THE NIGHT
So the blood burned within her,
And thus it cried to her:
And there, beside the maize field
The other one was waiting--
He, the mysterious one.
_Luteplayer's Song._
The mantle of night had already fallen upon the land when Lady
Landale, closely wrapped in her warmest furs, with face well ensconced
under her close bonnet, and arms buried to the elbow in her muff,
sallied from her room on the announcement that the carriage was
waiting. As, with her leisurely daintiness, she tripped it down the
stairs, she crossed Mr. Landale, and paused a moment, ready for the
skirmish, as she noticed the cynical curiosity with which he examined
her.
"Whither, my fair sister," said he, ranging himself with his best
courtesy against the bannisters, "so late in the day?"
"To my lord and master's side, of course," said Molly.
"Why--is not Adrian coming back to-night?"
"Apparently not, since he has graciously permitted me to join him upon
his rock. I trust you will not find it too unhappy in our absence:
that would be the crowning misfortune of a day when everything seems
to have gone wrong. Sophia invisible with her vapours; Madeleine with
the megrim; and you in and out of the house as excited and secret as
the cat when she has licked all the cream. I suppose I shall end by
knowing what it is all about. Meanwhile I think I shall enjoy the
tranquillity of the island--although I have actually to tear myself
away from the prospect of a tete-a-tete evening with you."
But as Rupert's serenity was not to be moved, her ladyship hereupon
allowed herself to be escorted to the carriage without further parley.
As she drove away through the dark night, first down the level,
well-metalled avenue, then along the uneven country road, and finally
through the sand of the beach in which hoofs and tyres sank
noiselessly, inches deep, Molly gave herself up, with almost childish
zest to the leaven of imagination.... Here, in this dark carriage, was
reclining, not Lady Landale (whose fate deed had already been signed,
sealed and delivered to bring her nothing but disappointment), but her
happier sister, still confronted with the fascinating unknown,
hurrying under cover of night, within sound of the sea, to that
enthralling lure, a lover--a real lover, ardent, daring, _young_,
ready to risk all, waiting to spread the wings of his boat, and carry
her to the undiscovered country.
Glowing were these fleeting images of the "might have been," angry the
sudden relapses into the prose of reality.
No, Madeleine, the coward, who thought she had loved her lover, was
now in her room, weak and weeping, whilst he, no doubt, paced the deck
in mad impatience (as a lover should), now tortured by the throes of
anxiety, now hugging himself with the thought of his coming bliss ...
that bliss that never was to be his. And in the carriage there was
only Molly, the strong-hearted but the fettered by tie and vow, the
slave for ever of a first girlish fancy but too successfully
compassed; only Lady Landale rejoining her husband in his melancholy
solitude; Lady Landale who never--never! awful word! would know the
joys which yonder poor fool had had within her grasp and yet had not
clutched at.
Molly had read, as permitted, her sister's letter, and to some
purpose; and scorn of the girl who from some paltry quibble could
abandon in danger the man she professed to love, filled her soul to
the exclusion of any sisterly or ever womanly pity.
At the end of half an hour the carriage was stopped by the black
shadow of a man, who seemed to spring up from the earth, and who,
after a few rapid words interchanged with the coachman, extinguished
both the lights, and then opened the door.
Leaning on the offered elbow Molly jumped down upon the yielding
sand.
"Rene?" she asked; for the darkness even on the open beach was too
thick to allow of recognition.
"Rene, your ladyship--or Mademoiselle is it?" answered the man in his
unmistakable accent. "I must ask; for, by the voice no one can tell,
as your ladyship, or Mademoiselle knows--and the sky is black like a
chimney."
"Lady Landale, Rene," and as he paused, she added, "My sister would
not come."
"Ah, _mon Dieu_! She would not come," repeated the man in tones of
dismay; and the black shadow was struck into a moment of stillness.
Then with an audible sigh Mr. Potter roused himself, and saying with
melancholy resignation, "The boat is there, I shall be of return in a
minute, My Lady," took the traveller's bag on his shoulder and
disappeared.
The carriage began to crunch its way back in the darkness and Molly
was left alone.
* * * * *
In front of her was a faint white line, where the rollers spread their
foam with mournful restless fugue of long drawn roar and hissing sigh.
In the distance, now and then glancing on the crest of the dancing
billows, shone the steady light of Scarthey. The rising wind whistled
in the prickly star-grass and sea-holly. Beyond these, not a sight,
not a sound--the earth was all mystery.
