Anny took it eagerly and gave a little cry of delight as she examined the contents.
“Marry! Hal, I prithee, see!” she laughed as she pulled out a long string of polished amber beads and put them over her head. “And, oh, look you! look you!” she exclaimed, holding out a brooch about thesize of a large oyster, which was of painted porcelain with a silver border studded with brilliants. “Oh, and see! Look, look, Hal! why don’t you look?” she went on as she pulled first one trinket after another out of the little wooden box and held it up for their inspection. Suddenly she paused, and putting in her hand very carefully brought out a little carved-wood elephant, brought no doubt from the East by some traveller.
“Oh, what a mannikin,” she exclaimed, fingering the exquisite workmanship in wonderment. “Look ’ee, Hal, whatever will it be?”
Hal looked down at the little figure as she stood before him, the carved bauble lying in the palm of her small brown hand, and sighed.
“Oh!” he said, as he picked up the elephant and looked at it quizzically. “I reckon ’tis some heathen image.”
Anny snatched it away from him and held it tightly.
“Oh! nay,” she said almost pleadingly, “’tis not, indeed, or anyway ’tis marvellous dainty.”
Cip stepped forward heavily and looked over her shoulder.
“Oh! nay,” he said at last, “’tis not a heathen image; ’tis a moulding of a beast.”
Anny looked pleased.
“What fine little beasts they must be,” she observed.
“Ah, yes,” said Cip, nodding his head sagely, “wonderful fine little beasts.”
Anny laughed happily, and turned to the silk-and trinket-strewn table.
“Oh, won’t I be fine!” she exclaimed, flinging out her arms as though to embrace the table’s load.
Hal grunted.
“Hadn’t you better look at the sealed paper?” he said sulkily.
But Anny was too overjoyed to notice his tone.
“O marry! I forgot,” she exclaimed with a little excited giggle, as she picked up the square envelope and broke open the red seal.
“Ah!” said she, as she studied the large flourishing script within.
Cip shot a covert glance at Hal and then hid his smile in his tankard.
“Ah!” said Anny again, turning the paper over.
Hal became impatient.
“Well, lass?” he said, rising.
Anny blushed, and then thrust the paper in his hand.
“Thou knowest I cannot read, Hal?” she said. “Wilt decipher it for me?”
Hal took it willingly, although with some show of indifference, and holding the paper at arms’ length, read it carefully through to himself.
“Plague upon it all!” he exclaimed.
Anny looked at him anxiously.
“What does it say?” she said, looking over his shoulder.
Hal flushed.
“I’ll not tell thee,” he said angrily.
“Oh!” Anny’s tone expressed disappointment, and old Cip de Musset, who had been preparing himself to hear another man’s letter, looked up.
“Oh! nay, lad, nay,” he said solemnly, “tell the lass her own letter. Ay, marry, now you must, to be honest.”
Hal frowned.
“To be honest?” he said, puzzled.
“Ay, to be honest.” Cip was emphatic. “For if you don’t, lad, you alone will know the matter in the letter, which, look you, is not yours but the lass’s. Taking is taking whether it be goods or fine phrases,” he concluded, wagging his head sagely.
Hal shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, then, harken,” he said, and began to read sulkily and at a great pace:
“Into the lap of the fair lady who holdeth the whole heart of a great sailor in her sweet keeping, these fineries and divers other useful objects are munificently poured.“Prithee deck thyself, wench, for the delight of thy noble and honourable admirer—Dick Delfazio, Captain of theColdlight.”
“Into the lap of the fair lady who holdeth the whole heart of a great sailor in her sweet keeping, these fineries and divers other useful objects are munificently poured.
“Prithee deck thyself, wench, for the delight of thy noble and honourable admirer—Dick Delfazio, Captain of theColdlight.”
“Did ever you hear such sithering foolishness?” he concluded.
But neither Anny nor Cip was looking at him; at the last words of the letter they had turned to each other in mutual surprise and admiration.
“Ah!” said old Cip, leaning back on his bench. “Wonderful way he has wi’ words and wenches.Damn me if they two don’t go pretty well together,” he added thoughtfully.
Anny sighed with delight and turned to Hal.
“Oh! isn’t it a fine letter,” she exclaimed happily. “Will I have to write one back?”
Hal looked up, and the expression on his boyish face made her pause in her happiness, and turn to him anxiously.
