Towards dawn the wind abated more and more and, glancing into the lightening East, I saw the black storm-clouds pierced, as it were, by a sword of glory, a single vivid ray that smote across the angry waters, waxing ever more glorious until up flamed the sun before whose joyous beams the sullen clouds scattered, little by little, and melted away.
And now I (that was doomed to be my own undoing) instead of thanking that merciful God who had delivered us from such dire peril, must needs scowl upon this kindly sun and fall again to my black humours. For, the immediate dangers past, I began to ponder the future and inwardly to rage against that perverse fate the which was driving me whither it would. So, crouched chin on fist, scowling across these tempestuous waters (for though the wind was fallen the seas ran very high) within myself I cursed Adam Penfeather and all his works.
"You are hungry, Martin!" Turning about I beheld my companion sitting up regarding me with eyes that belied her solemn mouth.
"How should you know this?"
"You frown, Martin! Though the storm is done and we alive, yet you frown! Have patience and you shall eat and sleep."
"I want neither one nor other!" I began.
"And you are wet, Martin!"
"'Tis no matter!"
"And cold!"
"The sun shall warm me."
"So you shall eat, and lie here i' the sunshine, and sleep!" And away she goes to vanish under the dripping pent-house forward (the which had served its purpose admirably well) whiles I, perceiving the waves subsiding and the wind blowing steady and fair, laid our course due south-westerly again, and lashing the helm, went forward to shake out the reefs, finding it no easy task what with the stiffness of my cramped limbs and the pitching of the boat; howbeit, 'twas done at last but, coming back, I tripped across a thwart and fell, cursing.
"Are you hurt?" she questioned, stooping over me; whereupon (for very shame) I turned my back answering short and ungraciously, and sat frowning like the sullen rogue I was whiles she busily set forth the wherewithal to break our fast, and singing softly to herself.
"I told you I was an ill rogue and rough!" says I, bitterly.
"Why so you did," says she, meeting my scowl with her wide, calm gaze. "Also you are hungry, and the food is unspoiled despite the storm—come and eat!"
So I ate (though with mighty ill grace) and found little savour in the food for all my hunger; but she waited on my wants with heedful care, my surliness notwithstanding.
"Whose was the hand set this boat adrift, think you?" says I suddenly.
"Nay, 'twas too dark to see!"
"'Twas Penfeather!" says I, clenching my fist. "Aye it was Adam, I'll stake my life on't!"
"Then Poor Master Adam!" she sighed.
"How? Will you pity a rogue?"
"I speak of Master Penfeather," says she. "If he indeed cut the boat adrift it was doubtless because the battle was going against him and he did this to save me!" Hereupon I laughed and she, flushing angrily, turns her back on me.
"Pray you," she questioned, "when may we hope to reach the island and be free of each other?"
"To-night or to-morrow, unless the storm hath driven us further than I judge." And now, our meal done, she sets away everything in its appointed place and thereafter sat watching the sea all foam and sparkle beneath the young sun. And presently a sigh brake from her and she turned, her anger forgotten quite.
"O!" cries she, "'Tis joy to be alive, to breathe such air, and behold such a glory of sea and sky! Look around us, Martin, and give thanks!" And truly the sea was smooth enough save for a long, rolling swell out of the East, and with a soft and gentle wind to abate the sun's generous heat. "Are you not glad to be alive, Martin?" says she.
"To what end?" I answered. "Of what avail is life to me cast away on a desolate island."
"Desolate?" says she, starting. "Do you mean we shall be alone?"
"Aye, I do."
"But surely," says she with troubled look, "surely Master Adam will fetch us away?"
"There is a chance!"
"And—if not?"
"God knoweth!" says I gloomily, "'Tis a small island as I learn, little known and out of the track of vessels."
"Yet a ship may come thither to our relief?"
"And if one doth not?"
"Then must we tempt the sea again in our boat."
"I am no navigator, and these seas are strange to me."
"Howbeit," says she, bravely, "we have good store of provisions."
"And when they are gone—how then, think you?"
"I think you do lack for sleep. Go, take your rest, mayhap you shall waken a little bolder and less despairing."
"And you," says I, "you that so look on all this as a joyous adventure—"
"Joyous? Ah God!" she cried, "Do you think because I do not weep that my heart is not full of misery and grief to lose thus home and friends and country and live 'prisoned and solitary with such as you, that think but on your own selfish woes and in your big body bear the soul of a fretful babe? I hate you, Martin Conisby, scorn and despise you! And now give me the tiller and begone to your sleep!" Saying which she pointed where she had spread the cloaks hard by the midship thwart and I, amazed by her fierce outburst, suffered her to take the tiller from my hold, and coming amidships laid myself down even as she had commanded.
But no thought of sleep had I, rather I lay that I might watch her (furtively, beneath my arm) where she sat head aloft, cheeks flushed and bosom tempestuous. And (despite her beauty) a very termagant shrew I thought her. Then, all at once, I saw a tear fall and another; and she that had sung undaunted to the tempest and outfaced its fury, sat bitterly weeping like any heart-broke maid, yet giving due heed to our course none the less. Presently, chancing to look my way, she catches me watching her and knits her slender brows at me:
"Get you to sleep!" says she. "O get you to sleep nor trouble my grief!"
Hereupon (and feeling mighty guilty) I pillowed my head and, closing my eyes, presently fell to sweet and dreamless slumber.
"Martin, Martin—look!"
I started up, and rubbing sleep from my eyes, turned to gaze whither she pointed; and there, faint and far, above the rolling blue of the seas rose a blue shape. "'Tis the island, Martin! Our voyaging is nigh ended."
"Aye, 'tis the island!" says I.
