THE LIGHT AGAIN--THE LADY AND THE CARGO
Does not all the blood within me
Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee,
As the spring to meet the sunshine!
_Hiawatha._
"Curwen," said Captain Jack, suddenly--the two stood together at the
helm on the afternoon of the same day, and the _Peregrine_ was once
more alone, a speck upon the waste of waters, "I have made up my mind
to return to Scarthey."
The mate wagged his bushy eyebrows and shifted his hand on the helm.
"Ay, ay, sir," he said, after just an instant's pause.
"I would not run you and the men into unnecessary danger, that you may
be sure of; but the fact is, Curwen, I'm in a devil of a fix all
round. There's no use hiding it from you. And, all things considered,
to land the lady and the cargo at the lighthouse itself, gives me as
fair a chance of getting out of it as any plan I can think of. The
cargo's not all my own and it's a valuable one, I daresay you have
guessed as much; and it's not the kind we want revenue men to pry
into. I could not unload elsewhere that I know of, without creating
suspicion. As to storing it elsewhere, it's out of the question.
Scarthey's the place, though it's a damned risky one just now! But
we've run many a risk together in our day, have we not?"
"Ay, sir; who's afraid?"
"Then there's the lady," lowering his voice; "she's Lady Landale, my
friend's wife, the wife of the best friend ever man had. Ay, you
remember him, I doubt not--the gentleman seaman of the _Porcupine_--I
owe him more than I can ever repay, and he owes me something too.
That sort of thing binds men together; and see what I have done to
him--carried off his wife!"
Curwen grunted, enigmatically, and disengaged a hand to scratch his
chin.
"I must have speech with him. I must, it is enough to drive me mad to
think what he may be thinking of me. What I purpose is this: we'll
disguise the ship as far as we can (we have the time), paint her a new
streak and alter those topsails, change the set of the bowsprit and
strike out her name."
"That's unlucky," said the mate.
"Unlucky, is it? Well, she's not been so lucky this run that we need
fear to change the luck. Then, Curwen, we'll slip in at night at a
high tide, watching for our opportunity and a dark sky; we'll unship
the cargo, and then you shall take command of her and carry her off to
the East Coast and wait there, till I am able to send you word or join
you. It will only be a few hours danger for the men, after all."
Still keeping his seaman eye upon the compass, Curwen cleared his
throat with a gruesome noise. Then in tones which seemed to issue with
difficulty from some immense depth:
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "that ain't a bargain."
"How now?" cried his captain, sharply.
"No, sir," rolling his head portentously; "that don't run to a
bargain, that don't. The lads of the _Peregrine_ 'll stick to their
skipper through thick and thin. I'll warrant them, every man Jack of
them; and if there was one who grumbled, I'd have my knife in him
before another caught the temper from him--I would, or my name's not
Curwen. If ye bid us steer to hell we'll do it for you, sir, and
welcome. But for to go and leave you there--no, sir, it can't be
done."
Captain Jack gave a little laugh that was as tender as a woman's tear.
Curwen rolled his head again and mumbled to himself:
"It can't be done."
Then Jack Smith clapped his hand on the sailor's shoulder.
"But it's got to be done!" he cried. "It is the only thing you can do
to help me, Curwen. To have our _Peregrine_ out in the daylight on
that coast would be stark madness--no disguise could avail her, and
you can't change your ugly old phiz, can you? As for me, I must have a
few days on shore, danger or no danger. Ah, Curwen," with a sudden,
passionate outbreak, "there are times when a man's life is the least
of his thoughts!"
"Couldn't I stop with you, sir?"
"I would not trust the ship to another, and you would double the risk
for me."
"I could double a blow for you too," cried the fellow, hoarsely. "But
if it's got to be--it must be. I'll do it, sir."
"I count on it," said the captain, briefly.
As the ring of his retreating steps died away upon his ear the mate
shook his head in melancholy fashion:
"Women," he said, "is very well, I've nought to say against them in
their way. And the sea's very well--as I ought to know. But women and
the sea, it don't agree. They's jealous one of the other and a man
gets torn between."