Molly looked at the light--marking the calm spot where her husband
waited for her; its very calm, its familiar placidity, monotony,
enraged her; she hearkened to the splashing, living waves, to the
swift flying gusts of the storm wind, and her soul yearned to their
life, and their mysteriousness.
What she longed for, she herself could not tell. No words can
encompass the desire of pent-up young vitality for the unknown, for
the ideal, for the impossible. But one thing was overpoweringly real:
that was the dread of leaving just then the wide, the open world whose
darkness was filled to her with living scenes of freedom and space,
and blood-stirring emotions; of re-entering the silent room under the
light; of consorting with the shadowy personality, her husband; of
feeling the web of his melancholy, his dreaminess, imprison as it were
the wings of her imagination and the thoughtful kindness of his gaze,
paralyse the course of her hot blood through her veins.
And yet, thither she was going, must be going! Ah Madeleine, fool--you
may well weep, yonder on your pillow, for the happiness that was yours
and that you have dropped from your feeble hands!
* * * * *
In a few minutes the black shadow re-appeared close to her.
"If My Lady will lean on my shoulder, I shall lead her to the boat."
And after a few steps, the voice out of the darkness proceeded in
explanation: "I have not taken a lantern, I have put out those of the
carriage, for I must tell My Lady, that since what arrived this
morning, there may be _gabelous_--they call them the preventive
here--in every corner, and the light might bring them, as it does the
night papilions, and ... as I thought Mademoiselle was to accompany
you--they might have frightened her. These people want to know so
much!"
"I know nothing of what has happened this morning, that you speak of
as if the whole world must know," retorted Lady Landale coolly. "You
are all hatching plots and sitting on secrets, but nobody confides in
me. It seems then, that you expected Mademoiselle, my sister, here for
some purpose and that you regret she did not come; may I ask for an
explanation?"
A few moments elapsed before the man replied, and then it was with
embarrassment and diffidence: "For sure, I am sorry, My Lady ... there
have been misfortunes on the island this morning--nothing though to
concern her ladyship--and, as for Mademoiselle, mother Margery would
have liked to see her, no doubt ... and Maggie the wife also--and--and
no doubt also Mademoiselle would have liked to come.... What do I
know?"
"Oh, of course!" said Molly with her little note of mocking laughter.
Then again they walked a while in silence. As Rene lifted his mistress
in his arms to carry her over the licking hissing foam, she resumed:
"It is well, Rene, you are discreet, but I am not such a fool as
people seem to think. As for her, you were right in thinking that she
might easily be frightened. She was afraid even to come out!"
Rene shoved his boat off, and falling to his sculls, suddenly relapsed
into the old vernacular: "_Ah Madame_," he sighed, "_c'est bien
triste--un gentilhomme si beau--si brave!_"
During the crossing no further words passed between them.
"So brave--so handsome?" The echo of the words came back to the woman
in every lap of the water on the sides of the boat, in every strain of
the oars.
The keel ground against the beach, and Rene leaped out to drag the
boat free of the surf. As he did so, two blacker outlines segregated
themselves from the darkness and a rough voice called out, subdued but
distinct: "Savenaye, St. Malo!"
"Savenaye, St. Malo!" repeated Rene, and helped Lady Landale to
alight. Then one of the figures darted forward and whispered a rapid
sentence in the Frenchman's ear. Rene uttered an exclamation, but his
mistress intervened with scant patience:
"My good Rene," said she, "take the bag into the peel, and come back
for me. I have a message for these gentlemen."
Rene hesitated. As he did so a rustle of anger shook the lady in her
silks and furs. "Do you hear me?" she repeated, and he could guess how
her little foot stamped the yielding sand.
"_Oui, Madame_," said he, hesitating no longer. Immediately the other
two drew near. Molly could just see that they stood in all deference,
cap in hand.
"Madam," began one of these in hurried words, "there is not a moment
to be lost: the captain had to remain on board."
"What!" interrupted Lady Landale with much asperity, "not come in
person!" She had been straining her eyes to make out something of her
interlocutor's form, unable to reconcile her mind's picture with the
coarse voice that addressed her--And now all her high expectations
fell from her in an angry rush. "Have I come all this way to be met by
a messenger! Who are you?"
"Madam," entreated the husky voice, "I am the mate of the _Peregrine_.
The captain has directed me to beg and pray you not to be afraid, but
to have good courage and confidence in us--the schooner is there; in
five minutes you can be safe on board. You see, madam," continued the
man with an earnestness that spoke well of his devotion, "the captain
found he couldn't, he dared not leave the ship--he is the only one who
knows the bearings of these waters here--any one of us might run her
on the bank, and where would we be then, madam, and you, if we were
found in daylight still in these parts?--'For God's sake, Curwen,'
says he, 'implore the lady not to be afraid and tell her to trust, as
she has promised,' so he says. And for God's sake, say I, madam, trust
us. In five minutes you will be with him? Say the word, madam, am I to
make the signal? There he is, eating his heart out. There are all the
lads ready waiting for your foot on the ladder, to hoist sail. No time
to lose, we are already behind. Shall I signal?"
Molly's heart beat violently; under the sudden impulse, the
fascination of the black chasm, of the peril, the adventure, the
unfathomed, took possession of her, and whirled her on.
"Yes," she said.
On the very utterance of the word the man, who had not yet spoken,
uncovered a lantern, held it aloft, as rapidly replaced it under his
coat, and moved away.
Almost immediately, against the black pall, behind the dim line of
grey that marked the shore, suddenly sprang up three bright points in
the form of a triangle.
It was as if all the darkness around had been filled with life; as if
the first fulfilment of those promises with which it had been drawing
this woman's soul was now held out to her to lure her further still.
"See, madam, how they watch!--By your leave."
And with no further warning, Molly felt herself seized with
uncompromising, but deferential, energy, by a pair of powerful arms;
lifted like a child, and carried away at a bear-like trot. By the
splashing she judged it was through the first line of breakers. Then
she was handed into another irresistible grasp. The boat lurched as
the mate jumped in. Then:
"Now give way, lads," he said, "and let her have it. Those lights must
not be burning longer than we can help. Tain't wholesome for any of
us."
And under the pulse of four willing pairs of arms the skiff, like a
thing of life, clove the black waters and rose to the billows.
"You see, madam," explained the mate, "we could not do without the
lights, to show us where she lay, and give us a straight course. We
are all right so long as we keep that top 'un in the middle--but he
won't be sorry, I reckon, when he can drop them overboard. They can't
be seen from the offing yet, but it's astounding how far a light will
reach on a night like this. Cheerily, lads, let her have it!"
But Molly heeded him not. She had abandoned herself to the thrilling
delight of the excitement. The die was cast--not by her own hand, no
one should be able to hold her responsible--she had been kidnapped.
Come what might she must now see the adventure out.
The lights grew larger; presently a black mass, surmounted by a kind
of greyish cloud, loomed through the pitch of the night; and next it
was evident that the beacon was hanging over the side of a ship,
illuminating its jagged leaping water line.
A voice, not too loud, yet, even through the distance, ringing clear
in its earnestness sounded from above. "Boat ahoy! what boat is that?"
And promptly the helmsman by Molly's side returned: "Savenaye, St.
Malo."
On the instant the lights went out. There was a creaking of block and
cordage, and new ghostly clouds rose over the ship--sails loosened to
the wind. As the skiff rowers came alongside, boat-hooks leaped into
action and gripped the vessel; an arm, strong as steel, was held out
for the passenger as she fearlessly put her foot on the ladder;
another, a moment later, with masterful tenderness bent round her
waist, and she was fairly lifted on board the _Peregrine_. But before
her foot touched the deck, she felt upon her lips, laid like a burning
seal, a passionate kiss; and her soul leaped up to it, as if called
into sudden life from slumber, like the princess of fairy lore. She
heard Madeleine's mysterious lover whisper in her ear: "At last! Oh,
what I have suffered, thinking you would not come!"
From the warm shelter of her loosened cloak the violets in her bosom
sent forth a wave of sweetness.
For a moment these two were in all creation alone to each other,
while in a circle the _Peregrine's_ crew stood apart in respectful
silence: a broad grin of sympathy upon the mouth of every mother's
son.
Released at last, Lady Landale took a trembling step on the deck. Into
what strange world had she come this night?
The schooner, like a mettled steed whose head is suddenly set free,
was already in motion, and with gentle forward swaying leaps rising to
the wave and gathering speed under her swelling sails.
Captain Jack had seized Molly's hand, and the strong clasp trembled
round the little fingers; he said no more to her; but, in tones
vibrating with emotion which all the men, now silently seeking their
posts in the darkness, could hear:
"My lads," he cried, "the lady is safe with us after all. Who shall
say that your skipper is not still Lucky Smith? Thank you, my good
fellows! Now we have yet to bring her safe the other side.
Meanwhile--no cheering, lads, you know why--there is a hundred guineas
more among you the hour we make St. Malo. Stand to, every man. Up with
those topsails!"
Scarcely had the last words been spoken when, from the offing, on the
wings of the wind, came a long-drawn hail, faint through the distance,
but yet fatally distinct: "Ahoy, what schooner is that?"
Molly, who had not withdrawn her hand, felt a shock pass over Captain
Jack's frame. He turned abruptly, and she could see him lean and
strain in the direction of the voice.
The call, after an interval, was repeated. But the outlook was
impenetrable, and it was weird indeed to feel that they were seen yet
could not see.
Molly, standing close by his side, knew in every fibre of her own body
that this man, to whom she seemed in some inexplicable fashion already
linked, was strongly moved. Nevertheless she could hardly guess the
extremity of the passion that shook him. It was the frenzy of the
rider who feels his horse about to fail him within a span of the
winning post; of the leader whose men waver at the actual point of
victory. But the weakness of dismay was only momentary. Calm and
clearness of mind returned with the sense of emergency. He raised his
night-glass, with a steady hand this time, and scanned the depth of
blackness in front of him: out of it after a moment, there seemed to
shape itself the dim outline of a sail, and he knew that he had waited
too long and had fallen in again with the preventive cutter. Then
glancing aloft, he understood how it was that the _Peregrine_ had been
recognised.
The overcast sky had partly cleared to windward during the last
minutes; a few stars glinted where hitherto nothing but the most
impenetrable pall had hung. In the east, the rays of a yet invisible
moon, edging with faint silver the banks of clouds just above the
horizon, had made for the schooner a tell-tale background indeed.
On board no sound was heard now save the struggle of rope and canvas,
the creaking of timber and the swift plashing rush of water against
her rounded sides as she sped her course.
"Madeleine," he said, forcibly controlling his voice, and bringing, as
he spoke, his face close to Molly's to peer anxiously at its
indistinct white oval, "we are not free yet; but in a short time, with
God's help, we shall have left those intermeddling fools yonder who
would bar our way, miles out of the running. But I cannot remain with
you a moment longer; I must take the helm myself. Oh, forgive me for
having brought you to this! And, should you hear firing, for Heaven's
sake do not lose courage. See now, I will bring you to your cabin;
there you will find warmth and shelter. And in a little while, a very
little while, I will return to you to tell you all is well. Come, my
dearest love."
Gently he would have drawn her towards the little deck-cabin, guiding
her steps, as yet untutored to the motion of the ship, when out of the
black chasm, upon the weather bow of the _Peregrine_, leaped forth a
yellow tongue of light fringed with red and encircled by a ruddy
cloud; and three seconds later the boom of a gun broke with a dull,
ominous clangour above the wrangling of sea and wind. Molly
straightened herself. "What is that?" she asked.
"The warning gun," he answered, hurriedly, "to say that they mean to
see who we are and that if we do not stop the next will be shotted.
Time presses, Madeleine, go in--fear nothing! We shall soon be on
their other side, out of sight in darkness again."
"I shall stop with you. Let no thought of me hinder you. I am not
afraid. I want to see."
At these words the lover was struck with a surprise that melted into a
proud and new joy. He had loved Madeleine for her woman's grace and
her woman's heart; now, he told himself, he must worship her also for
her brave soul. But this was no time for useless words. It was not
more unsafe for her on deck than in the cabin, and at the thought of
her beside him during the coming struggle the strength of a god rose
within him. "Come," he answered, briefly, and moved with her to the
helm which a sailor silently surrendered to him whilst she steadied
herself by holding to the binnacle--the only place on board at that
time where (from sheer necessity) any light had been allowed to
remain. It was faint enough, but the reflection from the
compass-board, as he bent to examine it, was sufficient to make just
visible, with a dim fantastic glow, the strong beauty of his face, and
put a flash into each wide dilated eye.
And thus did Molly, for the first time, see Captain Jack.
She sank down at the foot of the binnacle, her hands clasped round her
knees, as if hugging the new rapture as closely to her as she could.
And looking up at the alert figure before her which she now began to
discern more clearly under the lightening sky; at the face which she
divined, although she could only see the watchful gleam of the eyes as
now and again they sought her down in the shadow at his feet, she felt
herself kindle in answer to the glow of his glorious life-energy. They
were going, side by side, this young hero of romance and she, to fight
their way through some unknown peril!
"Madeleine, my sweet bride, my brave love, they are about to fire
again, and this time you will hear the shot burring; but be not
afraid, it will strike ahead of us."