"'Tis like an island of dream, Martin."
"Nay, 'tis real enough!" quoth I, "And solitary!"
"There is a perspective glass in the locker, yonder, Martin."
"Master Adam was vastly thoughtful!" quoth I, bitterly. And reaching the glass I gave it to her.
"Will you not look at the island?" she questioned wonderingly.
"Nay, I shall see more than enough of it ere long! Do you give me the tiller and view it as you will."
"I see rocks!" says she, after some while.
"Ha, a barren place, as I thought."
"Nay, there are trees—many trees! O 'tis wonderful!" And so she sat viewing it all untiring, every moment discovering some new marvel; but I fell to my old, black humour, since to me this island was no better than a prison.
By mid-day we were come so close that I might see the place very well; a smallish island with sheer cliffs very jagged and grim where the seas broke in foam and crowned with many and divers trees, beyond which rose greeny slopes with more trees that mounted up and up to a lofty summit of rocks and brush. Being within some two miles of these forbidding cliffs I steered to fetch a compass about the island, and so presently opened a bay of white sand with tree-clad cliffs beyond, and before a sheet of placid water or lagoon shut off from the sea by a semicircular barrier-reef, such as Adam had described in his story.
And now, bethinking me that (by his account) this was the only means of landing upon the island, I stood for this reef, against which the foaming seas dashed with a mighty roaring, looking for that narrow channel through the reef, that opening amid these breakers whereby we might steer into those calm waters beyond.
And presently, sure enough, I espied it well-nigh in the middle of the reef, even as Adam had said, and, putting up the helm, ran for it straightway. An evil enough place it looked, perilously narrow and with mighty seas that broke in thunderous spray to right and left of it; insomuch that heedful of Adam's warning (and all too late) I was minded to bear up and stand away, plying off and on, until the waves should have moderated. But in my folly I had sailed too near and now, swept onward by some current, the boat, responding no more to her helm, was borne on at ever-increasing speed. So thus helpless and at mercy of the seas we drove straight for this perilous channel until I had some desperate hope that she might make it; on we sped, nearer and nearer, until the spume of the breakers was all about us and I well-nigh deafened by their roar; but this roar was pierced suddenly by a cry:
"O Martin! God pity us—look!" Turning my head, I saw a hugeous wave hard upon us, felt my companion's arms about me, and then—deafened, blinded, choking, I was whirled aloft on this mighty sea, tossed, buffeted, hurled into blinding sunlight, buried beneath green deeps and, expectant of death, suddenly found myself face down on warm sands wherein my griping fingers clutched desperately against the back-rush of the sea.
So lay I gasping and gripping this kindly earth and waited to do battle for what remained of life, hearkening for the fierce hiss of that great wave that was to bear me back to the horror of those green deeps the which should bury me for ever; instead I heard the gentle, drowsy lapping of water all about me, and opening my eyes beheld myself lying on the edge of those white sands that bordered the lagoon, while behind me the seas thundered impotent against the reef. And now, little by little, I saw that the great wave must have borne me hither in miraculous fashion; and lying thus bruised and spent I must needs remember how Adam had experienced the like.
But all at once I staggered up to my feet and began staring hither and thither; then as my brain cleared and strength came back, I took to running along the edge of the lagoon like one demented, staring down into those placid waters and searching the white sands with eyes of dreadful expectancy, yet nowhere could I discover sign or trace of my companion. None the less I continued to run aimlessly back and forth, heedless of my going, slipping and stumbling and often falling, but never staying my search until the sweat poured from me. And ever as I ran I kept repeating these words to myself over and over again, viz., "Adam's comrade, Nicholas Frant, was cast safe ashore with him!" Thus I ran to and fro gasping these words to myself until, tripping over a piece of driftwood I lay bruised and well-nigh spent. Howbeit, I forced myself up again and re-commenced my search, and this time with more method, for I swore to myself that I would find her or perish also. To this end I determined to get me out upon the reef; now to come thither I must needs climb over certain rocks, so came I thither and, breathless with haste, made shift to mount these rocks heedless of bruises or bleeding hands, and reaching the summit at last, paused all at once.
She lay face down almost below these rocks, outstretched within a little cove and her long, wet hair wide-tossed like drifted seaweed all about her. Now, seeing how still she lay, a great sickness seized me so that I sank weakly to my knees and crouched thus a while, and with no strength nor will to move. At last, and very slowly, I made my way a-down the rocks, and being within the little cove, found myself all trembling and holding my breath. Then, though the soft sand deadened all sound of my going, I crept forward. So came I where she lay, her wet draperies clinged fast about her; and standing above this stilly form I looked down upon her slender shapeliness yet feared to touch her. And now I saw that one sleeve was torn away and upon her round, white arm the marks my cruel hands had wrought.
"Damaris!" says I, falling on my knees beside her, and the word was a groan. And in that moment she raised her head and looked at me, and in her eyes methought to read wonder and a sudden, great joy:
"Martin!" she whispered, "O thank God!" And so hid her face again. Now, being yet on my knees, I looked from her to the blue heaven and round about me like one that wakes upon a new world.
"Are you hurt?" says I, at last.
"Indeed," she answered, "all over. Yet am I alive and there's the wonder. The wave cast me into the lagoon and I crept ashore here. Then methought you surely dead and I alone within these solitudes and so I swooned, Martin."
"Being afraid of the loneliness?"
"Yes, Martin."
"Even fellow as rough as I is better than loneliness?"
"Yes, Martin."
"Though your arms be bruised by my handling! For this I—I would crave your pardon—"
"'Tis all forgot!" says she, making shift to cover up her arm. "But your hand is bleeding—"
"A scratch!"
