discipline. They came to it, however," and he smiled faintly. "It is
a long story, De Lysle, a long story!--too long to tell at this time.
I am done with the business, now. I should have quit a year ago. I
had made enough, for the present, and it is poor sport, anyway--there
is too much blood-letting in it. If I get out of this fix, Long-Sword
vanishes forever. I will go home, and live decently. You would better
follow my example, De Lysle."
"Not at present, thank you; may be, not at all."
The other looked at him and laughed.
"You are visiting at the--Hedgely Hall, are you?" he asked.
Parkington nodded.
"And there is an eligible daughter?"
Another nod.
"I think I comprehend. And you saw and recognized me, while the master
of the house was arranging the terms of a ransom. By the Lord! I wonder
what became of the gold?--you might take it, yourself, if it has not
been picked up. It must be at the landing, somewhere."
"The ransom was found by Captain Jamison, and returned to Marbury,"
Parkington explained.
"Well, it is a pity. It would have come handy, I reckon. But, if you
get the girl, you will get the money, too. Tell me, did you have this
scheme in mind, when you left England?--No--and has your change of name
anything to do with it?"
"Damn the change of name!" said Parkington. "It complicates
everything, and I do not know how to get rid of it."
"Parkington?--Parkington?--Was not he a friend of Baltimore--one of his
women chasers?"
"The same;" and told him, briefly, the story of the wreck, the letters,
and the substitution.
Brandon laughed. "And, now, the girl intervenes? I do not see how you
can manage it and remain in the Colony. Better give her up and continue
your travels.--You are not in love with her?"
"Lord! no!"
"And she?"
"Is not either."
"Then you have only your powers as lady-killer, and being an
Englishman, to win out with. Man! man! you better abandon the damsel
and move on. It may be pleasant sport, but it is too dangerous."
A heavy step crossed the deck and the door opened, to admit the skipper.
"Sir Edward, I am sent by Mr. Marbury to ask if you would care to
look over the ship with him. There is much of interest, I can assure
you--these pirates were queer gatherers. Hey, Long-Sword?"
Brandon was not inclined to answer, but Parkington gave him a quick
look, and, instantly, he understood. Here was the chance to pick
Jamison's pocket, and to give him the key without having to return to
the cabin. They must take the opportunity.
"Yes--that they were!" said he. "We sailed many seas and encountered
many ships, and they all paid toll. I am sorry we have not aboard all
that we gathered--of gold and silver, jewels and women. It is a rare
life, skipper, a rare life! Sometime, the fever may catch you, and,
then, hey for the Jolly Roger, and farewell to the merchantman."
"Bosh! You are talking to hear yourself talk, Long-Sword," said
Jamison. "Your end is going to be enough to keep me straight, even if
I want to go wrong. No Jolly Roger for mine, thank God! Sometimes, it
pays almost as well to catch a pirate as to be one."
"It pays better in this case," said Brandon, laughing. "What is the
reward for me?"
He saw his friend's fingers steal in to the skipper's breeches
pocket--and come out empty.
"A thousand guineas!--oh, you are rated high in the profession--right
at the top! I calculate, with my share of the prize money and the
reward, to settle down in Annapolis, and cruise no more." (Parkington
crossed the cabin, idly, to the other side, then stopped close by
Jamison.) "Of course, I'll have my barge, and a couple of blacks to
row it, and a small schooner to sail the Bay, just to keep my hand
and voice in. Oh! it's lucky for me, that I came up the Patuxent this
morning, and didn't delay along the Coast until noon!" (The skipper
was standing with his thumbs under his armpits, his chest thrown out,
his head in the air--his pockets invitingly open.)
"Honesty gains its own reward," said Parkington, slyly slipping in his
hand. "Captain Jamison will be an honored citizen of Annapolis, while
you, Long-Sword, will be nothing but a bloody memory." (The hand came
out, and the key was in it.) "'Tis small profit at the best this being
a pirate, and cannot be for long. When the end comes, there is naught
remains but to die bravely."
Brandon heaved a sigh of resignation. "I will die game, never fear," he
said.
"Oh, it is entirely your concern, how you die!" laughed Parkington. "If
you leave it to the mob, the more you cringe and pray the more they
will yell."
He took out his snuff box, and extended it to him.
"Yes, thank you!" said Brandon. "You are very kind, indeed."
Parkington crossed to the bunk, thereby throwing himself between the
skipper and the prisoner, and with his back to the former. When he
stepped aside, the key was in the other's possession.
