goal in life, escaped from the wood. Did you meet the Italian? I turned to find my wife at my side. The king's ward had a kingly spirit. She was not one that the dead or the living could dawn. To her, as to me, danger was a trumpet call to nerve heart and strengthen soul. She had been in peril of that which she most feared, but the light in her eye was not quenched, and the hand with which she touched mine, though cold, was steady. Is he dead? She asked. At court they called him the Black Death. They said, I did not kill him, I answered, but I will if you desire it. And his master? She demanded. What have you done with his master? I told her. The vision my words conjured up, her strained nerves gave way, and she broke into laughter as cruel as it was sweet. Peel after peel rang through the haunted wood and increased the eeriness of the place. The knot that I tied he will untie directly, I said. If we would reach Jamestown first, we had best be going. Night is upon us too, said the minister, and this place hath the look of the very valley of the shadow of death. If the spirits walk, it is hard upon their time. And I prefer to walk elsewhere. Cease your laughter, madam, I said. Should a boat be coming this stream, you would betray us. I went over to Dickon, and in a silence as grim as his own cut the rope which bound his hands, which done we all moved through the deepening gloom to where we had left the horses, Jeremy Sparrow going on ahead to have them in readiness. Presently he came hurrying back. The Italian is gone, he cried. Gone, I exclaimed. I told you to tie him fast to the saddle. Why, so I did, he replied. I drew the thong so tight that they cut into his flesh. He could not have endured to pull against them. Then how did he get away? Why he answered with a rueful countenance. I did bind him, as I have said. But when I had done so, I be thought me of how the leather must cut and of how pain is dreadful even to a snake, and of the injunction to do as you would have done by, and so even loosen his bonds. But as I am a christened man, I thought they would yet hold him fast. I began to swear but ended in vexed laughter. The milk spilled. There's no use in crying over it. After all, we must have loosed him before we entered a town. Will you not bring the matter before the governor? he asked. I shook my head. If yearly, did me right, he would put in jeopardy his office and his person. This is my private quarrel, and I will draw no man into it against his will. Here are the horses, and we had best be gone, for by this time my lord and his physician may have their heads together again. I mounted black lamerol and lifted mistress Percy to a seat behind me. The brown mare bore the minister and the negris, and Dickon doggedly silent, trudged beside us. We passed through the haunted wood and the painted forest beyond without adventure. We rode in silence. The lady behind me, too weary for speech, the minister revolving in his mind, the escape of the Italian, and I with my own thoughts to occupy me. It was dusk when we crossed the neck of land, and as we rode down the streak torches were being lit in the houses. The upper room in the guesthouse was brightly illumined, and the window was open. Black lamerol and the brown mare made a trampling with their hoops, and I began to whistle a gay old tune I had learnt in the wars. A figure in scarlet and black came to the window and stood there, looking down upon us. The lady riding with me straightened herself and raised her weary head. The next time we go to the forest route, she said in a clear high voice, Thelts, show me a certain tree. And she broke in the silvery laughter. She laughed until we had left behind the guesthouse and the figure in the upper window, and then the laughter changed to something like a sob. If there were pain and anger in her heart, pain and anger were in mine also. She had never called me by my name before. She had only used it now as a dagger with which to stab at that fierce heart above us. At last we reached the minister's house and dismounted it before the door. Dickon led the horses away, and I handed my wife into the great room. The minister tarried, but for a few words annant some precautions that I meant to take, and then betook himself to his own chamber. As we went out of the door, Dickon entered the room. Oh, I am weary, sighed Mistress Jocelyn Percy. What was the mighty business, Captain Percy, that made you break triced with a laden? You should go to court, sir, to be taught gallantry. Where should a wife go to be taught obedience? I demanded. You know where I went, and why I could not keep triced. Why did you not obey my orders? She opened wide her eyes. Your orders? I never received any. Not that I should have obeyed them if I had. Know where you went? I know neither why nor where you went. I leaned my hand upon the table and looked from her to Dickon. I was sent by the governor to quell a disturbance amongst the nearest Indians. The woods today have been full of danger. More over the plan that we made yesterday was overheard by the Italian. When I had gone this morning without seeing you, I left you word where I had gone and why, and also my commands that you should not stir outside the garden. Were you not told this, madam? No, she cried. I looked at Dickon. I told madam that you were called away on business, he said sullenly. I told her that you were sorry you could not go with her to the woods. You told her nothing more? No. May I ask why? He threw back his head. I did not believe the Pospahedges would trouble her, he answered with heartyhood, and you had not seen fit, sir, to tell me of the other danger. Dickon wanted to go, and I thought at a pity that she should lose her pleasure for nothing. I had been hunting the day before, and my whip yet lay upon the table. I have known you for a hearty rogue, I said with my hand upon it. Now I know you for a faithless one, as well. If I gave you credit for all the vices of the soldier, I gave you credit also for his virtues. I was the more deceived, the disobedient servant I might pardon. But the soldier, who is faithless to his trust, I raised the whip and brought it down again and again across his shoulders. He stood without a word, his face dark red, and his hands clenched at his sides. For a minute or more there was no sound in the room, save the sound of the blows. Then my wife suddenly cried out, It is enough, you have beaten him enough, let him go, sir. I threw down the whip. Be gone, Sira, I ordered, and keep out of my sight tomorrow. With his face still dark red, and with a pulse beating fiercely in his cheek, he moved slowly toward the door, turned when he reached it and saluted, then went out and closed it after him. Now he too will be your enemy, said Mistress Percy, and all through me. I have brought you many enemies. Have I not? Perhaps you count me amongst them. I should not wonder if you did. Do you not wish me gone from Virginia? So I were with you, madam. I said bluntly, and went to call the minister down to supper. The next day Governor and Counselors sat to receive presents from the Pospahedges and to listen to long and affectionate messages from Opecacano, who, like the player queen, did protest too much. The Counsel met at Yerdley's house, and I was called before it to make my report of the expedition of the day before. It was late afternoon when the Governor dismissed us, and I found myself leaving the house in company with Master Corey. I am bound for my lords, said that worthy as we near the guesthouse. My lord hath heiress wine that is the very original nectar of the gods, and he drinks it from goblets worth the king's ransom. We have heard a deal today about burying hatchets. Burry thine for the nonce Ralph Percy, and come drink with us. But I, I said, I would sooner drink with someone else. He laughed, here's my lord himself shall persuade you. My lord, dressed with his usual magnificence and darkly handsome as ever, was indeed standing within the guesthouse door. Corey drew up beside him. I was passing on with a slight bow when the Secretary caught me by the sleet. At the Governor's house, wine had been set forth to revive the jaded council, and he was already half seized over. Tarry with us, Captain, he cried. Good wines, good wine, no matter who pours it. Is but, in my young days, men called the truce and forgot they were foes when the bottle went round. If Captain Percy will stay, both my lord, I will give him welcome and good wine. As Master Corey says, men cannot always be fighting. A breathing spell today gives tomorrow's struggle new zest. He spoke frankly with open face and candid eyes. I was not fooled. If yesterday he would have slain me only in fair fight, it was not so today. Under the lace that fell over his wrist was a red circ, the mark of the thong with which I had bound him. As if he had told me I knew that he had thrown his scruples to the wind and that he cared not what foul play he used to sweep me from his path. My spirit and my whip rose to meet the danger. Of a sudden I resolved to accept his invitation. So be it, I said with a laugh and a shrug of my shoulders. A cup of wine is no great matter. I'll take it at your hands, my lord, and drink to our better acquaintance. We all three went up into my lord's room. The king had fitted out his minion bravely for the Virginia voyage and the riches that had decked the state cabin aboard the Santa Teresa now served to transform the bare room in the guesthouse at Jamestown into a corner of White Hall. The walls were hung with arrows. There was a noble carpet beneath as well as upon the table and against the wall stood richly carved trunks. On the table beside a bowl of late flowers were a great silver flag and a number of goblets, some of chased silver and some of colored glass. They shaped and fragile as an eggshell. The late sun now shining in at the open window made the glass to glow like precious stones. My lord rang a little silver bell and a door behind us was open. Wine giles cried my lord in a raised voice. Wine for master Pory, captain Percy, and myself. And giles my two choice goblets. Giles whom I had never seen before advanced to the table, took the flagon and went toward the door which he had shut behind him. I negligently turned in my seat and so came in for a glimpse as he slipped through the door of a figure in black in the next room. The wine was brought and with it two goblets. My lord broke off in the midst of an account of the mornings bear-baiting which the tediousness of the Indians had caused us to miss. Who knows if we three shall ever drink together again, he said. To honor this bout I used my most precious cups. Voice and manner were free and unconstrained. This gold cup, he held it up, belonged to the Medici, master Pory who was a man of taste will note the beauty of the graven menads upon this side, and of the Bacchus and Ariadne upon this. It is the work of none other than Benvenuto Cellini. I pour for you, sir. I filled the gold cup with the ruby wine and set it before the secretary, who eyed it with all the passion of a lover, and waited not for us but raised it to his lips at once. My lord took up the other cup. This glass he continued as green as an emerald, freckled inside and out with gold, and shaped like a lily was once amongst a convent's treasures. My father brought it from Italy years ago. I used it as he used it, only on gala days. I filled to you, sir. He poured the wine into the green and golden twisted bobble and set it before me, then filled a silver goblet for himself. Drink, gentlemen, he said. Faith I have drunk and already, quote the secretary, and proceeded to fill for himself a second time. Here's to you, gentlemen, and he emptied half the measure. Captain Percy does not drink, remarked my lord. I leaned my elbow upon the table, and holding up the glass against the light began to admire its beauty. The tint is wonderful, I