"Have you no other hurts?"
"A bruise or so."
"And did you come a-seeking me, Martin?"
"Yes."
"Are you glad to find me alive?"
"Yes."
"Even a Brandon is better than nobody, Martin?" But at this I arose, albeit stiffly, and turned away. "Whither would you go?" she questioned.
"To seek some shelter ere night catch us."
"Shall I not come with you?"
"Can you walk?"
Hereupon she made to rise, but getting to her knees, flinched and bit her lip:
"I'm so bruised, Martin!" says she.
"Why then, bide you here, yonder cleft i' the rock should serve for to-night. Howbeit I'll go look." So I limped across the beach to where showed a great fissure in the cliff hard beside a lofty tree; being come within this cleft I found it narrow suddenly, and at the end a small cave very dry and excellent suited to our purpose. Moreover, close at hand was a little rill that bubbled among mossy rocks, mighty pleasant to be heard. And hereabouts grew all manner of vines, sweet-smelling shrubs and fern; of these I gathered goodly quantity and strowing them within the cave therewith made a very passable bed; which done, I went back where she lay a-drying her wet garments in the warm sun as well as she might.
"Martin," says she, mighty doleful, "I have lost my comb and all my hairpins."
"I will fashion you others."
"Aye, but the boat, Martin, our dear, brave boat!"
"To-morrow I will seek what remains of her."
"And our stores—all lost, Martin!"
"I can find more."
"Where?"
"Among the rocks and on the trees. There should be no lack of fruit and fish according to Adam."
"Nay but," sighed she, shaking woeful head, "even though we contrive to live thus, yet here must we 'bide far from our kind with small hopes of relief and destitute of all things to our comfort."
"Why look now," says I, "here in my pocket is a tinder box, the which is a very comfortable thing, here in my belt a good, stout, knife, which is another comfortable thing, and yonder is a cave, dry and airy, shall make you a goodly chamber; so take comfort to-night, at least." And drawing my knife I betook me to whetting the blade on the sole of my damp shoe. Glancing up at last I found my companion regarding me with strange expression.
"Methinks you are greatly changed!" says she.
"How changed?"
"In the boat you did nought but cry out and rail 'gainst fortune, but now, Martin—"
"Now," says I, "the sun is low and night cometh apace in these latitudes, let me know you sheltered ere it be dark!" and sheathing my knife I rose. Then seeing what effort she made to come to her knees, I reached her my hand aiding her up to her feet. So she takes a step and, stifling a cry of pain, would have fallen but for my arm.
"O Martin," says she, with rueful shake of the head, "I fear I cannot walk."
"Lean on me—"
"'Tis vain," says she, catching her breath, "I cannot set this foot to ground."
"Have you any bones broke?"
"Nay, 'tis none so bad as that—"
"Where's your hurt?"
"My knee—my ankle! And I'm direly bruised, Martin."
"But you cannot sleep out here!"
"I needs must. The sand is warm and soft to my bed."
"There is a better waiting you in the cave yonder."
"But—if I cannot walk, Martin—"
"Why then," says I, "why then you must suffer that I carry you."
"I fear I am—greatly heavy, Martin!"
"As to that—" says I, and lifting her as gently as I might, began to bear her across the beach. And after we had gone thus some way she spoke:
"I fear me I am vastly heavy!"
"No!" says I, keeping my gaze before me.
"Yet you go very slowly."
"'Tis that I would not jostle you."
"And the sand is ill-going, belike, Martin?"
"Most true!" says I, pretending to stumble.
"Why then, I pray you take your time." At this I ventured to glance down at her, but saw no more than the curve of a cheek and the tip of a little ear; and staring at this came very near blundering into a rock. So I bore her into the rocky cleft already full of shadow, taking due heed in my going yet mighty conscious of all the yielding softness of her none the less.
"Your clothes are very damp!" says I.
"They will be dry ere morning," she answered, her voice muffled.
"I had best light a fire then!"
"There is no need, 'tis very warm, I do think."
"'Tis good against wild beasts and the like," says I.
"Why then, as you will, Martin."
Reaching the little cave at last she would have had me set her down; but I bade her lie still, and getting to my knees within the cave I laid her upon her ferny bed, whereat she uttered a little cry of pleasure.
"Why, Martin," says she, snugging down, "here is wondrous soft bed and fragrant."
"'Twill serve until I can contrive a better," quoth I, and coming without the cave, stood looking down on her, while the night deepened about us apace.
"And what of you, Martin?"
"I shall sleep here, beyond the fire."
"Do you think there be any wild beasts hereabouts?"
"God knoweth!" says I. "Howbeit you may sleep secure and fear nothing."
"I know that, O I know that!" says she gently.
"Do you lack for aught?"
"Only sleep, Martin."
"Why then, I'll set about making the fire." So I fell to gathering twigs and driftwood, of which there was no lack, and taking out my tinder-box (albeit the tinder was still damp) soon contrived to have the fire crackling right merrily. This done and with store of fuel to hand, I scooped me out a hollow in the warm sand and lying therein found myself very well, the aches of my many bruises notwithstanding. The night air struck chill through my damp garments, but now, stretched in the comfort of the fire, there grew within me a great wonder at our miraculous deliverance; and this led me to ponder upon our present situation, cast thus destitute upon this lonely island where, devoid of every comfort and necessity, we must needs live in barbarous fashion as best we might until either Penfeather should come to our relief or we be taken off by some chance vessel. And supposing (thinks I) that neither chance befall and we doomed to drag out our days to their miserable end? Here I must needs bethink me of all the woeful tales I had heard of marooners or poor, shipwrecked mariners who, by reason of wretchedness and hardship, had run mad or become baser than the brutes. And now, I must needs take out and read Penfeather's crumpled letter, and bethinking me how (in my wicked folly) I had cast overboard the packet of instructions whereby we must at least have found all those stores he made mention of, from cursing him I straightway fell to bitter recriminations of my vain self.
