About nine o’clock on the following morning, when the hoar-frost was
still on the ragged grass and leafless trees, Anny hurried down the road
which led to the Ship. She had been to see Nan Swayle, and was returning
from her cabin with a large skep of onions which the old woman had
insisted on sending to Gilbot in return for the half keg of rum which he
had given her.
It was bitterly cold, and Anny hugged the threadbare shawl very tightly
about her shoulders as she hastened on, her head bent before the driving
wind.
“Well met, mistress,” said a musical voice behind her. “Prithee, may I
carry thy basket?”
Anny’s heart sank as she turned her head.
Black’erchief Dick came forward, a smile on his face, and stretched out
a pair of dainty white hands for the skep.
Anny blushed and withheld it from him.
“Nay, I would not dream of letting you trouble, sir,” she said. “I--I
would rather carry it myself.”
Dick laughed.
“And I would rather carry it myself,” he said. “Faith, mistress, I
warrant me we’ll have to bear it together.”
So saying he gaily caught hold of the handle nearest him and they walked
on, he chatting merrily and she alternately laughing at his sallies,
blushing, and smirking at his well-seasoned stories. They made strange
contrast as they went, the skep swinging between them, the girl, her
shabby green kirtle and torn black bodice, her heavy clogs sinking in
the deep slushy mud of the road, and the Spaniard newly clothed in
shining brocaded satin, with point-lace collar and ruffled cuffs, his
fashionable short surcoat displaying a tucked embroidered shirt
marvellously laundered; his cloak of the finest Amsterdam cloth a little
open in the front showing the hilt of his famous knife as it hung in his
gem-studded belt.
“Mistress, prithee why didst thou return my gifts yestere’en?” said Dick
at last as they neared the Ship.
Anny, who had been waiting for this, took a deep breath.
“For what do you take me, sir?” she said, turning her big innocent eyes
upon him.
Dick looked at her curiously. Was it possible that this little country
drudge was different from all the other women he had met? He nearly
dropped his side of the skep in his surprise.
“I crave thy pardon, mistress,” he said dazedly, and they walked on in
silence till they reached the Ship.
Then Dick spoke again:
“I will come in for a stoup of mine host’s sweet sack,” he said, and
then added softly, for the door was open, “and I would speak seriously
with thee.”
Anny went into the kitchen rather self-consciously and looked round. No
one was there and she went out to the scullery with the onions.
When she returned the Spaniard was sitting by the fireside, his daintily
shod feet resting on the hearthstone. He did not look up as she came in,
so she tripped across to the shelves to get him a tankard, and then
unearthed a flagon of sack from under the cask form.
“Prithee set it here to warm, child,” said Dick, pointing to the hob.
Anny did as she was told. He touched her hand lightly as she passed him.
“And now, mistress, will it please you to sit before me?” he said.
Anny sat down, and the Spaniard looked at her in admiration for a moment
before he spoke.
“Hast heard much said of Dick Delfazio?” he continued, smiling at her,
and leaning forward a little, his elbow on his knee and one hand
supporting his chin and shielding his face from the fire.
Anny dropped her eyes, not quite certain what to say.
But as he waited for an answer, she stammered, “Ay, a great deal an it
please you.”
“Aught to my discredit?” The Spaniard spoke sharply and frowned.
“Oh, nay, sir, nay.” Anny spoke hastily as she noted his displeasure.
“Rather the other way.”
A smile spread over the man’s face for a moment, and he looked at her.
“Yet, mistress, you refused my gifts,” he said softly.
An expression of pain passed over the girl’s face but she said steadily:
“Ay, sir. And I would not have any one think I would take them. Methinks
you mistake me, sir,” she added proudly.
The Spaniard did not speak; he sat looking at her steadfastly without
moving his position, his glittering deep black eyes fixed on her face,
and an inscrutable expression on his lips.
Anny did not look up, and at last the Spaniard leaned back in his seat,
new interest in his face and a twinkle of pleasure in his eyes.
“Mistress, you mistake me,” he said gently. “Believe me I never thought
you aught but a maiden as fair in reputation as in face. What villain
can have read anything else but pure admiration in my small offerings to
you?”
Anny looked up quickly, her face glowing with confusion. She thought
angrily of Hal’s outburst and opened her mouth to speak, but at that
moment her eye caught the Spaniard’s white hand playing with the hilt of
his knife, and she looked at him again, as he sat smiling at her, his
full red lips curled back a little, showing the white teeth within.