said, as lucid a green as the top of the comber that is to break and overwhelm you, and these knobs of gold within and without, and the strange shape the tortured glass has been made to take. I find it of a quite sinister beauty, my lord. It hath been much admired, said the nobleman addressed. I am strangely suited, my lord. I went on still dreamily enjoying the beauty of the green gem within my clasp. I am a soldier with an imagination, sometimes to give the rain to my fancy pleases me more than wine. Now, this strange challenge, might it not breed dreams as strange? When I had drunk and I think, replied my lord, the wine would be a potent spur to my fancy. What saith honest Jack Paulstaff, broke in the maudlin secretary, doth he not bear testimony that good sherrys maketh the brain apprehensive and quick, filleth it with nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which, being delivered by the tongue, become excellent wit, wherefore let us drink, gentlemen, and beget fancies? He filled for himself again and buried his nose in the cup. Te's such a cup, me thinks, I said, as Medea may have filled for Theseus. The white hand of Cirque may have closed around this stem when she stood to greet Ulysses, and knew not that he had the saving herb in his palm. Gunnaril may have sent this green and gilded shape to Regan. Fair Rosamund may have drunk from it while the queen watched her. At some voluptuous feast, Caesar Borgia and his sister sitting crowned with roses side by side may have pressed it upon a reluctant guest who had, perhaps, a treasure of his own. I dareswear Rene the Florentine hath fingered many such a goblet before it went to whom Catherine de Medecy delighted to honor. She had the whitest hands, wandered the secretary. I kissed them once before she died in Blois when I was young. Rene was one of our slow poisoners. Smell a rose, draw on a pair of perfume gloves, drink from a certain cup, and you rang your own knell, though your beer might not receive you for many and many a day, not till the rose was dust the gloves lost, the cup forgotten. There's a fashion I have seen followed abroad that I like, I said. Host and guest fill to each other, then change tankers. You are my host today, my lord, and I am your guest. I will drink to you, my lord, from your silver goblet. With as frank a manner as his own of a while before, I pushed the green and gold glass over to him and held out my hand for the silver goblet, that a man may smile and smile, and be a villain is no new doctrine. My lord's laugh and gesture of courtesy were as free and ready as if the poison splendor he drew toward him had been as innocent as a pearl within the shell. I took the silver cup from before him. I drank to the king, I said, and drained it to the bottom. Your lordship does not drink, tis a toast no man refuses. He raised the glass to his lips, but set it down before its rim had touched them. I have a headache, he declared. I will not drink today. Master Pori pulled the flag in toward him, tilted it, and found it empty. His rueful face made me laugh. My lord laughed, too, somewhat loudly, but ordered no more wine. I would I were at the mermaid again, lamented, the now drunken secretary. There we didn't spilt a flag in in three parts. The czar of Muscovy drinks me down a quarter of acroviety at a gulp. I've seen him do it. I would I were the Bacchus on this cup, with the purple grapes a dangle above me. Wine and women, wine and women, good wine needs no bush. Good sherry's sack. His voice died into unintelligible mutterings, and his gray, unreverent head sank upon the table. I rose, leaving him to his drunken slumbers, and bowing to my lord took my leave. My lord followed me down to the public room below. A party of up river planters had been drinking, and a bit of chalk lay upon a settle behind the door upon which the landlord had marked their score. I passed it, then turned back and picked it up. How long a line shall I draw, my lord? I asked with a smile. How does the length of the door strike you? He answered. I drew the chalk from the top to the bottom of the wood. A heavy core makes a heavy reckoning, my lord, I said, and leaving the mark upon the door, I bowed again and went out into the street. The sun was sinking when I reached the minister's house, and going into the great room drew a stool to the table and sat down to think. Mistress Percy was in her own chamber. In the room overhead the minister paced up and down, humming a psalm. A fire was burning briskly upon the hearth, and the red light rose and fell, now brightening all the room, now leaving it to the gathering dust. Through the door which I had left open came the odor of the pines, the fallen leaves, and the damp earth. In the churchyard an owl hooded, and the murmur of the river was louder than usual. I had sat staring at the table before me for perhaps half an hour when I chanced to raise my eyes to the opposite wall. Now on this wall reflecting the firelight and the open door behind me hung a small Venetian mirror which I had bought from a number of such toys brought in by the Southampton and had given to Mistress Percy. My eyes rested upon it idly at first, then closely enough as I saw within it a man enter the room. I heard no footfall, there was no noise now behind me. The fire was somewhat sunken and the room was almost in darkness. I saw him in the glass dimly as shadow rather than substance, but the light was not so faint that the mirror could not show me the raised hand and the dagger within its grasp. I sat without motion watching the figure in the glass grow larger. When it was nearly upon me in the hand with the dagger drawn back to the blow, I sprang up wheeled and caught it by the wrist. A moment's fierce struggle and I had the dagger in my own hand and the man at my mercy. The fire upon the hearth seized on a pine nut and blazed up brightly filling the room with light. Dickon! I cried and dropped my arm. I had never thought of this. The room was very quiet as master and man we stood and looked each other in the face. He fell back to the wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Into the space between us the past came thronging. I opened my hand and let the dagger drop to the floor. I supposed that this was because of last night I said, I shall never strike you again. I went to the table and sitting down leaned my forehead upon my hand. It was Dickon who would have done this thing. The fire crackled on the hearth as had crackled the old campfires in Flanders. The wind outside was the wind that had whistled through the rigging of the treasurer, one terrible night when we lashed ourselves to the same mast and never thought to see the morning. Dickon! Upon the table was the minister's inkhorn and pen. I drew my tablets from the breast of my doublet and began to write. Dickon! I called without turning when I had finished. He came slowly forward to the table and stood beside it with hanging head. I tore the leaf from the book and pushed it over to him. Take it, I ordered. To the commander he asked. I am to take it to the commander. I shook my head. Read it. He stared at it vacantly, turning it now this way, now that. Did you forget how to read when you forgot all else? I said sternly. He read and the color rushed into his face. It is your freedom, I said. You are no longer man of mine. Be gone, Sera. He crumpled the paper in his hand. I was mad, he muttered. I could almost believe it, I replied. Be gone. After a moment he went. Still sitting in my place, I heard him heavily and slowly leave the room, descend the step at the door, and go out into the night. A door opened and Mistress Jocelyn Percy came into the great room like a sunbeam strayed back to earth. Her skirt was a flowered satin, her bodice of rich tappada. Between the gossamer walls of her French rough rose the whitest neck to meet the fairest face. Upon her dark hair sat as lightly as a kiss a little pearl bordered cap. A color was in her cheeks and a lap on her lips. The rosy light of the burning pine caressed her, now dwelling on the rich dress, now on the gold chain around the slender waist, now on rounded arms, now on the white forehead below the pearls. Well, she was a fair lady for a man to lay down his life for her. I held court this afternoon, she cried. Where were you, sir? Madam West was here, and my lady temperance eardly, and Master Wynne and Master Thorpe from Henricus, and Master Rolf with his Indian brother, who I protest needs but silk doublet and hose, and a month at Whitehall to make him a very fine gentleman. If courage, steadfastness, truth and courtesy make a gentleman, I said, he is one already. Such and one needs not silk doublet nor court training. She looked at me with her bright eyes. No, she repeated. Such and one needs not silk doublet nor court training. Going to the fire she stood with one hand upon the mantle shelf, looking down into the ruddy hollows. Presently she stooped and gathering up something from the heart. You waste paper strangely, Captain Percy, she said. Here is a whole handful of torn pieces. She came over to the table and with a laugh showered the white fragments down upon it, then fell to idly piecing them together. What were you writing, she asked, to all whom it may concern. I, Ralph Percy, gentlemen of the hundred of Wayano, do hereby set free from all service to me and mine. I took from her the bits of paper and fed the fire with them. Paper is but paper, I said. It is easily rent. Happily a man's will is more durable. And of Chapter 16. Recording by Tom Weiss. Tom's audiobooks.com Chapter 17 of To Haven to Hold by Mary Johnston. This leverbox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss. Chapter 17. In which my lord and I play at bowls. The Governor had brought with him from London the year before a set of boxwood bowls and had made between his house and the fort a noble green. The generality must still use for the game that portion of the street that was not tobacco-planet, but the quality flocked to the Governor's Green and here one holiday afternoon a fortnight or more from the day in which I had drunk to the king from my lord's silver goblet was gathered a very great company. The Governor's match was toward ten men to a side, a hog's head of sweet sedent to the victorious ten, and a keg of canary to the man whose bowl should hit the jack. The season had been one of unusual mildness and the sunshine was still warm and bright yielding the velvet of the green and making the red and yellow leaves swept into the trench to glow like a ribbon of flame. The sky was blue, the water blue or still, the leaves bright colored the wind blowing. Only the enshrouding forest wrapped in haze seemed as dim unreal and far away as last year's dream. The Governor's guilt armchair had been brought from the church and put for him upon the bank of turf at the upper end of the green. By his side sat my lady temperance while the gaily dressed doms and the men who were to play and to watch were accommodated with stools and settles or with seats on the green grass. All were dressed in holiday clothes, all tongues spoke, all eyes laughed. You might have thought there was not a heavy heart amongst them. Rolf was there, gravely courteous, quiet and ready, and by his side in otterskin mantle beaded moccasins and feathered headdress the Indian chief, his brother-in-law, the bravest, comliest and manliest savage with whom I have ever dealt. There, too, was Master Pori, red and jovial, with an eye to the sack the servants were bringing from the Governor's house, and the commander with his wife and Master Jeremy Sparrow, fresh from a most moving sermon on the vanities of this world. Captains, counselors and burgesses aired their gold lace and their wit for their lack of it, while a swarm of younger adventurers, use of good blood and bad living, come from home for the wheel of England and the woe of Virginia, went