Doña Dominica thought it imperative that Beauvallet's impudence should
be suitably punished, and took it upon herself to perform this pious
office. Master Dangerfield was a tool ready to her hand; she sought
him out, cast a thrall about that susceptible lad, and flirted with
him, somewhat to his embarrassment. She brought her long eyelashes into
play, the minx, was all honey to him, and flattered the vanity of the
youthful male. She used a distant courtesy towards Beauvallet, listened
when he spoke to her, folded meek hands in her lap, and turned back to
Master Dangerfield at the first chance. Beauvallet had stately curtseys
and cool impersonalities from her; she let it be clearly seen that
Dangerfield could have if he chose a hand to kiss, her smiles, and her
chatter. Master Dangerfield was duly grateful, but showed a lamentable
tendency to set her high upon a pedestal. At another time this might
have pleased her, but she had now no mind to play the goddess. She was
at pains to show Master Dangerfield that he might dare to venture a
little further.
But all this strategy failed of its object. Doña Dominica, out of
the tail of her eye, saw with indignation the frank amusement of Sir
Nicholas. Beauvallet stood back and watched the play with a laughing,
an appreciative eye. The lady redoubled her efforts.
She was forced to admit Dangerfield dull sport, and chid herself for
hankering after the livelier company of his General. With him one
met the unexpected; there was a spice of risk to savour the game, an
element of adventure to whet the appetite. She would come up with
Dangerfield on the deck, stand at his side and ask him questions
innumerable upon the sailing of a ship, and appear to listen rapt to
his conscientious answers. But all the time she had a quick ear and a
vigilant eye for Sir Nicholas, and when she heard his ringing voice, or
saw him come with his quick light step across the deck she would feel
her pulses beat the faster, and dread a rising blush. Nor could she
ever withstand the force in him that compelled her to meet his look.
She might fight against it, but soon or late she must steal a glance
towards him, and find his eyes, brimful of laughter, upon her, his
hands lightly laid on his hips, his feet firmly planted and wide apart,
mockery in his every line.
Since pride forbade her to give him her company she found a certain
solace in talking of him to his lieutenant. Master Dangerfield was
willing enough, but he was shocked to hear what an ill opinion she had
of the hero. He could allow that Sir Nicholas had maybe too boisterous
and reckless a way to suit a lady's taste, but when Dominica poured
more scorn upon Beauvallet the boy was moved to protest. It was likely
that she wanted this.
"I marvel that you breed such ruffling bullies in England, señor," she
said, nose in air.
"A bully?" Dangerfield echoed. "Sir Nicholas? Why, I believe you must
not say so aboard this ship, señora."
"Oh, I am not afraid!" Dominica declared.
"You have little need to be, señora. But you speak to Sir Nicholas'
lieutenant. Maybe we who serve under him know him better."
At that she opened her eyes very wide indeed. "What, are you all
besotted then? Do you like the man so well?"
He smiled down at her. "Most men like him, señora. He is very much--a
man, you see."
"Very much a braggart," she corrected, curling her lip.
"No, señora, indeed. I allow he has the manner. But I have never known
him promise what he has not performed. If you knew him better----"
"Oh, spare me, señor! Wish me no better knowledge of your bully."
"Maybe he is too swift for you. He goes too straight towards his goal
for a lady's taste, and uses no subtleties."
She pounced on that, and put the question that had long hovered on her
tongue. "I take it your English ladies think as I think, señor?"
"Nay, I believe they like him very well," Dangerfield replied, smiling
a little. "Too well for his desires."
Dominica saw the smile. "I make no doubt he is a great trifler."
Dangerfield shook his head. "Nay, he is merry in his dealings, but I
believe he will stay for no woman."
Dominica spent a moment pondering that. Dangerfield plodded on
painstakingly. "I would not have you think though that he holds women
in poor esteem, señora. Indeed, I think he is gentle with your sex."
"Gentle!" the lady ejaculated. "I marvel you can say so! A rough fellow
I have found him! A boisterous, rough fellow!"
"You have naught to fear from him, señora," Dangerfield said seriously.
"On my honour, he would not offer hurt to one weaker than himself."
Dominica was affronted. "I fear him? Señor, know that I do not fear him
or anyone!" she announced fiercely.
