MADAME.
Don Christoval remained out of sight below. I assumed that he was
attending to his wife. His friend continued asleep in an arm-chair near
the table under the skylight; his head was fallen back, his mouth was
wide open, and his deep and powerful snore was audible at the distance
of the helm. By and by the negro boy Tom rose through the companion
hatch.
"Where is Don Christoval?" said I.
"In dah missus' cabin, sah," he answered.
"Has consciousness returned to her?"
He scratched his head and answered that he did not understand me.
"Have you heard the lady speaking--have you heard her voice?"
"Not speak, but sing, massa."
"Sing?" cried I, looking at him.
"Ay, massa, like dis:" he sang a few notes. "Her song is all de same
as a nuss-gal making him noisy pickaninny go for to sleep."
He went to the galley and presently returned with a tray full of
breakfast things. Don Lazarillo was awakened by the negro lad laying
the cloth for breakfast. I was at the skylight at the moment and my
eye was upon the Spaniard. He started to his feet, delivered himself
of a loud yawn, looked blankly around him with the stupid air of the
newly awakened; the motions of his body were then arrested as though
he had been paralyzed; he listened, intently gazing aft, continued
to listen while you might count twenty, the expression of his face
slowly changing from astonishment to terror. He then made a stride and
disappeared out of the small range of view I commanded. I strained my
ear but caught nothing unusual. He has heard the Señora del Padron
singing, thought I.
The negro boy went again to the galley and once more returned with a
second tray of dishes for the table. I was hungry and sleepy. Rest I
might easily obtain by summoning Butler aft to keep a look-out, but I
had no notion of turning in until I had breakfasted. I supposed that I
should be expected to eat as heretofore, when Captain Dopping was alive
in the vessel--that is to say, after the Spaniards had left the table;
and I was wondering when Don Christoval meant to put in an appearance;
at that moment he came on deck.
His face was colorless; I may say it was ghastly with what I must term
its pallor of swarthiness. The peculiar hue seemed to enlarge his eyes.
He stood curling his mustaches a moment looking around him, and then
approached me with a shallow and unquiet smile.
"All goes well with the schooner, I hope, Captain Portlack?" said he.
"Yes, sir."
"How does the weather promise?"
"The day may keep fine, but I look for wind presently."
"I am going to ask you," said he, with a harsher Spanish or foreign
intonation in his accent than I had ever before noticed in his
speech, "to be so good, Señor Portlack," he raised his hat and held
it a little above his head, "to waive your custom of taking your
meals in the cabin," he put his hat on. "I deplore the necessity.
You will not regard it, if you please, as a violation of the laws of
hospitality--laws by which we are eminently governed in our country.
Neither will you suppose that your estimable society is not prized and
your professional help and attainments greatly valued by Don Lazarillo
de Tormes and myself. But--" He abruptly ceased, giving me nothing more
to interpret than a truly royal sweep of his arm.
"You wish me to eat in my own quarters, Don Christoval? I shall be
happy to do so; but I presume I am to be waited upon?"
"Most undoubtedly," he burst out. "I entreat that you will speak every
wish that may occur to you. Your apartment shall be furnished from the
cabin: there shall be a table and all conveniences. Tom will see to you
as he sees to us. I thank you for your ready assent;" and he gave me a
stately bow, raising his hat again.
I returned his salute in the handsomest way I could manage, and
inquired after his wife.
"Oh, she will do, she will do," he answered. "Patience! the shock was
great and sudden; she expected me indeed, but there was nothing in
expectation to soften the agitation excited by my sudden appearance.
Add to this the inhuman behavior of her father and brother, their
outrageous violent language, their grasping her," he continued,
advancing his arms and opening and clinching his fingers as he acted
the part, "in the hope of tearing her from me. But patience, Captain
Portlack." Then without another word he returned to the cabin.
