_How we lost our poor Moll, and our long search for her._
We reached Alicante the 15th March, after a long, tedious voyage. During
this time I had ample opportunity for observing Moll, but with little
relief to my gloomy apprehensions. She rarely quitted her father's side,
being now as sympathetic and considerate of him in his sufferings, as
before she had been thoughtless and indifferent. She had ever a gentle
word of encouragement for him; she was ever kind and patient. Only once
her spirit seemed to weary: that was when we had been beating about in
the bay of Cadiz four days, for a favourable gale to take us through the
straits. We were on deck, she and I, the sails flapping the masts idly
above our heads.
"Oh," says she, laying her hand on my shoulder, and her wasted cheek
against my arm, "oh, that it were all ended!"
She was sweeter with me than ever she had been before; it seemed as if
the love bred in her heart by marriage must expend itself upon some one.
But though this tenderness endeared her more to me, it saddened me, and
I would have had her at her tricks once more, making merry at my
expense. For I began to see that our happiness comes from within and not
from without, and so fell despairing that ever this poor stricken heart
of hers would be healed, which set me a-repenting more sincerely than
ever the mischief I had helped to do her.
Dawson also, despite his stubborn disposition to see things as he would
have them, had, nevertheless, some secret perception of the incurable
sorrow which she, with all her art, could scarce dissimulate. Yet he
clung to that fond belief in a return of past happiness, as if 'twere
his last hope on earth. When at last our wind sprang up, and we were
cutting through the waters with bending masts and not a crease in the
bellied sails, he came upon deck, and spreading his hands out, cries in
joy:
"Oh, this blessed sunlight! There is nought in the world like it--no,
not the richest wine--to swell one's heart with content."
And then he fell again to recalling our old adventures and mirthful
escapades. He gave the rascals who fetched us ashore a piece more than
they demanded, hugely delighted to find they understood his Spanish and
such quips as he could call to mind. Then being landed, he falls to
extolling everything he sees and hears, calling upon Moll to justify his
appreciation; nay, he went so far as to pause in a narrow street where
was a most unsavoury smell, to sniff the air and declare he could scent
the oranges in bloom. And Lord! to hear him praise the whiteness of the
linen, the excellence of the meat and drink set before us at the posada,
one would have said he had never before seen clean sheets or tasted
decent victuals.
Seeing that neither Moll nor I could work ourselves up (try as we might)
to his high pitch of enthusiasm, he was ready with an excuse for us.
"I perceive," says he, "you are still suffering from your voyage.
Therefore, we will not quit this town before to-morrow" (otherwise I
believe he would have started off on our expedition as soon as our meal
was done). "However," adds he, "do you make enquiry, Kit, if you can get
yourself understood, if there be ever a bull to be fought to-day or any
diversion of dancing or play-acting to-night, that the time hang not too
heavy on our hands."
As no such entertainments were to be had (this being the season of Lent,
which is observed very strictly in these parts), Dawson contented
himself with taking Moll out to visit the shops, and here he speedily
purchased a pair of clappers for her, a tambour for himself, and a
guitar for me, though we were difficult to please, for no clappers
pleased Moll as those she had first bought; and it did seem to me that I
could strike no notes out of any instrument but they had a sad, mournful
tone.
Then nothing would satisfy him but to go from one draper's to another,
seeking a short petticoat, a waist-cloth, and a round hat to Moll's
taste, which ended to his disappointment, for she could find none like
the old.
"Why, don't you like this?" he would say, holding up a gown; "to my eyes
'tis the very spit of t'other, only fresher."
And she demurring, whispers, "To-morrow, dear, to-morrow," with
plaintive entreaty for delay in her wistful eyes. Disheartened, but not
yet at the end of his resources, her father at last proposed that she
should take a turn through the town alone and choose for herself. "For,"
says he, "I believe we do rather hinder than help you with our advice in
such matters."
After a moment's reflection, Moll agreed to this, and saying she would
meet us at the posada for supper, left us, and walked briskly back the
way we had come.