“Anny Farran, what are you making of yourself?” he began slowly, his young imagination magnifying the occasion until he felt himself the injured lover leading his frail betrothed away from the pretty walks of folly.
Anny looked at him in wonderment and he went on:
“Anny, are you tending to accept these—these fripperies, like a common serving-wench, and worse?”
Anny blushed and started; then she looked from her lover to the table and back again.
“Not take them?” she said, her mouth drooping a little at the corners and her eyes growing larger and very bright.
“Of course not!”
Wrapped in the blanket of his youthful virtue the boy felt no sympathy for the despairing glance which the pathetic little girl in front of him cast at her shabby, much-stained kirtle and well-mended bodice.
Anny swallowed something in her throat and blinked her eyes once or twice, her long dark lashes becoming spiky and blacker than before. Then shelaughed a little unnaturally and rubbed her hand awkwardly down the sides of her skirt.
“Oh, of course not,” she said, laughing still on a strange high pitch, as she gathered up the finery and put it carefully back into the sail-cloth covering. “Of course not,” she repeated mechanically, never allowing her fingers to stray over the smooth soft surface of the silk or to play amongst the amber beads or ivory ornaments. “There,” she said at last as the last trinket was slipped into the little box, and she looked round, the bright colour still in her cheeks and the forced smile on her lips. “Oh! and the little beast?” she said half questioningly, half agreeing, as she picked up the little carved elephant and looked at it wistfully.
“And the little beast,” said Hal firmly.
Anny sighed and slipped it in with the others, then tied up the sail-cloth with a firm hand.
“Master de Musset,” she said a little unsteadily, “would you be kind enough to—to take this back to the Captain and say I can’t accept it? Say—say of course not,” she added.
Cip de Musset rose to his feet, bewilderment on his face as he looked from one to the other of the two young people.
“Say you sent it back?” he said at last, turning to the girl. “Nay, say he sent it back,” he added, jerking his thumb in Hal’s direction.
Anny stepped forward quickly and laid her hand on his arm, anxiety written in her very posture.
“Oh, nay! I pray you, Master de Musset, say I sent it back,” she said eagerly. “I beg of you to tell my message rightly.”
Cip looked into her earnest little face and smiled.
“All right, lassie,” he said. “But,” he added, his voice and face becoming suddenly grave, “you have a care how you anger Black’erchief Dick. You young ones—you’re sweethearts, too, ain’t you?”
“Yes, but you won’t say,” Anny spoke quickly and Cip shook his head.
“Oh, no!” he said, grinning. “I won’t say. I be going.”
He moved over to the window and looked out.
“Here be Ezekiel French just drove up,” he remarked.
Anny looked up at the clock.
“Mother o’ Grace!” she ejaculated, “I have forgot to call Mistress Sue,” and she ran out of the door and up the stairs to the little room which she and Sue shared.
Hal picked up the sail-cloth bundle and handed it to Cip, who took it without a word and went out into the yard. He stood talking to French some minutes and then walked over to his cart.
“Poor little lassie,” he muttered as he climbed into the tumbril and turned the piebald gelding out of the gate. “Poor little lassie,” he repeated. “Lord, ain’t we particular when we’re young.” He looked at the bundle on the floor behind him and shruggedhis shoulders. “This here Black’erchief Dick and all,” he concluded, sighing and whipping up his horse.
Big French stood in the Ship yard talking to Hal and old John Pattern, the ostler. He leaned lazily against the shaft of his wagon, an arm stretched out over the back of one of the horses. The wagon was half full of mysterious sacking-covered bales and little round casks, the first containing silk and the other tobacco.
“Have ye got them ten trusses’ straw I bespoke, Hal?” French was saying, the barley stalk he was chewing moving up and down in his mouth.
“Ay, in the barn; that on the right is yourn,” Hal replied readily.
Big French looked at John Pattern enquiringly. The old man grinned. “That’ll be all right, sir,” he said, pocketing the coin which the big man had given him.
“You’ll cover the stuff well up?” French enquired. “Undo the first five truss and spread it over the stuff and then put the rest, bound up, atop, you know how.”
The man nodded.
“Ain’t been on the Island for sixty-seven years for nothing,” he said, winking one bright blue eye.
French laughed.