"Thank you, monsieur, thank you, heartily," said Brandon--"it is
delicious, delicious! May I impose on you for another pinch--I lost my
box during the fight?"
Parkington handed him the box, and, this time, he was careful to stand
so that the skipper could see distinctly.
"Accept it as a gift," said he. "As a slight return for an hour
pleasantly spent.--Nay, I insist; I must to Mr. Marbury, so permit me
to wish you, sir, a very good morning."
And with a bow and a smile, he preceded the skipper to the deck.
"Nerve, hasn't he?" said the skipper. "One would never know he has a
broken collar-bone, and heavy irons on his legs."
"He will die like a gentleman."
"He confided in you, sir?" Jamison asked, eagerly.
"No--that is the last thing a gentleman would do. He was Long-Sword
when taken, he will die as Long-Sword. When do you sail for Annapolis?"
"To-morrow--as soon as the inventory is completed.--She is not as rich,
sir, as I anticipated, but there will be a plenty, sir, a plenty."
"Ha, Sir Edward, this is a peculiar proceeding--taking account of a
pirate ship," said Marbury. "I don't know the law of such prizes, but
I'll be on the safe side; no King's deputy is going to pick things over
without any one to check him."
"A wise precaution, and an interesting transaction,--in fact, a
wholly enjoyable occasion," Parkington answered. "Jewels, money, gay
apparel,--everything to appeal to one. You have got well into it, I
see," pointing to the deck.
"We have finished it, so far as such things are concerned--that is, we
have finished the collecting. They must have lately buried or spent
their ill-gotten gains; this is the gatherings of only a comparatively
short time, I think.
"For these things make us duly thankful!" laughed Parkington.
"Oh! I am not complaining, and neither, I fancy, is Jamison. I am
satisfied--more than satisfied. Here is a diamond brooch, worth at
least five hundred pistoles--and another--and another. They were in
Long-Sword's cabin. And this bezelled ruby, equally as valuable; and
this emerald, bigger than the others, I know not the worth of. There is
much gold and silver, too, and many rings and--well, I should put it
all at twenty thousand pounds, though half may be too much. Then, there
is the ship itself--and Jamison and the crew have the reward to boot.
Oh, he can leave the sea, and settle down, if he is so minded."
Parkington looked down at the pile of plunder at his feet. Marbury had
been modest in his estimate, he knew. It may, as he said, have been
the pickings of a short cruise, but it was a rich prize, then, that
they had gathered. There were jewels of many kinds and many sizes,
other than the few Marbury had enumerated. Dozens of pearls, and
sapphires, rubies and diamonds--set in rings, and singly--encrusted in
daggers, and swords, and fans. Great heaps of stuffs: silks and laces,
tapestries and damaskins.
"Mr. Marbury's valuation is much too low," said he, looking at Jamison.
"Do you think so, sir? Well, the bigger the value the better." He
plunged his hands into his breeches pocket and squared away. "I do
not--Why, where, in hell, is the key!" he cried.
"What key!" demanded Marbury.
"The key to the irons--Long-Sword's irons; I had it an hour ago--here,
in my pocket!--I----"
"Then you, doubtless, lost it in the confusion of gathering all this
plunder," said Parkington.
"And it is no great matter, anyway," Marbury remarked. "You don't
intend to remove the irons, so long as Long-Sword is in your custody,
do you?"
"No, most assuredly not!"
"Then the Annapolis authorities can cut them off at their leisure, if
they have not a key. They are locked on now, which is the essential
thing."
"How do you suppose I lost it? I----"
"Never mind how you lost it," said Marbury, impatiently. "You have got
the man, so nothing else matters. I want to finish the inventory, and
get back to the house. Sir Edward, do not let me keep you, if you wish
to return.--You have had your talk with Long-Sword?"
"Yes--and you are right--he is well born, though, of course, as to
that, he kept silent. He was ready enough, however, to talk over his
pirate days--he recognizes the inevitable and accepts it. There will be
no snivelling from him, I think."
"He may be a pirate, but to my mind, he is pretty much of a man.
Jamison, let Sir Edward be put ashore."