"Are you asleep, Martin?"
"No!" Here I heard her sigh, and a rustle as she turned on her leafy couch.
"O Martin, surely God hath had us in His care to bring us safe through so many dangers, and methinks His gentle hand will be over us still."
"Have you no fear of what is to be?"
"None, Martin—not now. But had I found myself alone here—hurt and helpless in the dark—and really alone, O methinks I should have died indeed, or lost my wits and perished so. O truly, truly, God is infinitely merciful!"
Thus (and all unknowing) she rebuked my ungrateful despondency. For (thinks I) if she, a woman accustomed to ease and comfort, may thus front our desperate fortunes undismayed and with faith unshaken, how much more should I, a man inured to suffering and hardened by privation? Thus, checking my gloomy foreboding, I too breathed a prayer to God for His infinite mercies, and thereafter fell to pondering how I might supply our more pressing needs with such small means as I possessed; and so in a while, dozed off to sleep.
I started up, knife in hand, to find the moon very big and bright, flooding the world with a radiance wondrous to behold; and blinking drowsily, I wondered what had waked me. Now as I gazed about me the place seemed all at once to take on an evil look, what with its steepy sides a-bristle with tangled vines and bushes and pierced here and there with black holes and fissures, and I shivered. The fire being low I, minded to replenish it, was groping for my fuel when I started and remained peering up at the cliff above, with ears on the stretch and every nerve a-tingle. The night was very calm and still, for the wind had died away, and save for the distant murmur of the surf beyond the reef, nought was to hear; then and all at once, from one of those black holes in the rock above I heard a long-drawn, sighing breath and therewith a faint scuffling. Slowly and cautiously I got to my feet and, with knife gripped ready, began to creep thither; and now within one of these gloomy crevices in the rock-face I saw a crouching shape that, as I drew nearer, sprang away with a snort and clatter, and I saw this was a large goat.
And surely no poor wight ever more relieved than I as, sheathing my knife, I wiped the sweat from me; and now to relief was added a mighty satisfaction, for where was one goat would be others. Thus, my fears allayed, and bethinking me how savoury was a mess of goat's-flesh, I fell a-watering at the mouth like the hungry animal I was.
Having no more mind to sleep (and the moon so marvellous bright) I wandered forth of these shadowy rocks and, being upon the sands, stood to look about me. Before me stretched the wide ocean, a desolation of heaving waters that, rolling shorewards, broke in splendour 'neath the moon; to my right lay a curve of silver beach backed by cliffs and groves of stately palms; and to my left and hard beside these bush-girt rocks was a great and lofty tree.
Now observing this tree more closely, its mighty writhen branches and gnarled roots, and how it stood close against the opening in the cliff, an uneasy feeling possessed me that this tree and its immediate surroundings were all familiar, almost as I had seen it before, though I knew this could not be. So stood I chin in hand, staring about me and ever my unease grew; and then:
"So that night, Martin, the moon being high and bright, I came to that stretch of silver sand where they lay together rigid and pale, and though I had no tool but his dagger and a piece of driftwood, I contrived to bury them 'neath the great pimento tree that stood beside the rock-cleft, and both in the same grave."
It was, for all the world, as though Adam had repeated the words in my ear, insomuch that I glanced round as almost expecting to see him. So then it was here Black Bartlemy had died at the hands of the poor, tortured Spanish lady; and here they lay buried, their bones mouldering together within a yard of me. And standing in this dismal spot I must needs mind Adam's narrative and great was my pity for this poor Spanish lady.
In a while I got me back to the fire and, lying down, fain would have slept, but my mind was full of Adam's story. Howbeit after some while, what with fatigue and the warmth of the fire, slumber took me.
But in my sleep the dead arose and stood fronting each other beneath a pallid moon, Bartlemy in all the bravery of velvet and lace and flowing periwig, and the Spanish lady tall and proud and deadly pale. And now as she shrank from his evil touch, I saw that her face was the face of Joan Brandon. Sweating in dumb anguish I watched Bartlemy grip her in cruel hands and bend her backward across his knee, while she stared up at him with eyes of horror, her lips moving in passionate entreaty. But, as he bent over her, was a flash of steel, and deep-smitten he staggered back to the great tree and, leaning there, fell into a fit of wild laughter so that the silver dagger-hilt that was shaped like a woman seemed to dance and leap upon his quick-heaving breast; then as he swayed there laughing his life out, he raised his face to the pale moon, and I saw that the face of Black Bartlemy was my own.
Waking to a glory of sun, I found my companion looking down on me all anxious-eyed where she knelt, her hand upon my shoulder.
"Why, Joan," says I drowsily, "my lady—"
"You are groaning, Martin, so I came to you."
"Groaning?" says I, flinching from her touch. "'Twas nought! An ill fancy—a dream, no more. But here is the sun well up and I a-snoring—"
"Nay, you groaned and cried out, Martin. And 'tis yet full early."