“Maybe,” he said, “but you never can tell when the roads will get dangerous again. What with footpads whom I fear not and excise folk whom I do—you never know,” and he shrugged his shoulders, and soon added, a smile breaking over his handsome face, “but, Lord, it’s all in the trade, so what’s the use of talking?”
He turned away with Hal, and John touching his cap went off to the barn—a long low building on the left of the Ship.
“I’m taking that dog Blueneck and his mate Coot along wi’ me,” French remarked, as he and Hal neared the kitchen door. “You ain’t seen them up here yet, I suppose?”
Hal shook his head as he lifted the latch.
“No,” he said, “but they’ll come, don’t you fear, the sniffling Spanish rats.”
French laughed and was about to reply, but as his eyes fell upon Mistress Sue who had stepped to the door to meet them, the words died on his lips, and he grinned sheepishly.
In the kitchen the dips had been lighted, the fire had got up, and all round the hearth was bright and cheerful.
Sue followed and stood in front of him.
Anny sat in her usual place at the window. She was sewing the buttons on an old coat of Gilbot’s, and several times she pricked her fingers, and then hastily dashed the back of her hand across her eyes, but otherwise she was very still and no one else in the room noticed her.
Hal went to draw a noggin of rum for French, andwhile he was away, the door opened, and Blueneck and Habakkuk Coot came in.
French, who had just formed a complete sentence to open conversation with Sue, scowled at the intruders, turned his back on the astonished girl, and stared into the fire. Perhaps it was the wisest thing he could have done, for Sue, as she bustled off to attend to the two sailors, began to think about him, a thing she had not done seriously since that evening when Black’erchief Dick first came to the Ship.
It was strange, she thought. Usually Big French seemed so pleased to see her, so ready to laugh with her, so childishly shy when she spoke directly to him, and she found herself thinking with pleasure of that evening when Gilbot had interrupted him in a most important question. She laughed to herself. Ah! that was before the advent of the Spaniard. Ah! the Spaniard! she sighed, and then flushed hotly at her own thoughts. What was the Spaniard to her? A man who was not even interested in her. She tossed her head, but all the same she sighed again before she put the tankards down before the two shipmates of theColdlight, and returned once more to the young giant at the fireside.
“Master French,” she said, planting herself before him, “would you get me a thing or two at the market?”
French beamed at her.
“Anything,” he said jerkily, as though the wordhad been released from captivity, “or everything,” he added suddenly and earnestly.
Sue did not understand him and she looked down in surprise.
“Everything?” she repeated.
French blushed, opened his mouth, shut it again, then he cleared his throat noisily. “Everything you wish, mistress,” he said finally, inwardly cursing his shyness.
Sue perched herself on the table in front of him and enumerated the odds and ends that the Ship required.
Anny looked at the pair shyly from out her corner.
“Ah! but how much of the flannel, mistress?” French was saying.
“Six ells an it pleases you,” Sue replied.
Anny gulped and applied herself industriously to her sewing.
Just then the door opened and John Pattern put in his smiling head.
“Master French,” he called.
French, who had just begun to enjoy himself, looked up with another scowl.
“All’s ready,” said John, “and, if you’s going to get to Tiptree afore eleven, ye better start.”
“Right!” French rose to his feet with a sigh and walked to the door. “Come on,” he said to the two sailors who were looking round anxiously.
Habakkuk sniffed noisily and happily, his pale, bilious little face positively shining with excitementas he got up hastily and trotted to the door, Blueneck following.
The rest of the company followed out into the yard to see the adventurers safely off the premises.
It was a sharply cold, clear frosty night, with a mist hanging low over the marshes. There was no wind and the place was very silent. The sky was clear and thickly sprinkled with stars and the moon, nearly full, shed a white ghostly glow over the countryside.
Old John Pattern, a large box lantern in his hand, hovered hither and thither like some old and bluff will-o’-the-wisp.
French walked round the wagon to make sure that everything was in order. Then he climbed up on to the shaft and perched himself on the driving-seat, which consisted of a board nailed flat on the front of the wagon.
“Come on, if you are coming at all,” he called to Blueneck, who scrambled into the one remaining seat beside him.
“Hi, where shall I go?” said Habakkuk, sniffing and hopping about in his anxiety.
French shrugged his shoulders.
“Best get up on to the straw atop,” he said.
Habakkuk climbed on to the hub of the wheel and with Hal’s help got safely on to the straw where he lay quite still.