"Well, it is up to Brandon, now," Parkington reflected as he stepped
from the boat, at the landing, and turned toward the house. "And,
unless I am not much mistaken, there will be a pirate chief missing,
in the morning. And, pray God, he wins out! Who would have thought Sir
Charles Brandon would ever have become a buccaneer? He was the gayest
of us all, until, one evening, he surprised his wife in his friend's
arms. He killed the friend at the next day-break, then disappeared;
we never saw him more! And to think, that Long-Sword the Corsair is
he! Long-Sword! they named him well--there was not a man, in all
England, who could stand up before him with a hope of success. Many
is the trick of fence he has taught me--and other tricks, as well. I
would I could help him more--yet, I have done all I can. The couple of
guineas, I concealed in the snuff-box, may be of assistance; I could
manage no more. That devil of a skipper came a bit too soon." ... He
walked a little way, in silent meditation. Then shook himself, like
one throwing off a spell. "High ho! I am becoming morbid. When the
devil drives, the road is apt to be a trifle rough, in spots. Brandon's
fortunes are his own--I must not let them affect me.... To marry or not
to marry?--to make the maid care for me or not?--and whether the maid
can be made to care or not?--that is the question. And, more important
still, shall I or shall I not doff the masquerade? Poof! I am growing
childish--I cannot make up my mind. To-morrow--to-morrow--to-morrow!
To-morrow is another day!--but, to-morrow never comes! Bah! I will
decide _to-day_!"
XII
MAYNADIER'S DREAM
The ladies came back from Rose Hill, just before supper, accompanied by
Mr. Richard Maynadier and Mr. Bordley, who had stopped the night with
him.
It was to the calm and peaceful Hedgely Hall of yesterday, that they
returned, not the one of turmoil and stress, which they had left that
morning. There were no traces of a struggle around the place; the
grounds were as usual, the house as usual, the servants as usual. The
only evidence that remained, were the scars on the rear door, and even
those had been almost obliterated.
"It is all a fairy tale!" laughed Richard Maynadier, "this wonderful
story of pirates, and ransom, and their chief being in manners a
gentleman, bowing and scraping as though he were doing the minuet. I do
not believe a word of it."
"No one asked you to believe it!" retorted Miss Marbury, with a toss of
her head, "and, what is more, no one cares whether you do or whether
you do not."
"You said that as if you meant it," said Maynadier with an amused
smile, "and you said it very prettily, Judith,--but can you assume to
answer for all your party?"
"You know perfectly well that 'no one' is equivalent to I," she
answered, with another toss.
"Then I is equivalent to no one, and no one comprehends any one, and
any one comprehends every one, and every one----"
"Dick!" she cried: "Stop it! stop it!"
"Stop what?"
"Winding yourself into a ball."
"I thought I was deducing a fact."
"Well, stop it! Besides, I do not care for the fact--and neither do I
care for you, sir."
"Is _that_ a fact?" he asked.
"It is," she answered. "Very much a fact."
"Are you sure--quite sure?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Because, if you are----"
"Yes?" she inflected.
"I will be obliged to----"
"You will be obliged to what?"
"To modify my opinion of----"
"Your opinion does not concern me," she said indifferently.
"So, I assumed; but, nevertheless, I modify it in regard to the
pirates. I accept everything you tell, absolutely--the pirate chief and
all his mannerisms, included.--Now, do you care for me?"
"You are sincere--you believe it, every word?"
"Every word," he averred.
"Well, in that event, I may care for you to-morrow."
"And to-day--this evening?"
She shook her head. "No--you must pay penalty for a little while. I am
going to give this evening to Sir Edward Parkington," she said, as he
swung her out of the saddle, and added: "He, I know, cares." Then ran
hurriedly up the steps, and into the house.
Richard Maynadier hastily turned the horses over to a groom, and made
to follow her, reconsidered, and went on to the library.
This was a new twist in her character, savoring more of the spoiled
beauty, than of the equal-tempered Judith he had known. And he was not
so sure that he did not like it. She had the beauty to justify it, the
poise to make it alluring--and the wealth to make it permissible, even
if she had neither of the other two.
"I might almost, if I were a younger man," he reflected, "think she was
trying to make a fool of me, or else was in love with me. But, as I can
not think either, she must just be trying her hand on the old friend,
who will not misunderstand. Sir Edward Parkington!--'he, I know,
cares!' Well, my lady, do not presume with him too far. He is one, I
fancy, who is apt to take whatever comes his way."
At supper, Parkington was placed at her right and Herford on the left,
and he observed that the former exerted his privilege, and monopolized
the conversation. Herford, several times, tried to break in, but was
always manoeuvred out of it; and, presently, with a somewhat bad grace,
he gave over, and, thereafter, Parkington had it all his own way.
And Judith seemed to encourage him, at least, she did nothing to
discourage; she was blindly oblivious to Herford's efforts, gave him
no assistance, and welcomed Sir Edward back into the talk with almost
flattering eagerness. Whereat, Maynadier was puzzled, and a trifle
surprised. Here, also, was a new twist in her character.
