Fort Diego was now all astir with preparations for our homeward
journey. The first care was to divide our vast booty between
ourselves and the Frenchmen; and I, being merchant to the expedition,
was so entirely occupied in this that I had no leisure to visit my
Señorita, of which it must be said I was secretly glad, for I knew
not how to approach her.
What little time I had, after my day's weighing and portioning and
scheduling was done, I spent in Harry's company. These hours of
extreme danger to which we had recently been exposed seemed to have
changed the whole world to us. In his gratitude for the poor service
I had sought to do him, in his joy to think how his wife still loved
him, he seemed to forget all the past and to hold no pleasure so high
as being in my company, that he might talk over the old happy days
and build plans for spending our new-won wealth, so as best to
delight her in the new happy days that were to come.
My joy would have been complete had it not been that there still hung
over my head the words which my Señorita had used when I bade her
farewell. Each hour I felt more keenly I must go to her and tell her
plainly that what she wished could never be. I had no doubt of that.
To me she was but a plaything. That I was more to her was a thing of
which I felt pure shame. I accepted all the blame of it, as a man
should. Yet however rightly he may look at it, the task is none the
lighter when that man has to go to a woman and tell her he loves her
not. The stoutest heart will feel a coward then.
It was not till the evening of the third day after our coming, when
the plunder was all divided, and we had dismissed our French consorts
with their share, that I found heart or leisure to approach her. As
I neared the ship where the prisoners dwelt, and which had been
hauled ashore for some time past, I could see her stretched lazily in
her hammock. It was fastened between the mast and the bough of a
tree which grew up hard by and spread its branches over the poop.
Here it was that she loved to take her _siesta_, since it was a cool
and shady place.
As I mounted the poop my discomfort at finding her alone, and at
knowing I could not now honestly avoid saying my say, was only
increased by her beauty, which never had seemed so great in my eyes.
Dressed in a soft loose robe of white, she lay back at full length in
her hammock, a picture of womanly grace. One white arm, on which her
head rested, was half buried in her lustrous hair. It had become
dishevelled in her sleep, and now fell in rich dark masses about her
face and neck, enhancing their dazzling whiteness like some frame of
ebony in which is set a magic crystal. Her soft cheeks were flushed
like those of a newly-wakened child, her ripe lips half parted, her
dark-fringed eyelids almost closed. Her other arm lay across her,
listlessly moving a fan of crimson feathers. Beyond that languid
movement there was no sign of life or motion in her, save the rise
and fall of the soft white robe as she drew her breath troublously,
like one who is deeply moved.
I could not choose but pause, fascinated by a picture whose luxuriant
beauty surpassed even the tangled tropic growth that formed its
background. But I was soon awakened from my dream, and that rudely
too. From behind the mast, where I could not see, came the deep
tones of a man's voice pleading very low and earnest. She did not
raise her eyes even then, but I could fancy she drew her breath more
hardly still.
I could not hear the words, and started quickly forward lest I
should. Of retreating I never once thought. My coward hesitation
was turned to something akin to anger by that half-heard voice, and
my only thought was to find out what bold man it was to whom my
Señorita gave such familiar audience.
She started as she saw me stride to her, but in a moment fell again
into her listless attitude, and looked languidly at the man behind
the mast. He started too, and I saw to my little ease it was Mr.
Oxenham. We stared hard and stiffly at each other, saying nothing.
He seemed disturbed by my coming, but hid his confusion by drawing
himself to his full height, and gently twisting his well-grown
moustache with one hand, while the other rested on his sword. So he
stood looking at me and waiting, with eyebrows raised superciliously.
'Has my worshipper no offering for his goddess?' said the Señorita's
musical voice. 'I expected something richer than silence after so
long an absence.'
'Nay, silence is golden,' said Mr. Oxenham mockingly. 'What would
you more? Mr. Festing brings his best.'
I know not whether it were self-love or love of her that made their
words hurt me so sore, but I know I had much ado to bridle my lips.
'Truly, Señorita,' said I, 'silence is the most precious offering I
have to give. Had I never laid on your altar aught less worthy than
that, methinks I should have been a more loyal worshipper.'
She met my gaze with her dark eyes wide open for a moment, and then
dropped them again with a strange little laugh.