“Ready?” said French, and then turned the horses about without waiting for an answer, and drove out ofthe gate amidst the jests and farewells of the onlookers.
“You won’t forget the flannel?” Sue called after him.
French’s deep, pleasant voice rang back through the thin, cold air: “Rather would I forget the wagon, mistress.”
Sue laughed.
“There’s a new gown on the way,” she said with a sigh of satisfaction as she went back to the kitchen.
Anny gulped and Hal, turning at that moment, saw her disappointed little face in the moonlight. She looked at him so sorrowfully without speaking, and then went into the Inn.
He was about to follow her but checked himself; he began to realize a little how much she cared for pretty things and what she had given up with the sail-cloth bundle. Pushing his hands into his pockets he walked out of the gate and down the road to the sea, his chin on his breast. He had not gone very far before he met old Gilbot stumping along alone.
The old man hailed him cheerily and bade him go down to fetch little Red who, he averred, was scooning stones on the clear sea. “No one obeys me,” he concluded with a chuckle. “I can’t make the young one come. Go fetch him, Hal.”
He waddled off, smiling and talking to himself.
Hal walked on in deep thought, kicking the stones in the road with his clogs.
Anny was fond of pretty fripperies and ornaments;she liked to be admired and looked at, and would have kept the sail-cloth bundle for its own worth, without a thought for the giver.
Hal kicked at a stone savagely, and swore loudly. He was eighteen and as bitter against the world as it is possible to be at that age. He remembered Anny’s little white face in the moonlight as Big French drove off, Sue’s request in his ears, and her disappointed, sorrowful glance at him before she returned to the kitchen. He had reached the sea by this time and he stood for a moment peering out over the mist-ridden water. “If only I had money,” he thought. “Lord!”
Staring out into the white moonlit vapour he saw Anny in her honey-coloured silk, her eyes bright and her lips a little parted, just as he had seen her that afternoon. Then he saw himself beside her, no longer a deputy landlord and everybody’s errand boy, but a man of importance in a new blue cloth coat with silver buttons and a ruffle in the sleeves. He was holding her hand and they were married.
“Oh! if only I had money!” the words escaped from his mouth like a groan, and he shivered involuntarily, almost afraid of his own voice; everything around him was so shadowy and unreal.
“Hal Grame, is that you? Oh! how you frightened me.” The voice seemed to start from the pebbles at his feet and he sprang back in alarm, crossing himself.
“Who’s there?” he said sharply.
“Only me and Win.” Red Farran got up from the bank of seaweed where he had been sitting and put a little wet hand into Hal’s.
“Why do you want money?” he said. “Win an’ me want money, too.”
Hal looked down at the fantastical little figure before he answered:
“Why do I want money——?” he began, his voice rising with silly, sweet, half-theatrical boyish passion; then he checked himself and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, nothing,” he said.
Red looked at the sea.
“It’s too dark to scoon stones,” he remarked. “How many times can you make one hop? I made one go nine times once in smooth water,” he added modestly.
Hal vouchsafed no answer, and Red sat down again on a bank of seaweed.
“Here’s Win,” he said softly as he fumbled in his ragged clothes and brought out the kitten, now quite dry but very sleepy, and hugged it up to his neck.
“If we had money wouldn’t we eat a lot and be happy?” He squeezed the kitten a little harder and the unhappy animal squealed sleepily. Red laughed. “Yes,” he said, “I think so, too.”
There was silence for a few minutes save for the gentle lapping of the water and the scrape of moving pebbles as the waves rolled them up and down on the shore.
“Money’s very useful, isn’t it?” said Red at last.
“Ay,” Hal replied fervently.
“Master Gilbot said that, too,” went on the child as he pitched a stone and waited to hear the gentle “plop” which it made as it reached the water.
Hal looked up.
“What did he say?” he asked.
Red screwed up his face in thought.
“I forget,” he said, “it was something about leaving the Ship to a man who had money.” He tossed another stone, then turned his attention to the kitten.
“A man with money,” said Hal. “What man?”
“Oh! any man, I suppose,” said Red vaguely, stroking the cat’s fur up the wrong way.
“Any man with money,” repeated Hal to himself; then he began to laugh loudly, unnaturally, and very high.
Red clapped his hands over his ears and the kitten snuggled into his chest.
“Don’t do that, Hal,” he said imploringly, “it’s just like Nan when she sees Pet Salt.”