A little later, when he was strolling alone down the avenue, he was
joined by Herford, who, after a few minutes' talk, said bluntly:
"Maynadier, am I right in supposing you have no particular interest in
Sir Edward Parkington?"
"What do you intend by 'particular interest'?" asked Maynadier.
"Friendship--friendship as distinguished from acquaintanceship."
"If you mean, am I an acquaintance rather than a friend of Sir Edward
Parkington, I should say, yes."
"Then you have no objection, if I speak plainly?"
"None whatever," said Maynadier. "I am not his sponsor, and neither am
I responsible for what you say."
Herford nodded. "Did it ever strike you that there is something queer
about him?" he asked.
"No, it did not. On the contrary, I think that he is possessed of
faculties far above the ordinary."
"I expressed myself poorly," said Herford. "I meant that he is not what
he seems."
Maynadier was silent.
"There is something about him which raises a doubt," Herford went on.
"A doubt as to his personality, or a doubt as to his good repute?"
asked Maynadier.
"As to the latter," was the sneering reply, "he is a friend of
Baltimore--which is sufficient to put him under a standing suspicion.
As to his personality, I do not mean that he is _not_ Sir Edward
Parkington--his letters were entirely regular--but that he is playing a
part. He does not ring true. I cannot tell just what it is, Maynadier,
but it is. How does he impress you?"
"No! no! Herford," said Maynadier. "I did not engage to swap
confidences with you, concerning Sir Edward Parkington. All I said was
that _you_ might speak plainly concerning him, if you so wished."
"I do not ask for your confidence," said Herford. "I recognize that you
are of the Council, and may know matters which are not for us----"
"The Council has no information whatever, concerning Sir Edward,"
Maynadier interrupted.
"Which goes to show that he is not an agent of the government."
("Which goes to show nothing of the sort," thought Maynadier.)
"And that he is here solely on his own account. As I said, I do not
know what makes me suspicious, but I am. Did you notice him with Miss
Marbury--ever since we came here, it has been going on--but especially
to-night. He has fascinated her."
"Oh! I think not," said Maynadier. "She is the gracious hostess to her
guest, who happens to be a man of prominence--nothing more. And, even
if he has fascinated her, how does it concern either of us? She has a
father and a brother, who are amply able to care for her. Furthermore,
as to your proposition, it proves nothing, except that he is much above
the average in attractiveness."
"But you could warn them."
"Warn them of what?" said Maynadier, smiling.
"Of the danger."
"The danger of what?"
"Of her showing him so much encouragement."
"And be laughed at for my pains--or shown the door."
"Your intimacy with the Marburys will permit it."
"Intimacy never warrants presumption."
"Friendship does."
"Besides I do not agree with you."
"You are blind!" declared Herford, "as blind as the Governor, himself."
"And how is his Excellency afflicted?"
"In blindness, as to his niece. The fellow is there all the
time--morning, afternoon and night."
"And you would change places with him!" said Maynadier, with a laugh.
"I would," Herford answered, promptly, (and Maynadier liked him for
it) "but that is not my reason. Were he one whom we knew--one of the
men of Maryland--Miss Stirling might favor him, and I have no fault to
find. But this is different. An Englishman, with a title, and unsavory
antecedents will bear the closest watching."
"Give yourself no concern, Herford," said Maynadier. "If ever there
was a girl capable of taking care of herself, and, at the same time,
getting the most out of life and its opportunities, it is Miss
Stirling. There is no chance of her head being turned by Sir Edward
Parkington's attentions. She knows his world and his likes, and will
give to his conduct the value it deserves."
"I wish I could think so," said Herford.
"Look here, Captain! I do not usually meddle in affairs which do not
concern me, but your trouble is jealousy--plain jealousy. It is all
you have against Sir Edward. He happens to be fascinating, and good
looking, and an English Baronet--and, of course, Miss Stirling is
pleased, (and so is Miss Marbury, though she is only an incident, with
you) and is apt to monopolize all the attentions he will give her--as
any other girl would do. He will not be here very long, and you will
have your chance after he leaves. I do not imagine, for a moment, that
Miss Stirling is really interested, any more than she is interested in
you, or Paca, or Constable, or a dozen others. They would all marry
her, too, if they could; but they are not imagining all sorts of things
about Parkington just because he has the call, for the present, with
Miss Stirling. No, no! Herford; you are jealous--and there lies the
whole trouble. Get rid of it, man, get rid of it!"
He raised his tones a trifle at the close.
"Get rid of what, Dick?" called Miss Marbury's voice behind them. She
was with Sir Edward Parkington, and had approached unnoticed.