At eight o'clock Butler came to the quarter-deck. I gave him the
course, told him I should turn in for a couple of hours after
breakfast, and bade him call me should the wind shift ahead, for we
were in St. George's Channel, with the Irish coast on one side and the
English coast on the other, and in case of our having to _ratch_, as it
is called, La Casandra would need better piloting than Butler was equal
to. I was about to quit him when he said:
"Beg pardon, Mr. Portlack, what might the Don have been a-saying just
now?" Then observing my change of expression, he quickly added, "The
question's asked quite humbly, sir. The long and short of it is, we men
don't feel comfortable. We want to make sartin that there's to be no
putting in to any new port, and least of all to an English port."
I feigned not to understand him.
"So long as you receive the money that is agreed upon between you and
Don Christoval it can not signify what port we put into."
"Oh, but it do, then!" cried he, turning red in the face. "What! Why,
only consider!" he continued, raising his voice for the edification
of his mates who stood listening forward. "Put into an English port
and see what 'ud happen! Put into any civilized port and see what 'ud
happen! I know them Customs covies. What 'ud they find? A lady in
evening attire: us without any sort of yarn capable of satisfying the
suspicions we're bound to raise. Why, all hands of us 'ud be detained
for investigation, and then!"
"You may ease your mind," said I, coldly. "Don Christoval was merely
talking to me about my breakfast," and going to the main hatch I
dropped through it into my quarters.
Here I found the furniture that had belonged to Captain Dopping's
cabin; there were also a little table, a velvet arm-chair from the
cabin, and a rug such as would be stretched before a fire-place
lying upon the deck. My quarters, thus equipped, looked hospitable
enough. Indeed, it was to my taste to live thus apart. It rendered me
independent; I could do as I pleased, light my pipe, turn in or turn
out, eat and drink, and come and go with a bachelor-liberty that I
should not have been able to enjoy had I dwelt as Captain Dopping had
in the cabin. The one objection to my quarters lay in the gloom of
them. In fine weather there was plenty of light to be obtained through
the open hatch; but in stormy times the hatch must be closed, and then
I should have to live by lamp-light.
A few minutes after I had descended, the door that communicated with
the cabin opened, and the negro lad entered with my breakfast. He put
the tray on the table, and stood as though expecting me to question him.
"Is the lady still singing?" said I.
"No, sah, ebery ting quiet now."
"That will do," said I, and he went on deck through the main hatch.
I made a hearty meal and smoked a pipe of tobacco--Captain Dopping
had laid in a liberal stock of pipes and tobacco. I then pulled off
my boots and coat, sprang into my hammock, and in five minutes was as
sound asleep as the dead. Butler wakened me by putting his head into
the hatch and shouting. I went on deck, and found my prediction to Don
Christoval of a fine day disproved. The weather had thickened, the
sky was a wide spread of shadow, under which a quantity of yellow,
wing-like shapes of scud were flying with a velocity that might have
made you suppose it was blowing a gale of wind. The wind was damp,
but there was no rain. Blowing it was, but not yet hard, and Butler
had given no other orders than to roll up the topgallant-sail. The
breeze was on the quarter, about north-north-west. Had we been working
up against it we should have found it a strong wind; as it was, the
schooner was swirling before it with every cloth set, saving the little
sail I have mentioned. A strong swell chased her, and to each hurl of
the regular, giant undulation the vessel flashed along, burying her
bows in foam with the next launching swoop in a manner to remind you of
the flight of a flying-fish from one glittering blue slope of brine to
another.
The vessel that had been ahead of us at daybreak was now on the bow
close to--a box-shaped concern with painted ports; she plunged heavily,
and seemed to stagger again under her heights of canvas, like an old
woman whose balance is threatened by the umbrella she holds up. Such
a sputtering as she made I had never before beheld. All about her was
white water as she washed through it; it was as though a water-spout
were foaming under her. Yet she held her own stoutly; and, two hours
after I had been on deck, she was still in sight in the haze astern.