Hal stopped and pulled himself together.
“Best be getting back,” he said, and started off along the lane.
The child got up without a word and trotted after him, the kitten wrapped safely in the folds of his kirtle-cloak.
Hal did not think about the boy; he strode along, his eyes on the ground.
“I will get money,” he whispered to himself. “I’ve never had any. I’ve never had aught to give her, and women be capricious and whimsical. They care for that foolery. Before God I swear some day I’ll own the Ship, and, oh, you holy Saints, let me keep her till then.”
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 sweetsack,” 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 theColdlight, but theAnnyif 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 toAnnyon 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 theColdlight.
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 theColdlightwhen 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.
AFTER his conversation with Black’erchief Dick, Blueneck found leisure to attend to his own amours. He first retired to the brig where, with the help of Habakkuk Coot, he arrayed himself in his best clothes, tied the knee-latchets of his breeches with bright-coloured tapes, and borrowed a brilliant red-and-green kerchief from out poor Mat Turnby’s bundle, and then, after carefully tying the length of cherry ribbon, which had cost him much time and trouble to procure, in a piece of muslin, he stowed the packet in one of his big side pockets and started out for Joe Pullen’s house.
He had some little way to go, as the Pullens’ cottage was situated slightly to the north of the church, and that was about a mile and a half from the point where the brig was moored. He walked along cheerfully, whistling a chanty, and mentally rehearsing the speech which he intended to make to Mistress Amy when presenting the ribbon.
In spite of the time of year, the late afternoon sun shone brightly on the wet grass and there was a touch of spring in the air.
On nearing the cottage he stopped to see if he still had the little muslin packet, and, feeling it stillthere, strolled nonchalantly up to the door and knocked loudly.
Mistress Pullen opened it herself, and seeing him, put her finger to her lips.
Blueneck stood still looking at her, very disappointed and a little foolish. Inside the cottage he could hear deep rafter-shaking snores and soon understood that the lady’s husband was within. He opened his mouth to speak but Amy shook her head violently and he shut it again with a snap; however, he did not move, and Mistress Pullen had to push him off the door-step and whisper, “This evening,” before he fully realized that he was not wanted. Fumbling in his pocket, he hastily found the ribbon, and snatching it out crammed it into her hand, then tiptoed off down the path feeling that he had been cheated.
Amy took the parcel without looking up and quickly slipped back, shutting the door carefully behind her.
Blueneck returned along the way he had come, in a much less cheerful frame of mind than when he started out. He no longer whistled but lurched along, his head bent and his hands thrust deep in his pockets.
On passing the Ship sounds of cheerfulness came out to him through the open door and, yielding to the impulse of the moment, he went in.
As usual the scene in the Ship kitchen was cheering even to look at. The roaring fire in the opengrate, the glinting lights on the pewter, and the shadowy, dusky corners in which faint outlines of casks and strings of drying onions could just be distinguished, all gave it a cosy, comforting appearance. At least Blueneck thought so as he joined the circle round the fire and called for hot rum to be served to him.
Old Gilbot was in a lively mood; he sat in his corner, his blue eyes twinkling from out huge creases of fat, singing, laughing, and drinking with the best will in the world, and keeping the company in a continual roar of laughter.
Big French sat on the other side of the fireplace, playing with little Red Farran and his kitten. The little boy was a favourite of the big man and they chatted together with an equal share of enjoyment.
Sue leaned over the back of the seat, and from time to time joined in their conversation. At these times French smiled contentedly and almost as easily as he did on the days before the little dark-eyed white-handed Spaniard landed east instead of west of Mersea Marsh Island.
Anny and Hal were talking together in the background as they polished up the tankards. She was telling him about the Spaniard’s desire to rename the brig, and clearing away with her gentle cajolery all his little jealous fears and doubts.
Several other men were sitting round the fire. They were Habakkuk Coot, sniffing as usual and drinking spiced ale; Old Master Granger, guffawingat Gilbot, and sipping his neat rum with obvious relish; Cip de Musset, chewing a chunk of coarse black tobacco, a habit much disapproved of by the Islanders who thought the weed a dangerous, new-fangled drug, and of no use save to sell to other people; and one or two others. All very merry and cheerful and good company to each other.
Blueneck drank his rum and, beginning to feel more cheerful, he leaned forward a little to join in the talk.