here and there through the crowd, like gilded summer flies. Rolf and I were to play. He sat on the grass at the feet of Mistress Jocelyn Percy, making her now and then some courtly speech, and I stood beside her, my hand on the back of her chair. The king's ward held court as though she were a king's daughter. In the brightness of her beauty she sat there, as gracious for the naunts as the sunshine, and as much of another world. All knew her story and to the daring that is in men's hearts her own daring appealed, and she was young and very beautiful. So there had not been my friends and now rejoiced in what seemed my inevitable ruin. Some whom I had thought my friends were gone over to the stronger side. Many who in secret wished me well still shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders over what they were pleased to call my madness. But for her I was glad to know there were only good words. The governor had left his guilt-arm chair to welcome her to the green, and had caused the chair to be set for her near his own, and here men came and bowed before her, as if she had been a princess indeed. A stir amongst the crowd, a murmur, and a craning of necks heralded the approach of that other at whom the town gaped with admiration. He came with this retinue of attendance, his pomp of dress, his arrogant support, his splendid beauty. Men looked from the beauty of the king's ward to the beauty of the king's minion, from her costly silk to his velvet and miniver, from the air of the court that became her well to the towering pride and insolence which to the thoughtless seemed his fortunes proper mantle, and deemed them a pair well suited, and the king's will indeed the will of heaven. I was never one to value a man by his outward seeming, but suddenly I saw myself as in a mirror, a soldier, scarred and bronzed, acquainted with the camp, but not with the court, roughened by a rude life poor in this world's goods, the first flush of youth gone forever. For a moment my heart was bitter within me. The pang passed, and my hand tightened its grasp upon the chair in which sat the woman I had wed. She was my wife, and I would keep my own. My lord had paused to speak to the governor who had risen to greet him. Now he came toward us, and the crowd pressed and whispered. He bowed low to Mistress Percy, made as if to pass on, then came to a stop before her, his hat in his hand, his handsome head bent, a smile upon his bearded lips. When was it that we last sat to see men bold, lady, he said. I remember a gay match when I bold against my lord of Buckingham, and fair lady sat and smiled upon us. The ferris laughed, and tied her colors around my arm. The lady whom he addressed sat quietly, with hands folded in her silken lap and an untroubled face. I did not know you then, my lord, she answered him, quite softly and sweetly. Had I done so, be sure I would have cut my hand off ere it gave color of mine to— To whom, he demanded, as she paused. To a coward, my lord, she said clearly. As if she had been a man, his hand went to his sword-hill. As for her, she leaned back in her chair and looked at him with a smile. He spoke at last, slowly and with deliberate emphasis. I won then, he said. I shall win again, my lady, my lady, Jocelyn Lay. I dropped my hand from her chair and stepped forward. It is my wife to whom you speak, my lord Carnal. I spoke sternly. I wait to hear you name her rightly. Rolf rose from the grass and stood beside me, and Jeremy Sparrow shouldering aside with scant ceremony Burgess and Counselor came also. The governor leaned forward out of his chair, and the crowd became suddenly very still. I am waiting, my lord, I repeated. In an instant from what he had been he became the frank and guileless nobleman. A slip of the tongue, Captain Percy, he cried, his white teeth showing and his hand raised in a gesture of deprecation. A natural thing seeing how often, how very often, I have so addressed this lady in the days when we had not the pleasure of your acquaintance. He turned to her and bowed until the feather in his hat swept the ground. I won then, he said. I shall win again, mistress Percy, and passed on to the seat that had been reserved for him. The game began. I was to lead one side and young Clement the other. At the last moment he came over to me. I am out of it, Captain Percy, he announced with a rueful face. My lord there asked me to give him my place. When we were hunting yesterday and the stag turned upon me, he came between and thrust his knight into the brook, which else might have put an end to my hunting for ever and a day, so you see I can't refuse him. Plague take it all, and Dorothy Goukin sitting there watching. My lord and I stood forward, each with a bowl in his hand. We looked toward the governor. My lord first as become of his rank, he said. My lord stooped and threw, and his bowl went swiftly over the grass, turned, and rested not a hand's breadth from the jack. I threw. One is as near as the other, cried Master MacCott, for the judges. A murmur arose from the crowd, and my lord swore beneath his breath. He and I retreated to our several sides, and Rolf and West took our places. While they and those that followed bold, the crowd, attentive though it was, still talked and laughed, and laid wagers upon its favorites. But when my lord and I again stood forth, the noise was hushed, and men and women stared with all their eyes. He delivered and his bowl touched the jack. He straightened himself with a smile, and I heard Jeremy's spiral behind me groan. But my bowl too kissed the jack. The crowd began to laugh with sheer delight. But my lord turned red, and his brows grew together. We had but one turn more. While we waited I marked his black eyes, studying every inch of the ground between him and that small white vault, to strike which at that moment I barely believed he would have given the king's favor. All men pray, though they pray not to the same god. As he stood there, when his time had come, weighing the bowl in his hand, I knew that he prayed to his demon, fate, star, whatever thing he raised an altar to, and bent before. He threw, and I followed, while the throng held its breath. Master McCock rose to his feet. It's a time, I masters, he exclaimed. The excited crowd surged forward, and a babble of voices arose. Silence all, cried the governor. Let them play it out. My lord threw, and his bowl stopped perilously near the shining mark. As I stepped to my place, a low and supplicating, oh lord, came to my ears from the lips and the heart of the preacher, who had that morning thundered against the toys of this world. I drew back my arm and threw with all my force. A cry arose from the throng, and my lord ground his heel into the earth. The bowl, spurning the jack before it, rushed on until both buried themselves in the red and yellow leaves that filled the trench. I turned and bowed to my antagonist. You bowl well, my lord, I said. Had you had the forest training of eye and arm, our fortunes might have been reversed. He looked me up and down. You are kind, sir, he said thickly. Today to thee, tomorrow to me. I give you joy of your petty victory. He turned squarely from me and stood with his face downstream. I was speaking to Rolf and to the few, not even all of that side for which I had one, who pressed around me when we wheeled. Your honor, he cried to the governor, who had paused beside Mistress Percy, is not the due return high pooped? Does she not carry a blue pendant? And hath she not a guilt siren for figurehead? I answered the governor, lifting his head from the hand he had kissed with ponderous gallantry. What then, my lord? Then tomorrow has dawn, sir captain, said my lord to me. Sure, Dame Venus and her blind son had begged for me favorable winds, for the due return has come again. The game that had been played was forgotten for that day. The hog said of sweet send it lying to one side, wreathed with bright vines, was unclaimed of either party. The servants, who brought forward the keg of canary, dropped their burden, and stared with the rest. All looked down the river, and all saw the due return coming up the broad ruffled stream, the wind from the sea filling her sails, the tide with her, the guilt mermaid on her brow just rising from the rushing foam. She came as swiftly as a bird to its nest. None had thought to see her for at least ten days. Upon all there fell a sudden realization that it was the word of the king, feathered by the command of the company that was hurrying arrow-like toward us. All knew what the company's orders would be, must needs be, and the tutor's sovereigns were not so long in the grave that men had forgot to fear the wrath of kings. The crowd drew back from me as from a man plague-spotted. Only Ralph, Sparrow, and the Indians stood their ground. The governor turned from staring downstream. The game has played, gentlemen, he announced abruptly. The wind grows colder too, and clouds are gathering. This fair company will pardon me if I dismiss them somewhat sooner than is our want. The next sunny day we will play again. Give you god, then, gentiles. The crowd stood not upon the order of its going, but streamed away to the riverbank, whence it could best watch the uncoming ship. My lord, after a most triumphant bow, swept off with his train in the direction of the guesthouse. With him went Master Porie. The governor drew nearer to me. Captain Percy, he said, lowering his voice. I am going now to mine own house. The letters which yonder ship brings will be in my hands in less than an hour. When I have read them, I shall perforce obey their instructions. Before I have them, I will see you, if you so wish. I will be with your honor in five minutes. He nodded and strode off across the green to his garden. I turned to Ralph. Will you take her home? I said briefly. She was so white and sat so still in her chair that I feared to see her swoon. But when I spoke to her, she answered clearly and steadily enough, even with a smile, and she would not lean upon Ralph's arm. I will walk alone, she said. None that see me shall think that I am stricken down. I watched her move away, Ralph beside her, and the Indian following with his noiseless step. Then I went to the governor's house. Master Jeremy Sparrow had disappeared some minutes before. I knew not wither. I found Yurtley in his great room, standing before a fire, and staring down into its hollows. Captain Percy, he said, as I went up to him, I am most heartily sorry for you and for the lady whom you so ignorantly married. I shall not plead ignorance, I told him. You married not the Lady Jocelyn Leigh, but a waiting woman named Patience Worth. The Lady Jocelyn Leigh, a noble lady and a ward of the king, could not marry without the king's consent, and you, Captain Percy, are but a mere private gentleman, a poor Virginia adventurer. And my Lord Carnal is my Lord Carnal. The Court of High Commission will make short work of this fantastic marriage. Then they may do it without my aid, I said. Come, Sir George, had you wed my Lady Temperance in such fashion and found this hornet's nest about your ears, what would you have done? He gave a short honest lap. It's beside the question, Ralph Percy, but I dare say you can guess what I would have done. I'll fight for my own to the last ditch, I continued. I married her, knowing her name, if not her quality. Had I known the latter, had I known she was the king's ward, all the same, I should have married her, and she would have had me. She is my wife in the sight of God and honest men, esteeming her honor, which is mine at stake. Death may silence me, but men shall not bend me. Your best hope is in my Lord of Buckingham, he said. They say it is out of sight, out of mind with the king, and thanks to this infatuation of my Lord Carnals, Buckingham hath the feel, that he strains every nerve to oust completely this his first rivals, since he himself, distant