“I thought it myself,” she said almost defiantly, as she rose to go
about her work.
Dick put out a hand to restrain her.
“Prithee sit down, fair one, I would speak with thee,” he said firmly,
his eyes commanding her with their momentary fierceness, and continued
as she reseated herself: “Hast ever been off this Island, mistress?”
“Nay, sir,” Anny shook her head. “Not even to the West,” she added.
Dick threw up his hands in mock surprise, and the girl could not help
thinking how beautiful they looked, rising so waxen-like from out the
delicate lace ruffles which surrounded his wrists.
“The pity of it, mistress, O, the pity of it, that you should be wasted
here on this desolate mud flat,” Dick was saying, “which is only visited
by a gentleman once in two or three months, and then only for a
sennight. No, the jewel of your beauty is little suited to so drab a
setting as the mud-beslimed shores of Mersea Marsh Island.”
Anny looked at him, uncertain whether he was laughing at her or not, but
she could get no hint of his mood from his face, which was nearly
expressionless save for the eyes which regarded her almost mournfully.
“What would I find fairer than the marshes in another country?” she said
at last.
The Spaniard laughed.
“The marshes?” he said. “Oh! Mistress, what have you known of beauty
that you look on gray and purple marshes and call them fair?”
Anny frowned.
“Marry!” she said, tossing her head. “They’re good enough for me.”
“Nay, fair one, there you mistake, it’s because they are not good enough
for thee that I would quarrel with thee loving them.”
The Spaniard leaned a little forward as he spoke.
Anny laughed uneasily and rose to her feet.
“Ah, well!” she said, “‘tis of no account what I think fair or ugly, see
how late it is; I must be about my business.”
Dick got up also.
“Look ye, mistress,” he said, “I had almost forgot what I came to see
thee for. I sail again for France on Wednesday even.” He paused and
looked at the girl for any hint of surprise or disappointment which she
might show, but Anny did not look up and betrayed no other interest
beyond polite attention.
The Spaniard smiled and his eyes began to sparkle again.
“And, little one,” he went on, “when I sail it will not be on the
_Coldlight_, but the _Anny_ if you will permit me to rename the ship
after thee.”
Anny gasped. She knew a little about the importance which sailors in
general, and smugglers in particular, attached to the names of their
vessels, and was fully sensible of the honour which the Spaniard was
conferring upon her. She began to feel flattered.
“You honour me too much, sir,” she said, bobbing and smiling.
The Spaniard made a stately bow.
“Mistress, I thank you for deigning to accept so small a tribute,” he
said in his grand manner. “And may I beg of you two more favours,
namely, that you will honour my ship with your presence, and will
yourself bless the brig and proclaim thyself its guardian and patron?”
Anny blushed and laughed happily.
“Ay,” she said, “and gladly if you can trust my blessings.”
The Spaniard bowed again.
“What blessings might I trust in if not in yours?” he said gallantly. “I
will come myself to bring thee there. Au revoir, fair one.” He picked up
his big-brimmed hat and, taking the little brown hand in his soft white
one, respectfully raised it to his lips.
Anny smiled shyly as she drew it slowly away and put it behind her back.
Dick looked into her little face, so very little lower than his own.
“Might I dare to salute your lips, Anny of the Island?” he said softly.
Anny’s smile vanished and she drew back stiffly.
“Methinks you mistake me for some other wench, sir,” she said.
“Pardon, I prithee, fairest of prudes.” Dick’s tone was really penitent.
“For but one moment I dreamed--shall I tell thee my dream?”
Anny looked at him in astonishment and in spite of her vexation drew a
little nearer.
“Whatever----” she began.
Dick interrupted her.
“All in one moment I dreamt I was dead and in hell, and, as I trod on
the burning stones, a sudden ease fell upon me and I looked up and
beheld the fairest face in all the world before me, the lips put up to
meet mine--and I--well, mistress, then you woke me.”
Anny looked at him in amazement, wondering if the Spanish gentleman had
suddenly become bewitched. Then she conjured up in her childish mind a
picture which his words suggested to her of the fastidious little man
hopping and dancing over hot paving bricks, and she began to laugh so
heartily that she had to support herself by leaning against the
door-post. Although this was hardly the way in which he wished his
excuse to be taken, the Spaniard was pleased to have the girl so
completely mollified and began to laugh himself with her.
“Oh, go along with ye,” said Anny at last, as she wiped away the tears
of laughter with the back of her hand and held open the door for him.
Dick bowed again and Anny smiled as she watched him out of the yard.
“Oh!” she said to herself, “he’s a mighty pleasing gentleman, very fine
to look upon, very bravely spoken, and I’ll bless his ship for him
gladly, but you can’t love two lads at once.”
Dick went off down the road toward the sea, deep in thought. He had not
gone very far before he was overtaken by Blueneck, who was just back
from Tiptree. They fell into that easy kind of conversation which often
takes place between master and his confidential inferior.
“We’re renaming the brig to _Anny_ on the evening of Wednesday,”
remarked Dick, as they went along.
Blueneck looked at his captain and opened his mouth to protest, but
thought better of it and held his peace.
“What think you, Blueneck, the wench will have naught to do with me!”
went on Delfazio.
The other man looked at him disbelievingly and laughed.
“Marry, ’tis so,” Dick said, laughing. “Faith, she sends back my presents
and scorns my kisses.”
Blueneck looked down at his master in surprise, then he shrugged his
shoulders.
“You will not trouble with the lass further, sir, surely?” he said.
Dick smiled again.
“Hast ever known me denied aught I desired?” he said, his voice pleasant
and smooth.
Blueneck shook his head.
“Nay,” he said, “but, Lord, what’s a silly wench, sir? She can have no
interest for thee.”
“Ah, thou hast hit it, dog, ’tis that exactly which the lass has for
me--interest--interest greater than I ever felt for any other woman.”
Blueneck laughed and turned the laugh into a cough.
Dick looked at him, smiling shyly.
“Ah! you may laugh, friend of the unshaven neck,” he said, “but as I
told you this is so. Never have I been denied so much by any woman, and
at last I find a game that makes the prize worth having. The end of a
certainty will be the same but the wooing is half the pleasure, eh,
dog?”
Blueneck grinned as he fingered the ribbon, which he had brought from
Tiptree, and they went on together down to the brig where Dick gave
orders for the ceremony for renaming the _Coldlight_.
Meanwhile, up at the Ship everything was bustle. French had returned and
was entertaining the company with the story of the night’s adventures,
and Anny and Sue were kept busy serving rums and preparing the midday
meal.
It was then that Big French remembered the flannel he had bought and
handed it to Sue with another little bundle which he had bought from a
gypsy.
Sue hastened away to open it, and it being dinnertime the company slowly
dwindled off until there was only the usual household and the young
giant left to partake of the meal together. This was speedily served by
Anny and Hal, who were now on the best of terms.
Sue came downstairs a few seconds later, blushing and smiling, with a
string of blue beads round her neck, and French shuffled, reddened, and
choked over his broth when he saw her so that everyone looked at him and
then at her and smiled at one another knowingly.
Old Gilbot began to sing “Mary Loo,” but soon gave it up and took to his
rumkin.
After dinner, the delf being cleared away, Anny went up to her room,
which was also Sue’s, and sat down on her bed. She thought of
Black’erchief Dick and his brig and began to picture to herself the
scene on board the _Coldlight_ when she would change its name to her
own. Then she sighed. She looked down at her shabby kirtle and passed
her hand over its holes and stains. Downstairs she could hear Big
French’s deep voice raised as though pleadingly and could catch Sue’s
high, sweet, giggling replies. She turned over on the bed and lay face
downward for a few seconds, then she sat up and began hastily to
re-arrange her hair. On Sue’s bed she saw the flannel spread out, and
she went over softly to have a look at it. It seemed very coarse and
ugly when she mentally compared it to the honey-coloured silk or the
wide green frieze which she had sent back to Dick in the sail-cloth
bundle. And she found herself wishing that Hal had money like French and
Dick, but she checked herself and blushed at her own greediness, as she
termed it. She sat down on her bed again, sighing as she did so, and
Sue, coming up some while later, finding her still there, took pity on
her shabbiness and gave her the purple gown that Anny had wished for so
long, and was then amazed to see the usually so grateful, peaceable
little girl cast the old garment from her and, throwing herself on the
bare boards, sob till the elder girl feared for her health.