“Ah! a wonderful funny thing that be,” Granger was saying, as he shook his head sagely. “You’re right, a wonderful funny thing.”
“Ah! and what’s more, it ain’t the first time it’s happened,” put in another man casually.
“What?”
In an instant the company’s attention was fixed on the new speaker and he looked round as though he were going to say something very secret.
“Six months ago on Ray Island,” he said.
“Oh, everyone knows that, Tom Fish. Go home with your old stories!”
There was a note of disappointment in their voices and they all laughed. The man muttered something about there being old and old, and subsided.
Blueneck came a little nearer.
“Might I ask what you are talking about?” he said.
Cip de Musset rolled his quid into his cheek and spat before he replied.
“A rowboat load o’ rum and two men lost going from here to Bradwell,” he said laconically.
“Ah,” said Granger, “wonderful strange.”
“What, ain’t the boat been washed up?” said Blueneck, glad to enter into the conversation.
“No, nothing found at all,” said Granger eagerly, as he shifted his position slightly. “Nothing at all. But, ah, well,” he added, “I don’t know what’s come to them.”
“Would the Preventative men have catched them, think you?” remarked Cip, chewing.
“Now that are likely,” said Granger sarcastically. “Ain’t ’it? There not being a sign of a Preventative man these nine months! Oh, yes, Master de Musset, it are likely they’d be spry enough to catch two chaps in a rowboat in the middle of the Blackwater without a soul on the Island or the mainland knowing aught. Lord, you ought to ha’ been an excise man yourself, you ought.”
“Maybe, Granger, maybe,” said Cip de Musset placidly and without ceasing to chew.
“Maybe they drank the liquor and then pulled out the bung and sunk her theirselves,” suggested Habakkuk, sniffing violently.
Granger turned slowly in his seat and let his gaze fall upon the nervous little man for a second or two before he spoke.
“Ah! Master Rheum-in-the-head, maybe they did,” he said, “and maybe the devil come along and carried them off in a thunder-cloud, or maybe a sea-serpent swallowed them. Eh?”
Habakkuk looked into the others’ unsmiling facesand sniffed, while a weak, ineffectual little smile spread over his bilious, pimply face, and then, as Granger betrayed no amusement, it struck him that he must have said something sensible, so he answered, “Ay, most likely,” wagging his head sagely.
The company burst into a roar of laughter, and Habakkuk, feeling that this time he had been witty, joined with them happily.
“Ah, no, but it is unnatural,” continued Granger thoughtfully after the laughter had subsided. “And ye know it ain’t the first time a rowboat o’ rum and two chaps have been lost,” he went on. “Just in the same way, too, started off after dawn and never seen no more. Ah, unnatural, that’s what it is.”
“The currents be plaguey strong out i’ the channel,” said French, looking up for a moment.
Granger was up in arms at once.
“Currents!” he ejaculated. “Now tell me, just tell me, Master French, do you think either Clarry Kidley or Gustave Norton would be likely to run into anything like that, an’ if they did, to stay in it? Just tell me!”
French shrugged his shoulders and continued to explain to Red the kitten’s natural objection to being stroked from tail to the ears.
Granger looked round triumphantly. “Ah, I don’t know, I don’t know,” he said at last.
“More do we,” said Habakkuk with a sniff, and the talk drifted to other channels.
Blueneck was feeling that perhaps the world wasnot so dreary a place as he had imagined, when the door burst open, and young Tant Pullen rushed in without a hat and very breathless. He looked round the room for a moment as though searching for someone. At last his quick bright eyes fell upon Blueneck and he darted over to him.
“Look out you, get out of here and hide quick,” he gasped as well as he could for lack of breath.
The Spanish sailor looked at him in surprise, and the rest of the company, seeing that something was afoot, turned to listen.
Tant took the sailor by the collar when he saw that the man did not move.
“Quick, hurry, or he’ll get you,” he said.
Blueneck opened his mouth in astonishment.
“Why—what?” he ejaculated.
Tant took a deep breath.
“My mother’s bin beatin’ my father, because he said that she’d took presents from strangers,” he volunteered. The company began to laugh and Blueneck still looked bewildered.
Tant gave one anxious look at the door.
“Mother says I was to come and tell you,” he said.
Again the circle rocked and the mystified Blueneck looked up.
“Well?” he said.
Tant sighed.