When she was gone, Dawson had never a word to say, nor I either, for
dejection, yet, had I been questioned, I could have found no better
reason for my despondency than that I felt 'twas all a mistake coming
here for happiness.
Strolling aimlessly through the narrow back ways, we came presently to
the market that stands against the port. And here, almost at the first
step, Dawson catches my arm and nods towards the opposite side of the
market-place. Some Moors were seated there in their white clothes, with
bundles of young palm leaves, plaited up in various forms of crowns,
crosses, and the like,--which the people of this country do carry to
church to be blessed on Palm Sunday; and these Moors I knew came from
Elche, because palms grow nowhere else in such abundance.
"Yes," says I, thinking 'twas this queer merchandise he would point out,
"I noticed these Moors and their ware when we passed here a little while
back with Moll."
"Don't you see her there now--at the corner?" asks he.
Then, to my surprise, I perceived Moll in very earnest conversation with
two Moors, who had at first screened her from my sight.
"Come away," continues he. "She left us to go back and speak to them,
and would not have us know."
Why should she be secret about this trifling matter, I asked myself.
'Twas quite natural that, if she recognised in these Moors some old
acquaintance of Elche, she should desire to speak them.
We stole away to the port; and seating ourselves upon some timber, there
we looked upon the sea nigh upon half an hour without saying a word.
Then turning to me, Dawson says: "Unless she speak to us upon this
matter, Kit, we will say nought to her. But, if she say nothing, I shall
take it for a sign her heart is set upon going back to Elche, and she
would have it a secret that we may not be disheartened in our other
project."
"That is likely enough," says I, not a little surprised by his
reasoning. But love sharpens a man's wit, be it never so dull.
"Nevertheless," continues he, "if she can be happier at Elche than
elsewhere, then must we abandon our scheme and accept hers with a good
show of content. We owe her that, Kit."
"Aye, and more," says I.
"Then when we meet to-morrow morning, I will offer to go there, as if
'twas a happy notion that had come to me in my sleep, and do you back me
up with all the spirit you can muster."
So after some further discussion we rose, and returned to our posada,
where we found Moll waiting for us. She told us she had found no clothes
to her liking (which was significant), and said not a word of her
speaking to the Moors in the market-place, so we held our peace on these
matters.
We did not part till late that night, for Moll would sit up with us,
confessing she felt too feverish for sleep; and indeed this was apparent
enough by her strange humour, for she kept no constant mood for five
minutes together. Now, she would sit pensive, paying no heed to us, with
a dreamy look in her eyes, as if her thoughts were wandering far
away--to her husband in England maybe; then she would hang her head as
though she dared not look him in the face even at that distance; and
anon she would recover herself with a noble exaltation, lifting her head
with a fearless mien. And so presently her body drooping gradually to a
reflective posture, she falls dreaming again, to rouse herself suddenly
at some new prompting of her spirit, and give us all her thoughts, all
eagerness for two moments, all melting sweetness the next, with her
pretty manner of clinging to her father's arm, and laying her cheek
against his shoulder. And when at last we came to say good-night, she
hangs about his neck as if she would fain sleep there, quitting him with
a deep sigh and a passionate kiss. Also she kissed me most
affectionately, but could say never a word of farewell to either of
us--hurrying to her chamber to weep, as I think.
We knew not what to conclude from these symptoms, save that she might be
sickening of some disorder; so we to our beds, very down in the mouth
and faint at heart.
About six the next morning I was awoke by the door bursting suddenly
open, and starting up in my bed, I see Dawson at my side, shaking in
every limb, and his eyes wide with terror.
"Moll's gone!" cries he, and falls a-blubbering.
"Gone!" says I, springing out of bed. "'Tis not possible."
"She has not lain in her bed; and one saw her go forth last night as the
doors were closing, knowing her for a foreigner by her hood. Come with
me," adds he, laying his hand on a chair for support. "I dare not go
alone."
"Aye, I'll go with ye, Jack; but whither?"
"Down to the sea," says he, hoarsely.
