TThe master, my patient, got up from his bed in a few days, somewhat pale and weak after his copious blood-letting and the drastic medicines with which I purged the grossness of his habit and expelled the noxious humours caused by his many intemperances. These had greatly injured what we call—because we know not what nor what else to call it—the pure volatile spirit, and, so to speak, turned sour thehumor radicalis—the sweet oil and balsamical virtues of the body. I gave him such counsel as was fitting for his case, admonishing him urgently to abstain from strong liquors, except in their moderate use; to drink only after his meals; to keep his head cool and sober, and above all things to repress and govern his raging temper, which would otherwise most certainly catch him by the throat like some fierce and invisible devil and throw him into a fit, and so kill him. I told him also what might be meant by the Wise Man (who certainly thought of all the bearings which his words could have) when he said that one who is slow to wrath is of great understanding—namely, that many men do throw away their lives by falling into excessive fits of rage. But I found that the words of Holy Scripture had little authority over him, for he lived without prayer or praise, trampled on the laws of God, and gave no heed at all to the flight of time and the coming of the next world.
The master, my patient, got up from his bed in a few days, somewhat pale and weak after his copious blood-letting and the drastic medicines with which I purged the grossness of his habit and expelled the noxious humours caused by his many intemperances. These had greatly injured what we call—because we know not what nor what else to call it—the pure volatile spirit, and, so to speak, turned sour thehumor radicalis—the sweet oil and balsamical virtues of the body. I gave him such counsel as was fitting for his case, admonishing him urgently to abstain from strong liquors, except in their moderate use; to drink only after his meals; to keep his head cool and sober, and above all things to repress and govern his raging temper, which would otherwise most certainly catch him by the throat like some fierce and invisible devil and throw him into a fit, and so kill him. I told him also what might be meant by the Wise Man (who certainly thought of all the bearings which his words could have) when he said that one who is slow to wrath is of great understanding—namely, that many men do throw away their lives by falling into excessive fits of rage. But I found that the words of Holy Scripture had little authority over him, for he lived without prayer or praise, trampled on the laws of God, and gave no heed at all to the flight of time and the coming of the next world.
For a day or two he followed my injunctions, taking a tankard of small ale to his breakfast, the same quantity with his dinner, a pint of Madeira for his supper, and a sober glass or two before going to bed. But when he grew well, his brother planters came round him again, the drinking was renewed, and in the morning I would find him again with parched throat, tongue dry, and shaking hand, ready to belabour, to curse, and to rail at everybody. If one wanted an example for the young how strong drink biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder, here was a case the sight of which might have caused all young men to forswear drunkenness. Alas! there are plenty of such examples to be seen in every part of England; yet the younger men still continue to drink, and that, I think, worse than their fathers. This man, however, who was not yet five-and-thirty, in the very prime of strong and healthy manhood, had his finger-joints swollen and stony from taking muchwine; he commonly ate but little meat, craving continually for more drink, and his understanding, which was by nature, I doubt not, clear and strong, was now brutish and stupid. Thinking over this man, and of the power, even unto death, which he possessed over his servants and slaves, the words came into my mind: 'It is not for Kings, O Lemuel, it is not for Kings to drink wine; nor for Princes strong drink.'
Nay, more (and this I say, knowing that many godly men will not agree with me): I am fully persuaded that there is no man in the whole world so good and so strong in virtue and religion that he should be suffered to become the master or despot over any other man, even over a company of poor and ignorant blacks, or a gang of transported thieves. When I think of those unhappy people, driven forth in the morning, heavy-eyed and downcast, to the hard day's work; and when I remember how they crept home at night, after being driven, cursed, and beaten all day long; and when I think upon their drivers, overseers, and masters, and of their hard and callous hearts, I am moved to cry aloud (if any would hear me) that to be a slave is wretched indeed; but that to own and to drive slaves should be a thing most dangerous for any who would continue members of Christ's Church.