“You best come,” he said, “my father’s wonderfully riled after he’s been beat by my mother, an’ he’s coming up here to beat you now.”
“Oh!” The company went off into another paroxysm of laughter, and Blueneck began to see a little more light in the matter. “Let him come,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
Hal stepped forward from the dresser where he had been arranging tankards.
“You better go, Master Blueneck,” he said. “Joe’s wonderfully strong, and after he’s bin beat by his wife there’s no holding him.”
Blueneck hesitated. Then he shrugged his shoulders. Whatever he was, Dick Delfazio’s mate was no coward and he stood his ground.
“I’m not feared,” he said; “let him come.”
Hal looked at Gilbot who had been watching the scene attentively.
“Ohsh he’sh all right,” said the old man. “Let him come, Hal.”
Hal shrugged his shoulders, and sent Anny upstairs to look to the guest’s room. Then he quietly and unobtrusively moved everything movable to the sides of the room, so leaving a clear space in the centre.
The company also shrugged their shoulders and edged a little away from Blueneck so that the sailor found himself sitting alone on a bench. He looked round him uneasily, but did not move.
Suddenly Tant, who had been looking out of the window, remarked in a stage whisper, “Here he come,” and then dived under a pile of sacking in a far corner.
Nobody spoke and the silence was almost uncomfortable. Little Red noticed it, and after looking about put his arms round French’s neck and climbed on to his knee.
“Put Win into your pocket,” he whispered, “she got hurt last time Nan and Pet fought.”
French obeyed and, moving a little farther into the chimney corner, he looked up shyly at Sue, who smiled and came round the high seat to sit beside him.
French made room for her on the inside of the bench, and she took Red from him and held the child herself.
By this time heavy footsteps could be heard coming across the yard, and the Ship waited in a silence only broken by Habakkuk’s sniffs and the plaintive mews of Red’s little kitten who was shut in the darkness of French’s big pocket.
Then the door was kicked open with such a clatter that Habakkuk nearly fell off his seat with nervousness, and Joe stalked into the room. All his usual good humour was gone and he seemed to Blueneck, at least, to have got quite six inches taller. He stood for a moment looking round, his face flushed and his eyes dark with fury; a long, livid weal ran from his left eye to the corner of his mouth, and he trembled with anger as he stood there breathing heavily. Then, as he caught sight of Blueneck, he gave one whoop of exultation and leapt across the room, landing on the top of the unfortunate man, whom he proceeded to punch with all his might.
Blueneck was no indifferent fighter himself, and as Joe’s first blow landed in his ribs a dull light of anger kindled in his eyes and he forced his way to his feet, and then the greatest fight that the old Ship Tavern had ever witnessed began. They closed in, and Blueneck tried to take advantage of his superior strength by grasping his opponent round the body and swinging him over his head, but Joe was too wiry for that. Seizing his opportunity he dropped low, and throwing his arms round the sailor’s knees he suddenly crouched so that the man fell over and stretched his body full length on the floor. Before he could again regain his feet Joe was upon him and they rolled over and over together kicking, the Spaniard swearing softly. Joe said nothing but grit his teeth and fought steadily and swiftly, always making for the man’s throat. At last he got there; the Spaniard lay on his back and Joe, making a desperate dive between his clawing hands, grasped at the hairy throat and held on tightly.
Blueneck’s mouth opened and his eyes bulged; slowly his movements grew less effectual and more convulsive. Joe held on grimly and without a word; finally he stood up.
“Give him a rum,” he said. “I’ve not done with him yet by a long way.”
Nobody spoke, but Hal stepped forward with the rum. He had drawn it in readiness, and between them he and Joe raised the half-strangled man to hisfeet and forced the spirit down his throat. Then, as he grew stronger, Joe took him firmly by the collar and dragged him out of the Inn, without a word or a glance behind him.
Sue was on her feet in an instant.
“Will he kill him?” she cried.
Hal shrugged his shoulders.
“No,” he said, “I don’t reckon so—and if he does, what’s a Spaniard, anyway?”
“Yesh,” said Gilbot, holding out his rumkin to be refilled. “What’s a Spaniard, anyway? Let’sh have a shong.”
And as Joe, his wrath hardly one whit abated, dragged the half-suffocated Blueneck down the road to the sea, he heard the jovial strains of “Pretty Poll” roared out in lively chorus from the Ship’s kitchen: