HOW I LABOURED TO MY SALVATION
I found myself still somewhat qualmish next morning but, none the less,
got me to labour on the boat and, her damage being now made good on her
larboard side, so far as her timbering went, I proceeded to make her seams
as water-tight as I could. This I did by means of the fibre of those great
nuts that grew plenteously here and there on the island, mixed with the gum
of a certain tree in place of pitch, ramming my gummed fibre into every
joint and crevice of the boat's structure so that what with this and
the swelling of her timbers when launched I doubted not she would prove
sufficiently staunch and seaworthy. She was a stout-built craft some
sixteen feet in length; and indeed a poor enough thing she might have
seemed to any but myself, her weather-beaten timbers shrunken and warped by
the sun's immoderate heats, but to me she had become as it were a sign and
symbol of freedom. She lay upon her starboard beam half full of sand, and
it now became my object to turn her that I might come at this under side,
wherefore I fell to work with mattock and spade to free her of the sand
wherein (as I say) she lay half-buried. This done I hove and strained until
the sweat poured from me yet found it impossible to move her, strive how I
would. Hereupon, and after some painful thought, I took to digging away the
sand, undermining her thus until she lay so nicely balanced it needed but a
push and the cumbrous structure, rolling gently over, lay in the necessary
posture, viz: with her starboard beam accessible from gunwale to keel. And
mightily heartened was I thus to discover her damage hereabouts so much
less than I had dared hope.
So I got me to work with saw, hammer and rivets and wrought so diligently
(staying but to snatch a mouthful of food) that as the sun westered, my
boat was well-nigh finished. Straightening my aching back I stood to
examine my handiwork and though of necessity somewhat rough yet was it
strong and secure; and altogether a very excellent piece of work I thought
it, and mightily yearned I for that hour when I should feel this little
vessel, that had been nought but a shattered ruin, once more riding the
seas in triumph.
But now and all at once, my soaring hopes were dashed, for though the boat
might be seaworthy, here she lay, high and dry, a good twelve yards from
the tide.
Now seeing I might not bring my boat to the sea, I began to scheme how best
I should bring the sea to her. I was yet pondering this matter, chin in
hand, when a shadow fell athwart me and starting, I glanced up to find this
woman beside me, who, heeding me no whit, walks about and about the boat,
viewing my work narrowly.
"If you can launch her she should sail well enough, going large and none
so ill on a bowline, by her looks. 'Tis true scat-boat--yes. Are you a
sailor--can ye navigate, ha?"
"Not I."
"'Tis very well, for I am, indeed, and can set ye course by dead reckoning
an need be. Your work is likely enough, though had you butted your timbers
it had been better--so and so!" And in this I saw she was right enough, and
my work seemed more clumsy now than I had thought.
"I'm no shipwright," said I.
"And here's sure proof of it!" quoth she.
"Mayhap 'twill serve once her timbers be swelled."
"Aye, she may float, Martino, so long as the sea prove kind and the wind
gentle; aye, she should carry us both over to the Main handsomely, yes--"
"Never!" quoth I, mighty determined.
"How then--will ye deny me yet, fool? Wherefore would ye leave me here,
curst Englishman?"
"Lest you goad me into slaying you for the evil thing you are."
"What evil have I wrought you?"
"You would have poisoned me but yesterday--"
"Yet to-day are you strong and hearty, fool."
And indeed, now I came to think of it, I felt myself as hale and well as
ever in all my life. "Tush--a fico!" says she with an evil gesture. "'Twas
but an Indian herb, fool, and good 'gainst colic and calenture. Now
wherefore will ye be quit o' me?"
"Because I had rather die solitary than live in your fellowship--"
"Dolt! Clod! Worm!" cried she 'twixt gnashing teeth, and then all in a
moment she was gazing down at me soft and gentle-eyed, red lips up-curving
and smooth cheek dimpling to a smile:
"Ah, Martin," sighs she languorously, "see how you do vex me! And I am
foolish to suffer such as you to anger me, but needs must I vex you a
little in quittance, yes."
At this I did but shrug my shoulders and turned to study again the
problem--how to set about launching my boat.
"Art a something skilful carpenter, eh, Martino," said she in a while;
"'twas you made the table and chairs and beds in the caves up yonder, eh,
Martino?"