"Brave lass!" applauded a voice behind her. Dominica jumped, and turned
to see Beauvallet lounging against the bulwarks. He held out his hand
invitingly. "Then since you have no fear of him, come and talk with the
boisterous, rough fellow."
Master Dangerfield beat a discreet retreat, and basely left the lady
alone. She tapped a slender foot on the deck. "I do not wish to talk
with you, señor."
"I am not a señor, child."
"True, Sir Nicholas."
"Come!" he insisted, and his eyes were bright and searching.
"Not at your bidding, Sir Nicholas," said Dominica haughtily.
"At my most humble prayer!" But his look belied the words.
"I thank you, I am very well where I am," Dominica said, and turned her
shoulder.
"The mountain would not. Well, there was a sequel." He was at her side
in two steps, and instinctively she drew back in some kind of enjoyable
alarm. He frowned quickly at that, and set his hands on her shoulders.
"Why do you shrink? Do you think I would offer you hurt indeed?"
"No--that is, I do not know at all, señor, and nor do I care!"
"Brave words, but still you shrank. What, do you know so little of me
even now? You shall be better acquainted with me, I promise you."
"You are hurting me! Let me go!"
He held her slightly away from him, and seemed to puzzle over her. "How
do I hurt you? By holding you thus?"
"Your fingers grip me well-nigh to the bone," said Dominica crossly.
He smiled. "I am not gripping you at all, sweetheart, and well you know
it."
"Let me go!"
"But if I do you will run away," he pointed out.
"I wonder that you desire to talk to one who--who hates you!"
"Not I, child. But you do not hate me."
"I do! I do!"
"God's Death, then, why do you play poor Diccon on your line to tease
me?"
That was too much for the lady. She hit him, full across his smiling
mouth.
It was no sooner done that she knew a frightened leap of the heart, an
instant regret, for he swooped quickly, caught her hands fast in his,
and locked them behind her back. She looked up, in part afraid, in part
defiant, and saw him laughing still.
"Now what do you think you deserve of me?" Beauvallet asked.
She had recourse to her strongest weapon, and burst into tears. She was
set free on the instant.
"Sweetheart, sweetheart!" Beauvallet said remorsefully. "Here's no
matter for tears! What, am I so grim an ogre? I did but tease you,
child. Look up! Nay, but smile! See, I will kiss the very hem of your
gown! Only do not weep!" He was on his knee before her; she looked
down through her tears at his bent head, more shaken still, and heard
footsteps coming up the companion leading from the waist of the ship.
She touched Beauvallet's crisp hair fleetingly. "Oh, do not! One
comes--get up, get up!"
He sprang up as his Master appeared at the head of the companion, and
stepped quickly forward to shield Dominica from this worthy's notice.
It was easily possible now for her to escape below decks. Sir Nicholas'
attention was held by his Master; the way lay open to her. Doña
Dominica walked to the bulwarks, and carefully dried her eyes, and
stood looking out to sea.
In a minute or two the Master's retreating steps sounded, and a lighter
footfall, nearer at hand. Beauvallet's fingers covered hers as they lay
on the rail. "Forgive the rough, boisterous fellow!" he begged.
The tone won her; a dimple peeped, and was gone. "You use me
monstrously," complained Dominica.
"But you do not hate me?"
She left that unanswered. "I cannot find it in me to envy the lady you
take to wife," she said.
"Nay, how should you?"
She looked sharply up at that, blushed, and turned her face away. "I do
not know how the English ladies can bear with you, señor."
He looked merrily down at her. "Why, I have not called upon them to
bear with me, señora."
She faced him suddenly. "You will scarce have me believe you have not
trifled often and often!" she said hotly. "No doubt ye deem women of
small account!"
"I do not deem you of small account, child."
She smiled disdainfully. "You are mightily apt. Do you use this manner
with the English ladies, pray?"
"Nay, sweetheart, this is the manner I use," Sir Nicholas answered, and
promptly kissed her.
Dominica choked, pushed him violently away, and fled down the companion
to her cabin. She found her woman there, and was at once conscious of
a heightened colour, and ruffled hair. Maria, noting these portents
and the storm in her mistress' eyes, set her arms akimbo and looked
fiercely. "That bully!" she said darkly. "He has insulted you,
señorita? He dared to lay his hands on you?"