When I told Barnaby the surprising news that his sister was not only safe, but a servant like ourselves upon the same estate, I looked that he would rejoice. On the contrary, he fell into a strange mood, swearing at this ill stroke as he called it. He said that he never had the least doubt as to her safety, seeing there were so many in the West Country who knew and respected her father, and would willingly shelter her. Then he dwelt upon certain evils—of which, I confess, I had thought little—which might befall her. And, lastly, he set forth with great plainness the increased dangers in escaping when one has to carry a woman or a wounded man—a thing, he pointed out, which had caused his own capture after Sedgemoor.
Then he opened up to me the whole business of our escape.
'Last Saturday night,' he said, 'while you were sleeping, I made my way to the port, and, having a shilling or so left, I sought out a tavern. There is one hard by the Bridge, a house-of-call for sailors, where I had the good fortune to find a fellow who can do for us all we want—if his money hold out, which I doubt. He is a carver by trade, and a convict, like ourselves; but is permitted by his master to work at his trade in the town. He hath been, it is true, branded in the hand; but, Lord! what signifies that? He was once a thief—well—he is now an honest lad again, who asks for nothing but to get home again. John Nuthall is his name.'
'Go on, Barnaby. We are already in such good company that another rogue or two matters little.'
'This man came here secretly last night, while you were in the sick-house. He is very hot upon getting away. And because I am a sailor and can navigate a craft (which he cannot do) he will takewith him not only myself, but also all my party. Now listen, Humphrey. He hath bought a boat of a Guinea man in the harbour; and because, to prevent the escape of servants, every boat is licensed and her owner has to give security to the Governor's officers, he hath taken this boat secretly up a little creek of which he knows, and hath there sunk her three feet deep. The masts, the sails, the oars, and the other gear he hath also safely bestowed in a secret place. But we cannot sail without water, provisions, nor without a compass at least. If our party is to consist of Sister, Robin, you, John Nuthall, and myself—five in all—we shall have to load the boat with provisions, and I must have a compass. I looked for a boatful with ourselves and John Nuthall. Now we have Sis as well; and the boat is but small. Where shall we get provisions? and where shall we lay our hands upon the money to buy what we want?'
He could talk of nothing else, because his mind was full of his plan. Yet it seemed to me a most desperate enterprise, thus to launch a small boat upon the wide ocean, and in this cockle-shell to brave the waves which are often fatal to the tallest ships.
'Tut, man,' said Barnaby. 'We are not now in the season of the tornadoes, and there is no other danger upon these seas. I would as lief be in an open boat as in a brigantine. Sharks may follow us, but they will not attack a boat; calamaries they talk of, big enough to lay their arms round the boat and so to drag it under; but such monsters have I never seen, any more than I have seen the great whale of Norway or the monstrous birds of the Southern Seas. There is only one danger, Humphrey, my lad.' Here he laid his hand upon mine and became mighty serious. 'If we are taken we shall be flogged—all of us. Thirty-nine lashes they will lay on, and they will brand us. For myself, I value not their thirty-nine lashes a brass farthing, nor their branding with a hot iron, which can but make a man jump for a day or two. To me this risk against the chance of escape matters nothing. Why, when I was cabin-boy I got daily more than thirty-nine lashes—kicks, cuffs, and rope's-endings. Nay, I remember, when we sat over the Latin syntax together my daily ration must have been thirty-nine, more or less, and Dad's arm was stronger than you would judge, to look at him. If they catch me, let them lay on their thirty-nine and be damned to them! But you and Robin, I doubt, think otherwise.'
'I would not willingly be flogged, Barnaby, if there were any way of escape—even by death.'
'So I thought! So I thought!'
'And as for Robin, if he recovers—which I doubt—he too, if I know him, would rather be killed than be flogged.'
'That comes of Oxford!' said Barnaby. 'And then there is Sis. Humphrey, my lad, it goes to my heart to think of that poor girl, stripped to be lashed like a black slave or a Bristol drab.'