summer scent, goes without saying, that to thwart my Lord in this passion would be honey to him is equally, of course. I do not need to tell you that, if the company so orders, I shall have no choice but to send you and the Lady home to England. When you are in London, make your suit to my Lord of Buckingham, and I earnestly hope that you may find in him an ally powerful enough to bring you and the Lady to whose grace, beauty, and courage we all do homage out of this coil. We give thanks to you, sir, I said. As you know, he went on, I have written to the company, humbly petitioning that I be graciously relieved from a most thankless task to whip the governorship of Virginia. My health faileth, and I am moreover under my Lord Warwick's displeasure. He waxeth ever stronger in the company, and if I put not myself out, he will do it for me. If I be relieved at once, and one of the counsel appointed in my place, I shall go home to look after certain of my interests there, then shall I be but a private gentleman, and if I can serve you, Ralph Percy, I shall be blind to do so. But now you understand. I understand and thank you, sir George, I said. May I ask one question? What is it? Will you obey to the letter the instructions the company sends? To the letter he answered, I am its sworn officer. One thing more, I went on. The parole I gave you, sir, that morning behind the church is mine own again when you shall have read those letters and know the king's will. I am free from that bond at least. He looked at me with a frown. Make not bad worse, Captain Percy, he said sternly. I laughed. It is my aim to make bad better, sir George. I see through the window that the due return hath come to anger. I will no longer trespass on your honor's time. I bowed myself out, leaving him still with the frown upon his face, staring at the fire. Without, the world was bathed in the glow of a magnificent sunset. Clouds, dark purple and dark crimson, reared themselves in the west to dizzying heights, and hung threateningly over the darkening land beneath. In the east loomed more palette masses, and from the bastions of the east to the bastions of the west went hurrying, wind-driven, cloudless, dark in the east, red in the west. There was a high wind, and the river where it was not reddened by the sunset was lividly green, a storm too, I muttered. As I passed the guesthouse there came to me from within a burst of loud and daunting laughter, and a boisterous drinking-catch sung by many voices. And I knew that my lord drank, and gave others to drink to the orders which the due return should bring. The minister's house was in darkness. In the great room I struck a light and fired the fresh torches, and found I was not its sole occupant. On the hearth the ashes of the dead fire touching her skirts sat Mistress Jocelyn Percy, her arms resting upon a low stool, and her head pillowed upon them. Her face was not hidden. It was cold and pure and still, like carbon marble. I stood and gazed at her a moment. Then, as she did not offer to move, I brought wood to the fire and made the forlorn room bright again. Where is Rolf? I asked at last. He would have stayed, she answered, but I made him go. I wished to be alone. She rose and, going to the window, leaned her forehead against the bars, and looked out upon the wild sky and the hurrying river. I would, I were alone, she said in a low voice, and with a catch of her breath. As she stood there in the twilight by the window, I knew that she was weeping, though her pride strove to keep that knowledge from me. My heart ached for her, and I knew not how to comfort her. At last she turned. A pasty and stoop of wine were upon the table. You are tired and shaken, I said, and you may need all your strength. Come, eat and drink. For tomorrow we die, she added, and broke in the tremulous laughter. Her lashes were still wet, but her pride and daring had returned. She drank the wine I poured for her, and we spoke of indifferent things, of the game that afternoon, of the Indian Natakwis, of the wild night that clouds and wind portended. Supper over I called Angela to bear her company, and I myself went out into the night and down the street toward the guesthouse. Chapter 18 in which we go out into the night The guesthouse was aflame with light. As I neared it there was born to my ears a burst of drunken shouts accompanied by a volley of musketry. My lord was pursuing with the vengeance our senseless fashion of wasting in drinking bouts powder that would have been better spent against the Indians. The noise increased. The door was flung open, and there issued a tide of drawers and servants headed by mine host himself, and followed by a hail as such minor breakables as the house contained and by Olympian laughter. I made my way past the indignant host and his staff, and standing upon the threshold looked at the riot within. The long room was thick with the smoke of tobacco and the smoke of powder, through which the many torches burned yellow. Upon the great table wine had been spilt and dripped to swell a red pool upon the floor. Underneath the table, still grasping his empty tankard, led the first of my lord's guests to fall, an upriver Burgess with white hair. The rest of the company were fast reeling to a like fate. Young Hamour had a fiddle and one foot upon a settle, the other upon the table drew across it a fast and furious bow. Master Pory arrived at the Mauderlin stage, alternately sang a slow and melancholy ditty, and wiped the tears from his eyes with elaborate care. Master Edward Sharpless, now in a high voice, now in an undistinguishable murmur, argued some imaginary case. Peaceable Sherwood was drunk, and Giles Allen and Petty Place claws. Captain John Martin, sitting without stretched legs, called now for a fresh tankard, which he emptied at a gulp. Now for his pistols, which as fast as my lord's servants brought them to him knew primed, he discharged at the ceiling. The loud wind rattled doors and windows, and made the flame of the torches stream sideways. The music grew matter and matter, the shots more frequent, the drunken voices thicker and louder. The master of the feast carried his wine better than did his guests, or had drunk less, but his spirit too was quite without bounds. A color burned in his cheeks, a wicked light in his eyes, he laughed to himself. In the gray smoke cloud he saw me not, or saw me only as one of the many who thronged the doorway and stared at the revel within. He raised his silver cup with a slow and wavering hand. Drink, you dogs, he chanted. Drink to the Santa Teresa. Drink to tomorrow night. Drink to a proud lady within my arms and an enemy in my power. The wine that had made him mad had maddened those others also. In that hour they were dead to honor. With shameless laughter and as little spilling as might be, they raised their tankards as my lord raised his. A stone thrown by someone behind me struck the cup from my lord's hand, sending it clattering to the floor and dashing him with the red wine. Master Pory roared with drunken laughter. Cup and lip missed that time, he cried. The man who had thrown the stone was Jeremy Sparrow. For one instant I saw his great figure and the wrathful face beneath his shock of grizzled hair. The next he had made his way through the crowd of gaping menials and was gone. My lord stared foolishly at the stains upon his hands at the fallen goblet and the stone beside it. Cogged dice, he said thickly, or I had not lost that throw. I'll drink that toast by myself tomorrow night when the ship does not rock like this damn floor, and the sea has no stones to throw. More wine giles to my lord high admiral gentleman, to his grace of Buckingham may he shortly howl in hell and looking back to Whitehall see me upon the king's bosom. The king's a good king, gentlemen. He gave me this ruby. Do you know what I had of him last year? I... I turned and left the door and the house. I could not thrust the fight upon a drunken man. Ten yards away, suddenly and without any warning of his approach, I found beside me the Indian Natakwas. I have been to the woods to hunt, he said, in the slow musical English rulf had taught him. I knew where a panther lodged, and to-day I laid a snare and took him in it. I brought him to my brother's house and caged him there. When I have tamed him, I shall give him to the beautiful lady. He expected no answer, and I gave him none. There are times when an Indian is the best company in the world. Just before we reached the marketplace, we had to pass the mouth of a narrow lane leading down to the river. The night was very dark, though the stars still shone through rifts in the ever-moving clouds. The Indian and I walked rapidly on, my footfalls sounding clear and sharp on the frosty ground, he as noiseless as a shadow. We had reached the further side of the lane when he put forth an arm and plucked from the blackness a small black figure. In the middle of the square was kept burning a great brassiere filled with pitched wood. It was the duty of the watch to keep it flaming from darkness to dawn. We found it freshly heaped with pine and its red glare lit a goodly circle. The Indian, pinning the wrists of his captive with its own hand of steel, dragged him with us into this circle of light. Looking for samples once more, learned it, doctor, I demanded. He mowed and jabbered, twisting this way and that in the grasp of the Indian. Loose him, I said to the latter, but let him not come to near you. Why were the doctor in so wild and threatening a night, when fire is burning and wine flowing at the guesthouse, do you choose to crouch here, in the cold and darkness? He looked at me with his filmy eyes and that faint smile that had more of menace in it than a panther's snarl. I laid in wait for you, it is true, noble sir. He said in his thin, dreamy voice, but it was for your good. I would give you warning, sir. He stood with his mean figure bent cringing forward and with his hat in his hand. A warning, sir, he went rambling on. Maybe a certain one has made me his enemy. Maybe I cut myself loose from his service. Maybe I would do him an ill turn. I can tell you a secret, sir. He lowered his voice and looked around as if in fear of eavesdroppers. In your ear, sir, he said. I recoiled, stand back, I cried, or you will cull no more simples this side of hell. Hell, he answered, there's no such place. I will not tell my secret aloud. Niccolo the Italian, Niccolo the Poisoner, Niccolo the Black Death, I am coming for the soul you sold me. There is a hell. The thundering voice came from underneath our feet. With a sound that was not a groan and not a screech, the Italian reeled back against the heated iron of the brassiere. Starting from that fiery contact with an unearthly shriek, he threw up his arms and dashed away into the darkness. The sound of his madly hurrying footsteps came back to us until the guest house had swallowed him and his guilty terrors. Can the preacher play the devil too, I asked, as Sparrow came up to us from the other side of the fire. I could have sworn that that voice came from the bowels of the earth. Tis the strangest gift, a mere trick, he said with his great laugh, but it has served me well on more occasions than one. It is not known in Virginia, sir, but before ever the word of the Lord came to me to save poor silly souls, I was a player. Once I played the king's ghost in Will Shakespeare's hamlet, and then, I warrant you, I spoke from the cellarage indeed. I saw frightened players and play-goers that they swore it was witchcraft, and Burbage's knees did knock together in dead earnest. But to the matter in hand, when I had thrown yonder stone, I walked quietly down to the governor's house and looked through the window. The governor hath the company's letters, and he and the council, all save the reprobate, Horry, sit there staring at them, and drumming with their fingers on the table. Is