"DANGERS WORSE THAN SHOT OR STEEL--OR DEATH."
Now I return to the beach at Viana, on which I stood after having
quitted the fleet--yet still, ere I go on, I must put you in the way
of knowing how it comes about that for companion I have Señor Juan
Belmonte, who at this moment is making his way into what proved to be
a very filthy town in search of lodgings for us for the night. And
this is how it came about:
When it was decided finally that I should part from the British
squadron on the day they cleared out--they intending to anchor over
night outside of Vigo bay and to send forward some frigates scouting
ere going on their way to England--I made mention to Belmonte that
such was my intention. Also I asked him--I finding of him in his
cabin, where he was reading a Spanish book of love verses--what he
meant to do with himself, since, if he did not leave the ship when, or
before, I did, he would be forced to accept Sir George's invitation to
proceed to England with him.
"Oh, my friend!" he said, with ever the soft, gentle smile upon his
handsome features, "my friend and conqueror"--for so he had taken to
terming me--"I want no terrible journey to England in these great
fierce ships of war. Tell me, tell me, _amígo mio_, what you are going
to do yourself. Your plans! Your plans!"
"My plans," I said, seeing no reason why I should not divulge them to
him, since it was impossible he could do me any hurt, even if so
inclined, which I thought not very likely, "are simple ones. I go
ashore at Viana, find a horse--one will carry me part of the journey,
then I can get another--and so, by God's will, get to the end, to my
destination."
"But the destination. The destination. Where is it? Tell me that."
"The destination is Flanders, the seat of the present war. I am a
soldier. My place is there."
"Aye, aye," he replied. "I know. You have told me. Your service is not
with these ships nor their soldiers, but with others--a great army,
far north."
"That is it," I said.
"And you will travel all that way--mean to travel--alone!"
"I must," I said, "if I intend to get there. There is no other way."
"Take me with you!" he exclaimed, suddenly, springing impetuously to
his feet from the chair in which he sat. "Take me with you! I will be
a good companion--amuse you, sing to you, wile away the long hours,
stand by your side. If necessary," yet he said this a little slower,
and with more hesitation, as I thought, "fight with you."
Now, putting all other objections which rose to my mind away for the
moment, this last utterance of his did not recommend him very strongly
to me. "Fight for me, indeed!" I thought. "A fine fighter this would
be!--a youth who had turned pale at seeing a dead man or two floating
by in the water after the battle, or at hearing the shriek of a
wounded one as we rowed past him on our way to the _Royal Sovereign!_"
However, aloud I said:
"Señor Belmonte, I fear it cannot be as you desire. The road will be
hard and rough, the journey long; there will be little opportunity for
singing and jiggettings. Moreover, death will always be more or less
in the air. If, in Spain or France, I am discovered--nay, even
suspected of being what I am, an English soldier--'twill be short
shrift for me. I shall be deemed a spy, and shot, or hung to the
nearest tree. Take, therefore, my counsel at once, and follow it. Go
you to England in this ship, as the admiral invites you. That way you
will be safe and easy."
"No, no, no," he answered. "I will not; I will not. I will go with
you. I like you," he said, with a most friendly glance. "If--if you go
alone--if we part here--we shall never meet again. That shall not be.
I am resolved. And--and--only let me go, and I will be so good! I
promise. Will not sing a note--will--see there!" and, like a petulant
boy as he was, he seized his viol d'amore, which hung on a nail in the
cabin, and dashed it to the floor, while, a moment later, he would
have stamped his foot into it had I not stopped him. "Yes, I will
break it all to pieces. Since it offends you, I will never strike
another note on it, nor will I ever sing again--not in your hearing,
at least--though I have known some who liked well enough to hear me
play--and sing, too."
"Juan," I said, not knowing in the least why his impassioned grief
moved me so much as to address him thus familiarly, which I had never
done before, "it offends me not at all; instead, I have often listened
gratefully to the music of your voice and viol. But now--now--on such
a journey as I go it would be out of place, even if you were there,
which you must not be."
"I must. I must. I must," he answered. "I will. You called me Juan
just now--ah! you are my friend, or you would not speak thus. Oh!" he
went on, and now he clutched my arm and gazed fervently into my face,
"do not refuse. And see, think, Mervan," pronouncing my name thus, and
in a tone that would have moved a marble heart, "I shall be no trouble
to you. I can ride, oh! like a devil when I choose--I have ridden with
the Mestizos and natives in the isles--and I can use a pistol or
petronel, also a sword. See," and he whipped his rapier off the bed
where it was a-lying, drew it from its sheath impetuously, as he did
everything, and began making pass after pass through the open door of
the cabin into the gangway. "I know what to do. Also, remember, I can
speak Spanish when we are in Spain--pass for a Spaniard if 'tis
necessary--and--and--and----" he broke off, "if you will not take me
with you, why, then, I will follow you; track you like a shadow, sleep
like a dog outside the inn in which you lie warm and snug; ay! even
though you beat me and drive me away for doing so."