"Ah! listening were you?" said Maynadier.
"Listening, indeed! You disturbed us with your noise--you fairly dinned
it in our ears."
"And just enough to make you wish for more! Oh, no, Miss Inquisitive,
we will keep the secret to ourselves."
"Then, it is a secret?"
"A great secret--oh, very great!" said Maynadier, with assumed gravity.
"Herford has the doldrums."
"And you were walking him up and down the avenue to help him get rid of
them?" she mocked. "Oh, kind Mr. Maynadier! I fear, Captain Herford is
weary of our hospitality."
"Your fears are groundless, mademoiselle," said Herford, with a bow;
"the doldrums fled at the sound of your voice."
"Then, you know how to banish them in future," she replied.
"I would not impose----"
"It is the hostess' duty to serve to her guests--and her pleasure as
well, sir."
"And may I--now----" extending his arm.
"The doldrums fled at the sound of my voice, I thought you said?"
"But they may return--whereas, to effect a permanent cure, Miss
Marbury, I would prescribe a walk in the moonlight.--Sir Edward will
excuse you, I know."
She turned to Parkington. It was as well to leave him, now--she had
done enough, for one evening.
"It shall be as mademoiselle wishes," said he.
She laid her hand on Herford's arm.
"For a little while, then, Captain Herford, you may try the cure!" she
laughed, and they moved away.
"I wonder whether she was tired of me, or whether she thought you were
tired of the Captain?" said Parkington.
"A little of both, doubtless!" replied Maynadier--and when Sir Edward
looked at him quizzically, he added, "But it is, mainly, the butterfly,
which every woman has, in some degree, in her nature."
"And a man has in a great degree. Talk about variety--we men are the
bigger butterfly of the two. However, it served as a salve for my hurt
feelings!"
"Were they hurt?" asked Maynadier, amused.
"What would yours be, if Captain Herford were preferred to you?"
laughing.
And Maynadier joined in the laugh.
"He is a queer fellow," Parkington went on. "It is not exactly
ill-nature; it is more of a disposition to quarrel with everything--of
never being suited. In short, a chronic grumbler. He came out to me,
the other morning, with the well developed intention of picking a
quarrel--we would have been scraping rapiers, in a minute, if I had
wished. Instead, I simply ignored his manner, and laughed him into a
decent humor. Has he such a way with every one?"
"Yes--we understand him, and do not mind. He is a good fellow, when you
get past his eccentricities."
"But one cannot be always side-stepping," said Parkington. "Some time,
he will run against a man with similar tendencies--and then, there will
be a little blood-letting, may be, a death."
"You see, in your case," said Maynadier, "you have touched him on the
raw. Miss Stirling is a tender point with him."
Parkington smiled. "Which made me all the more careful to avoid
trouble.--He is a good officer, I am told."
"A very good one--he went out with Forbes against Fort Duquesne, and
made an enviable record. Now, his duties are merely nominal;--he is
attached to his Excellency's staff."
Parkington nodded. "Well, I will try to keep on side-stepping. Only,
what one overlooks when alone, one cannot let slip in a crowd. I am
quite willing to do anything that will not compromise me."
Miss Marbury's laughter had floated to them, at intervals; now, she and
Herford came slowly into view.
"Waiting?" she asked--"for what?"
"For you to change escorts," said Maynadier. "It is my turn, now."
Herford was perfectly willing to yield to Maynadier. His sole purpose
had been to take Judith from the Englishman, and, that effected, he was
ready to retire. He stepped back, and bowed himself away.
"You have accomplished wonders, Miss Marbury," he said. "The doldrums
have completely vanished. I trust you may be as successful with Mr.
Maynadier."
"Mr. Maynadier never gets the doldrums," she answered, over her
shoulder. "He is far too serious minded!"
"Which might mean, that I am a bore," said Maynadier.
"Fishing, monsieur?"
"No."
"What do you call it, then?"
"What do _you_ call it?" he asked.
"Now, Dick, you want me to say you are the most entertaining man in the
world."
"Not unless you think so."
"You know you are conceited, dreadfully conceited."
"No one ever told me so."
"No one ever took the trouble to tell you."
"Except you."
"And that is because I like you so well."
"Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth!" he soliloquized.
"What?"
"I said, whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth."
"I should like to see the Lord, or any one else, chastening you!"
"My dear Judith!"
"Does that shock you?"
"A trifle. You handle the Lord rather unceremoniously."
"Not any more unceremoniously than you men do, when we women are not
present."