Rolf of the council, I asked? I, he was speaking, for you, I suppose, though I heard not the words. They all listened, but they all shook their heads. We shall know in the morning, I said. The night grows wilder and honest folks should be a bed. Nantakwas, good night. When will you have tamed your panther? It is now the moon of Kohans, answered the Indian. When the moon of blossoms is here, the panther shall roll at the beautiful lady's feet. The moon of blossoms, I said. The moon of blossoms is a long way off. I have panthers myself to tame before it comes. This wild night gives one wild thoughts, Master Sparrow, the loud wind and the sound of the water and the hurrying clouds. Who knows if we shall ever see the moon of blossoms? I broke off with a laugh for my own weakness. It's not often that a soldier thinks of death, I said. Come to bed, reverend sir. Nantakwas again. Good night, and may you tame your panther. In the great room of the minister's house I paced up and down, now pausing at the window to look out upon the fast darkening houses of the town, the ever-thickening clouds and the bending trees, now speaking to my wife, who sat in the chair I had drawn for her before the fire, her hands idle in her lap, her head thrown back against the wood, her face white and still with wide dark eyes. We waited for we knew not what, but the light still burned in the governor's house, and we could not sleep and leave it there. It grew later and later. The wind howled down the chimney, and I heaped more wood upon the fire. The town lay in darkness now, only in the distance burned like an angry star the light in the governor's house. In the lull between the blasts of wind it was so very still that the sound of my foot falls upon the floor, the dropping of the charred wood upon the heart, the tapping of the withered vines without the window jarred like thunder. Suddenly, madame leaned forward in her chair. There is someone at the door, she said. As she spoke the latch rose and someone pushed heavily against the door. I had drawn the bars across. Who is it? I demanded going to it. It is Dickon, sir, replied a guarded voice outside. I beg of you for the lady's sake to let me speak to you. I opened the door and he crossed the threshold. I had not seen him since the night he would have played the assassin. I had heard of him as being in Martin's Hundred, with which plantation and its turbulent commander the debtor and the outlaw often found sanctuary. What is it, sir Ra? I inquired sternly. He stood with his eyes upon the floor, twirling his cap in his hands. He had looked once at madame when he entered, but not at me. When he spoke there was the old bravado in his voice and he threw up his head with the old reckless gesture. Though I am no longer your man, sir, he said, yet I hope that one Christian may warn another. The marshal with a dozen men at his heels will be here anon. How do you know? Why, I was in the shadow by the governor's window when the person played eavesdropper. When he was gone I drew myself up to the ledge and with my knife made a hole in the shutter that fitted my ear well enough. The governor and the council sat there, where the company's letters spread upon the table. I heard the letters read. Sir George's yearly petition to be released from the governorship of Virginia is granted, but he will remain in office until the new governor, Sir Francis Wyatt, can arrive in Virginia. The company is out of favor. The king hath sent Sir Edwin Sandys to the tower. My lord Warwick waxeth greater every day. The very life of the company depended upon the pleasure of the king and it may not defy him. You are to be taken into custody within six hours of the reading of the letter to be kept straightly until the sailing of the Santa Teresa and to be sent home aboard of her in irons. The lady is to go also with all honor and with women to attend her. Upon reaching London you are to be sent to the tower. The lady to Whitehall. The court of High Commission will take the matter under consideration at once. My lord of Southampton writes that because of the urgent entreaty of Sir George yearly he will do for you all that lieth in his power, but that if you prove not yourself conformable there will be little that any can do. When will the marshal be here? I demanded. Directly. The governor was sending for him when I left the window. Master Rolf spoke vehemently for you and would have left the council to come to you, but the governor swearing that the company should not be betrayed by its officers constrained him to remain. I'm not the company's officer, so I may tell its orders if I please. A masterless man may speak without fear or favor. I have told you all I know. Before I could speak he was gone closing the door heavily behind him. I turned to the king's ward. She had risen from the chair and now stood in the center of the room, one hand at her bosom, the other clenched at her side, her head thrown up. She looked as she had looked at Wayano that first night. Madam, I said under my breath. She turned her face upon me. Did you think, she asked in a low, even voice, did you think that I would ever set my foot upon that ship? That ship on the river there? One ship brought me here upon a shameful errand. Another shall not take me upon one more shameful still. She took her hand from her bosom. In it gleamed in the firelight the small dagger I had given her that night. She laid it on the table, but kept her hand upon it. You will choose for me, sir, she declared. I went to the door and looked out. It is a wild night, I said. I can suit it with as wild an enterprise. Make a bundle of your warmest clothing, madam, and wrap your mantle about you. Will you take Angela? No, she answered. I will not have her peril, too, upon me. As she stood there her hand no longer upon the dagger, the large tears wailed into her eyes and fell slowly over her white cheeks. It is for my honor, sir, she said. I know that I ask your death. I could not bear to see her weep, and so I spoke roughly. I have told you before, I said, that your honor is my honor. Do you think I would sleep to-morrow night in the hold of the Santa Teresa, knowing that my wife subbed with my lord carnal? I crossed the room to take my pistols from the rack. As I passed her she caught my hand in hers, and bending pressed her lips upon it. You have been very good to me, she murmured. Do not think me an ingrate. Five minutes later she came from her own room, put it in mantel, and with a packet of clothing in her hand, I extinguished the torches, then opened the door. As we crossed the threshold, we paused as by one impulse and looked back into the firelit warmth of the room. Then I closed the door softly behind us, and we went out into the night. CHAPTER XIX In which we have unexpected company The wind which had heretofore come in fierce blasts was now steadying to a gale. What with the flying of the heaped clouds, the slanted groaning pines, and the rushing of the river, the whole earth seemed a fugitive, fleeing breathless to the sea. From across the neck of the land came the long-drawn howl of wolves, and in the wood beyond the church a catamount screamed and screamed. The town before us lay as dark and as still as the grave. From the garden where we were we could not see the governor's house. I will carry madam's bundle, said a voice behind us. It was the minister who had spoken, and he now stood beside us. There was a moment silence, then I said with a laugh. We are not going upon a summer jaunt, friend Sparrow. There is a warm fire in the great room to which your reverence had best be take yourself out of this windy night. As he made no movement to depart, but instead possessed himself a mistress' Percy bundle, I spoke again with some impatience. We are no longer of your fold, reverend sir, but are bound for another parish. We give you hearty thanks for your hospitality and wish you a very good night. As I spoke I would have taken the bundle from him, but he tucked it under his arm and, passing us, opened the garden gate. Did I forget to tell you, he said, that worthy master Buck is wail of the fever and returns to his own tomorrow. His house and church are no longer mine. I have no charge anywhere. I am free and put loose. May I not go with you, madame? There may be dragons to slay, and two can guard a distressed princess better than one. Will you take me for your squire, Captain Percy? He held out his great hand, and after a moment I put my own in it. We left the garden and struck into a lane. The river then, instead of the forest, he asked in the low voice. I, I answered, of the two evils it seems the lesser. How about a boat? My own is fastened to the piles of the old dessert at work. You have with you neither food nor water. Both are in the boat. I have kept her victual for a week or more. He laughed in the darkness and I heard my wife beside me utter, a cycled exclamation. The lane that we were now in ran parallel to the street, to within fifty yards of the guesthouse when it bent sharply down to the river. We moved silently and with caution, for some night bird might accost us for the watch come upon us. In the guesthouse all was darkness save one room, the upper room, from which came a very pale light. When we had turned with the lane there were no houses to pass, only gaunt pines and corpses of sumac. I took my wife by the hand and hurried her on. A hundred yards before us ran the river, dark and turbulent, and between us and it rose an old unsafe and abandoned landing. Sparrow laid his hand upon my arm. Footsteps behind us, he whispered. Without slackening pace I turned my head and looked. The clouds high around the horizon were thinning overhead and the moon herself invisible, yet lightened the darkness below. The sandy lane stretched behind us like a ribbon of twilight, nothing to be seen but it and the ebony mass of bush and tree lining it on either side. We hastened on. A minute later and we heard behind us a sound like the winding of a small horn, clear, shrill and sweet. Sparrow and I wheeled and saw nothing. The trees ran down to the very edge of the wharf upon whose rotten, loosened and noisy boards we now trod. Suddenly the clouds above us broke and the moon shone forth whitening the mountainous clouds, the ridged and angry river, and the low tree-fringed shore. Below us fastened to the piles and rocking with the waves was the open boat in which we were to embark. A few broken steps led from the boards above to the water below. Descending these I sprang into the boat and held up my arms for Mistress Percy. Sparrow gave her to me and I lifted her down beside me, then turned to give what aid I might to the minister who was half way down steps and faced my lord carnal. What devil had led him forth on such a night? Why he, whom with my own eyes three hours ago I had seen drunken, should have chosen after his carous cold air and his own company rather than sleep, when and where he first spied us, how long he had followed us, I have never known. Perhaps he could not sleep for triumph, had heard of my impending arrest, had come forth to add to the bitterness of my cup by his presence, and so had happened upon us. He could only have guessed at those he followed until he reached the edge of the wharf and looked down upon us in the moonlight. For a moment he stood without moving, then he raised his hand to his lips and the shrill call that had before startle us rang out again. At the far end of the lane lights appeared, men were coming down the lane at a run, whether they were the watch of my lord's own rogues, we tarried not to see. There was not time to loosen the rope from the piles, so I drew my knife to cut it. My lord saw the movement and sprang down the steps at the same time shouting to the men behind to hasten. Sparrow, grappling with him, locked him in a giant's embrace, lifted him bodily from the steps and flunk him into the