'Barnaby, she must never run that dreadful risk.'
'Then she must remain behind, and here she runs that risk every day. What prevents yon drunken sot—the taste of that cudgel still sticks in my gizzard!—I say, what prevents him from tying her up to-day, or to-morrow, or every day?'
'Barnaby, I say that she must never run that risk, for if we are caught——' I stopped.
'Before we are caught, you would say, Humphrey. We are of the same mind there. But who is to kill her? Not Robin, for he loves her; not you, because you have too great a kindness for her. Not I, because I am her brother. What should I say to my mother when I meet her after we are dead, and she asks me who killed Alice?'
'Barnaby, if she is to die, let us all die together.'
'Ay,' he replied, 'though I have, I confess, no great stomach for dying; yet, since we have got her with us, it must be done. 'Tis easy to let the water into the boat, and so, in three minutes, with no suspicion at all, and my mother never to know anything about it, she would have said her last prayers, and we should be all sinking together with never a gasp left.'
I took him after this talk to the sick-house, where Alice was beginning her second night of nursing. Barnaby saluted his sister as briefly as if her presence was the thing he most expected.
The room was lit by a horn lanthorn containing a great candle, which gave enough light to see Robin on the bed and Alice standing beside him. The woman called Deb was sitting on the floor, wrapped in her rug.
'Sis,' said Barnaby, 'I have heard from Humphrey how thou wast cozened out of thy money and enticed on board ship. Well, this world is full of villains, and I doubt whether I shall live to kill them all. One I must kill and one I must cudgel. Patience, therefore, and no more upon this head. Well, Sis, dost love to be a servant?'
'Surely not, Barnaby.'
'Wouldst like to get thy freedom again?'
'I know not the meaning of thy words, brother. Madam says that those who have interest at home may procure pardons for their friends in the Plantations. Also that those whose friends have money may buy their freedom from servitude. I am sure that Mr. Boscorel would willingly do this for Robin and for Humphrey; but for myself—how can I ask him? How can I ever let him know where I am and in what condition?'
'Ay, ay, but I meant not that way, child; wilt thou trust thyself to us?'
She looked at Robin. 'I cannot leave him,' she said.
'No, no; we shall wait until he is dead—or, perhaps, better.' But he only added this to please his sister. 'When he is better, Sis, thou wilt not be afraid to trust thyself with us?'
'I am not afraid of any danger, even of death, with you, if that is the danger in your mind, Barnaby.'
'Good! Then we understand each other. There are other dangers for a young and handsome woman—and, maybe, worse dangers. Hast any money at all, by chance?'
'Nay; the man Penne took all my money.'
Barnaby, for five or six minutes without stopping, spoke upon this topic after the manner of a sailor. 'My turn will come,' he added. 'No money, child? 'Tis a great pity. Had we a few gold pieces, now! Some women have rings and chains. But of course——'
'Nay, brother; chains I never had, and as for rings, there were but two that ever I had—one from Robin, the day that I was plighted to him; and one from the man who made me marry him, and put it on in the church. The former did I break and throw away when I agreed—for your dear lives—Barnaby, oh! for the lives of all'——
'I know, I know,' said Barnaby. 'Patience—patience. Oh! I shall get such a chance some day!'
'The other I threw away when I fled from my husband at the church door.'
'Ay, ay! If we only had a little money! 'Tis pity that we should fail for want of a little money.'
'Why,' said Alice, 'I had quite forgotten. I have something that may bring money.' She pulled from her neck a black ribbon on which was a little leathern bag. 'Tis the ring the Duke gave me at Ilchester long ago. I have never parted with it. "God grant," he said, when he gave it to me, "that it may bring thee good luck!" Will the ring help, Barnaby?'
I took it first from her hand.