Dominica was biting her handkerchief; her eyes looked this way and
that, and at the end she laughed uneasily. "He kissed me," she said.
"I will tear the eyes from his head!" vowed Maria, and made for the
door.
"Silly wench! Fond fool! Stay still!" Dominica commanded.
"You shall not again stir forth without me to be your duenna,
señorita," promised Maria.
Dominica stamped her foot. "Oh, blind! I wanted him to kiss me!"
Maria's jaw dropped. "Señorita!"
Dominica gave a tiny laugh. "He swears he will come into Spain to seek
me. If he but dared!"
"Not even an Englishman would be fool enough, señorita."
"Alack, no!" Dominica sighed. "But if he did--oh, I become infected
with his madness!" She lifted the tiny mirror that hung at her girdle,
and frowned at her own reflection. A pat here and a twist there, and
she had her curls demure again under the net. She let fall the mirror,
blushed to see Maria still wondering at her, and was off to visit her
father.
She found Joshua Dimmock in the cabin, vociferous in defence of his
gallows' chips, which he believed, privately, might serve at least to
stave off Don Manuel's death until he was set safe ashore.
Don Manuel looked wearily at his daughter. "Is there none to rid me of
this fool?" he said.
Joshua tried the effect of coaxing. "See, señor, I have them safe tied
in a sachet. I bought them of a very holy man, versed in these matters.
If you would but wear them about your neck I might vouch for a certain
cure."
"Bartolomeo, set wide that door," commanded Don Manuel. "Now, fellow,
depart from me!"
"Most gracious señor----"
Bartolomeo fell back from the open doorway, bowing. A voice that to
Dominica's fancy seemed to hold all the sunshine and the salt wind of
fine days at sea smote her ears. "What's this?"
Sir Nicholas stood on the threshold.
Don Manuel raised himself on his elbow. "Señor, in good time! Rid me of
your knave there, and his damnable chips from a gallows!"
Beauvallet came quickly in, saw Joshua standing aggrieved by the side
of the bunk, and caught him by the nape of the neck, and with no more
ado hurled him forth. He kicked the door to behind him, and stood
looking down at Don Manuel. "Is there aught else I may do for you,
señor? You have but to name it."
Don Manuel lay back against the pillows and smiled wrily. "You are
short in your dealings, señor."
"But to the point, you'll allow. I am come to see how you do this
morning. The fever still hath you in its hold?"
"A little." Don Manuel frowned a warning. Beauvallet turned his head to
observe the reason of this. Dominica was standing stiffly by the table.
It seemed this abominable man must be everywhere at once. One's own
cabin was the only safe retreat. She moved stately to the door.
Bartolomeo went to open it, but was put aside by a careless hand. Sir
Nicholas held the door wide, and my lady went out with a quickened step.
"You, too, Bartolomeo," Don Manuel said, and lay watching Beauvallet.
He fetched a stifled sigh. This handsome man with his springing step
and alert carriage seemed to the sick gentleman the very embodiment of
life and health.
Beauvallet came to the bunk, and pulled a joint-stool forward, and sat
down upon it. "You want to speak with me, señor?"
"I want to speak with you." Don Manuel plucked at the sheet that
covered him. "Señor, since first you brought us aboard this ship you
have not again spoken of our disposal."
Beauvallet raised his brows quickly. "I thought I had made myself
plain, señor. I shall set you ashore on the northern coast of Spain."
Don Manuel tried to read the face before him; the blue eyes looked
straightly; under the neat mustachio the mouth was firm and humorous.
If Beauvallet had secrets he hid them well under a frank exterior. "Am
I to believe you serious, señor?"
"Never more so, upon my honour. Wherefore all this pother over a very
simple matter?"
"Is it, then, so simple to put into a Spanish port, señor?"
"To say truth, señor, your countrymen have not yet learned the trick of
capturing Nick Beauvallet. God send them a better education, cry you!"
Don Manuel spoke gravely. "Señor, you are an enemy--a dangerous
enemy--to my country, yet, believe me, I should be sorry to see you
taken."
"A thousand thanks, señor. You will certainly not see it. I was born in
a fortunate hour."