'Save me, then,' she said, 'from loyal worshippers! Such barren
heretic ritual I call no-worship.'
'Name it as you will, lady,' I answered; 'my comfort must still be
that "no-worship" is better than sacrilege. If I cannot be a
worshipper, at least I will not profane the shrine.'
She flushed a little higher at this, and looked at me again, half
inquiring, half frightened, and then once more dropped her eyes.
'Was this what you came hither to say, false worshipper?' she said,
as though a little vexed.
'No, lady,' I answered; 'I had much to say, and I came to crave that
you would walk with me along the shore while I told my tale, but now
I think it needs no telling.'
'Shall he come with us, Señor?' she said to Mr. Oxenham, who still
stood twirling the end of his moustache.
'It is for my queen to command,' he said, 'whether I escort her or
not.'
'Then, my worshipper,' she said, after a moment's hesitation, 'for
this day your attendance is excused;' and with a queenly gesture she
held out her little hand for me to salute.
It was hard to be dismissed so, although an hour ago I should have
looked on any dismissal as the happiest thing that could befall me.
Now it angered me. It flashed across my mind to turn roughly away
from her, and refuse the caress she offered with such pretty
insolence. Yet I hold, however ill a woman may treat a man, yet
shall he never better his case by a rude behaviour toward her. So I
took the little hand in my fingers, and put it to my lips with
ceremonious courtesy, and so withdrew.
I turned round at the poop-ladder to descend, and was surprised to
see her gazing after me wistfully; but she looked away hurriedly when
she saw my eyes upon her, and laughed merrily at something, as I
suppose, that Mr. Oxenham said to her. I fancied her merriment
seemed to ring a little false; but maybe that was only my fancy.
My thoughts were very ill at ease as I sought my lodging. All had
gone as I wished. The bonds wherein I had suffered myself heedlessly
to be bound to her were unloosed. I was free, and that more easily
than I had thought; yet somehow I did not feel released, but rather
thrust out and cast away.
Harry came in to me later, and fell, as usual, to talking of the joy
of our return. Yet to-night it seemed wearisome to hear him. As he
pictured the pleasures of his coming life, of the untold joy of
living again at Ashtead with the wife whom he had lost a little while
and found again, my old library rose up ever in my mind, very cold
and dim and lonely, and I found it hard to share his content.
As I listened to him my long, low chamber, with its gloomy rows of
books, its uneasy settles, and its great stiff chair beside the
hearth, became a vivid picture to me, as though I saw it. Each
moment it grew more real and gloomy and lonely, till suddenly, I know
not how, I seemed to see the beautiful form of the Señorita glowing
in the great high-backed chair, and brightening the whole chamber
with her sunny presence.
I crushed the fancy as it rose, but to little purpose. Try as I
would, I could not choose but picture it again and again, not only as
Harry talked, but also afterwards as soon as I closed my eyes to
sleep. There she always was, in that long, low room, which ever was
to me the centre of my life, curled up so prettily in the grim old
chair that it seemed quite proud and happy to hold the sweet burden
in its rough old arms.
As my wife I pictured her there; but all the while I clearly saw what
folly it was. How could I, a scholar, wed a wayward piece of Eve's
flesh like that, with her wild temper, her empty little head, her
utter ignorance of all that made my life? In her whole nature there
was not a note to sound in harmony with me. It was a mad folly even
to think of it. I knew that; yet how she seemed to brighten the room
as she sat curled up in the great chair by the hearth!
With great vigour I threw myself into the work of preparation which
was going forward, in order that I might forget my foolish fancy.
There was plenty to do; for Frank had determined to thoroughly refit
and furnish our frigate from the _Pasha_, which ship, being much
worn, he purposed to give to the Spanish prisoners, that they might
go whither they would. It was then his intention to move with the
frigate and pinnaces to the Cabeças, and thence make an effort to
recover Captain Tetú and the treasure we had left in the care of the
land-crabs.
In spite of all my sharp reasoning with myself, I became each day
more wretched and distraught as our work neared completion and the
day for dismissing our prisoners approached. Yet I was resolved not
to see her.
'At her shrine,' I said ever to myself, 'I cannot worship; if I go to
her temple again it can only be for sacrilege.'
So I went not near her again. But Mr. Oxenham, I think, was
continually both on the ship and walking with my Señorita on the
shore and in the woods, till the time came for the prisoners
departing.
It was about a fortnight after our return from capturing the
_recuas_, when we had taken all we desired from the _Pasha_, and we
no longer feared any danger from our hiding-place being revealed,
that Frank announced to the prisoners that they were to be freed on
the morrow, and entertained them in the fort by way of taking leave.
That night I was captain of the watch. It was close on midnight, as
feeling very sad and lonely I was looking out over the land-locked
haven to where the _Pasha_ lay ready to sail on the morrow. The moon
was rising in great beauty over the dark foliage of the island, and
as it shed its light upon the peaceful waters I saw, to my surprise,
the _Pasha's_ gondola being rowed toward the shore.
I made quickly for the spot where it was likely to touch the beach,
telling the guard to stand by and listen well for my whistle, as I
suspected some design of the prisoners upon our treasure. Concealing
myself in the brakes close to the sea, I waited, and very soon heard
the boat grate on the stones. Then I stepped out to see what it
might mean; and no less welcome sight could my eyes have seen.
For there stood Mr. Oxenham helping the Señorita ashore. I knew it
was she, though for some reason I cannot tell she was dressed in the
sailor garb in which I had seen her the night of the Cimaroons'
attempt upon the prisoners. Whether those two had some wild scheme
of escape together, or whether she hoped to pass observation till Mr.
Oxenham could conceal her and carry her home in the vice-admiral,
which he was to command, I cannot tell.
Maybe it was only a romantic fancy of hers to attempt her escape in
this disguise, as she had heard of other women doing in old tales, or
maybe, knowing well how dazzling was her beauty in that array, she
thought thereby to charm her escort the more. This, indeed, I think
it did, for as he lifted her out of the boat with great tenderness, I
saw him kiss her very lovingly. Then all trace of love or respect
for her seemed to leave me, and I felt quite calm as I stepped
forward to do what seemed my plain duty, and passed them the
challenge.
'What! again?' said Mr. Oxenham fiercely. 'Why, what a meddler are
you, that have not heart to love a fair wench, and will yet prevent a
man that has!'
She started away from him when she saw me. Had she clung to him for
protection, I think I could hardly have kept as calm as I did.
'Love or no love, Mr. Oxenham,' said I, 'it is no matter of that
here. What you intend I know not, but it is against the general's
plain orders that any prisoner should leave the _Pasha_ before she
sails, and this lady I must see aboard again.''
'What a pestilent meddler it is!' muttered Mr. Oxenham, drawing his
sword. 'If you want her for your own, by heaven, you shall fight for
her.'
'Pray you be content, Mr. Oxenham,' I cried, giving ground, 'or I
must summon the guard. What madness is this?'
He pressed on so hard, crying fiercely to me to draw, that I saw an
encounter could not be avoided; yet I would not whistle for the
watch, half for her sake once more, seeing how she was clad and what
men would say of her, half for shame of seeking help after Mr.
Oxenham's blade was drawn on me.
Hoping the better to worst him without doing great hurt, I took my
cloak upon my left arm instead of my dagger and drew. He was coming
at me with his buckler advanced, and his sword uplifted for a
cross-blow like to the _mandritto sgualembrato_, but very
unscholarly. So I fell from my draw to the good ward _di testa_, as
Marozzo teaches, to receive his blow on my rapier, and hay!
straightway in _punta reversa_ threatened my _imbroccata_ at his
throat over his hand. He was cleverly ready for it with his buckler,
so I lowered my ward suddenly _lunga e larga_, and throwing a
resolute _staccato_, under his defence, compelled him to spring
backwards out of distance.
He came on again immediately with a good down-right fendant, as
though he would have broken my ward by main force. I avoided it by a
quick _passado_ to the right, pushing at the same time a _stoccata_
which he took again on his buckler. But it was only a feint of mine
to make him advance his defence, and so stop him recovering quickly.
It served its purpose well. For I was able to cast my cloak over his
blade before he could make his recovery, and so, passing my left leg
forward, I seized his sword by the hilt. At the same moment I
threatened an _imbroccata_ at his face, and while he raised his
buckler to bear my thrust, gave his hilt-points such a mighty wrench
with my left that, seeing he had not the Italian grip, I was able to
tear his sword from his grasp.