'Why,' I said, 'it is a sweet and costly ring. Jewels I know and have studied. If I mistake not, these emeralds must be worth a great sum. But how shall we dispose of so valuable a ring in this place, and without causing suspicion?'
'Give it to me.' Barnaby took it, looked at it, and laid it, bag and all, in his pocket. 'There are at the port merchants of all kinds, who will buy a ship's cargo of sugar one minute and the next will sell you a red herring. They will also advance money upon a ring. As for suspicion, there are hundreds of convicts and servants here. 'Tis but to call the ring the property of such an one, and no questions will be asked. My friend John Nuthall, the carver, shall do this for us. And now, Sis, I think that our business is as good as done. Have no fear; we shall get away. First get Robin well, and then'——Here Barnaby gazed upon her face with affection and with pity. 'But, sister, understand rightly: 'tis no child's play of hide and seek. 'Tis life or death!—life or death! If we fly, we must never come back again! Understand that well.'
'Since we are in the Lord's hands, brother, why should we fear? Take me with you; let me die, if you must die; and if you live I am content to live with you, so that my husband never find me out.'
TThere is between the condition of the mind and that of the body an interdependence which cannot but be recognised by every physician. So greatly has this connection affected some of the modern physicians, as to cause doubts in their minds whether there be any life at all hereafter, or if, when the pulse ceases to beat, the whole man should become a dead and senseless lump of clay. In this, they confuse the immortal soul with the perishable instruments of brain and body, through which in life it manifests its being and betrays its true nature, whether of good or ill.
There is between the condition of the mind and that of the body an interdependence which cannot but be recognised by every physician. So greatly has this connection affected some of the modern physicians, as to cause doubts in their minds whether there be any life at all hereafter, or if, when the pulse ceases to beat, the whole man should become a dead and senseless lump of clay. In this, they confuse the immortal soul with the perishable instruments of brain and body, through which in life it manifests its being and betrays its true nature, whether of good or ill.
Thus, the condition in which Robin now lay clearly corresponded, as I now understand, with the state of his mind induced by the news that Alice, to save his life, had been betrayed into marrying his cousin. For at the hearing of that dreadful news he was seized with such a transport of rage (not against that poor innocent victim, but against his cousin) as threatened to throw him into madness; and on recovering from this access, he presently fell into a kind of despair, in which he languished during the whole voyage. So also in a corresponding manner, after a fever, the violence of which was like to have torn him to pieces, he fell into a lethargy, in which, though his fever left him, he continued to wander in his mind, and grew, as I could not fail to mark, daily weaker in his body, refusing to eat, though Alice brought him dainty broth of chicken, delicate panadas of bread and butter, fruit boiled with sugar, and other things fit to tempt a sick man's appetite, provided by the goodness of Madam. This lady was in religion a Romanist; by birth she was a Spanish Quadroon. To escape the slavery to which the colour of her grandmother doomed her, she escaped from Cuba and found her way to Jamaica, where she met with our master. And whether she was lawfully married unto him I will not, after her kindness to Alice and her faithfulness to myself as regards Robin, so much as ask.
Robin, therefore, though the fever left him, did not mend. On the contrary, as I have said, he grew daily weaker; so that I marvelled at his lasting so long, and looked to see him die, as so many die, in the early morning, when there is a sharpness or eagerness in the air, and the body is exhausted by long sleep. Yet he died not.
And now you shall hear how, through the Duke of Monmouth's ring, we escaped from our servitude. 'God grant,' said the Duke, 'that it bring thee good luck!' This was a light and unconsidered prayer, forgotten as soon as uttered, meant only to please the earof a child. And yet, in a manner most marvellous to consider, it proved the salvation of us all. What better luck could that ring cause than that we should escape from the land of Egypt—the House of Bondage?
'I have disposed of the ring,' Barnaby told me a few days later. 'That is to say, John Nuthall has secretly pledged it with a merchant for twenty guineas. He said that the ring belongs to a convict; but many of them have brought such precious things with them in order to buy their freedom. He owns that the stones are fine, and very willingly gave the money on their security.'
'Then nothing remains,' I said, 'but to get away.'
'John Nuthall has bought provisions and all we want, little by little, so as to excite no suspicion. They are secretly and safely bestowed, and half the money still remains in his hands. How goes Robin?'
'He draws daily nearer to his grave. We cannot depart until either he mends or dies. 'Tis another disaster, Barnaby.'
'Ay; but of disaster we must not think. Robin will die. Yet our own case may be as bad if it comes to scuttling the ship. Cheer up, lads; many men die, but the world goes on. Poor Robin! Every man for himself and the Lord for us all. Sis will cry; but even if Robin recovers he cannot marry her: a consideration which ought to comfort her. And for him—since nothing else will serve him—it is best that he should die. Better make an end at once than go all his life with hanging head for the sake of a woman, as if there are not plenty women in the world to serve his turn.'
'I know not what ails him that he does not get better. The air is too hot for him; he hath lost his appetite. Barnaby,' I cried, moved to a sudden passion of pity such as would often seize me at that time, 'saw one ever ruin more complete than ours? Had we been fighting for Spain and the accursed Inquisition we could not have been more heavily punished. And we were fighting on the Lord's side!'
'We were—Dad was with us too. And see how he was served! The Lord, it seems, doth not provide His servants with arms, or with ammunition, or with commanders. Otherwise, the Duke this day would be in St. James's Palace wearing his father's crown, and you would be a Court physician with a great wig and a velvet coat, instead of a Monmouth cap and a canvas shirt. And I should be an admiral. But what doth it profit to ask why and wherefore? Let us first get clear of the wreck. Well; I wish we were to take Robin with us. 'Twill be a poor business going back to Bradford Orcas without him.'
We waited, therefore, day after day, for Robin either to get better or to die, and still he lingered, seemingly in a waste or decline, but such as I had never before seen; and I know not what would have happened to him, whether he would have lived or died, but then there happened a thing which caused us to wait no longer. It was this.
The master having, according to his daily custom, gone the round of his estate—that is to say, having seen his servants all at work under their drivers; some planting with the hoe, some weeding, some cutting the maize, some gathering yams, potatoes, cassavy, or bonavist for provisions, some attending the ingenio or the still-house—did unluckily take into his head to visit the sick-house. What was more unfortunate, this desire came upon him after he had taken a morning dram, and that of the stiffest: not, indeed, enough to make him drunk, but enough to make him obstinate and wilful. When I saw him standing at the open door, I perceived by the glassiness of his eyes and the unsteadiness of his shoulders that he had already begun the day's debauch. He was now in a most dangerous condition of mind. Later in the day, when he was more advanced in drink, he might be violent, but he would be much less dangerous, because he would afterwards forget what he had said or done in his cups.
'So, Sir Doctor,' he said, 'I have truly a profitable pair of servants!—one who pretends to cure everybody, and so escapes work; and your cousin, who pretends to be sick, and so will do none! A mighty bargain I made, truly, when I bought you both!'
'With submission, sir,' I said, 'I have within the last week earned for your honour ten guineas' worth of fees.'
'Well, that is as it may be. How do I know what hath gone into your own pocket? Where is this malingering fellow? Make him sit up! Sit up, I say, ye skulking dog; sit up!'
'Sir,' I said, still speaking with the greatest humility, 'nobody but the Lord can make this man sit up.' And, indeed, Robin did not comprehend one word that was said.
'I gave fifty pounds for him only a month ago. Am I to lose all that money, I ask? Fifty pounds! because I was told that he was a gentleman and would be ransomed by his family. Hark ye, Doctor, you must either cure this man for me—or else, by the Lord! you shall have his ransom added to your own. If he dies, I will double your price! Mark that!'
I said nothing, hoping that he would depart. As for Alice, she had turned her back upon him at his first appearance (as Madam had ordered her to do), so that he might not notice her.