I could make no use of Captain Dopping's sextant in such weather as
this. Don Lazarillo was walking the deck alone, swathed to the heels
in a cloak, and a large, flapping felt hat, drawn down to his eyebrows.
He looked at me askew as I stepped his way to glance at the binnacle.
Often had I met his fiery glance scanning me, but never so searchingly
as now. He kept his eyes upon me as I stood at the compass watching the
behavior of the little ship as she swept to the heads of the swell.
When I moved forward, he advanced with a forced, deep grin which so
contracted his visage that it looked no more than a mat of hair with a
hooked nose thrust through it. He saluted me, and I bowed low, as was
my custom with these gentlemen, and the following exchange of sentences
took place, partly by signs, partly by shouts; but the substance of
our meaning is all that I will venture to give. It would be impossible
for the pen to convey his broken English, and as I have not a word
of Spanish, I dare not attempt to write the sentences with which he
intermingled his English.
"It is a very dark day."
"It is," I answered.
"It blows heavily."
"No, Don Lazarillo," said I.
"I thank the Virgin I am not seasick. Yet, the sight of those
mountains," said he, pointing over the side with a yellow, jeweled
hand, "makes me sensible that my stomach is of the most delicate."
"By this time you should have grown accustomed to the motion of a ship."
"Yes, it is so. Might not this dark day prove fatal to us?" Here he
struck his fists together to denote a collision between vessels.
I shook my head and touched my eyes and pointed to the men forward,
touching my eyes again that he might gather it was the custom of
English sailors in thick weather to keep a look-out.
"How long to Cuba?" he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Is Don Christoval still resolved to go to
Cuba?" said I.
"Yes," he cried in Spanish, in the most passionate way that can be
imagined, while an expression of dark suspicion entered his eyes. "You
know the way to Cuba?"
"Oh yes," I answered smiling.
He nodded wildly as though he would say, "See that you carry us there,
that's all!"
"How is madame?" said I, pointing to the skylight.
"Better--better," he replied, with a little scowl, and then giving me a
bow he took a turn or two and went below.
The wind freshened gradually during the afternoon, and when I left the
deck at four o'clock the schooner was under greatly reduced canvas,
driving along at eleven or twelve miles an hour, her decks dark with
damp, fountains of spray blowing ahead of her off the high archings of
foam upturned by the irresistible thrust of her stem, a shrill, dreary
noise of wind in her rigging, and the fellow at the helm and the figure
on the look-out forward gleaming in oil-skins and sea-helmets.
All through the night it continued to blow, and it blew all through the
three following days and nights. At long intervals one or the other of
the Spaniards appeared on deck, but for no other purpose than to take
a hurried look round. Some small theory of navigation, though utterly
insufficient for practical purposes, they must have had; for, happening
on one occasion during this boisterous time to look through the
skylight glass, I perceived them bending over a chart. Don Christoval,
with his forefinger upon it, seemed to trace a course, while he glanced
up in the direction where there hung, screwed to the upper deck, what
is known at sea as a "tell-tale compass," that is, a compass whose
face is inverted, usually fixed over the captain's chair, so that, as
he sits at table, he may perceive at a glance whether the helmsman
is holding the vessel to her course. I stood watching, careless as to
whether the Spaniards perceived me or not. The skylight was closed,
and their voices were inaudible. Don Christoval seemed to explain; Don
Lazarillo measured: there was much nodding and gesticulation, and they
frequently looked from the chart to the "tell-tale compass." Presently
Don Christoval rolled up the chart, and the pair of them withdrew out
of reach of my sight.
I took notice that when Mariana was not employed at cooking in the
galley, he was aft below in the cabin. I could not imagine what sort
of work the two Dons could find to put the ugly, greasy rogue to in
that part of the schooner. I now never entered the cabin, and could do
no more than conjecture what passed in it. Regularly at meal-times, if
I happened to be on deck, I would peep through the skylight window,
expecting to find madame at table; and if it happened that I was off
duty when meals were served in the cabin, I would tell Butler to cast
a look through the glass and report to me if he saw anything of the
lady. But my curiosity was punctually disappointed: the lady remained
invisible.