Again and still again I resisted, yet 'twas hard to do; for, though I
had spoken against his singings and playings, and kept ever before my
eyes the stern remembrance of my duty, which was to make my way
straight to my goal and crash through all impediments, I could not but
reflect that this bright, joyous lad by my side would help to cheer
many a lonely hour and many a gloomy mile. Yet again I spoke against
the project, putting such thoughts aside.
"Child," I said, "you do not know, do not understand. Our--my--path
will be beset with dangers. _I_ know what I am doing, what lies before
me. Listen, Juan. 'Tis more than like that I shall never reach
Flanders, never ride with my old troops again, never more feel a
comrade's hand clasped in mine; may perish by the wayside, have my
throat cut in some lonely inn, be shot in the back, taken as a spy.
Yet 'tis my duty. I am a soldier and a man; you are----"
"Yes?" with an inward catching of the breath, a flash from the dark
eyes.
"A boy; a lad; also, you say, well enough to do, with a long and happy
life before you, no call upon you to fling that life away. Juan, it
must not be."
"It shall," he said, leaning forward toward me. "It shall; I swear it
by my dead mother's memory. Boy! Lad, you say. So be it. Yet with the
will and determination of a hundred men. To-morrow, Mervan, to-night,
to-day, if I can get a boat to the great ship out there, I visit the
admiral and ask him to put me ashore with you. And he will do it.
Great as he is, in command over all you English here, I have a power
within," and he struck his breast with his hands, "a power over him
which will force him to do as I wish. Do you dare me--challenge me?"
"No," I answered quietly, though in truth somewhat amazed at his
words, while still remembering the strange deference Sir George had
shown all along to the youth. "I dare to say you may prevail--with
him."
"Aye--with him!" and now he laughed a little, showing the small pearly
white teeth, somewhat. "With him! I understand. But you mean not with
you also. Yet, with you, too, I shall prevail. I will follow you till
you give me leave to keep ever by your side. Remember, if I am not
Spanish, I have lived in Spain's dependencies. I can be very Spanish
when I choose," and again he laughed, and again the white teeth
glistened beneath the scarlet lips.
"If," I said, scarce knowing or understanding what power was
influencing me, making me a puppet in this youth's hands--yet still a
yielding one!--"the admiral gives his consent to put you ashore, then
I----"
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, Mervan?" he interposed quickly.
"Then I will not withhold mine. Come with me if you choose--remember,
'tis at your own risk."
In a moment his whole face was transfigured with joy. Seeing that joy,
I deemed myself almost a brute to have ever tried to drive him away
from me, although I had endeavoured to do so as much for his own
safety as my own. He laughed and muttered little pleased expressions
in Spanish which I neither understood nor am capable of setting down
here; almost I thought he would Have flung his arms around my neck and
embraced me. Indeed, it seemed as though he were about to do so, but,
suddenly recollecting himself, desisted--perhaps because he knew that
to us English such demonstrations were not palatable.
And now I have to tell how Sir George placed no obstruction in the
way, allowing him to go ashore with me; yet, when he heard that we
were to travel together the look upon his face was one of extreme
gravity, almost of sternness. Also, he maintained a deep silence for a
moment or two after I had told him such was to be the case, and sat
with his eyes fixed on me as though he were endeavouring to read my
very inmost thoughts. But at last he said quietly, and with even more
than usual of that reserve which characterised him:
"You have found out nothing about this young man yet, Mr. Crespin,
then?--know nothing more about him than you have known from the first?
Um?"
"I know nothing more, sir."
Again he paused awhile, then spoke once more, with the slightest
perceptible shrug of his shoulders as he did so:
"Very well. 'Tis your affair, not mine. You are not under my command,
but that of the Earl of Marlborough. You must do as seems best to you.
Yet have a care what you are about." Then he leant forward toward me,
and said: "Mr. Crespin, you have done extremely well--have gained a
high place in our esteem. When his Lordship reads what the Duke of
Ormond and myself have to say about you, you will find your promotion
very rapid, I think. Do not, I beseech of you--do not imperil it in
any way; do not be led away into jeopardising the bright future, the
brilliant career, that is before you. Run on no rock, avoid every
shoal that may avert your successful course."
"Sir," said, "I am a soldier with many unknown dangers before me. This
boy can add nothing to their number. Yet, sir, for your gracious
consideration for me I am deeply grateful."
Still he regarded me, saying nothing for a moment or so, then spoke
again:
"Dangers!" he said--"the dangers every honest soldier or sailor
encounters in his calling are nothing; they are our portion; must be
avoided, if may be; if not, must be accepted. And he who falls in the
battle has naught to repine at--at least he falls honourably, leaves a
clean memory behind."
"Sir!"
"But there are other dangers that are worse than shot, or steel--or
death! Many a brave soldier and sailor has gone under from other
causes than these. Mr. Crespin, I say no more--have, perhaps, said too
much, were it not that you have strangely interested me." Then,
abruptly, he went on, and as though with the intention of forbidding
any more remarks on that subject: "Captain Hardy shall be instructed
to send you both ashore on the morning after we go out. Here are some
papers from the duke and myself to the Earl of Marlborough. Be careful
of them; they relate to you alone. I--we--hope they will assist you to
go far."
I bowed and murmured my thanks, for which he observed there was no
necessity whatever, then gave me his hand and said:
"Farewell, Mr. Crespin; we may not meet again. I wish you all you can
desire for yourself. Farewell."
But he uttered no further word of warning of any kind, and so let me
go away from him wondering blindly what it was he knew of this young
man; wondering above all what it was against which he covertly put me
on my guard.
Later on--though not for some time to come--I knew and understood.
* * * * * * * * *
I found Juan--after the sails of the boat from the _Pembroke_ had
faded into little white specks upon the surface of the water, until
they looked no bigger than the flash made by seagull's wing--found him
outside the one and only inn of this small town, lolling against the
doorpost--made dirty and greasy with the shoulders of countless
Algarvian peasants--and amusing himself by trying to make a group of
ragged children understand the pure Spanish he was speaking to them.
Then, as he saw me crossing the filthy street, he came over to meet
me--never heeding the splashing of mud administered to the handsome
long boots which he had now upon his legs, though he was dainty, too,
in his ways--and began telling me of what arrangements he had already
made for our journey.
"First, _mío amigo_," he said, joyously, "about the horses. Two are
already in command. One, a big bony creature which is for you, Mervan,
because you also are big and stalwart, and require something grand to
carry you--while for me there is a jennet with, oh! such a fiery eye
and a way of biting at everything near it. But have no fear! Once I am
on its back, and _por Diôs!_ it will do as I want, not as it wants."
I laughed, then asked if these animals were to be our own.
"Oh, yes, our own," he said. "Our very own. I have bought them--they
are ours. And, if they break down--yours, I think, must surely do
so--why, we will turn them loose into the nearest wood, and--buy some
more."
"At this rate we shall spend some money ere we strike Flanders," I
said.
"Ho! Ho! Money--who cares for money! I have plenty, enough for you and
me, too. We will travel comfortably, _mon ami_; have the best of
everything. Plenty of money, and--and, Mervan, do you know, if it was
not for one of the most accursed villains who ever trod the face of
the earth, I should be so rich that--that--oh! it is impossible to
say. Mervan," catching at my arm with that boyish impetuosity of his
which ever fascinated me; "you are English, therefore you know all the
English, I suppose. In Jamaica and Hispaniola and all the other
islands we know everybody. Mervan, who is, or where is, James Eaton?"
"James Eaton!" I exclaimed, with a laugh at his innocent supposition
that we were all acquainted with each other in England as they are in
the Indies; yet 'tis true that he could not know that our capital city
alone had so vast and incredible a population as half a million
souls! "James Eaton! Who and what is he? An officer? If so, I might,
perhaps, know, or get to know, something of him."
"An officer? Oh! yes, _por Diôs!_ he is an officer--has been once. But
not such as you or those brave ones we have just parted from. An
officer. _Corpo di Bacco!_ A villain, _vagamundo_, Mervan--a
_filibustier_--what the English call in the islands a damned pirate."
"Humph!" I said. "A friend of yours? Eh, Juan?"
"A friend of mine? Ho! Yes. Mon Dieu! He is a friend. Wait--when we
are in England you shall see how much I love my friend. Oh, yes! You
shall see. When I take him by his beard and thrust this through his
black heart," and he touched the quillon of the sword by his side as
he spoke.
"And is he the villain who has stolen your wealth?" I asked, as we
entered now the door of the inn, I nearly falling backward from the
horrible odours which greeted my nostrils when we did so.
"He is the villain. Oh! 'tis a story. Such a story. You shall hear.
But not now--not now. Now we will eat and drink and be gay."
"But," I said, my curiosity much aroused, "if he has stolen your
wealth how comes it you are rich, as you say? Have you two
fortunes--two sources of wealth?"
"Yes," he replied, with his bright, sweet smile. "Two fortunes--the
one he stole, the other--but no matter for fortunes now. I have enough
and plenty for myself--and, Mervan, for you if you want it. Plenty."
"I, too, have enough for present wants," I said. "Quite enough."
"_Bueno_. _Bueno_," he said. "Then all is well. And now to
eat, drink and be gay until to-morrow. Then away, away, away to
Flanders--anywhere, so long as we are together. Joy to-day, work and
travel to-morrow. But, Mervan," and once more he placed his hand
supplicatingly on my arm. "Forgive. Forgive me. I--I have brought the
viol d'amore."