As Molly sat in her cabin, watching the darkening sky outside with
dreaming eyes, she started on seeing Captain Jack approach, and
instead of passing her with cold salute, halt and look in.
"I would speak a word with you," he said.
"On deck, then," said Molly. She felt somehow as if under the broad
heaven they were nearer each other than in that narrow room. The sea
was rough, the wind had risen and still blew from the north, it was
cold; but her blood ran too fast these days to heed it.
She drew one of the capes of her cloak over her head and staggering a
little, for the schooner, sailing close to the wind, pitched and
rolled to some purpose, she made for her usual station at the
bulwarks.
"Well?" she asked.
He briefly told her his purpose of returning to Scarthey direct.
Her eye dilated; she grew pale.
"Is that not dangerous?"
He made a contemptuous gesture.
"But they must be watching for you on that coast. You have sunk the
boat--killed those men. To return there--My God, what folly!"
"I must land my goods, Madam. You forget that I have more contraband
on board than, smuggler as I am, even I bargained for."
"If it is for me?--I would rather fling myself into the waves this
instant than that you should expose yourself to danger."
"Then I should fling myself after you, and that would be more
dangerous still."
He smiled a little mockingly upon her as he spoke; but the words
called a transient fire into her face.
"You would risk your life to save me?" she cried.
"To save Adrian's wife, Madam."
"_Bah!_"
He would have gone then, but she held him with her free hand. She was
again white to the lips. But her eyes--how they burned!
He would have given all his worth to avoid what he felt was coming. A
woman, at such a juncture may forbid speech, or deny her ear: a man,
unless he would seem the first of Josephs or the last of coxcombs,
dare not even hint at his unwelcome suspicions.
"I will not have you go into this danger, I will not!" stammered Molly
incoherently. The dusk was spreading, and her eyes seemed to grow
larger and larger in the uncertain light.
"Lady Landale, you misunderstand. It is true that to see you safely
restored to your husband's roof is an added reason for my return to
Scarthey--but were you not on board, I should go all the same. I will
tell you why, it is a secret, but you shall know it. I have treasures
on board, vast treasures confided to me, and I must store them in
safety till I can give them back to their rightful owners. This I can
only do at Scarthey--for to cruise about with such a cargo
indefinitely is as impossible as to land it elsewhere. And more than
this, had I not that second reason, I have yet a third that urges me
to Scarthey still."
"For Madeleine?" she whispered, and her teeth gleamed between her
lips.
He remained silent and tried gently to disengage himself from her
slender fingers, but the feeling of their frailness, the knowledge of
her wound, made her feeble grasp as an iron vice to his manliness.
She came closer to him.
"Do you not remember then--what she has said to you? what she wrote to
you in cold blood--the coward--in the very moment when you were
staking your life for love of her? I remember, if you do not--'You
have deceived me,' she wrote, and her hand never trembled, for the
words ran as neatly and primly as ever they did in her convent copy
books. 'You are not what you represented yourself to be--You have
taken advantage of the inexperience of an ignorant girl, I have been
deluded and deceived. I never wish to see you, to hear of you again.'"
"For Heaven's sake, Lady Landale----" cried the man fiercely.
Molly laughed--one of those laughs that have the ring of madness in
them.
"Do I not remember? Ah, that is not all! She knows you now for what
you are, knows what your 'mission' is--but you must not believe she
writes in anger. No, she----"
Captain Jack's patience could bear no further strain.
"Be silent," he commanded fiercely, and wrenched his arm away to face
her with menacing eyes.
"Ah, does it rouse so much anger in you even to hear repeated what she
did not hesitate to write, did not hesitate to allow me to read? And
yet you love her? If you had seen her, if you knew her as I do! I tell
you she means it; when she wrote that she was not angry; it was the
truth--she did it in cold blood. She loved you, you think, and yet she
believed you a liar; she loved you, and she thinks you a traitor to
all she holds dear. She believes that of _you_, and you ... you love
her still!"
"Lady Landale!"
"Listen--she could never love you, as you should be loved. She was not
born your kin. Between you and her there is nothing--nothing but your
own fancy. Do not risk your life again for her--your life!"