Unfortunately he did not depart, but came into the room, looking about him. Certainly he was not one who would suffer his servants to be negligent, even in the smallest things.
'Here is fine work!' he said. 'Sheets of the best—a pillow; what hath a servant to do with such luxuries?'
'My cousin is a gentleman,' I told him, 'and accustomed to lie in linen. The rug which is enough for him in health must have a sheet to it as well, now that he is sick.'
'Humph! And whom have we here! Who art thou, madam, I wish to know?'
Alice turned.
'I am your honour's servant,' she said. 'I am employed in this sick-house when I am not in the sewing-room.'
'A servant? Oh! madam, I humbly crave your pardon. I took you for some fine lady. I am honoured by having such a servant. All the rest of my women servants go in plain smock and petticoat. But,' here he smiled, 'to so lovely a girl as Alice Eykin—fair Alice, sweet Alice—we must give the bravest and daintiest. To thee, my dear, nothing can be denied. Those dainty cheeks, those white hands, were never made to adorn a common coif. Mistress Alice, we must be better acquainted. This is no fit place for you. Not the sick-house, but the best room in my house shall be at thy service.'
'Sir, I ask for nothing but to sit retired, and to render such service as is in my power.'
'To sit retired? Why, that cannot be longer suffered. 'Twould be a sin to keep hidden any longer this treasure—this marvel, I say, of beauty and grace. My servant! Nay; 'tis I—'tis the whole island—who are thy servants. Thou to render service! 'Tis for me, madam, to render service to thy beauty.' He took off his hat and flourished it, making a leg.
'Then, sir,' said Alice, 'suffer me, I pray, to go about my business, which is with this sick man, and not to hear compliments.'
He caught her hand and would have kissed it, but she drew it back.
'Nay, coy damsel,' he said; 'I swear I will not go without a kiss from thy lips! Kiss me, my dear.'
She started back, and I rushed between them. At that moment Madam herself appeared.
'What do you here?' she cried, catching his arm. 'What has this girl to do with you? Come away! Come away, and leave her in peace!'
'Go back to the house, woman!' he roared, breaking from her and flourishing his stick, so that I thought he was actually going to cudgel her. 'Go back, or it will be the worse for you. What? Am I master here or you? Go back, I say.'
Then a strange thing happened. She made no reply, but she turned upon him eyes so full of authority that she looked like a queen. He shifted his feet, made as if he would speak, and finally obeyed, and went out of the place to his own house with the greatest meekness, soberness, and quietness.
Presently Madam came back.
'I blame thee not, child,' she said. 'It is with him as I have told thee. When he begins to drink the Devil enters into him. Dost think he came here to see the sick man? No, but for thy fair eyes, inflamed with love as well as with drink. At such times no one can rule him but myself, and even I may fail. Keep snug, therefore. Perhaps he may forget thee again. But, indeed, I know not.'
She sighed, and left us.
TThe man did not come back. During the whole day I remained with Alice in fear. But he molested us not.
The man did not come back. During the whole day I remained with Alice in fear. But he molested us not.
When the sun set, and the field hands returned, I was in two minds whether to tell Barnaby what had happened, or not. But when I saw his honest face, streaked with the dust of the day's work, and watched him eating his lump of salt beef and basin of yellow porridge with as much satisfaction as if it had been a banquet of all the dainties, I could not bear, without greater cause, to disturb his mind.
'To-night,' he told me, when there was no more beef and the porridge was all eaten, 'there is a great feast at the Bridge. I would we had some of their Sherris and Madeira. The Governor of Nevis landed yesterday, and is entertained to-day by our Governor. All the militia are feasting, officers and men; nobody will be on the look-out anywhere; and it is a dark night, with no moon. What a chance for us, could we make our escape to-night! There may never again happen such a chance for us! How goes Robin?'