"And you'll be mighty hungry and for that matter so am I!" So saying I rose and, without more ado, strode away across the sands towards the reef. Now as I went, I chanced upon a great turtle-shell (to my joy!) and divers others marvellously shaped and tinted, and chose such as might serve us for cups and the like. With these beneath my arm I clambered out upon the reef and (the tide being out) saw many rocks, amongst which I had soon collected good store of shell-fish as limpets, oysters, and others much like to a periwinkle though larger. Filling my turtle-shell with these I took it 'neath my arm again and went on, following the curve of the reef, clambering over these slimy rocks, and found it no small labour what with my burden and the heat of the sun; but I persevered, seeking some fragment of our boat or the stores wherewith she had been so well laden. Yet, and search how I might, found nought to reward me. Having thus traversed the whole reef and explored the rocks beyond very thoroughly, I cast me down beside the lagoon to bathe my hands and face and rest myself awhile. Presently, chancing to turn my head, I saw a place of trees hard by, and started up, my weariness clean forgotten. For divers of these trees bore great clusters of yellowish fruit, the which I knew for a sort of plantain, very wholesome and of delicate savour. So, casting out my limpets and periwinkles, I hasted to pluck good store of this fruit, and with my turtle-shell thus well laden, hastened back to our refuge very well content.
My companion being absent I seated myself in the shade and began opening the oysters with my knife as well as I might; in the which occupation she presently found me, and grew very merry at my clumsy efforts. And now I noticed that she had wrought her long hair into two braids very thick and glossy, also she had somehow contrived to mend the rents in her gown and her torn sleeve.
"Why, you have combed your hair!" says I wondering and speaking my thought aloud.
"With my fingers, they must be my comb until you can make me a better—alack, my poor hair!"
"Why then, you must have a comb so soon as I can contrive one. But now see the breakfast nature hath provided us withal!"
And who so full of pleased wonderment as she, particularly as regarded the fruit which she pronounced delicious, but my shell-fish she showed small liking for, though I found them eatable enough. Seeing her so pleased I told her I hoped to provide better fare very soon, and recounted my adventure with the goat.
"But," says she, "how shall you go a-hunting and no firearms?"
"With a bow and arrows."
"Have you found these also?"
"No, I must make them. I shall look out a sapling shaped to my purpose and trim it with my knife. For the cord of my bow I will have leather strips cut from my jerkin."
"Aye, but your arrows, Martin, how shall you barb them without iron?"
"True!" says I, somewhat hipped. But in that moment my eye lighted on a piece of driftwood I had gathered for fuel and, reaching it, I laid it at her feet. "There," says I, pointing to the heads of divers rusty bolts that pierced it, "here is iron enough to arm a score of arrows."
"But how shall you make them, Martin?"
"Heat the iron soft and hammer it into shape."
"But you have neither hammer nor anvil."
"Stones shall do."
"O wonderful!" she cried.
"Nay, it is not done yet!" says I, a little shamefaced.
"And how may I help you?"
"Watch me work."
"Indeed and I will keep your fire going. So come let us begin."
Our meal done, I gathered twigs for kindling and a great pile of driftwood of which was no lack, and with small boulders I builded a fireplace against the cliff where we soon had a fire drawing merrily, wherein I set my precious piece of timber. Having charred it sufficiently I found it an easy matter to break out the iron bolts and nails; five of them there were of from four to eight inches in length, and though the ends were much corroded by the sea, there yet remained enough sound iron for my purpose. And now, my bolts ready for the fire, I began to look for some stone that might serve me for hammer, and my companion likewise. Suddenly, as I sought and mighty diligent, I heard her cry out to me, and beholding her leaning in the cave mouth, all pale and trembling, came running:
"What is't?" cries I, struck by the horror of her look.
"O Martin!" she gasped. "O Martin—'tis in there—all huddled—in the darkest corner! And I—I slept with it—beside me all night!" Coming within the cave I looked whither her shaking hand pointed and saw what I took at first for a monstrous egg and beyond this the staves of a small barrel; then, bending nearer, I saw these were the skull and ribs of a man. And this man had died very suddenly, for the skeleton lay face down one bony arm folded under him, the other wide-tossed, and the skull, shattered behind, showed a small, round hole just above and betwixt the cavernous eye-sockets; about the ribs were the mouldering remains of a leathern jerkin girt by a broad belt wherein was a knife and a rusty sword; but that which pleased me mightily was a thing still fast-clenched in these bony fingers, and this no other than a heavy hatchet. So, disturbing these poor bones as little as need be, I took the hatchet and thereafter sword and knife; and then, turning to go, stopped all at once, for tied about the bony neck by a leathern thong I espied a shrivelled parchment. Wondering, I took this also, and coming without the cave, found my companion leaning as I had left her and very shaky.
"O Martin!" says she, shivering, "and I slept within touch of it!"
"But you slept very well and he, poor soul, is long past harming you or any." So saying I smoothed out the crackling parchment and holding it in her view, saw this writ very bold and clear:
"Benjamin Galbally Slain of necessity June 20, 1642 This for a sign to like Rogues.
"Adam Penfeather."
"Will this be our Adam Penfeather, Martin?"
"Indeed," says I, "there is methinks but one Adam Penfeather in this world, the which is just as well, mayhap."
"Then he murdered this poor man?"
"Why the fellow had this hatchet in his fist, it hath lain rusting in his grasp all these years, methinks his blow came something too late! Though he must be mighty quick who'd outmatch Penfeather, I guess. No, this man I take it died in fight. Though why Adam must set this placard about the poor rogue's neck is beyond me."
"Let us go away, Martin. This is an evil place."
"It is!" says I, glancing at the great pimento tree that marked the grave of the poor Spanish lady and Black Bartlemy. "Truly we will seek out another habitation and that at once. Howbeit, I have gotten me my hammer." And I showed her the hatchet, the which, unlike the ordinary boarding-axe, was furnished with a flat behind the blade, thus:
(Line drawing of the hatchet.)
Seeing my companion so anxious to be gone, I left my fire to burn out and, giving her my hand, forthwith turned my back on this place of death, nor sorry to do it.