She stopped, drew her breath with a long gasp, the spray from a
turbulent wave came dashing across the bows into her face, and as once
the blood of Cecile de Savenaye had been roused by the call of the
wild waters to leave safety and children and seek her doom, so now the
blood she had transmitted to her child, leaped to the same impulse
and bore her onwards with irresistible force.
"When," she pursued, "in the darkness you took me in your arms and
kissed me; what did the touch of my lips bring to you? My lips, not
Madeleine's.... Were you not happy then? Oh, you were, do not deny it,
I felt, I knew our souls met! My soul and yours, not yours and
Madeleine's. And I knew then that we were made for each other. The sea
and the wide free life upon it: it draws me as it draws you; it was
that drew me to you before I had ever seen you. Listen, listen. Do not
go to Scarthey--you have your beautiful ship, your faithful
crew--there are rich and wonderful worlds, warm seas that beckon. You
can have life, money, adventure--and love, love if you will. Take it,
take me with you! What should I care if you were an adventurer, a
smuggler, a traitor? What does anything matter if we are only
together? Let us go, we have but one life, let us go!"
Bereft of the power of movement he stood before her, and the sweat
that had gathered upon his brow ran down his face. But, as the meaning
of her proposition was borne in upon him, a shudder of fury shook him
from head to foot. No man should have offered dishonour to Jack Smith
and not have been struck the next instant at his feet. But a woman--a
woman, and Adrian's wife!
"Lady Landale," he said, after a silence during which the beating of
her heart turned her sick and cold, and all her fever heat fell from
her, leaving nothing but the knowledge of her shame, her misery, her
hopeless love. "Lady Landale, let me bring you back to your cabin--it
is late."
She went with him as one half-conscious. At the door she paused. The
light from within fell upon his face, deeply troubled and white, but
upon the lips and brows, what scorn! He was a god among men.... How
she loved him, and he scorned her! Poor Murthering Moll!
She looked up.
"Have you no word for me?" she cried passionately.
"Only this, Lady Landale: I will forget."
* * * * *
Back towards the distant northern light the schooner clove her
valiant way in spite of adverse winds and high seas.
The return journey was slower than the outward, and since the second
day of it the lady kept much to her cabin, while the captain would
pace the deck till far into the night, with unwonted uneasiness. To
him the white wings of his _Peregrine_ were bearing him all too slowly
for endurance, while to the stormy woman's heart that beat through the
night watches in passionate echo to his restless tread, every instant
that passed but brought nearer the prospect of a future so intolerable
that she could not bring herself to face it.
A gloom seemed to have come over the tight little craft, and to have
spread even to the crew, who missed the ring of their captain's jolly
laugh and the sound of his song.
When, within a day's sail of the goal, the planned disguise was
finally carried out upon the schooner's fair sides and rigging, her
beautiful stretch of sail curtailed, and her name (final disgrace),
superseded by the unmeaning title of _The Pretty Jane_, open murmurs
broke out which it required all Curwen's severity--and if the old
martinet did not execute the summary justice he had threatened he was
quite equal to the occasion nevertheless--and all Jack's personal
influence to quell.
The dawn of the next day crept gloomily upon a world of rain; with
long faces the men paddled about the deck, doing their duty in
silence; Curwen's old countenance, set into grimmer lines than ever,
looked as if it had just been detached from the prow of some vessel
after hard experience of stress and storm. The spirits of the captain
alone seemed to rise in proportion as they drew nearer land.
"The moon sets at half-past eleven," he said to Curwen, "but we need
not fear her to-night. By half-past twelve I reckon on your having
those twenty-five damned casks safe in the cave you took them from; it
is a matter of three journeys. And then the nose of the _Pretty Jane_
must be pointed for the Orkneys. All's going well."
* * * * *
Night had fallen. "The gaudy bubbling and remorseful day" had "crept
into the bosom of the sea." From the cross-trees the look-out man had
already been able to distinguish through the glass the faint distant
glimmer of Scarthey beacon, when Captain Jack knocked for admittance
at Lady Landale's cabin for the last time, as he thought, with a sigh
of relief.