It happened that, on the evening of the third day of this spell of
dirty weather, I went below to get some supper. It was seven o'clock,
and the evening dark as midnight with the driving thickness in the wind
and the black surface of cloud that was stretched across the sky. As I
dropped through the hatch, pulling the piece of cover over it to keep
the wet out of my quarters, I observed a glare in the interior, which
I very well knew could not proceed from the lamp that swung under a
beam near my hammock. In fact that lamp was unlighted. Looking past
the bulk-head to which the steps by which I descended were nailed, I
found that the door which communicated with the cabin stood open. The
wind, though abaft the beam, gave a decided "list" or inclination to
the rushing fabric, and her rolls to windward, owing to the swell being
almost astern, were too inconsiderable to cause the door to swing to.
The cabin was steeped in light; the lamps were large for the
interior, and burned brilliantly, and their luster was duplicated
and reduplicated by the mirrors which hung against the side. Don
Christoval lay at full length upon a sofa; his hand, drooping to the
floor, holding between its fingers an extinguished cigar, showed that
he was asleep. Don Lazarillo was either on deck or in his berth. The
dinner-cloth was upon the table, but cleared of its furniture, though
on a large swing-tray between the lamps were one or two decanters
of wine, a plate of fruit, biscuits, and the like. But that which
instantly arrested my eye was the figure of Mariana seated on a chair
at the after extremity of the cabin, where stood two berths. He
bestrode his chair as a man strides a horse, bowing his hideous face
to the back of it. His posture assured me that he was acting the part
of sentinel. I stood viewing him. I could see no signs of the lady's
presence, in the shape, I mean, of apparel, of any detail of female
attire. I searched with my eyes swiftly, but narrowly, and encountered
nothing to indicate the existence of a woman on board. What did I
expect to see? I know not, unless it were something a lady might use,
and leave on a chair or a table--a smelling-bottle, a glove; but this
does not matter. I wished to discover if madame had left her berth, and
I found no hint to inform me that she had done so.
But what signified the presence of that ugly, I may say that loathsome,
sentry stationed at what I might make sure was the door of the berth
she occupied? By the aid of the light flowing in from the cabin, I
sought and found the materials for lighting my own lamp. I then
quietly closed the bulk-head door.
A little later the hatch was lifted, and the negro boy descended with
my supper--a repast consisting of cold meat, biscuit and fruit, and
half a bottle of wine.
"Where is the cook?" said I.
"In de cabin, massa."
"He appears to live in the cabin. What is he doing there now, d'ye
know?"
"Watching, sah."
"Watching what?"
"Dah lady."
"Oh!" said I, "watching the lady, hey? Is she in her room?"
"No, sah; outside de door ob it. Dey has to watch her," said he,
showing his teeth.
"Why, do you know?"
"I heered the tall Don say at breakfiss-time dat she was gone for mad."
After a pause I said, "When did you hear him say this?"
"Yesterday morning, sah."
"To whom did he say it?"
"To Mariana, massa. T'odder gentleman was sleeping."
I recollected that I had watched Don Lazarillo awaken from his sleep on
the previous morning, and that I had observed the expression of terror
his face had taken when, as I might _now_ know, he learned for the
first time, by hearing madame singing, that she had lost her mind.
"Why did you not, before this evening, tell me that the lady was gone
for mad, as you call it?"
"Massa nebber asked dah question."
"Have you seen her?"
"No, sah, and I dun wan' to. Her laugh make my blood creep. It's wuss
dan her singing, sah. Now and agin she laugh, but now she sings no mo'."
"How is she watched at night, do you know?"
He twisted his hand to indicate the turning of a key in its lock, by
which I gathered that madame by night was locked up in her cabin.
"Is she watched?"