boat. His head struck against a thwart and he lay huddled beneath it, quiet enough. The minister sprang after him and I cut the rope. By now the wharf shook with running feet and the backward streaming flame of the torches reddened its boards and the black water beneath. But each instant the water widened between us and our pursuers. Wind and currents swept us out, and at that wharf there were no boats to follow us. Those whom my lord's whistle had brought were now on the very edge of the wharf. The marshal's voice called upon us in the name of the king to return. Finding that we vouched safe no answer, he pulled out a pistol and fired, the ball going through my hat, but then whipped out its fellow and fired again. Mistress Percy, whose behavior had been that of an angel, stirred in her seat. I did not know until the day broke that the ball had grazed her arm, drenching her sleep with blood. It is time we were away, I said with a laugh. If your reverence will keep your hand upon the tiller and your eye upon the gentleman whom you have made our traveling companion, I'll put up the sale. I was on my way to the foremask when the boom lying prone before me rose. Slowly and majestically the sale ascended, tapering upward, silvered by the moon, the great white pinion which had bare us we knew not wither. I stopped short in my tracks. Mistress Percy drew a sobbing breath, and the minister gasped with admiration. We all three stared as though the white cloth had veritably been a monster wing endowed with light. Sales don't rise of themselves, I exclaimed, and was at the mass before the words were out of my lips. Crouch behind it was a man. I should have known him even without the aid of the moon. Often enough God knows I had seen him crouch like this beside me, ourselves in ambush awaiting some unwary foe, brute or human, or ourselves in hiding holding our breath lest it should betray us. The minister who had been a player, the rival who would have poisoned me, the servant who would have stabbed me, the wife who was wife in name only, mine, were strange shipmates. He rose to his feet and stood there against the mass in the old half submissive half defiant attitude with his head thrown back in the old way. If you order me, sir, I will swim ashore, he said half sullenly, half I know not how. You would never reach the shore, I replied, and you know that I will never order you again. Stay here if you please, or come aft if you please. I went back and took the tiller from Sparrow. We were now in mid-river, and the swollen stream and the strong wind bore us on with them like a leaf before the gale. We left behind the lights and the clamor, the dark town and the silent fort, the weary, due return, and the shipping about the lower wharf. Before us loomed the Santa Teresa. We passed so close beneath our huge black sides that we heard the wind whistling through her rigging. When she too was gone, the river lay bare before us, silver when the moon shone, of an inky blackness when it was obscured by one of the many flying clouds. My wife wrapped her mantle closer about her, and leaning back in her seat in the stern beside me, raised her face to the wild and solemn heavens. Dickon sat apart in the bow and held his tongue. The minister bent over and lifting the man that lay in the bottom of the boat, laid him at full length upon the thwart before us. The moonlight streamed down upon the prostrate figure. I think it could never have shone upon a more handsome or a more wicked man. He lay there in his splendid dress and dark beauty, and dimmy and light beneath the moon. The king's ward turned her eyes upon them, kept them there a moment, then glanced away and looked at him no more. There's a parlous lump upon his forehead where he struck the thwart, said the minister, but the lice yet in him. He'll shame honest men for many a day to come. Your Platonist, who from a goodly outside argue as fair a soul could never have been acquainted with this gentleman. The subject of his discourse moaned and stirred. The minister raised one of the hanging hands and felt for a pulse. Faint enough, he went on, a little more, and the king might have waited for his minion for ever and a day. It would have been the better for us, who have now, indeed, a strange fish upon our hands. But I am glad I killed him not. I tossed him a flask. It's good aquavitay, and the flask is honest. Give him to drink of it. He forced the liquor between Malord's teeth, then dashed water in his face. Another minute in the king's favorite sat up and looked around him. Dazed as yet, he stared with no comprehension in his eyes. At the clouds, the sail, the rushing water, the dark figures about him. Nicolaus he cried sharply. He's not here, Malord, I said. At the sound of my voice he sprang to his feet. I should advise your lordship to sit still, I said. The wind is very boisterous, and we are not under bare poles. If you exert yourself, you may capsize the boat. He sat down mechanically and put his hand to his forehead. I watched him curiously. It was the strangest trick that Fortune had played him. His hand dropped at last, and he straightened himself with a long breath. Who threw me into the boat, he demanded. The honor was mine, declared the minister. The king's minion lacked not the courage of the body, nor when passionate action had brought him not, a certain reserved force of philosophy. He now did the best thing he could have done. Burst into a roar of laughter. Zoops, he cried. It's as good a comedy as ever I saw. How's the play to end, captain? Are we to go off laughing? Or is this the end to be bloody after all? For instance, is there murder to be done? He looked at me boldly, one hand on his hip, the other twirling his moustaches. We are not all murderers, my lord, I told him. For the present you are in no danger, other than that which is common to us all. He looked at the clouds piling up behind us, thicker and thicker, higher and higher, at the bending mast, at the black water swirling now and again over the gun whales. It's enough, he muttered. I beckoned to Dickon and putting the tiller into his hands went forward to wreath the sail. When it was done and I was back in my place, my lord spoke again. Where are we going, captain? I don't know. If you leave that sail up much longer, you will land us at the bottom of the river. There are worse places, I replied. He left his seat and moved, though with caution, to one nearer, Mistress Percy. Our cold and storm and peril sweeter to you, lady, than warmth and safety, and a love that would guard you from not run you into danger, he said in a whisper. Do you not wish this boat to Santa Teresa, these rude boards the velvet cushions of her state cabin, this darkness her many lights, this cold her warmth, with the night shut out and love shut in? His audacity, if it angered me, yet made me laugh. Not so with the king's word. She shrank from him until she pressed against the tiller. Our flight, the pursuing feet, the struggle at the wharf, her wounded arm of which she had not told, the terror of the white sail rising as if by magic, the vision of the man she hated, lying as one dead before her in the moonlight, the cold, the hurry of the night, small wonder if her spirit failed her for some time. I felt her hand touch mine where it rested upon the tiller. Captain Percy, she murmured with a little sobbing breath. I leaned across the tiller and addressed the favorite. My lord, I said, courtesy to prisoners is one thing, and freedom from restraint and license of tongue is another. Here at the stern the boat is somewhat heavily freighted. Your lordship will oblige me if you will go forward where there is room enough and to spare. His black brows drew together. And what if I refuse, sir, he demanded haughtily. I have rope here, I answered, and to aid me, the gentleman who once before tonight, and in despite of your struggles, lifted you in his arms like an infant. We will tie you hand and foot and lay you in the bottom of the boat. If you make too much trouble, there is always the river. My lord, you are not now at Whitehall. You are with desperate men, outlaws who have no king, and so fear no king's minions. Will you go free or will you go bound? Go you shall, one way or the other. He looked at me with rage and hatred in his face. Then with a laugh that was not good to hear, and a shrug of the shoulders, he went forward to bear Dickon company in the bow. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss. Chapter 20 In Which We Are In Desperate Case God walketh upon the sea as he walketh upon the land, said the minister. The sea is his, and we are his. He will do what it liketh him with his own. As he spoke, he looked with a steadfast soul into the black hollow of the wave that combed above us, threatening destruction. The wave broke, and the boat still lived. Born high upon the shoulder of the next rolling hill, we looked north, south, east, and west, and saw only a waste of livid, ever-forming, ever-breaking waves, a gray sky streaked with darker gray shifting vapor, and a horizon impenetrably veiled. Where we were in the great bay, in what direction we were being driven, how near we might be to the open sea or to some fatal shore, we knew not. What we did know was that both mass were gone, that we must bail the boat without ceasing if we would keep it from swapping, that the wind was doing an apparently impossible thing and rising higher and higher, and that the waves which buffeted us from one to the other were hourly swelling to a more monstrous bulk. We had come into the wider waters adorned and still under canvas. An hour later, off Point Comfort, a bare mast contended us. We had hardly gotten the sail in when massed and all went overboard. That had been hours ago. A common peril is a mighty leveler of barriers. Scant Time was there in that boat to make distinction between friend and foe. As one man we fought the element which would devour us. Each took his turn at the bailing, each watched for the next great wave before which we must cower, clinging with numbed hands to gunwail and thwart. We fared alike, toiled alike, and suffered alike, only that the minister and I cared for Mistress Percy, asking no help from the others. The king's ward endured all without a murmur. She was cold, she was worn with watching and terror, she was wounded. Each moment death raised his arm to strike, but she sat there dauntless and looked him in the face with a smile upon her own. If weuried out we had given up the fight, her look would have spurred us on to wrestle with our fate to the last gas. She sat between sparrow and me, and as best we might we shielded her from the drenching seas and the icy wind. Morning had shown me the blood upon her sleeve, and I had cut away the cloth from the white arm and had washed the wound with wine and bound it up. If for my fee I should have liked to press my lips upon the blue veiled marble, still I did it not. When a week before I had stored the boat with food and drink and had brought it to that lonely wharf, I had thought that if at the last my wife willed to flee, I would attempt to reach the bay, and passing out between the capes would go to the north. Given an open boat and the temptuous seas of November, there might be one chance out of a hundred of our reaching Manhattan and the dutch who might or might not give us refuge. She had willed to flee, and we were upon our journey, and the one chance had vanished. That one monotonous cold and clinging mist had shrouded us for our burial and our grave yawned beneath us. The day passed and the night came, and still we fought the sea, and still the wind drove us wither it would. The night passed and a second morning came, and found us yet alive. My wife lay now at my feet her head pillowed upon the bundle she had brought from the minister's house. Two weeks for speech, waiting in pain and cold and terror for death to bring her warmth