"In the course of an hour, Madam," he said in a grave tone, "I hope to
restore you to land. As for me, I shall have again to hide in the
peel, though I hope it will not be for long. My fate--and by my fate I
mean not only my safety, but my honour, which, as you know, is now
bound up in the safety of the treasures--will be in your hands. For I
must wait at Scarthey till I can see Adrian again, and upon your
return to Pulwick I must beg you to be the bearer of a message to ask
him to come and see me."
She replied in a voice that trembled a little:
"I will not fail you."
But her great eyes, dark circled, fixed upon him with a meek,
sorrowful look, spoke dumbly the troublous tale of her mind. In her
subdued mood the likeness to Madeleine was more obtrusive than it had
ever yet been. He contemplated her with melancholy, and drew a heavy
sigh.
Molly groaned in the depths of her soul, though her lips tight set
betrayed no sound. Oh, miserable chaos of the human world, that such
pent up love should be wasted--wasted; that they, too, young and
strong and beautiful, alone together, so near, with such glorious
happiness within their reach, should yet be so perversely far asunder!
There was a long silence. They looked into each other's eyes; but he
was unseeing; his mind was far away, dwelling upon the memory of that
last meeting with his love under the fir trees of Pulwick only ten
days ago, but now as irrevocably far as things seem that may never
again be. At length, she made a movement which brought him back to
present reality--a movement of her wounded arm as if of pain. And he
came back to Lady Landale, worn with the fatigue of these long days in
the cramped discomfort of a schooner cabin, thinned by pain and
fevered thinkings, shorn of all that daintiness of appearance which
can only be maintained in the midst of luxury, and yet, by the light
of the flickering lamp, more triumphantly beautiful than ever.
His thoughts leaped to his friend with a pang of remorse.
"You are suffering--you are ill," he said. "Thus do I bring you back
to him who last saw you so full of strength.... But you will recover
at Pulwick."
"Suffering, ill! Ah, my God!" As if suffocating, she pressed her hand
upon her heart, and bowed her head till it rested on the table. And
then he heard her murmur in a weary voice:
"Recover at Pulwick! My God, my God! The air at Pulwick will stifle
me, I think."
He waited a moment in silence and saw that she was weeping. Then he
went out and closed the door behind him with gentle hand.
Nearly all the lights of the ship were now extinguished, and in a
gloom as great as that in which they had started upon their
unsuccessful venture, the _Peregrine_ and her crew returned to the
little island which had already been so fateful to them.
Captain Jack had taken the helm himself, and Curwen stood upon his
right hand waiting patiently for his commands. For an hour or so they
hung off the shore. The rain fell close and fine around them; it was
as if sea and sky were merging by slow imperceptible degrees into one.
The beacon light looming, halo encircled, through the mist, seemed,
like a monster eye, to watch with unmoved contempt the restlessness of
these pigmies in the grand solitude of the night.
Who shall say with what conflict of soul Molly, in her narrow
seclusion, saw the light of Scarthey grow out of the dimness till its
rays fell across the darkened cabin and glimmered on her wedding ring?
At last the captain drew his watch, and by the faint rays upon the
binnacle saw the hour had come.
"Boat loaded, Curwen?" he asked in a low voice.
"This hour, sir."
"Ready to cast?"
"Right, sir."
"Now, Curwen."
Low, from man to man, the order ran through the ship, and the anchor
was dropped, almost within a musket shot of the peel. It was high
tide, but no hand but Captain Jack's would have dared risk the vessel
so close. She swung round, ready to slip at a moment's notice.
He left the helm; and in the wet darkness cannoned against the burly
figure of his mate.
"You, Curwen? Remember we have not a moment to lose. Remain here--as
soon as the men are back from the last run, sheer off."
He grasped the horny hand.
Curwen made an inarticulate noise in his big throat, but the grip of
his fingers upon his master's was of eloquence sufficient.
"Let some one call the lady."
A couple of men ran forward with dark lanterns. The rest gathered
round.
"Now, my lads, brisk and silent is the word."
The cabin door opened, and Molly came forth, the darkness hid the
pallor of her face, but it could not hide the faltering of her steps.