"Mariana him sometime sleep and sometime sit at her door. When him
sleep, den Don Christoval keep watch. When Don Christoval sleep den
t'odder gent keep watch. Dey makes tree watches ob it, sah."
I asked him how he knew this. He answered in his negro speech that he
had found it out by looking and listening.
"But what are you to find out by listening?" said I. "You don't
understand Spanish, and those three men among themselves talk in no
other language."
"Mariana, him say to me in de galley, 'Tom,' him say, 'you look to de
sailors' pudden. De massa wan' me to keep watch in de cabin.' I say,
'Why you no sleep now in the fok'sle?' and he say he hab business in de
cabin."
Here the boy ceased; the poor fellow conveyed his meaning with
difficulty, yet I could see his face working with the intelligence of
an explanation which lay in his brain, but which his tongue wanted
English to impart. That he knew the lady was watched by the three
Spaniards in the manner described by him--that is to say, in three
watches, by night at all events, if not by day--was certain.
He left me. I ate my supper, lighted a pipe, and sat musing. What
had driven the lady mad? One could not put it down to any ill-usage
she had met with aboard the schooner, because I might certainly know
from the information of the negro boy that she had awakened mad from
the death-like swoon or stupor she was plunged in when conveyed from
the boat into the cabin. Had her joy on finding herself with her
husband again--the husband of her adoration--proved too much for her
mind? Had the sudden shock of his apparition--of the apparition of Don
Christoval and his six armed associates--been rendered too enormous
for her poor brains, through the fearful significance it gathered from
the slaying of Captain Dopping by her father, and by her father's
and brother's last rush and struggle to wrest her from the hands of
the two Spaniards? But then the sailors were all agreed that she was
already insensible when this final rush and struggle took place, that
she was borne downstairs and carried out of the house bleeding and
unconscious as she was when I beheld her lying in the cabin. A haunting
suspicion grew darker, stronger, harder within me.
* * * * *
I was again on deck at midnight; the weather had somewhat moderated,
but a strong sea was running, through which the schooner, under small
canvas, crushed her way in thunder, whitening the water around her till
the black atmosphere of the night about her decks was charged with the
ghastly twilight of the beaten and boiling foam. But before my watch
expired the deep shadow on high was broken up. A few stars sparkled,
the seas ran with less weight, and the diminished breeze enabled me to
make sail upon the schooner.
The cabin skylight was closed, and owing to the moisture upon the glass
it was impossible to see into the interior. Throughout the night the
lamps were kept dimly burning, and ardently as I might peer, thirsty
with curiosity, I never could distinguish the movement of a shadow to
indicate that those who occupied the cabin were stirring in it.
At four o'clock I went to my hammock, and at half-past seven was on
deck again. It was a fine clear morning; large white clouds were
rolling over the dark blue sky, and the sea, swept by the fresh wind
that hummed sweet and warm over the quarter, ran in delicate lines of
foam, which writhed and twisted in confused splendor in the glorious
wake of the sun; while westward, the surface of the deep resembled a
spacious field lustrous with fantastic shapes of frost. Butler had
heaped canvas on the schooner, and she was sliding nobly through the
water. The men had washed the decks down, and hung about waiting
for their breakfast. From time to time Mariana's head showed in the
galley-door. So far, aboard of us, there had been no discipline to
speak of. The men, indeed, acknowledged me as captain, and sprang to
my commands; but outside such absolutely essential duties as that of
making and shortening sail and washing down the decks of a morning,
nothing was done. The fellows would hang about smoking and yarning,
always ready indeed for a call, but nothing more. Nor, indeed, was
it for me to keep them employed. I could not accept this adventure
seriously--could not regard the command I had been asked to take as
imposing any further obligation upon me than that of navigating the
schooner to a part of the coast of Cuba adjacent to Matanzas, and again
and again I would ask myself, Will it ever come to Cuba? Will it ever
come to half-way to Cuba? There was an element of unreality in the
voyage we were now supposed to be pursuing that submitted it as a mere
holiday jaunt to my fancy--a purposeless cruise, rendering needless and
aimless the customary shipboard routine of the sea.