"Aye."
"And these the tools you made 'em with, eh, Martino?" and she pointed where
they lay beside the boat.
"Nay," quoth I, speaking on impulse, being yet busied with my problem, "I
had nought but my hatchet then and chisels of iron."
"Your hatchet--this?" she questioned, taking it up.
"Aye!" I nodded. "The hatchet was the first tool I found after we were cast
destitute on this island."
"Ah--ah--then she was with you when you found it--the woman that wore this
gown before me, eh, Martino?"
"Aye--and what then?"
"This!" cried she and wheeling the hatchet strong-armed, she sent it
spinning far out to sea or ever I might stay her.
Now, beholding the last of this good hatchet that had oft known my dear
lady's touch, that had beside, been, as it were, a weapon to our defence
and a means to our comfort, seeing myself (as I say) now bereft of it thus
wantonly, I sprang to my feet, uttering a cry of mingled grief and rage.
But she, skipping nimbly out of reach, caught up one of my pistols where
she had hid it behind a rock and stood regarding me with her hateful smile.
"Ah, ah!" says she, mocking, "do I then vex you a little, _amigo mio_? So
is it very well. Ha, scowl, fool Martino, scowl and grind your teeth; 'tis
joy to me and shall never bring back your little axe."
At this, seeing grief and anger alike unavailing, I sat me down by the boat
and sinking my head in my hands, strove to settle my mind to this problem
of launching; but this I might by no means do, since here was this devilish
creature perched upon an adjacent rock to plague me still.
"How now, Martino?" she questioned. "What troubleth your sluggish brain
now?" And then, as she had read my very thought: "Is't your boat--to bring
her afloat? Ah--bah! 'tis simple matter! Here she lies and yonder the sea!
Well, dig you a pit about the boat as deep as may be, bank the sand about
your pit as high as may be. Then cut you a channel to high-water mark
and beyond, so with the first tide, wind-driven, the sea shall fill your
channel, pour into your pit, brimming it full and your banks being higher
than your boat she shall swim and be drawn seaward on the backwash. So,
here's the way on't. And so must you sweat and dig and labour, and I joy
to watch--Ah, yes, for you shall sweat, dig and labour in vain, except you
swear me I shall sail with you." So saying, she drops me a mocking courtsey
and away she goes.
She gone and night being at hand, I set aside two or three stout spars
should serve me as masts, yards, etc., together with rope and cordage for
tackle and therewith two pair of oars; which done, I got me to my cave and,
having supped, to bed.
Early next morning I set myself to draw a circle about my boat and mark out
a channel thence to the sea (even as she had suggested) since I could hit
upon no better way. This done, I fell to with spade and mattock but found
this a matter of great labour since the sand, being very dry and loose
hereabouts, was constantly shifting and running back upon me.
And presently, as I strove thus painfully, cometh my tormentor to plague me
anew (albeit the morning was so young) she very gay and debonnaire in her
'broidered gown.
"Ha!" said she, seating herself hard by. "The sun is new-risen, yet you do
sweat wofully, the which I do joy to see. So-ho, then, labour and sweat, my
pretty man: it shall be all vain, aha--vain and to no purpose."
But finding I heeded her no more than buzzing fly, she changed her tune,
viewing me tender-eyed and sighing soft:
"Am I not better as a woman, eh, Martino?" asked she, spreading out her
petticoats. "Aye, to be sure your eyes do tell me so, scowl and mutter as
you will. See now, Martino, I have lived here three days and in all this
woful weary time hast never asked my name, which is strange, unless dost
know it already, for 'tis famous hereabouts and all along the Main; indeed
'tis none so wonderful you should know it--"
"I don't!" said I. "Nor wish to!"
"Then I will tell you--'tis Joan!" Hereupon I dropped my spade and she,
seeing how I stared upon her, burst into a peal of laughter. "Ah, ah!"
cried she. "Here is pretty, soft name and should fit me as well as another.
Why must you stare so fool-like; here is no witchcraft, for in the caves
yonder 'Joan' meeteth me at every turn; 'tis carven on walls, on chairs, on
table, together with 'Damaris' and many woful, lovesick mottoes beside."
Now I, knowing this for truth, turned my back and ground my teeth in
impotent anger, whiles this woman mocked me with her laughter.