Following the base of the cliff we found an opening in the rock vaulted and arched by nature so that it was of white sands, bordering the lagoon, the which we there and then agreed to call "Deliverance" in memory of our escape. What with the soft sand and scattered rocks it was ill-going for my companion, but though she limped painfully she held bravely on nevertheless, being of a mighty resolute mind as this narrative will show.
Now as we went slowly thus, I pointed out caves a-plenty and very proper to our purpose, but she would have none of them and was forever lifting her eyes to the cliffs and tree-clad, greeny slopes beyond.
"Let us seek above," says she, "where there be trees and mayhap flowers, for, Martin, I do love trees."
"Nay but," says I, "none save a bird or a goat may climb yonder."
"Let us be patient and seek a way, Martin."
"And you all bruised and lame!"
"Nay, I am very well and—see yonder!" Looking whither she would have me, I saw, beyond this great jutting rock, a green opening in the cliffs with a gentle ascent.
"O Martin!" cries she, stopping suddenly, "O Martin, 'tis like England, 'tis like one of our dear Kentish lanes!" And indeed so it was, being narrow and grassy and shady with trees, save that these were such trees as never grew on English soil.
"Let us go, Martin, let us go!"
So we began the ascent and (despite the blazing sun) the slope being gradual, found it easier than it had looked. On we went, and though she often stumbled she made nought of it nor stayed until we were come to a green level or plateau, whence the ground before us trended downwards to a wondrous fertile little valley where ran a notable stream 'twixt reedy banks; here also bloomed flowers, a blaze of varied colours; and beyond these again were flowery thickets a very maze of green boskages besplashed with the vivid colour of flower or bird, for here were many such birds that flew hither and thither on gaudy wings, and filling the air with chatterings and whistlings strange to be heard.
Now beholding all this, my companion sank to the ground and sat very still and silent like one rapt in pleasing wonder.
"O!" says she at last and very softly. "Surely here is an earthly paradise, O Martin, the beauty of it!"
"Yet these flowers have no smell!" says I. "And for these gaudy birds I would give them all for one honest English robin or sweet-throated black bird!"
But she, chin in hand, sat a-gazing upon this prospect as she would never tire. As for me, I began to look around and, the more I looked, the better I liked this place, pleasantly shaded as it was by trees and affording from this eminence a wide view of the sea, the lagoon, and Deliverance Beach below. Moreover, I heard near by the pleasant sound of falling water and, drawn by this, came to a flowery thicket, and forcing my way through, paused suddenly, as well I might, for before me, set in the face of a rock, was a door. All askew it hung and grown over with a riot of weed and vines; and behind the weatherworn timber I saw the gloom of a cavern.
Approaching this door I found it built with ship's timbers exceeding stout and strong, joined by great battens clamped with bolts and nails, and in the midst a loophole; and besides this I saw divers shot-marks in these timbers the which set me a-wondering. Now having my hatchet in hand, I set about cutting away bush and vines, and forcing wide the door (the which swung 'twixt great beams like jambs, clamped to the rock) I stepped into the cool dimness beyond. The place was irregular of shape but very spacious and lighted by a narrow, weed-choked crevice high up that admitted a soft, greeny glow very pleasing after the glare of the sun; by which light I perceived that from this cave two smaller caves opened. Now seeing this place had once been the abode of some poor castaway, I sought high and low in hopes of finding something to our use if no more than a broken cup, but came on nothing save the ruin of a small table; the place was bare as my hand. I was yet busied in my fruitless search when comes my companion all pleased-eyed wonderment.
"Why, 'tis as good as any cottage!" cries she.
"And better than some," says I, "for here is no thatch to leak and no windows to break and let in the rain!"
"O Martin, for a broom!" says she, looking around upon the floor ankle-deep in dead leaves, twigs and the like. "O for a broom!"
"These leaves be well enough—"
"But better for a broom, Martin."
"Why then, a broom you shall have," says I, and coming without the cave I cut twigs sufficient to my purpose, and divers lengths of vine, very strong and tough, and therewith bound my twigs about a stick I had trimmed for a handle; whiles she, sitting upon a great stone that lay hard by, watched me with mighty interest.
"You are very clever, Martin!" says she.
"'Tis very rough, I doubt."
"I have seen many a worse broom used in England, Martin."
"Why, 'twill serve, mayhap."
"'Tis excellent!" says she, and taking the broom from me away she limps with it forthwith and I, standing without the cave, presently heard her sweeping away (despite her bruises) and singing sweet as any mounting lark. I now set out to bring away such things as I had left behind, as my iron and the turtle-shell (the which I held of more account than all the jewels in Adam's treasure) and on my way stopped to cut a stout, curved branch that I thought might furnish me a powerful bow; and another that, bladed with iron, should become a formidable spear. Though why my mind should run to weapons of offence seeing that the island, so far as I knew, was deserted, and no wild beasts, I know not. Reaching Deliverance Sands I paused to look about me for such pieces of driftwood as might serve us, and came on several full of nails and bolts; some of these timbers being warped with age and others comparatively new. And looking on these poor remains of so many noble ships and thinking of the numberless poor souls that had manned them and gone to their account, I could not but feel some awe for these storm-rent timbers as I handled them. And presently as I laboured I spied a piece new-painted, and dragging it forth from sand and seaweed, knew it for the gunwale of our own boat. This put me in great hopes that I might come upon some of our stores, but, though I sought diligently then and for days after, I never found anything but this poor fragment. Having laid by such timbers as shewed iron of any sort, I went my way and so at last reached our first shelter. And what should I espy upon a ledge of rock just above me but a goat; for a moment the creature blinked at me, chewing busily, then scrambled to its feet; but in that instant I caught up a heavy stone that chanced handy and hurled it; the poor beast bleated once, and rolling down the rock thudded at my feet, where I despatched it with my knife. My next care was to skin it, which unlovely task I made worse by my bungling, howbeit it was done at last and I reeking of blood and sweat. None the less I persevered and, having cleaned the carcass I cut therefrom such joints as might satisfy our immediate needs, and setting them in my turtle-shell with my irons, hung up the carcass within the coolest part of the cave out of reach of any prowling beast. This done, I went down to the lagoon and laved my arms and hands and face, cleansing myself as well as I might, and so, taking my well-laden turtle-shell under one arm and the reeking skin beneath the other, I set off. Now it was mid-day and the sun very hot, insomuch that the sweat poured from me, and more than once I must needs pause to moisten my hair to keep off the heat. At last, espying a palmetto that grew adjacent, I made shift to get me a leaf, whereof, with twigs to skewer and shape it, I made me the semblance of a hat and so tramped on again. Being come to the plateau I set down my burdens, very thankful for the kindly shade and the sweet, cool wind that stirred up here, and turned to find my companion regarding me pale-cheeked and with eyes wide and horror-struck.
"Why, what now?" says I taking a step towards her; but seeing how she shrank away I paused and, glancing down at myself, saw my clothes all smirched with the blood of the goat. "How, is it this?" says I. "Well, a little blood is no great matter!" But she still eyeing me mightily askance I grew angry. "Ha!" quoth I, "You'll be thinking doubtless of the murders aboard ship and my bloody jerkin? Why then, madam, think and grow as wise as you may!" Saying which I strode off; and thus I presently heard the soothing sound of falling water, yet look where I might could see none save that in the little valley below. Being direly athirst I began to seek for this unseen rill, and little by little was led up a steep, bush-grown acclivity until, all at once, I found myself in a right pleasant place; for here, all set about with soft mosses, fern and flowers, I beheld a great oval basin or rocky hollow some twelve feet across and brim-full of pellucid water through which I might see the bottom carpeted with mosses and in this water my image mirrored; and what with the blood that fouled me, my shaggy hair and beard and the shapeless thing upon my head, an ill-enough rogue I looked.
This pool was fed by a little rill that gurgled down from rocks above and, having filled the basin, flowed out through a wide fissure and down the cliff to lose itself amid flowery banks 'twixt which it ran bubbling joyously to meet the river. And now, having satisfied my thirst and found the water very sweet and cool, I stripped and bathing me in this pool, found great solace and content, insomuch that (to my great wonder) I presently found myself whistling like any boy. At last I got me forth mightily refreshed, and that the wind and sun might dry me, strove to cleanse my garments, but finding it a thankless task I got dressed at last, but my chain-shirt I left folded beside the pool and I much more comfortable therefor.
Following the dancing rill, I clambered down the rocks and so into the little valley where ran the stream. Fording this, I came amid thickets where was a glory of flowers of all colours, but one in especial I noticed, white and trumpet-shaped. And here I was often stayed by quickset and creeping plants, their stems very pliant and strong and of the bigness of my little finger. On went I haphazard through a green twilight of leaves, for here (as hath been said) were many trees both great and small, some of which were utterly strange to me, but others I knew for cocos-palms, plantain and bread-fruit, the which rejoiced me greatly; and hereabouts I found growing great bunches of black fruit like to grapes, though smaller, and which I would not dare touch until, seeing divers birds peck at them, I ventured to taste and found them excellent. So, gathering some of these to stay my hunger I pressed on, despite the heat, for from somewhere before me was the roar of great waters, and forced me a passage with my hatchet until this denser wood gave place to a grove of mighty palm trees, and beyond these I came suddenly upon a great, barren rock that overhung a lake, whose dark waters were troubled by a torrent hard by that poured into it with a great rushing sound, a torrent of prodigious volume though of no great height. "So here" (thinks I) "is Adam's 'notable fall of water,'" and sitting down, I fell to viewing the place, munching my grapes the while. Opposite me the lake was bounded by a high-sloping sandy beach with trees beyond, while beyond these again rose that high, tree-clad hill whose barren, rocky dome we had seen from afar. Now the waters of this lake flooded away through a great rent in the surrounding rocks betwixt which I might catch a glimpse of the distant sea; and beholding this rushing cataract I must needs fall a-wondering where so great a body of water should come from, and to ponder on the marvels of nature. And from this I got to considering how we might cross this stream, supposing we should explore the island. I was yet puzzling this when, glancing up, I found the sun already westering, wherefore (not minded to be caught in the dark) I rose and, turning my back on these troubled waters, set out on my return. Ever and anon as I went I caught glimpses of that rocky eminence with its silver thread of falling water whence I had come, and, guided by this, strode on amain, bethinking me how best I might cook the goat's-flesh for (despite the grapes) I was mightily an hungered. But reaching the denser woods I lost my way, for here nought was to see but the greeny gloom of tangled thickets and dense-growing boskages where I must needs cut a path, yet even so I troubled myself with divers bunches of grapes that my companion might prove my discovery. Thus my progress was slow and wearisome, and night found me still forcing my way through this tangled underwood. Being lost and in the dark, I sat me down to wait for the moon and stayed my hunger with the grapes meant for better purpose, but one bunch that methought the better I preserved. Soon this leafy gloom glowed with a silvery radiance, and by this light I went on and so at last came upon the stream. But hereabouts it ran fast and deep and I must needs seek about till I found a ford. Thus the moon was high as, after desperate scramble, I came out upon our grassy plateau and saw the welcome glow of a fire. Moreover, as I approached I smelt right savoury and most delectable savour, and hurrying forward saw my companion crouched upon that stone I have mentioned, her head bowed upon her hands. Hearing my step she glanced up and rose to her feet.