While I stood looking along the deck, Don Christoval arrived. He was
haggard and blanched, as though risen from a bed of sickness. The
fire of his fine eyes was quenched, and his gaze was extraordinarily
melancholy and spiritless. He saluted me gravely, but stood for some
time as though lost in thought, meanwhile taking a slow view of the
whole compass of the sea, as though in search of some object he
expected to behold upon the horizon. I believed he would return to the
cabin without addressing me; but I was mistaken.
"Good morning, Captain Portlack."
"Good morning, sir."
"The bad weather is passed, I hope. The schooner is sailing very fast.
It rejoices me to reflect that every hour diminishes, by something, the
tedious miles we have to traverse."
He paused, eying me steadfastly, with the air of a man soliciting
sympathy. He then beckoned to me with one of his grand gestures and
went a little way forward, out of the hearing of the fellow who stood
at the tiller.
"Captain Portlack," said he, "I am in great grief."
"I am sorry to hear it," said I, looking at him.
"My poor wife is mad."
"Mad!" I echoed, in an accent of concern and astonishment, not
choosing, by appearing aware of the fact, that he should suspect I had
been spying upon him or making inquiries.
"Mad," he repeated, in a low, hoarse voice. "When she recovered from
her swoon she did not know me. She began to sing, she laughed--Mother
of God, a diabolic laugh! She is now speechless, never lifting her
eyes, never changing her countenance, and she sits thus:" he clasped
his hands before him, bent his head, fixed his eyes upon the deck, and
thus dramatically represented her condition for at least a minute.
I sought in vain in his voice, in his face, in his air, for some hint,
some color, some expression of such grief of affection, of such emotion
of sorrow, as the love he had spoken of as existing between them would
naturally cause one to look for; instead, I seemed to find nothing but
alarm, uncertainty, irritability, subdued by fear.
"We must hope," said I, "that she will speedily recover her mind."
"Will you descend into the cabin and see her?" said he, shortly, as
though he had talked this invitation over and settled it.
I was slightly startled, and answered, "What good can I do, Don
Christoval?"
"You are her countryman," said he; "your accent, that is far purer than
mine when I discourse in your tongue, may excite her attention. Nor,
perhaps, may it be wholly with her as I fear."
"You do not wish to imply that she is shamming?"
He gesticulated with a fury that I could not but think pretended.
"No, no, poor girl! Shamming indeed! God defend me from conveying such
an idea. But will you descend, Captain Portlack, and see her?"
"I owe the preservation of my life to you," said I, "and it is my
sincere desire to be of use to you in any honest direction. But how
shall I serve you by visiting madame, your wife?"
Spiritless as his eyes were, the glance he shot at me as I pronounced
these words was as piercing as I had found his gaze when he inspected
me on my first being taken aboard his schooner. He slightly frowned,
wrenched at, rather than twirled his immense mustaches, beat softly
with his foot in manifest effort to control himself, then said abruptly:
"Will you descend, Captain Portlack?"
"With pleasure," said I, and I followed him below, leaving Butler,
whose watch would not expire till eight o'clock, in charge of the
vessel.
Don Lazarillo was seated at the cabin table. I see him now supporting
his head on his elbow, his bearded chin buried in the palm of his hand,
and his finger-ends at his teeth as though he were gnawing upon his
nails. He was the most perfect figure of nervous perplexity that could
be imagined. He looked at me swiftly, but sternly and devouringly,
too, and addressed his friend in Spanish.
"Pardon me," I exclaimed, before Don Christoval could reply, "You know,
gentlemen, I do not understand your tongue. This is a strange and sad
affair. It will reassure me if you converse in the only speech I am
acquainted with."
Don Lazarillo shrugged his shoulders.