Another flash sprang out of the night, much nearer this time, and
louder, for it belched forth a shot which ploughed its way in the
water across the schooner's bow.
"I am not afraid," said Molly again; and she laughed a little fierce,
nervous laugh.
"They are between us and the open sea. Thus far the luck is on their
side. Had you come but half an hour sooner, Madeleine, we should be
running as free as any king's ship. Now they think, no doubt, they
will drive me on to the sand; but," he tossed back his head with a
superb gesture; "there is no power from heaven or hell that can keep
me out of my course to-night."
By this time the preventive cutter was faintly discernible two cables
length on the larboard bow. There came another hail--a loud, husky
bellow from over the water, "Schooner ahoy! Heave to, or we'll sink
you!"
"Madeleine," said Captain Jack; "come closer to me, lie down, behind
me, quick--The next shot will be in my rigging. Heave to?--with my
treasures, my bride on board and a ten knot breeze...!" And he looked
down at Molly, laughing in his contempt. Then he shouted some order
which brought the _Peregrine_ some points more off the wind, and she
bounded forward with renewed zest. "Sink us! Why don't you fire now,
you lubbers?" He glanced back over his shoulder to see the beacon of
Scarthey straight over the stern. "You have got us in line with the
light, and that's your last chance. In another minute I shall be past
you. Ah, I can see you now, my fine fellows!--Courage, Madeleine."
To Molly, of course, his words conveyed no meaning, except that the
critical moment had come, that the ship which carried her flying upon
the water like a living thing, eager, yet obedient in all its motions
to the guiding will of the man beside her, was rushing to the fray.
The thought fired her soul, and she sprang up to look over the side.
"What," she exclaimed, for the little cutter on close quarters looked
insignificant indeed by the side of the noble vessel that so
scornfully bore down on her. "Is that all!"
"They have a gun, and we have none," answered Captain Jack. "Down,
Madeleine! down behind, in the name of God!"
"Why should I crouch if you stand up?"
The man's heart swelled within him; but as he looked with proud
admiration at the cloaked and hooded figure by his side, the cutter's
gun fired for the third time. With roar and hiss the shot came over
the bow of the schooner, as she dipped into the trough, and raking the
deck, crashed through her side on the quarter. Molly gave a shriek and
staggered.
A fearful malediction burst from Captain Jack's lips: he left the
tiller and sprang to her.
One of the hands, believing his skipper to have been struck, ran to
the helm, and again put the vessel on her proper course which a few
moments later was to make her shoot past the revenue cutter.
"Wounded, Madeleine! Wounded through my fault! By the living God, they
shall pay for this!"
"Oh," groaned Molly, "something has cut me in the arm and shoulder."
Then rapidly gathering composure, "But it's not much, I can move it."
At one glance the sailor saw from the position of the shot hole in the
vessel's side that the wound could only have been made by a splinter.
But the possibility of exposing his beloved to such another risk was
not to be borne--a murderous rush of blood flew to his brain.
The cutter, perceiving the tactics of the swifter schooner, was now
tacking about with the intention of bringing the gun to bear upon her
once more as she attempted to slip by. But Captain Jack in his
new-fanned fury had made up his mind to a desperate cast of the die.
"Starboard, hard a starboard," he called out in a voice that his men
had known well in old fighting days and which was heard as far as the
cutter itself. "They shall not fire that gun again!"
With a brief, "Starboard it is, sir," the man who had taken the helm
brought the ship round, and the silent, active crew in a trice were
ready to go about. Majestically the schooner changed her course, and
as the meaning of the manoeuvre became fearfully apparent, shouts
and oaths arose in confusion from the cutter.
"What are you going to do?" eagerly asked Molly, enthralled by the
superb motion of the vessel under her foot as it swept round and
increased speed upon the new tack.
He held her in his arms. His hand had sought her wounded shoulder and
pressed the lacerated spot in his effort to staunch the precious blood
that rose warm through the cloth, torturing his cold fingers.
"I am going to clear those men from our way to freedom and to love! I
am going to sink that boat: they shall pay with their lives for this!
Come to the other side, Madeleine, and watch how my stout _Peregrine_
sweeps our course--and then I may see how these scoundrels have
mangled you, my love. But, nay, this is no sight for you. Hold on
close to me, sweet, and hide your eyes while they go."
He steadied himself firmly with one hand on the rigging.
Now musket shots flashed on board the cutter in quick succession, and
sundry balls whizzed over the poop, intended for the helmsman by their
side. Captain Jack gnashed his teeth, as the menacing drone of one of
them came perilously close to the beloved head by his cheek.