"Are you come at last, Martin?" says she in her sweet voice. "Supper is ready this hour and more!"
"Supper!" says I.
"The goat's-flesh. I made a stew, but fear 'tis spoiled."
"Indeed," says I, "it smells mighty appetising!"
"I had no salt nor spices, Martin, but in a little garden yonder that is all run wild, I found some sage and sweet herbs."
"Good!" says I. So she brought me to the fire and there in our great turtle-shell was as savoury a stew as ever greeted eyes of hungry man.
By her directions, and will all due care, I lifted this from the fire, and propping it with stones we sat down side by side. And now she shows me two of my smaller shells, and dipping hers into the stew I did the like, and though we had no salt (the which set my wits at work) and though we lacked for bread, a very excellent meal we made of it, and the moon shedding its glory all about us.
The meal done, and while she cleansed the things at a rill that murmured hard by, I made up the fire (for after the heat of the day, night struck chill) and by the time she came back I had the flame crackling merrily. And now as she sat over against me on the stone, I saw she had been weeping. And she, knowing I saw this, nodded her head, scorning all subterfuge.
"I feared you had met with some mischance and lay hurt, Martin—or worse—"
"You mean dead?"
"Aye, dead."
"Would it have mattered so much?"
"Only that I should have died likewise!"
"Because of the loneliness?" says I.
"Indeed," she sighed, staring into the fire, "because of the loneliness."
"I serve some purpose, then, in the scheme of things?"
"Yes, Martin, you teach a woman how, even in this desolation, being weak and defenceless she may trust to a man's honour and find courage and great comfort in his strength. 'Twas foolish of me to be horror-struck at your stained garments when you had been slaying that I might eat."
"'Tis all forgot!" says I, hastily.
"And as for the murders on the ship—O Martin, as if you might ever make me believe you had committed murder—or ever could. You that under all your bitterness are still the same gentle boy I knew so long ago."
"And why should you be so sure of all this and I but what I am?" says I, staring also into the fire.
"Mayhap because I am a woman with all a woman's instinct to know the evil from the good."
Hereupon I began telling her of my exploration and describing the wonders I had seen, as the fruit-trees and waterfall. Whereupon she grew eager to explore the island so soon as she might. In a while I arose, and drawing my knife turned where I knew was fern a-plenty.
"Where away?" she questioned, rising also.
"I must make you a bed."
"'Tis done, Martin, and yours also."
"Mine!" says I, staring. "How should you do all this?"
"With the old, rusty sword, Martin. Come and see!"
So she brought me to the cave, the moon flooding the place with its pale radiance, and I espied a goodly bed of fern very neatly contrived, in one corner.
"Bravely done!" says I.
"At least, Martin, 'twill be more easy than your bed of sand, and methinks you shall have no ill dreams to-night."
"Dreams!" quoth I, and bethinking me of my last night's hateful visions (and now beholding the beauty of her) I shivered.
"Are you cold?"
"No!"
"Why then, good-night, Martin."
"Wait!" says I, "Wait!" And hasting out, I brought her the grapes I had saved, telling her that though small she would find them sweet and wholesome.
"Why, Martin!" says she, under her breath as one greatly surprised, "Why, Martin!" and so vanishes into her little cave forthwith, and never a word of thanks.
Now being yet haunted by my dreams of yesternight, I went forth into the moonlight and walked there awhile, my eyes uplifted to the glory of the heavens; and now I must needs bethink me of Godby's star-time, of the dark, lonely road, of the beckoning light beyond and the welcoming arms of love. And hereupon I scowled and turned to stare away across the placid sea dimpling 'neath the moon, at the stilly waters of the lagoon, and the white curve of Deliverance Beach below; but, look where I would, I could see only the proud, lovely face and the great, truthful eyes of this woman Joan Brandon, even when my scowling brows were bent on that distant pimento tree beneath whose towering shadow Black Bartlemy had laughed his life out. So in a while I came within the cave and found it dim, for the moonbeam was there no longer, and cast myself upon my bed, very full of gloomy thoughts.
"Martin, I thank you for your grapes. To-morrow we will gather more!"
"Aye, to-morrow!"
"I found a shirt of chain-work by the pool, Martin—"
"'Tis mine."
"I have set it by against your need."
"Nay, I'm done with it, here is no fear of knives in the back."
"Are you sleepy, Martin?"
"No, but 'tis plaguy dark."
"But you are there," says she, "so I do not fear the dark."
"To-morrow I will make a lamp." Here she fell silent and I think to sleep, but as for me I lay long, oppressed by my thoughts. "Aye, verily," says I at last, speaking my thought aloud as had become my custom in my solitude, "to-morrow I will contrive a lamp, for light is a goodly thing." Now here I heard a rustle from the inner cave as she had turned in her sleep, for she spake no word; and so, despite my thoughts, I too presently fell to blessed slumber.
Now if there be any who, reading this my narrative, shall think me too diffuse and particular in the chapters to follow, I do hereby humbly crave their pardon, but (maugre my reader's weariness) shall not abate one word or sentence, since herein I (that by my own folly have known so little of happiness) do record some of the happiest hours that ever man knew, so that it is joy again to write. Therefore to such as would read of rogues and roguish doings, of desperate fights, encounters and affrays, I would engage him to pass over these next few chapters, for he shall find overmuch of these things ere I make an end of this tale of Black Bartlemy's Treasure. Which very proper advice having duly set down, I will again to my narrative.