"I have had enough of portents and omens, señor, from your servant. I
make bold to say that if you set us ashore in Spain you place your life
in jeopardy. And for what? It is madness! I can find no other name for
it."
The firm lips parted; there was a gleam of white teeth. "Call it
Beauvallet's way, señor."
Don Manuel said nothing, but lay still, watching his captor and host.
After a minute he spoke again. "You are a strange man, señor. For many
years I have heard wild tales of you, and believed, perhaps, a quarter
of them. You constrain me to lend ear to the wildest of them." He
paused, but Beauvallet only smiled again. "If, indeed, you speak in
good faith I stand infinitely beholden to you. Yet you might act in the
best of faith and fail of such a foolhardy endeavour."
Sir Nicholas swung his pomander on the end of its chain. "God rest you,
señor: I shall not fail."
"I pray in this instance you may not. It does not need for me to tell
you that my days are numbered. I would end them in Spain, señor."
Beauvallet held up his hand. "My oath on it, señor. You shall end them
there," he said gently.
Don Manuel stirred restlessly. "I must set my house in order, I leave
my daughter alone in the world. There is my sister. But the child had
traffickings with Lutherans, and I misdoubt me----" He broke off,
sighing.
Beauvallet came to his feet. "Señor, give me ear a minute!"
Don Manuel looked up at him, and saw him serious for once. "I attend,
señor."
"When I approach my chosen goal, señor, I march straight. That you may
have heard of me. Let it go. I make you privy now to a new goal I have
sworn to reach, a fair prize. The day will come, Don Manuel, when I
shall take your daughter to wife."
Don Manuel's eyelids fluttered a moment. "Do you tell me, señor, that
you love my daughter?" he asked sternly.
"Madly, señor, I make no doubt you would say."
Don Manuel looked more sternly still. "And she? No, it is not possible!"
"Why, as to that, señor, I do not know. I am not over-apt with maids.
She will love me one day."
"Señor, be plain with me. What is this riddle you propound?"
"None, señor. Here is only the plain truth. I might bear Dominica away
to England, and thus constrain her----"
"You would not!" Don Manuel cried out sharply.
"Nay, I constrain no maid against her will, be assured. But you will
allow it to be clearly within my power." He paused, and his eyes
questioned.
Don Manuel watched the swing of the golden pomander from long fingers,
looked higher, and met the imperative gaze. "We are in your hands I
know full well," he said evenly.
Beauvallet nodded. "But that easy course is not the one I will take,
señor. Nor am I one to enact the part of ravisher, of betrayer. I will
take you to Spain, and there leave you. But, señor--and mark me well!
for what I swear I will do that I shall certainly do, though the sun
die and the moon fall, and the earth be wholly overset!--I shall come
later into Spain, and seek out your daughter, and ride away with her on
my saddle-bow!" His voice seemed to fill the room, vibrating with some
leaping passion. A moment he looked down at Don Manuel with a glint in
his eyes, and his beard jutting outwards with his lifted chin. Then the
fire left him as suddenly as it had sprung up, and he laughed softly,
and the glitter went out of his eyes. "Judge you by this, señor, if I
do truly love her as you would have her loved!"
There was silence. Don Manuel turned his head away on the pillow and
brushed the sheet with one restless hand. "Señor," he said at last, "if
you were not an enemy and a heretic, I would choose to give my daughter
to just such a one as you." He smiled faintly at the quick surprise in
Beauvallet's face. "Ay, señor, but you are both these things, and it
is impossible. Impossible!"
"Señor, a word I do not know. I have warned you. Take what precaution
you will, but whether you are quick or dead, I shall have your
daughter, in spite of anything you may do."
"Sir Nicholas, you have a brave spirit, and that I like in you. I have
no need to take precautions, for you could never penetrate into Spain."
"God be my witness, señor, I shall penetrate."
"You must needs be forsworn, señor. At sea you may be a match for us,
but how might you dare face all Spain in Spain itself?"
"I shall certainly dare, señor," said Sir Nicholas calmly.
Don Manuel seemed to shrug his shoulders. "I see, señor, there is to be
no ho with you. You may be but an idle boaster, or a madman, as they
say--I know not. I could wish you were a Spaniard. There is no more to
say."