It was no fair encounter. He was a pretty swordsman at the old
swashing sword and buckler play, but having been at sea all his
manhood he had never had occasion to learn the new fence as I had,
and would not, I think, if he had been able, for, like most
Englishmen of that time, he greatly despised it. I could not but be
sorry for him to see him stand at my mercy, as he now did, nor could
I resent his angry words.
'Curse on your foining Italian birdspit play,' said he savagely as I
returned him his sword. 'Curse on your skewer scullion tricks. Did
you fight like a man, you should not have won her. Still won her you
have, and by that I abide. Take her, and rest you merry with your
light-o'-love.'
With that he took his sword, and, with a mocking salute to the
Señorita, strode rapidly away. I looked for no less in him. For in
all points of arms I had ever found him a most precise gentleman, and
had no doubt, since he was worsted, he would honourably leave the
field to me. So I slowly went to where my Señorita's fairy form
leaned against the boat.
'Lady,' said I, 'think not I deal hardly with you, but at a word you
must indeed go back.'
'No, no, Gasparo,' she said, sinking on her knees before me. 'Take
me, for the love of Mary, take me, since you have gloriously won me.
Indeed I do not love him. I did but use him to play upon your love
and make it grow as great as mine. Tell me not I have killed it. I
did but go with him because he promised to deliver me from my misery.
It was only that I hoped to win you at last.'
'Peace, peace, lady, as you value your honour,' said I, at my wits'
end how to keep my resolution. 'This thing cannot be. The general
would never suffer you to abide with us. It could only end in strife
and dishonour. Indeed you must go back.'
'Oh, Gasparo,' she pleaded, clasping my knees, 'you know not what you
do. You love me, and know it not. You love me, and send me back to
my misery, when we might know such joy together. You cannot tell
what it is you condemn me to. You cannot tell the horror of a
woman's life when she is wedded to one she loathes.'
'Wedded?' cried I, aghast.
'Yes,' she answered wildly. 'Have pity on me. Do not hate me for
it. I did not tell you, nor did the others, because I pleaded with
my father to pass for unwed, that I might the better win favour for
them. So I said, but in truth it was that I might taste the joys I
had never known. I was hardly out of childhood ere they wedded me to
an old man for his wealth. He was bitter and cruel and ugly, an ape
that I loathed. Yet I had no respite from his detested presence till
he went to Lima on his affairs. Afterwards he wrote for me to join
him. I was on my way thither when you captured me, and at last I saw
my occasion to know for once what it was to be wooed. Oh Gasparo,
hate me not for it, but rather pity me. I am beautiful; I know it.
I was made for men to love, yet never knew what it was to be wooed by
one true man. Pity me and have mercy. I cannot go back now.'
Horror-struck to find, as it were, that my sin had followed me even
to that far island in the West, where at least I might have hoped to
be free, my courage almost forsook me. A destiny, such as one short
year ago I might have laughed at as the last to be mine, seemed now
for ever fastened upon me. Once more I grasped the hilt of Harry's
sword for strength, and then firmly took the little hands in mine and
freed myself.
She stood up before me then, gazing in sad entreaty in my face as I
implored her to go back. I showed her how, even were I willing to do
as she wished, Frank would never permit it. I tried, as well as I
could for shame, to show her how great was the sin she would bring
upon her soul.
'It is hopeless,' she said as I ceased. 'I see it is hopeless to
move you. I must even return to the misery you have made doubly hard
to bear. Farewell, Gasparo, farewell.'
She held out her hand to me as she spoke. I took it coldly, my other
hand on my sword. But that was not the end. With a sudden wild
impulse she flung her arms about me, and my lips were tingling with
one last passionate kiss. She had sprung into the boat and pushed
off ere I hardly knew what she had done.
'So, faint heart,' she cried, as she stood up beautiful in the
moonlight, 'so I set my sign upon you. When another comes to whom
you would give what you deny to me, may she taste my kiss still
lingering there and learn, though you know it not, that you have
loved before.'
With difficulty she rowed herself back to the ship. I watched her
shapely figure grow less and less across the moonlit water, till she
was lost behind the dark hull, and I was alone once more.