“If she’s dead, and you’ll tell me, I’ll save you some trouble. If she’s
dead and you don’t, you’ll have your own remorse and the rest, too.”
I said, “You’re too Irish mysterious for me to understand. But you’ve a
choice of four evils for me--choose yourself.”
He continued with a quivering, taut good-humour: “Prove to me she’s
dead, and I’ll let you die sharply and mercifully.”
“You won’t believe!” I said; but he took no notice.
“I tell you plainly,” he smiled. “If we find... if we find her dear
body--and I can’t help; but I’ve men on the watch all along the
shores--I’ll give you up to your admiral for a pirate. You’ll have
a long slow agony of a trial; I know what English justice is. And a
disgraceful felon’s death.”
I was thinking that, in any case, a day or so might be gained, the
_Lion_ would be gone; they could not touch her while the flagship
remained outside. I certainly didn’t want to be given up to the admiral;
I might explain the mistaken identity. But there was the charge of
treason in Jamaica. I said:
“I only ask to be given up; but you daren’t do it for your own credit. I
can show you up.”
He said, “Make no mistake! If he gets you, he’ll hang you. He’s going
home in disgrace. Your whole blundering Government will work to hang
you.”
“They know pretty well,” I answered, “that there are queer doings in
Havana. I promise you, I’ll clear things up. I know too much....”
He said, with a sudden, intense note of passion, “Only tell me where her
grave is, I’ll let you go free. You couldn’t, you dare not, dastard that
you are, go away from where she died--without... without making sure.”
“Then search all the new graves in the island,” I said, “I’ll tell you
nothing.... Nothing!”
He came at me again and again, but I never spoke after that. He made all
the issues clearer and clearer--his own side involuntarily and all the
griefs I had to expect. As for him, he dared not kill me--and he dared
not give me up to the admiral. In his suspense, since, for him, I was
the only person in the world who knew Seraphina’s fate, he dared not let
me out of his grip. And all the while he had me he must keep the admiral
there, waiting for the surrender either of myself or of some other poor
devil whom he might palm off as Nikola el Escoces. While the admiral was
there the _Lion_ was pretty safe from molestation, and she would sail
pretty soon.
At the same time, except for the momentary sheer joy of tormenting a
man whom I couldn’t help regarding as a devil, I had more than enough to
fear. I had suffered too much; I wanted rest, woman’s love, slackening
off. And here was another endless coil--endless. If it didn’t end in a
knife in the back, he might keep me for ages in Havana; or he might
get me sent to England, where it would take months, an endless time, to
prove merely that I wasn’t Nikola el Escoces. I should prove it; but,
in the meantime, what would become of Sera-phina? Would she follow me to
England? Would she even know that I had gone there? Or would she think
me dead and die herself? O’Brien knew nothing; his spies might report a
hundred uncertainties. He was standing rigidly still now, as if afraid
to move for fear of breaking down. He said suddenly:
“You came in some ship; you can’t deceive me, I shall have them all
searched again.”