"My friend was merely expressing satisfaction at your visit," said Don
Christoval, loftily, yet without hauteur.
He turned to the door of the berth on the port or left-hand side of
the schooner, hesitated as though conquering an instant's irresolution
of mind, then turned the handle, motioning with his head that I should
enter.
The berth was a small one. It was comfortably, almost handsomely,
furnished after the style of the cabin in which the Spaniards lived;
but I had no eyes just then for the equipment of the box of a place.
The morning sun shone full upon the port-hole, and the little room
was hardly less brilliant with luster than the cabin from which I
had stepped. In a low, crimson velvet arm-chair was seated the lady
I had been invited to visit. She sat in the posture that had been
theatrically represented to me by Don Christoval. Her hands were
locked upon her knees, as though she had been suddenly arrested in the
act of rocking herself in a fit of wild grief; her head was bowed,
and her eyes were rooted to the deck. I stood surveying her for some
moments, but she never stirred; she did not appear to breathe. I did
not witness the least movement of her eyes, whose lids were fixed as
though, indeed, she were a figure of wax. She was dressed, or wrapped
rather, in a ruby-colored dressing-gown belonging, as I might suppose
by the gay style of it, to one of the Spaniards. The collar of this
gown came to her throat. I was unable to see whether she was still
appareled in ball attire. Handsome diamond drops hung motionless in
her ears, and her hands, from which the gloves had been removed,
sparkled with rings. There were three or four rings upon the third
finger of her left hand, but I did not observe that one of them was a
wedding ring. Her hair, that was of a dark red and very abundant, was
in great disorder, but the remains of the wreath, which I had noticed
on her when she lay upon the sofa, had been removed. The posture of
her head left something of her face undisclosed; what I saw of it did
not impress me as beautiful. Her eyebrows were lighter than her hair,
almost sandy; her cheeks and brow were colorless as marble; yet her
profile as I now witnessed it was not without delicacy, and I might
suppose that when all was well with her she would show as a pretty
woman. She looked the age Don Christoval had mentioned--twenty-two. Her
stature I could not imagine, and the dressing-gown concealed her figure.
Don Lazarillo approached in a tiptoe walk and stood in the doorway
staring at her.
"My dear one," said Don Christoval, faintly smiling and infusing into
his accents a note of sweetness I had heard on more than one occasion
in his voice, "I have brought Captain Portlack to see you. He is the
captain of this schooner. He is your countryman--a true Englishman.
Raise your eyes, my dear one, that you may see him," and thus speaking,
with grace inexpressible, he bent his fine form over her and pressed
his lips to her forehead.
Less of life could not have appeared in a statue.
"Speak to her," said Don Christoval, turning to me.
Behind us Don Lazarillo ejaculated in Spanish.
"How shall I address her?" said I, looking at the tall Spaniard.
He started, sent a glance of lightning rapidity at his friend,
reflected a moment, and then said, "Accost her as Miss Noble. By that
name she may remember herself. Ay, señor, call her Ida Noble."
I bit my lip, and, planting myself by a step in front of the lady, bent
my knee till my face was on a level with hers.
"Look at me, madame," said I. "I know you as Ida Noble. Look at me. I
am your countryman and your _friend_."
I pronounced the word "friend" with the utmost emphasis I could
communicate to it. She raised her eyes without altering the posture of
her head. They were of a soft brown, and the richer for the contrast of
her hair. I never could have imagined such eyes under eyebrows of so
pale a yellow as hers. She looked at me during a few beats of the pulse
steadfastly, and then smiled, but there was no meaning in her smile or
in her regard. A moment after she bent her eyes down again, and began
to sing; but the air was without music; the words which left her lips
half articulated were without sense.
"Valgame Dios!" cried Don Lazarillo.
She ceased to sing and set her lips again, and continued to gaze at the
deck without any signs of life, as before. I rose to my stature, and,
after watching her a while, said to Don Christoval, "I can do no good."