and life, the nightly spirit yet lived in her eyes, and she smiled when I bent over her with wine to moisten her lips. At length she began to wander in her mind and to speak of summer days and flowers. A hand held my heart in a slow tightening grip of iron, and the tears ran down the minister's cheek. The man who had darkened her young life, bringing her to this, looked at her with an ashen face. As the day wore on, the gray of the sky paled to a dead man's hue, and the wind lessened, but the waves were still mountain high. One moment we poised, like the gulls that now screamed about us, upon some giddy summit, the sky alone above and around us. The next we sank into dark green and glassy caverns. Suddenly the wind fell away, veered, and rose again like a giant refreshed. Dickon started, put his hand to his ear, then sprang to his feet. Breakers, he cried hoarsely. We listened with straining ears. He was right. The low ominous murmur changed to a distant roar, grew louder yet and yet louder, and was no longer distant. It will be the sand islets off Cape Charles, sir, he said. I nodded. He and I knew there was no need of words. The sky grew paler and paler, and soon upon the roof of the clouds a splash of dull yellow showed where the sun would be. The fog rose, laying bare the desolate ocean. Before us were two very small islands, mere handfuls of sand lying side by side, and encompassed half by the open sea, half by stiller waters, dyked in by marshes and sandbars. Of course scanty grass and a few stunted trees with branches bending away from the sea lived upon them, but nothing else. Over them and over the marshes and the sandbanks circled myriads of great white gulls. Their harsh unearthly voices came to us faintly and increased the desolation of earth and sky and sea. To the shell-strewn beach of the outer of the two islets raced long lines of surf, and between us and it lurked a sandbar against which the great rollers dashed with a bull-like roar. The wind drove us straight upon this bar, a moment of deadly peril, and it had us fast, holding us for the waves to beat our life out. The boat listed, then rested, quivering through all its length. The waves pounded against its side, each watery battering ram dissolving in foam and spray, but to give place to another, and yet it held together, and yet we lived. How long it would hold we could not tell. We only knew it could not be for long. The inclination of the boat was not so great, but that with caution we might move about. There were on board rope and an axe. With the latter I cut away the thwarts and the decking in the bow, and Dickon and I made a small raft. When it was finished I lifted my wife in my arms and laid her upon it, and lashed her to it with the rope. She smiled like a child, then closed her eyes. I have gathered primroses until I am tired, she said. I will sleep here a little in the sunshine, and when I awake I will make you a cow-slip ball. Time passed and the groaning trembling timbers still held together. The wind fell, the sky became blue, and the sun shone. After a while and the waves were less mountainous and beat less furiously against the boat. Hope brightened before us. To strong swimmers the distance to the islet was trifling. If the boat would but last until the sea subsided we might gain the beach. What we would do upon that barren spot where was neither man nor brute, food nor water, was a thing that we had not the time to consider. It was land that we craved. Another hour and the sea still fell. Another and a wave struck the boat with force. The sea is coming in, cried the minister. I, I answered, she will go to pieces now. The minister rose to his feet. I am no mariner, he said, but once in the water I can swim you like any fish. There have been times when I have reproached the Lord for that he cased a poor, silly, humble creature like me with the strength and seeming of some might man of old, and there have been times when I have thanked him for that strength. I thank him now. Captain Percy, if you will trust the lady to me, I will take her safely to that shore. I raised my head from the figure over which I was bending and looked first at the still to mulch it was sea, and then at the gigantic frame of the minister. When we had made that frail raft no swimmer could have lived in that shock of waves. Now there was a chance for all, and for the minister with his great strength, the greatest I have ever seen in any man, a double chance. I took her from the raft and gave her into his arms. A minute later the boat went to pieces. Side by side Sparrow and I buffeted the sea. He held the king's ward in one arm, and he bore her safely over the huge swells and through the onslaught of the breaking waves. I could thank God for his strength and trust her to it. For the other three of us we were all strong swimmers, and though bruised and beat about, we held our own. Each wave overcome left us nearer the islet. A little while and our feet touched bottom. A short struggle with the tremendous surf, and we were out of the maw of the sea, but out upon a desolate islet, a mere handsbreath of sand and shell in a lonely ocean, some three leagues from the mainland of Akamak, and upon it neither food nor water. We had the clothes upon our backs, and my lord and I had kept our swords. I had a knife, and Dickon too was probably armed. The flint and steel and tinderbox within my pouch made up our store. The minister laid the woman whom he carried upon the pebbles, fell upon his knees, and lifted his rugged face to heaven. I too knelt, and with my hand upon her heart said my own prayer in my own way. My lord stood with unbent head, his eyes upon that still white face, but Dickon turned abruptly and strode off to a low ridge of sand, from the top of which one might survey the entire island. In two minutes he was back again. There's plenty of driftwood further up the beach, he announced, and a mort of dried seaweed. At least we need not crease. The great bonfire that we made roared and crackled, sending out a most cheerful heat and light. Under that genial breath the color came slowly back to Madame's cheek and lip, and her heart beat more strongly. Presently she turned under my hand and with a sigh pillot her head upon her arm, and went to sleep in that blessed warmth like a little child. We who had no mind for sleep sat there beside the fire, and watched the sun sink behind the low black line of the mainland, now plainly visible in the cleared air. It dyed the waves blood red, and shout out one long ray to crimson a single floating cloud, no larger than a man's hand, high in the blue. Sea birds, a countless multitude, went to and fro with harsh cries from island to marsh, and marsh to island. The marshes were still green. They lay a half-moon of fantastic shapes, each parted from the other by pink water. Beyond them was the inlet dividing us from the mainland, and that inlet was three leagues in width. We turned and looked seaward, not but leaping waves white-capped to the horizon. We touched here the time we went against the French at Port Royal and St. Croix, I said. We had heard a rumor that the Bermuda pirates had hidden gold here. Argal and I went over every foot of it, and found no water, questioned the minister, and found no water. The light died from the west and from the sea beneath, and the night fell. When with the darkness the sea-fowl ceased their clamor, a dreadful silence suddenly enfolded us. The rush of the surf made no difference. The ear heard it, but to the mind there was no sound. The sky was thick with stars. Every moment one shot, and the trail of white fire it left behind melded into the night silently like snowflakes. There was no wind. The moon rose out of the sea and lent the sandy isle her own pallor. Here and there, back amongst the dunes, the branches of a low and leafless tree writhed upward like dark fingers thrust from out the spectral earth. The ocean, quiet now, dreamed beneath the moon and cared not for the five lives it had cast upon that span of sand. We piled driftwood in tangles of seaweed upon our fire, and it flamed and roared and broke the silence. Dickon, going to the landward side of the islet, found some oysters which we roasted and ate, but we had nor wine nor water with which to wash them down. At least there are here no foes to fear, both my lord. We may all sleep tonight, and zoops we shall need it. He spoke frankly with an open face. I will take one watch, if you will take the other, I said to the minister. He nodded. I will watch until midnight. It was long past that time when he roused me from where I lay at Mistress Percy's feet. I should have relieved you long ago, I told him. He smiled. The moon, now high in the heavens, shone upon and softened his rugged features. I thought I had never seen a face so filled with tenderness and hope and a sort of patient power. I have been with God, he said simply. The starry skies and the great ocean and the little shells beneath my hand. How wonderful are thy works, O Lord! What is man that thou art mindful of him, and yet not a sparrow falleth? I rose and sat by the fire, and he laid himself down upon the sand beside me. Master Sparrow, I asked. Have you ever suffered thirst? No, he answered. We spoke in low tones, lest we should wake her. Dickon and my lord upon the other side of the fire were sleeping heavily. I have, I said. Once I lay upon a field of battle throughout a summer day, sore wounded and with my dead horse across my body. I shall forget the horror of that lost field and the torment of that weight before I forget the thirst. You think there is no hope? What hope should there be? He was silent. Presently he turned and looked at the king's ward where she lay in the rosy light. Then his eyes came back to mine. If it comes to the worst, I shall put her out of her torment, I said. He bowed his head and we sat in silence, our gaze upon the ground between us, listening to the low thunder of the surf and the crackling of the fire. I love her, I said at last. God help me. He put his finger to his lips. She had stirred and opened her eyes. I knelt beside her and asked her how she did and if she wanted ought. It is warm, she said wonderingly. You are no longer in the boat, I told her. You are safe upon the land. You have been sleeping here by the fire that we kindled. An exquisite smile just lit her face and her eyelids drooped again. I am so tired, she said drowsily, that I will sleep a little longer. Will you bring me some water, Captain Percy? I am very thirsty. After a moment I said gently, I will go get it, madam. She made no answer. She was already asleep. Nor did Sparrow and I speak again. He laid himself down with his face to the ocean and I sat with my head in my hands and thought and thought to no purpose. Chapter 21 In which a grave is digged When the stars had gone out and the moon begun to pale, I raised my face from my hands. Only a few glowing embers remained of the fire and the driftwood that we had collected was exhausted. I thought that I would gather more and build up the fire against the time when the others should awake. The driftwood lay in greatest quantity some distance up the beach against the low ridge of sand dunes. Beyond these the islet tapered off to a long gray point of sand and shell. Walking toward this point in the first pale light of dawn, I chanced to raise my eyes and beheld riding at anchor beyond the spit of sand, a ship. I stopped short and rubbed my eyes. She lay there on the sleeping ocean like a dream ship, her mass and rigging black against the pallet sky, the mist that rested upon the sea, enfolding half her hull. She might have been of three hundred tons birthing. She was black and two-decked and very high at poop and four-castle, and she was heavily armed. My eyes traveled from the ship to the shore, and there dragged up on the point the oars within it was a boat. At the head of the