I stopped in the midst of dressing, overcome by this fearful hint; for,
knowing Moll's strong nature, the thought had never occurred to me that
she might do away with herself. Yet now reflecting on her strange manner
of late, especially her parting with us overnight, it seemed not so
impossible neither. For here, seeing the folly of our coming hither,
desponding of any happiness in the future, was the speediest way of
ending a life that was burdensome to herself and a constant sorrow to
us. Nay, with her notions of poetic justice drawn from plays, she may
have regarded this as the only atonement she could make her husband; the
only means of giving him back freedom to make a happier choice in
marriage. With these conclusions taking shape, I shuffled on my clothes,
and then, with shaking fear, we two, hanging to each other's arms for
strength, made our way through the crooked streets to the sea; and
there, seeing a group of men and women gathered at the water's edge some
little distance from us, we dared not go further, conceiving 'twas a
dead body they were regarding. But 'twas only a company of fishers
examining their haul of fishes, as we presently perceived. So, somewhat
cheered, we cast our eyes to the right and left, and, seeing nothing to
justify our fears, advanced along the mole to the very end, where it
juts out into the sea, with great stones around to break the surf. Here,
then, with deadly apprehensions, we peered amongst the rocks, holding
our breath, clutching tight hold of one another by the hand, in terror
of finding that we so eagerly searched,--a hood, a woman's skirt
clinging to the stones, a stiffened hand thrust up from the lapping
waters. Never may I forget the sickening horror of the moment when,
creeping out amidst the rocks, Dawson twitches my hand, and points down
through the clear water to something lying white at the bottom. It
looked for all the world like a dead face, coloured a greenish white by
the water; but presently we saw, by one end curling over in the swell of
a wave, that 'twas only a rag of paper.
Then I persuaded Dawson to give up this horrid search, and return to our
posada, when, if we found not Moll, we might more justly conclude she
had gone to Elche, than put an end to her life; and though we could
learn nothing of her at our inn, more than Dawson had already told me,
yet our hopes were strengthened in the probability of finding her at
Elche by recollecting her earnest, secret conversation with the Moors,
who might certainly have returned to Elche in the night, they preferring
that time for their journey, as we knew. So, having hastily snatched a
repast, whilst our landlord was procuring mules for our use, we set off
across the plain, doing our best to cheer each other on the way. But I
confess one thing damped my spirits exceedingly, and that was, having no
hint from Moll the night before of this project, which then must have
been fully matured in her mind, nor any written word of explanation and
encouragement. For, thinks I, she being no longer a giddy, heedless
child, ready to play any prank without regard to the consequences, but a
very considerate, remorseful woman, would not put us to this anxiety
without cause. Had she resolved to go to her friends at Elche, she
would, at least, have comforted us with the hope of meeting her again;
whereas, this utter silence did point to a knowledge on her part that we
were sundered for ever, and that she could give us no hope, but such as
we might glean from uncertainty.
Arriving at Elche, we made straight for the house of the merchant, Sidi
ben Ahmed, with whose family Moll had been so intimate previously. Here
we were met by Sidi himself, who, after laying his fingers across his
lips, and setting his hand upon his heart, in token of recognition and
respect, asked us very civilly our business, though without any show of
surprise at seeing us. But these Moors do pride themselves upon a stoic
behaviour at all times, and make it a point to conceal any emotion they
may feel, so that men never can truly judge of their feelings.
Upon explaining our circumstances as well as our small knowledge of the
tongue allowed us, he makes us a gesture of his open hands, as if he
would have us examine his house for ourselves, to see that she was not
hid away there for any reason, and then calling his servants, he bids
them seek through all the town, promising them a rich reward if they
bring any tidings of Lala Mollah. And while this search was being made,
he entertained us at his own table, where we recounted so much of our
miserable history as we thought it advisable he should know.
One by one the servants came in to tell that they had heard nothing,
save that some market-men had seen and spoken with Moll at Alicante, but
had not clapt eyes on her since. Not content with doing us this service,
the merchant furnished us with fresh mules, to carry us back to
Alicante, whither we were now all eagerness to return, in the hope of
finding Moll at the posada. So, travelling all night, we came to our
starting-place the next morning, to learn no tidings of our poor Moll.