Captain Jack sprang forward and gave her his arm, and she leant upon
it without speaking, heavily. For one moment she stopped as if she
could not tear her feet from the beloved planks, but Curwen caught her
by the other arm; and then she was on the swinging ladder. And so she
left the _Peregrine_.
* * * * *
The gig was almost filled with barrels; there was only room for the
four oarsmen selected, besides the captain and herself. The boat
shoved off. She looked back and saw, as once before, the great wall of
the ship's side rise sheer above the sea, saw the triangle of light
again slide down to lie a span above the water-line. With what a
leaping heart she had set forth, that black night, away from the
hateful lighthouse beam to that glimmer of promise and mystery! And
now! She felt herself grow sick at the thought of that home-coming; at
the vision of the close warm rooms, of her husband's melancholy eyes.
Yet, as she sat, the sleeve of the captain's rough sailor coat touched
her shoulder, and she remembered she was still with him. It was not
all death yet.
In less than three minutes they touched ground. He jumped into the
water, and stretched out his arms for Molly. She rose giddily, and his
embrace folded her round. The waves rolled in with surge and thud and
dashed their spray upon them; and still the rain fell and beat upon
her head, from which she had impatiently pushed her hood. But her
spirit had no heed for things of the body this night.
Oh, if the sea would open sudden deeps before them! if even the
quicksand would seize them in its murderous jaws, what ecstasy the
hideous lingering death might hold for her, so that only she lay,
thus, in his arms to the end!
It was over now; his arms had clasped her for the last time. She stood
alone upon the dry sand, and her heart was in hell.
He was speaking; asking her pardon for not going at once with her to
see her into the keep, but he dared not leave the beach till his cargo
was landed, and he must show the men the way to the caves. Would she
forgive him, would she go with him?
Forgive him! Go with him! She almost laughed aloud. A few poor moments
more beside him; they would be as the drops of water to the burning
tongue of Dives.
Yes, she would go with him.
One by one the precious caskets were carried between a couple of men,
who stumbled in the darkness, close on their captain's heels. And the
lady walked beside him and stood beside him without a word, in the
falling rain. The boat went backwards and forwards twice; before the
hour had run out, the luckless cargo was all once more landed, and the
captain heard with infinite relief the last oar-strokes dwindling away
in the distance, and saw the lights suddenly disappear.
"You have been very patient," he said to Molly then, with a gentle
note in his voice.
But she did not answer. Are the souls of the damned patient?
* * * * *
"My Lady and Mr. the Captain! My God--my God! so wet--so tired!
Enter--enter in the name of heaven. It is good, in verity, to have My
Lady back, but, Mr. the Captain, is it well for _him_ to be here? And
Madam is ill? She goes pale and red by turns. Madam has the fever for
sure! And her arm is hurt, and she is as wet as the first time she
came here. Ah, Lord God, what are we coming to? Fire we must have. I
shall send the wife."
"Ay, do so, man," cried Captain Jack, looking with concern at Lady
Landale, who in truth seemed scarcely able to stand, and whose
fluctuating colour and cracked fevered lips gave painful corroboration
to Rene's surmise, "your mistress must be instantly attended to."
But Molly arrested the servant as he would have hurried past upon his
errand.
"Your master?" she said in a dry whisper, "is he at Pulwick?"
"His honour! My faith, I must be but half-awake yet. Imbecile that I
am, his honour--where is he? Is he not with you? No, indeed, he is not
at Pulwick, My Lady; he has gone to St. Malo to seek you. Nothing
would serve him but that he must go. And so he did not reach in time
to meet you? Ah, the poor master--what anxiety for him!"
Captain Jack glanced in dismay at his friend's wife, met her suddenly
illumined gaze and turned abruptly on his heel, with a grinding noise.
"See to your mistress," he said harshly, "I hear your women folk are
roused overhead; hurry them, and when Lady Landale no longer requires
you, I must speak with you on an urgent business of my own. You will
find me in my old room."
"Go with the captain at once, Rene, since he wants you," interposed
Molly quickly, "here comes Moggie. She will take care of me. Leave me,
leave me. I feel strong again. Good-night, Captain Smith, I shall see
you to-morrow?"
There was a wistful query in her voice and look.