"Damaris--Joan!" said she. "At first methought these two women, but now do
I know Joan is Damaris and Damaris Joan and you a poor, lovelorn fool. But
as for me--I am Joanna--"
Now at this I turned and looked at her.
"Joanna?" said I, wondering.
"Ah, you have heard it--this name, before--yes?"
"Aye, in a song."
"Oh, verily!" said she and forthwith began singing in her deep, rich voice:
"There's a fine Spanish dame
And Joanna's her name
Shall follow wherever you go--"
"Aha, and mark this, Martino:
"Till your black heart shall feel
Your own cursed steel
Black Bartlemy--Bartlemy, ho!"
"But this was my mother--"
"Ha--she that stabbed and killed the pirate Bartlemy ere he slew her? But
she was a Spanish lady."
"Nay, she was English, and lieth buried hereabouts, 'tis said; howbeit,
she died here whiles I was with the Indians. They found me, very small and
helpless, in the ruins of a burned town and took me away into the mountains
and, being Indians, used me kindly and well. Then came white men, twenty
and two, and, being Christians, slew the Indians and used me evilly and
were cruel, save only one; twenty and two they were and all dead long ago,
each and every, save only one. Aha, Martino, for the evil men have made me
endure, I have ever been excellent well avenged! For I am Joanna that some
call 'Culebra' and some 'Gadfly' and some 'Fighting Jo.' And indeed there
be few men can match me at swordplay and as for musket and pistol--watch
now, Martino, the macaw yonder!" She pointed to a bird that stood preening
itself on a rock at no little distance and, catching up the pistol,
levelled and fired; and in place of the bird was nought but a splash of
blood and a few poor, gaudy feathers stirring lazily in the gentle wind.
"See," cried she, with a little, soft laugh, "am I not a goodly _camarado_
for any brave fellow, yes?"
"Truly," said I, turning away, "I think your breeches do become you best--"
"Liar!" she cried. "You know I am handsomer thus! Your eyes ha' told me so
already. And look ye, I can be as soft and tender, as meek and helpless as
any puling woman of 'em all, when I will. And if I hate fiercely, so is my
love--ha, d'ye blench, fool, d'ye shrink; you thing shaped like a man, must
ye cringe at the word 'love'?"
"Aye!" said I, over my shoulder. "On your lips 'tis desecration!"
"Desecration--desecration?" quoth she, staring on me great-eyed and biting
at her scarlet nether lip. "Ha, dare ye say it, dog?" And crying thus, she
hurled the pistol at me with aim so true that I staggered and came nigh
falling. Stung by the blow I turned on her in a fury, but she leapt to her
feet and showed me my own knife glittering in her fist.
"Ah, bah--back to your labour, slave!" she mocked.
"Have done, woman!" I cried. "Have done, or by the living God, you will
goad me into slaying you yet--"
"Tush!" said she, "I am used to outfacing men, but you--ha, you should be
fed on pap and suckets, you that are no man! 'Tis small wonder you lost
your Joan--Damaris; 'tis no wonder she fled away and left you--"
Now at this (and nothing heeding her knife) I sprang at her and she,
letting fall the knife, leapt towards me; and then I had her, felt her all
soft and palpitant in my furious grip, heard a quivering sigh, saw her
head sway back across my arm and she drooping in my embrace, helpless and
a-swoon. And holding her thus 'prisoned and crushed against me, I could not
but be conscious of all the tender, languorous beauty of her ere I hasted
to lay her upon the sand. My arms were yet about her (and I upon my knees)
when her bosom heaved to sudden, tremulous sigh and opening her eyes, she
smiled up at me.
"Ah, Martino," sighed she softly, "do not these petticoats become me vastly
well, yes?" And reaching up, she set her arms about me. "Am I not better
than dream-woman, I that men have died for--I, Joanna?"
Now hereupon I shivered and loosing her hold rose to my feet and stood with
head averted that I might not behold her. Presently she arose also and
coming where lay the knife, took it up and stood turning it this way and
that.
"Martin," said she in her soft, dreamy speech, "you are mightily strong
and--mightily gentle, and I do think we shall make a man of you yet!"
So saying, she turned and went away, the knife glittering in her hand. As
for me I cast myself down and with no thought or will to labour now, for it
seemed that my strength was gone from me.