beach, beyond the line of shell and weed, the sand lay piled in heaps. With these friendly hillocks between me and the sea, I crept on as silently as I might until I reached the point just above the boat. Here I first heard voices. I went a little further, then knelt, and parting the long coarse grass that filled the hollow between two hillocks, looked out upon two men who were digging a grave. They dug in a furious hurry, throwing the sand to left and right, and cursing as they dug. They were powerful men of a most villainous cast of countenance and dressed very oddly. One with a shirt of course a stylus and a filthy rag tying up a broken head, yet wore velvet breeches and wiped a sweat from his face with a wrought handkerchief. The other topped a suit of shreds and patches with a fine bushy ruff, and swung from one ragged shoulder a cloak of grogum lying with tapeta. On the ground, to one side of them lay something long and wrapped in white. As they dug and cursed, the light strengthened. The east changed from gray to pale rose, and from rose to a splendid crimson shot with gold. The mist lifted, and the sea burned red. Two boats were lowered from the ship and came swiftly toward the point. Here they are at last, growled the grave digger with a broken head and velvet breeches. They've taken their time, snarled his companion, and us two here on this damn island with a dead man, the whole ghost's hour. Boarding a ship's nothing, but to dig a grave on the land before cock crow, with the man your to put in it looking at you. Why could not he be buried at sea decent and respectable like other folk? It was his will, that's all I know, said the first, just as it was his will, when he found he was a dying man, to come booming away from the gold seas up here to a land where there ain't no gold and never will be. Be like he thought he'd find waiting for him at the bottom of the sea all along from the Lukayas to Cartagena, the many he sent there before he died, and Captain Paradise, he says, says he. It's ill crossing a dead man. We'll obey him this once more. Captain Paradise cried he of the rub. Who made him, Captain? Curse him. His fellow straightened himself with a jerk. Who made him, Captain? The ship will make him, Captain. Who else should be, Captain? Red Gil. Red Gil, exclaimed the other. I'd rather have the Spaniard. The Spaniard would do well enough if the rest of us were not English. If hating every other Spaniard would do it, he'd be English fast enough. The scoundrel with the broken head burst into a loud laugh. Do ye remember the bark we took off Portobello with the presupport? Oh, ho, oh, oh. The rogue with the rough grin. I reckon the Padres remember it, and find hell easy land. This holds deep enough, I'm thinking. They both clamored out, and one squatted at the head of the grave, and mopped his face with his delicate handkerchief, while the other swung his fine cloak with an air, and dug his bare toes in the sand. The two boats now graded upon the beach, and several of their occupants, springing out, dragged them up on the sand. We'll never get another like him that's gone, said the worthy at the head of the grave gloomily regarding the something wrapped in white. That's gospel truth, assented the other, with a prodigious sigh. He was a man what was a man. He never stuck at nothing, dawn or priest, man or woman, good red gold or dirty silver. It was all one to him. But he's dead and gone. Now, if we had a captain like Kirby, suggested the first. Kirby keeps to the summer isles, said the other. It is not often, now, that he swoops down as far as the indies. The man with a broken head left, when he does, there's a noise in that part of the world. And that's the gospel truth, too, swore the other, with an oath of admiration. By this the score or more who had come in the two boats were half way up the beach. In front, side by side, as each conceding no inch of leadership, walked three men. A large man with a villainous face much scarred and a huge, gushy, dark red beard. A tall, dark man with a thin, fierce face and bloodshot eyes, disfanyered by his looks. And a slight man with a face and bearing of an English gentleman. The men behind them differed no width from the two grave diggers, being as scoundrel-y of face, as great of strength, and as curiously attired. They came straight to the open grave and the dead man beside it. The three who seemed of most importance disposed themselves, still side by side, at the head of the grave, and their following took the foot. It's a dirty piece of work, said Redgill in a voice like Ravens, and the sooner it's done with, and we are aboard again, and booming back to the indies, the better I'll like it. Over with him, brave boys. Is it yours to give the word? asked the slight man who was dressed point device, and with a finical nicety in black and silver. His voice was low and clear, and of a somewhat melancholy cadence going well with the pensiveness of fine, deeply fringed eyes. Why should not I give the word? growled the personage address, adding with a note, I'm as good a right to give it as any man, maybe a better right. That would be scanned, said he of the pensive eyes. Gentlemen, we have here the pick of the ship. For the captain that these choose, those on board will throw up their caps. Let us bury the dead, and then let choice be made of one of us three, each of whom has claims that might be put forward. He broke off, and picking up a delicate shell, began to study its pearly spirals with a tender thoughtful, half-pleased, half-melancholy countenance. The gravedigger with the wrought handkerchief looked from him to the rascal crew, masked at the foot of the grave, and seeing his own sentiments mirrored in the countenance of not a few, snatched the bloody clout from his head, waved it, and cried out, Paradise. Whereupon arose a great confusion, some bawled for Paradise, some for Redgill, a few for the Spaniard. The two gravediggers locked horns and a brawny devil with a woman's mantle swathed about his naked shoulders drew a knife, and made for a partisan of the Spaniard, who in his turn skillfully interposed between himself and the attack the body of a brawling well-wisher to Redgill. The man in black and silver tossed aside the shell, rose, and entered the list. With one hand he seized the gravedigger of the rough and hurled him apart from him of the velvet breeches. With the other he presented a dagger with a jeweled half at the breast of the ruffian with the woman's mantle, while in tones that would have befitted Astorfell, plaining of his love to rocks, woods, and streams, he poured forth a flood of wild, singular, and filthy oasts such as would have disgraced the camp follower. His interference was effectual. The combatants fell apart, and the clamour was stilled, whereupon the gentlemen of contrarities at once resumed the gentle, an indifferent melancholy of manner and address. Let us off with the old love before we are on with the new gentleman, he said. We'll bury the dead first, and choose his successor afterward. Decently, and in order, I trust, and with due submission to the majority. I'll fight for my rights, growled Redgill, and I for mine, cried the Spaniard, and each of us will back his own man muttered in and aside the gravedigger with the broken head. The one they called Paradise Side. It is a thousand pities that there is not amongst us someone of merit so preeminent that factions should hide its head before it, but to the work in hand, gentlemen, they gathered closer around the yawning grave, and some began to lift the corpse. As for me, I withdrew as noiselessly as an Indian from my lair of grass, and hidden by the heaped up sand made off across the point and down the beach to where a light curl of smoke showed that someone was bending the fire I had neglected. It was Sparrow who alternately threw on driftwood and seaweed, and spoke to Madame, who sat at his feet in the blended warmth of fire and sunshine. Dickon was roasting the remainder of the oysters he had gathered the night before, and my lord stood and stared with a frowning face at the nine-mile distant mainland. All turned their eyes upon me as I came up to the fire. A little longer, Captain Percy, and we would have had out a search warrant, began the minister cheerfully. Have you been building a bridge? If I build one, I said, it will be a perilous one enough. Have you looked seaward? We wait but a minute are gone, he answered. As he spoke, he straightened his great form and lifted his face from the fire to the blue sea. Dickon, still on his knees at his task, looked too, and my lord, turning from his contemplation of the distant kingdom of Acomac and Mistress Percy one hand shading her eyes, the slender fingers of the other still enmeshed in her long dark hair which she had been braiding. They stared at the ship in silence, until my lord laughed. Conjures on board at once, Captain, he cried, we are thirsty. I drew the minister aside. I am going up the beach beyond that point again. You will, one and all, stay here. If I do not come back, do the best you can, and sell her life as dearly as you can. If I come back, you are quick of wit and have been a player. Look that you take the cue, I give you. I return to the fire and he followed me, amazement in his face. My lord carnal, I said, I must ask you for your sword. He started and his black brows drew together. Though the fortunes of war had made me in some sort your captive, sir, he said at last and not without dignity. I do not see upon this isle to which we are all prisoners the need of so strong testimony to the abjectness of my condition, nor deem it generous. We will speak of generosity another day, my lord. I interrupt it. At present I am in a hurry. That you are my prisoner in verity is enough for me, but not for others. I must have you so in seeming as well as in truth. Moreover, Master Sparrow is weaponless and I must needs disarm an enemy to arm a friend. I beg that you will give me what else we must take. He looked at Dickon, but Dickon stood with his face to the sea. I thought we were to have a struggle and I was sorry for it, but my lord could and did add discretion to a valor that I never doubted. He shrugged his shoulders, burst into a laugh, and turned to Mistress Percy. What can one do, lady, when one is doubly a prisoner, prisoner to dumbers and to beauty? Even laugh at fate and make the best of a bad job. Here, sir, someday it shall be the point. He drew his rapier from its sheath and presented the hill to me. I took it with a bow and handed it to Sparrow. The king's ward had risen and now lent against the bank of sin her long dark hair half braided, drawn over either shoulder, her face marble white between the waves of darkness. I do not know that I shall ever come back, I said, stopping before her. May I kiss your hand before I go? Her lips moved, but she did not speak. I knelt and kissed her clasp hands. They were cold to my lips. Where are you going? She whispered. Into what danger are you going? I—I—take me with you. I rose and with a laugh at my own folly that could have rested brow and lips on those hands and let the world wag. Another time, I said, rest in the sunshine now and think that all is well. All will be well, I trust. A few minutes later saw me almost upon the party gathered about the grave. The grave had received that which it was to hold until the crack of doom and was now being rapidly filled with sand. The crew of deep-dyed villains worked or stood or sat in silence, but all looked at the grave and saw me not. As the last handful of sand made it level with the beach, I walked into their midst and found myself face to face with the three candidates for the now vacant captaincy. Give you good day, gentlemen, I cried. Is it your captain that you bury or one of your crew, or is it only pesos and pieces of eight? End of chapter 21, recording by Tom Weiss, tomsaudiobooks.com