"Yes; who called?" cried Humphrey, starting up.
"Hist! Be careful. It is me."
Humphrey sprang front his couch, and was about to speak, when the
curtain was thrown roughly aside, and Bart entered quickly.
"What's the matter!" he said, roughly.
"Matter!" said Humphrey. "I--I--must have been dreaming."
Bart looked at him sourly, and then gave a suspicious look round.
"What time is it?" said Humphrey, hastily.
"Time! What do we know about time here? 'Bout four bells."
Humphrey gazed excitedly at the dimly-seen figure, visible by a faint
light which streamed in beside the curtain, and then as the curtain fell
he advanced slowly till he could peer through and see that Bart had gone
right to the far end of the corridor, where he had a lantern set in a
stone recess, beside which he ensconced himself, and played sentry once
again.
"Escape is impossible unless I choose the gates of death," muttered
Humphrey, as he stole back cautiously, and then in a low voice said--
"Hist! Did anyone call?"
"Yes. Is it safe to whisper?" came from above.
"Mistress Greenheys!" cried Humphrey, joyfully. "Speak low, don't
whisper; it penetrates too far. How I have longed to hear from you!"
"Oh, sir, pray, pray, save him!"
"Dinny!" said Humphrey, starting.
"Yes. He is to be killed, and it was for your sake he ran that risk.
Pray, try and save him."
"What can I do?"
"Implore the captain. He may listen to you. I cannot bear it, sir; it
makes me feel half mad!"
"Have you seen him?"
"Seen him? No, sir. He's kept closely shut up in one of the stone
chambers by the captain's quarters, and two men watch him night and
day."
"As I am watched," said Humphrey, bitterly.
"Yes, sir; but you have not been untrue to your captain. You are not
sentenced to death, and every man eager to see you hung. My poor
Dennis! It is my fault, too. Why did we ever meet?"
Humphrey was silent.
"You will see the captain, sir, and ask him to spare his life?"
Humphrey ground his teeth. To ask Dinny's life was to ask a favour of
Mary Dell, and to place himself under greater obligations still.
"That is not all the trouble," said the woman, who was evidently sobbing
bitterly. "That wretch Mazzard is still at liberty."
"Not escaped?" cried Humphrey.
"Not escaped!--not taken!" said the woman. "He is in hiding about the
place, and I have seen him."
She seemed to shudder, and her sobs grew more frequent.
"He has not dared to come to you?"
"No, sir; but he came near enough to speak to and threaten me. He will
come some night and drag me away, and it would be better to die. Ah!"
She uttered a low cry; and as Humphrey listened he heard low, quick
talking, a faint rustling overhead, and then the sound of the voices
died away.
"Discovered!" said Humphrey, bitterly. "Fate is working against me now.
Better, as she said, to die."
A quarter of an hour's silence ensued, and conscious that at any moment
he might be watched, as far as the deep gloom would allow, Humphrey
seated himself upon the edge of the old stone altar, and folded his
arms, to see what would be the next buffet of fate he was to bear.
He had not long to wait.
There was the sound of a challenge at the end of the corridor, and a
quick reply, followed by an angry muttering, and Humphrey laughed
mockingly.
"Master and dog!" he said, bitterly. "Mistress and dog, I ought to
say."
He drew himself up, for he heard a well-known step coming quickly along
the passage. The curtain was snatched aside, and the buccaneer took a
dozen strides into the place and stopped, looking round.
"Where are you?" cried the buccaneer, in a harsh, imperious voice, deep
almost as that of a man.
There was no reply.
"Where are you, I say?" was repeated imperiously. "Are you ashamed to
speak?"
"No! What do you want?"
The buccaneer started in surprise, and faced round.
"Are you there? Coward! Traitor! This explains all. This is the
meaning of the haughty contempt--the miserable coldness. And for a
woman like that--the mistress of the vilest slave among the men.
Humphrey Armstrong--you, the brave officer, to stoop to this! Shame
upon you! Shame!"
"Woman, are you mad!"
"Yes! Mad!" cried the buccaneer, fiercely. "I scorn myself for my
weak, pitiful fancy for so despicable a creature as you. So this is the
brave captain, holding nightly meetings with a woman like that!"
"As I would with anyone who could help me to escape from this vile
bondage," said Humphrey.
"Vile! Who has made it vile?"
"You," said Humphrey, sternly; "and as if I were not degraded low enough
by your base passion and declaration, you come here in the night to
insult me by such an insinuation as that."
There was utter silence for a few moments, and then a quick step
forward; and before Humphrey Armstrong could realise the fact, Mary Dell
had cast herself down, thrown her arms around him, and laid her cheek
against his feet.
"Trample on me and crush me, or kill me," she moaned. "I _am_, mad. I
did not think it. Humphrey, have pity on me. You do not knew."
He trembled as she spoke, and clenched his fists tightly; but making an
effort over himself, he said coldly--
"You have imprisoned the woman's lover, and she says he is to die. She
came there, as she has come many times before, to plan escape with me
and the man I persuaded to be the partner of my flight. For this he is
to die."
"It is the men's will," groaned the prostrate woman.
"She has been praying to me to save her lover. I felt I could not ask
you; but I do ask. Spare the poor fellow's life, and set him free."
"Do you wish it?"
"Yes."
"He shall be set free. You see, I can be merciful, while you alone are
stern and cold. How long am I to suffer this?"
"How long will you keep me here a prisoner?"
"How long will you keep yourself a prisoner, you should say. It is for
you to be master here; for me to be your slave. How can I humble
myself--degrade myself--more?"
Humphrey drew his breath in an angry, impatient hiss.
"For Heaven's sake, rise!" he cried. "You lower yourself. You humble
me. Come: let us talk sensibly. I do not want to be hard upon you. I
will not say bitter things. Give me your hand."
He took the hand nearest to him as he bent down, and raised the
prostrate woman.
"Be seated," he said, gravely. "Let me talk to you as I would to some
one who can listen in an unprejudiced spirit."
There was no reply.
"In your character of the captain of these buccaneers you asked me, an
English officer, to be your friend and companion--to share with you this
command. Is that all?"
Still no reply.
"Let us tear away the veil," he continued; "for surely I am no egotist
when I say to you that from the beginning it was more than this."
"No; I did not know then. I thought that you might be my friend; that I
should keep up this disguise until the end," was faltered piteously.
"Impossible!" cried Humphrey, sternly. "Let me be plain with you. Let
me tell you that I have sat here alone thinking, reading your character,
pitying you for all that is past."
"Pity!" came in a deep, low voice.
"Yes," he said, gently, "pity. Let me try, too, and be grateful. For
you spared my life at first; you saved it afterwards."
"Go on. You torture me."
"I must torture you, for I have words to speak that must be uttered."
He paused for a few moments; and then went on, speaking now quickly and
agitatedly, as if the words he uttered gave him pain at the same time
that they inflicted it upon another.
"When I was chosen to command this expedition, against one who had made
the name of Commodore Junk a terror all round the gulf and amid the
isles, I knew not what my fate might be. There were disease and death
to combat, and I might never return."