"Look out, every man. We'll run her down!" he called. His voice was
like the blast of bugles. Cheers broke out from every part of the
ship, drowning the yells of execration and the shouts of fear from
below. And now, with irresistible sway, the rushing _Peregrine_ heavy
and powerful was closing and bearing down upon her frailer enemy.
There was a spell of suspense when all was silence, save the rush and
turmoil of the waters, and the flapping of the cutter's sails,
helpless for the moment in the teeth of the breeze. Like a charging
steed the schooner seemed to leap at her foe. Then came the shock.
There was a brief check in her career, she rose by the head; the
rigging strained and sighed, the masts swayed groaning, but stood.
Over the bows, in the darkness was heard a long-drawn crash, was seen
a white wall of foaming water rising silently to break the next moment
with a great roar.
The cutter, struck obliquely amidships, was thrown straightway on her
beam ends: the _Peregrine_, with every sail spread and swollen, held
her as the preying bird with outstretched wings holds its quarry, and
pressed her down until she began to fill and settle. It was with
wide-open eyes, with eager, throbbing heart that Molly watched it all.
"Lights, my lads," cried Captain Jack, with a shout of exultation,
when the anxious instant had passed. "Take in every man you can save
but handspike is the word for the first who shows fight! Curwen, do
you get her clear again."
All around upon the deck, sprang rumour and turmoil, came shouts and
sounds of scuffling and the rushing of feet; from the blank waters
came piteous calls for help. But paying little heed to aught but
Molly, Captain Jack seized a lighted lantern from the hands of a
passing sailor and drew her aside.
Fevered with pain and fascinated by the horror of fight and death's
doings, yet instinctively remembering to pull her hood over her face,
she allowed herself to be taken into the little deck cabin.
He placed the lantern upon the table:
"Rest here," he said quickly, once more striving to see her beneath
the jealous shade. "I must find out if anything is amiss on board the
ship and attend to these drowning men--even before you, my darling!
But I shall be back instantly. You are not faint?"
The light shone full on his features which Molly eagerly scanned from
her safe recess. When she met his eyes, full of the triumph of love
and hope, her soul broke into fierce revolt--again she felt upon her
lips that kiss of young passionate love that had been the first her
life had ever known ... and might be the last, for the disclosure was
approaching apace.
She was glad of the respite.
"Go," she said with as much firmness as she could muster. "Let me not
stand between you and your duty. I am strong."
Strong indeed--Captain Jack might have wondered whence had come to
this gentle Madeleine this lioness-strength of soul and body, had he
had time to wonder, time for aught but his love thoughts and his fury,
as he dashed back again panting for the moment when he could have her
to himself.
"Any damage, Curwen?"
"Bowsprit broken, and larboard bulwark stove in, otherwise everything
has stood."
"Casualties?"
"No, sir. We have three of the cutter's men on board already. They
swarmed over the bows. One had his cutlass out and had the devil's
impudence to claim the schooner, but a boat-hook soon brought him to
reason. There they be, sir," pointing to a darker group huddled round
the mast. "I have lowered the gig to see if we can pick up the others,
damn them!"
"As soon as they are all on board bring them aft, I will speak to
them."
When, with a master's eye, he had rapidly inspected his vessel from
the hold to the rigging, without finding aught to cause anxiety for
its safety, Captain Jack returned to the poop, and there found the
party of prisoners arranged under the strong guard of his own crew.
Molly stood, wrapped up in her cloak, at the door of the cabin,
watching.
One of the revenue men came forward and attempted to speak--but the
captain impatiently cut him short.
"I have no time to waste in talk, my man," he said commandingly. "How
many were you on board the cutter?"
"Nine," answered the man sullenly.
"How many have we got here?"
"Six, sir," interposed Curwen. "Those three," pointing to three
disconsolate and dripping figures, "were all we could pick up."
"Hark ye, fellows," said the captain. "You barred my road, I had to
clear you away. You tried to sink me, I had to sink you. You have lost
three of your ship-mates, you have yourselves to blame for it; your
shot has drawn blood from one for whom I would have cut down forty
times your number. I will send you back to shore. Away with you! No, I
will hear nothing. Let them have the gig, Curwen, and four oars."
"And now God speed the _Peregrine_," cried Jack Smith, as the revenue
men pushed off in the direction of the light and the wind was again
swelling every sail of his gallant ship. "We are well out of our
scrape. Shape her course for St. Malo, Curwen. If this wind holds we
should be there by the nineteenth in the morning, at latest."