"You made her smile, Captain Portlack," said he, in a soft whisper.
I shook my head, stepped to the door, and passed into the cabin. The
others followed, Don Christoval closing the door behind him.
"I believe, with patience," said he, "that you could bring her mind
back to her."
"I am no doctor, gentlemen," said I. "I know nothing about the
treatment of the insane."
"What do 'ee say?" exclaimed Don Lazarillo.
"What a calamity to befall me!" cried Don Christoval, clasping his
hands and upturning his face with a look of wretchedness that certainly
was not counterfeited.
"Does she eat and drink?" said I.
"A little, just a little," he answered. "I put food in a plate on her
knee and leave her, and when I return a little is gone."
"Should she show no signs of mending, shall you persevere in this
voyage to Cuba, sir?"
"Certainly," he replied passionately, with a gesture like a blow.
I paused to hear if he had more to say. Finding him silent, I bowed
and went on deck. Butler stood at the rail abreast of the skylight.
Though his face habitually carried a sulky look, owing to the sour
expression into which the extremities of his mouth were curved, his was
a face to assure one on the whole that its owner was a good average
honest English sailor. I am not of those who believe that the character
is to be read in the face: but my own experience is, that I was never
yet deceived by a man to whom I had taken a liking because of his face.
Yet I admit that many honest souls, many excellent hearts, go through
the world with repellent countenances. Hence the unwisdom of judging by
the face.
I stepped up to Butler, and looking him in the eyes I exclaimed,
"Butler, I believe we have been cheated into the commission of a
gallows act by the lies of those two Spaniards down below in the cabin."
His intelligence was sluggish, and he looked at me with a gaze slow of
perception.
"I have just seen the lady," said I.
"Ha! and how is she a-doing, sir?"
"She is mad--undoubtedly driven mad by the outrage that has been
perpetrated upon her and hers."
"Tom was saying she was off her head, and why, 'cause he heard her
sing and laugh. Singing and laughing ain't no sign of madness. I asked
Mariana the question plain, and he says 'No' to it--'No,' in the
hearing of us all; but now you've seen her, sir, and she _is_ mad?"
"She is utterly mad. Mad as from a broken heart. She sits like a
figure-head, without a stir."
I paused. "She is no more Don Christoval's wife than I am," said I.
"Are you sure of that?" he cried, sharply.
"I have been almost sure of it for some time--I am quite sure of it
now."
He looked as alarmed as a man with strong bushy whiskers and a skin
veneered with mahogany by the weather could well appear. "How have ye
made sure, Mr. Portlack?"
"She has no wedding ring."
He chewed upon this and then said: "But a wedding ring ben't no
infallible sign of marriage, is it, sir? I've heered my mother say that
she once lost her wedding ring and was always going to buy another, but
didn't, and for years she went without a wedding ring, though father
was alive most of the time, and a perticlar man, too."
"If the lady below were a married woman she would wear a wedding ring,"
said I.
"Ay," said he, with a knowing look entering his eyes, "but suppose the
father had obliged the lady to take her wedding ring off? What more
natural, seeing how he was all agin the marriage?"
To this I could return no other answer than a shake of the head. He
eyed me with a small air of triumph.
"If there's nothing more to make ye doubt, Mr. Portlack," said he,
"than the want of a wedding ring on the lady's finger, I'm for allowing
that the Don's yarn's true."
As I had nothing more than suspicion to oppose to his desire to believe
in the story, I contented myself with saying: "You will find that I
am right, nevertheless. I shall go and get some breakfast, and will
relieve you in ten or twelve minutes."
I walked to the main-hatch, but he followed me. "Supposing it as you
say, sir," he inquired, "what 'ud be the consequences of the job to us
men?"
"Transportation for life."
He muttered something under his breath and then said, "And supposing
the lady to be his lawful wife, sir?"
"I am no lawyer," I answered, and dropped through the hatch.