“You’d be having a rope twisted tight round your head, or red-hot irons
at the soles of your feet, at this very moment, if it had not been for
us,” I said indignantly.
He wiped his forehead perplexedly. “Phew, how you do talk!” he
remonstrated. “What I mean is that my wife...” He stopped again, then
went on. “She took it into her head to come with me this voyage. For the
first time.... And you two coming alone in an open boat like this! It’s
what she isn’t used to.”
I simply couldn’t get at what he meant; I couldn’t even hear him very
well, because Manuel-del-Popolo was still calling out to Seraphina in
the cabin. Williams and I looked at each other--he embarrassed, and I
utterly confounded.
“Mrs. Williams thinks it’s irregular,” Sebright broke in, “you and
your young lady being alone--in an open boat at night, and that sort of
thing. It isn’t what they approve of at Bristol.”
Manuel suddenly bellowed out, “Señorita--save me from their barbarity.
I am a victim. Behold their bloody knives ready--and their eyes which
gloat.”
He shrank convulsively from the fellow with the bundle of cutlasses
under his arm, who innocently pushed his way close to him; he threw
himself forward, the two sailors hung back on his arms, nearly sitting
on the deck, and he strained dog-like in his intense fear of immediate
death. Williams, however, really seemed to want an answer to his
absurdity that I could not take very seriously. I said:
“What do you expect us to do? Go back to our boat, or what?”
It seemed to affect him a good deal. “Wait till you are caught by a good
woman yourself,” he mumbled wretchedly.
Was this the roystering Williams? The jolly good fellow? I wanted to
laugh, a little hysterically, because of the worry after great fatigue.
Was his wife such a terrifying virago? “A good woman,” Williams
insisted. I turned my eyes to Sebright, who looked on amusedly.
“It’s all right,” he answered my questioning look. “She’s a good soul,
but she doesn’t see fellows like us in the congregation she worships
with at home.” Then he whispered in my ear, “Owner’s niece. Older than
the skipper. Married him for love. Suspects every woman--every man,
too, by George, except me, perhaps. She’s learned life in some back
chapel in Bristol. What can you expect? You go straight into the
cabin,” he added.
At that moment the cabin door opened again, and the figure of the woman
I had seen before reappeared against the light.
“I was allowed to stand under the gate of the Casa, Excellency, I was
in very truth. Oh, turn not the light of your face from me.” Manuel,
who had been silent for a minute, immediately recommenced his clamour
in the hope, I suppose, that it would reach Seraphina’s ears, now the
door was opened.
“What is to be done, Owen?” the woman asked, with a serenity I thought
very merciless.
She had precisely the air of having someone “in the house,” someone
rather questionable that you want, at home, to get rid of, as soon as a
very small charity permitted.
“Madam,” I said rather coldly, “I appeal to your woman’s
compassion....”
“Even thus the arch-enemy sets his snares,” she retorted on me a little
tremulously.
“Señorita, I have seen you grow,” Manuel called again. “Your father,
who is with the saints, gave me alms when I was a boy. Will you let
them kill a man to whom your father...”
“Snares. All snares. Can she be blessed in going away from her natural
guardians at night, alone, with a young man? How can we, consistently
with our duty...”
Her voice was cold and gentle. Even in the imperfect light her
appearance suggested something cold and monachal. The thought of what
she might have been saying, or, in the subtle way of women, making
Seraphina feel, in there, made me violently angry, but lucid, too.
“She comes straight from the fresh grave of her father,” I said. “I am
her only guardian.”
Manuel rose to the height of his appeal. “Señorita, I worshipped your
childhood, I threw my hat in the air many times before your coach, when
you drove out all in white, smiling, an angel from paradise.
Excellency, help me. Excel...”
A hand was clapped on his mouth then, and we heard only a great scuffle
going on behind us. The way to the cozy cabin remained barred. My heart
was kindled by resentment, but by the power of love my soul was made
tranquil, for come what absurdity might, I had Sera-phina safe for the
time. The woman in the doorway guarded the respectable ship’s cuddy
from the un-wedded vagabondage of romance.
“What’s to be done, Owen?” she asked again, but this time a little
irresolutely, I thought. “You know something of this--but I....”
“My dear, what an idea,” began Williams; and I heard his helpless
mutters, “Like a hero--one evening--admiral--old Topnambo--nothing of
her--on my soul--Lord’s son...”
Sebright spoke up from the side. “We could drive them overboard
together, certainly, Mrs. Williams, but that wouldn’t be quite proper,
perhaps. Put them each in a bag, separately, and drown them one on each
side of the ship, decently....”
“You will not put me off with your ungodly levity, Mr. Sebright.”
“But I am perfectly serious, Mrs. Williams. It may raise a mutiny
amongst these horrid, profane sailors, but I really don’t see how we are
to get rid of them else. The bo’sun has cut adrift their ramshackle, old
sieve of a boat, and she’s now a quarter of a mile astern, half-full
of water. And we can’t give them one of the ship’s boats to go and get
their throats cut ashore. J. Perkins, Esquire, wouldn’t like it. He
would swear something awful, if the boat got lost. Now, don’t say no,
Mrs. Williams. I’ve heard him myself swear a pound’s worth of oaths for
a matter of tenpence. You know very well what your uncle is. A perfect
Turk in that way.”
“Don’t be scandalous, Mr. Sebright.”
“But I didn’t begin, Mrs. Williams. It’s you who are raising all this
trouble for nothing; because, as a matter of fact, they did not come
alone. They had a man with them. An elderly, most respectable man.
There he stands yonder, with a feather in his hat. Hey! You! _Señor
caballero_, hidalgo, Pedro--Miguel--José--what’s your particular saint?
Step this way a bit...”
Manuel managed to jerk a half-choked “Excellency,” and Castro, muffled
up to the eyes, began to walk slowly aft, pausing after each solemn
stride. The dark woman in the doorway was as effectual as an angel with
a flaming sword. She paralyzed me completely.
Sebright dropped his voice a little. “I don’t see that’s much worse
than going off at six o’clock in the morning to get married on the
quiet; all alone with a man in a hackney coach--you know you did--and
being given away by a perfect stranger.”
“Mr. Sebright! Be quiet! How dare you?... Owen!”
Williams made a vague, growling noise, but Sebright, after muttering
hurriedly, “It’s all right, sir,” proceeded with the utmost coolness:
“Why, all Bristol knows it! There are those who said that you got out of
the scullery window into the back street. I am only telling you...”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself to believe such tales,” she cried
in great agitation. “I walked out at the gate!”
“Yes. And the gardener’s wife said you must have sneaked the key off the
nail by the side of the cradle--coming to the lodge the evening before,
to see her poor, ailing baby. You ought to know what love brings the
best of us to. And your uncle isn’t a bloody-handed pirate either.
He’s only a good-hearted, hard-swearing old heathen. And you, too, are
good-hearted. Come, Mrs. Williams. I know you’re just longing to tuck
this young lady up in bed--poor thing. Think what she has gone through!
You ought to be fussing with sherry and biscuits and what not--making
that good-for-nothing steward fly round. The beggar is hiding in the
lazarette, I bet. Now then--allow me.”
I got hold of the matter there again. I said--because I felt that the
matter only needed making clear:
“This young lady is the daughter of a great Spanish noble. Her father
was killed by these pirates. I am myself of noble family, and I am
her appointed guardian, and am trying to save her from a very horrible
fate.”
She looked at me apprehensively.
“You would be committing a wicked act to try to interfere with this,” I
said.