Captain Smith bowed distantly and coldly, and hastened from the room,
accompanied by Rene, while open-mouthed and blinking, rosy, blowsy,
and amazed, Mrs. Potter made her entry on the scene and stared at her
mistress with the roundest of blue eyes.
* * * * *
"My good Renny," said the captain, "I have no time to lose. I have a
hard hour's work to do, before I can even think of talking. I want
your help. Your light will burn all safe for the time, will it not?
Hark ye, man, you have been so faithful a fellow to my one friend that
I am going to trust to you matters which concern my own honour and my
own life. Ask no question, but do what I tell you, if you would help
one who has helped your master long ago; one whom your master would
wish you to help."
Thus adjured, Rene repressed his growing astonishment at the
incomprehensible development of events. And having, under direction,
provided the sailor with a lantern, and himself with a wide tarpaulin
and sundry carpenter's tools, he followed his leader readily enough
through the ruinous passages, half choked up with sand, which led from
the interior of the ruins to one of the sea caves.
Before reaching the open-mouthed rocky chamber, the captain obscured
the light, and Rene promptly barked his shins against a barrel.
"_Sacrebleu_," he cried, feeling with quick hands the nature of the
obstruction, "more kegs?"
"The same, my friend! Now hang that tarpaulin against the mouth of the
cave and be sure it is close; then we may again have some light upon
the matter. What we must do will not bear interference, and moving
glimmers on a dark night have told tales before this."
As soon as the beach entrance was made secure, the captain uncovered
his lantern; and as the double row of kegs stood revealed, his eyes
rapidly scanned their number. Yes, they were all there: five and
twenty.
"Now, to work, man! We have to crack every one of these nuts, and take
the kernels out."
Even as he spoke, he turned the nearest cask on end, with a blow of
chisel and mallet stove in the head and began dragging out quantities
of loose tow. In the centre of the barrel, secured in position on to a
stout middle batten, was a bag of sailcloth closely bound with cord.
This he lifted with an effort, for it was over a hundred-weight, and
flung upon the sand in a corner.
"That's the kernel you see," he said to Rene, who had watched the
operation with keen interest. "And when we have shelled them all I
will show you where to put them in safety. Now carry on--the quicker
the better. The sooner we have it all upstairs, the freer I shall
breathe."
Without another word, entering into the spirit of haste which seemed
to fill his companion, and nobly controlling his seething curiosity,
Rene set to work on his side, with his usual dexterousness.
Half an hour of speechless destructive labour completed the first part
of the task. Then the two men carried the weighty bags into the room
which had been Captain Jack's in the keep. And when they had travelled
to and fro a dozen times with each heavy load, and the whole treasure
was at length accumulated upstairs, Rene, with fresh surprise and
admiration, saw the captain lift the hearthstone and disclose a recess
in the heavy masonry--presumably a flue, in the living days of
Scarthey peel--which, although much blocked with stony rubbish, had
been evidently improved by the last lodger during his period of
solitary residence into a convenient and very secure hiding-place.
Here was the precious pyramid now heaped up; the stone was returned to
its place, and the two stood in front of each other mopping their
faces.
"Thank goodness, it is done," said Jack Smith. "And thank you too,
Renny. To-morrow, break up these casks and add the staves to your
firewood stack; then nobody but you, in this part of the world, need
be any the wiser about our night's work.--A smart piece of running,
eh?--Phew, I am tired! Bring me some food, and some brandy, like a
good fellow. Then you can back to your pillow and flatter yourself
that you have helped Jack Smith out of a famous quandary."
Rene grinned and rushed to execute the order. He had less desire for
his pillow than for the gratification of his hyper-excited curiosity.
But although pressed to quaff one cup of good fellowship and yet
another, he was not destined to get his information, that night, from
the captain, who had much ado to strangle his yawns sufficiently to
swallow a mouthful or two of food.
"No one must know, Renny," was all he said, at last, between two
gapes, kicking the hearthstone significantly, and stretching his arms,
"not even the wife." Then he flung himself all dressed upon his bed.
"And my faith," said Rene, when he sought his wife a moment later, "he
was fast asleep before I had closed the door."