We drew some grain of comfort from this; for, it being now the third day
since the dear girl had disappeared, her body would certainly have been
washed ashore, had she cast herself, as we feared, in the sea. It
occurred to us that if Moll were still living, she had either returned
to England, or gone to Don Sanchez at Toledo, whose wise counsels she
had ever held in high respect. The former supposition seemed to me the
better grounded; for it was easy to understand how, yearning for him
night and day, she should at length abandon every scruple, and throw
herself at his feet, reckless of what might follow. 'Twas not
inconsistent with her impulsive character, and that more reasonable view
of life she had gained by experience, and the long reflections on her
voyage hither. And that which supported my belief still more was that a
fleet of four sail (as I learnt) had set forth for England the morning
after our arrival. So now finding, on enquiry, that a carrier was to set
out for Toledo that afternoon, I wrote a letter to Don Sanchez, telling
him the circumstances of our loss, and begging him to let us know, as
speedily as possible, if he had heard aught of Moll. And in this letter
I enclosed a second, addressed to Mr. Godwin, having the same purport,
which I prayed Don Sanchez to send on with all expedition, if Moll were
not with him.
And now, having despatched these letters, we had nothing to do but to
await a reply, which, at the earliest, we could not expect to get before
the end of the week--Toledo being a good eighty English leagues distant.
We waited in Alicante four days more, making seven in all from the day
we lost Moll; and then, the suspense and torment of inactivity becoming
insupportable, we set out again for Elche, the conviction growing strong
upon us, with reflection, that we had little to hope from Don Sanchez.
And we resolved we would not go this time to Sidi ben Ahmed, but rather
seek to take him unawares, and make enquiry by more subtle means, we
having our doubts of his veracity. For these Moors are not honest liars
like plain Englishmen, who do generally give you some hint of their
business by shifting of their eyes this way and that, hawking,
stammering, etc., but they will ever look you calmly and straight in the
face, never at a loss for the right word, or over-anxious to convince
you, so that 'twill plague a conjurer to tell if they speak truth or
falsehood. And here I would remark, that in all my observations of men
and manners, there is no nation in the world to equal the English, for a
straightforward, pious, horse-racing sort of people.
Well, then, we went about our search in Elche with all the slyness
possible, prying here and there like a couple of thieves a-robbing a
hen-roost, and putting cross-questions to every simple fellow we
met,--the best we could with our small knowledge of their tongue,--but
all to no purpose, and so another day was wasted. We lay under the palms
that night, and in the morning began our perquisition afresh; now
hunting up and down the narrow lanes and alleys of the town, as we had
scoured those of Alicante, in vain, until, persuaded of the uselessness
of our quest, we agreed to return to Alicante, in the hope of finding
there a letter from Don Sanchez. But (not to leave a single stone
unturned), we settled we would call once again on Sidi ben Ahmed, and
ask if he had any tidings to give us, but, openly, feeling we were no
match for him at subterfuge. So, to his house we went, where we were
received very graciously by the old merchant, who, chiding us gently for
being in the neighbourhood a whole day without giving him a call, prayed
us to enter his unworthy parlour, adding that we should find there a
friend who would be very pleased to see us.
At this, my heart bounded to such an extent that I could utter never a
word (nor could Dawson either), for I expected nothing less than to find
this friend was our dear Moll; and so, silent and shaking with feverish
anticipation, we followed him down the tiled passage and round the inner
garden of his house by the arcade, till we reached a doorway, and there,
lifting aside the heavy hangings, he bade us enter. We pushed by him in
rude haste, and then stopped of a sudden, in blank amazement; for, in
place of Moll, whom we fully thought to find, we discovered only Don
Sanchez, sitting on some pillows gravely smoking a Moorish chibouk.
"My daughter--my Moll!" cries Dawson, in despair. "Where is she?"
"By this time," replies Don Sanchez, rising, "your daughter should be in
Barbary."