And so after a little more talk we lay down in our hammocks, and I, for one, fell instantly asleep, having no fear at all for Alice; first, because the Master would be now at the Bridge, feasting and too drunk for anything but to sleep; and next, because she had with her the woman Deb, as stout and lusty as any man.
The Master was not at the Bridge with the rest of the planters and gentlemen. Perhaps the drink which he took in the morning caused him to forget the great banquet. However that may be, he was, most unluckily for himself, drinking at home and alone, yet dressed in his best coat and wig, and with his sword, all of which he had put on for the Governor's banquet.
After a while the Devil entered into him, finding easy admission, so to speak, all doors thrown wide open, and even a welcome in that deboshed and profligate soul. About eight o'clock, therefore, prompted by the Evil One, the Master rose and stealthily crept out of the house.
It was a dark night, but he needed no light to guide his footsteps. He crossed the court and made straight for the sick-house.
He pushed the door open and stood for a little, looking within. By the light of the horn lanthorn he saw the girl whose image wasin his mind. The sight might have caused him to return, repentant and ashamed. For she was on her knees, praying aloud beside the bedside of the sick man.
As he stood in the door the woman named Deb, who lay upon the floor asleep, woke up and raised her head. But he saw her not. Then she sat up, watching him with suspicion. But his eyes were fixed on the figure of Alice. Then she sprang to her feet, for now she knew that mischief was meant, and she stood in readiness, prepared with her great strong arms to defend her mistress. But he thought nobody was in the house but Alice and the sick man. He saw nothing but the girl at the bedside.
I say that I was sleeping. I was awakened at the sound of a shriek—I knew the voice—I sprang from the hammock.
'God of mercy!' I cried, 'it is Alice! Barnaby, awake!—awake, I say! It is the cry of Alice!'
Then I rushed to the sick-house.
There I saw Alice—shrieking and crying for help. And before her the Master struggling and wrestling with the woman Deb. She had her arms round his neck and made as if she was trying to throttle him. Nay, I think that she would have throttled him, so strong she was and possessed of such a spirit, and by the light of the lanthorn gleaming upon the blade I saw that his sword had either fallen from his hand or from the scabbard, and now lay upon the floor.
'Stand back,' cried Barnaby, pushing me aside. 'Leave go of him, woman. Let me deal with him.'
The thing was done in a moment. Merciful Heavens! To think that thus suddenly should the soul of man be called to its account! I had seen the poor fellows shot down and cut to pieces on Sedgemoor; but then they knew that they were going forth to fight, and so might be killed. There was time before the battle for a prayer. But this man had no time—and he was more than half drunk as well.
He lay at our feet, lifeless, Barnaby standing over him with a broken sword in his hand.
For a while no one spoke or moved. But the woman called Deb gasped and panted and even laughed, as one who is well pleased because she hath had her revenge.
Then Madam herself, clad in a long white night-dress and with bare feet, suddenly pushed us aside and fell upon her knees beside the wounded man.
She lifted his head. The face was pale and the eyes closed. She laid it gently down and looked round.
'You have killed him,' she said, speaking not in a rage or passion, but quietly. 'You have killed him. To-morrow you will hang! you will all hang!'
We said nothing.
'Doctor,' she turned to me, 'tell me if he is dead or living.'
She snatched the lanthorn and held it while I made such examination as was possible. I opened his waistcoat and laid backhis shirt. The sword had run straight through him and broken off short, perhaps by contact with his ribs. The broken point remained in the wound and the flesh had closed around it, so that, save for a drop of blood or two oozing out, there was no flow.
It needs no great knowledge to understand that when a man hath six inches of steel in his body which cannot be pulled out, and when he is bleeding inwardly, he must die.
Still, as physicians use, I did not tell her so.
'Madam,' I said, 'he is not dead; he is living. While there is life, there is hope.'
'Oh!' she cried; 'why did he buy you when he could have had the common sort? You will hang—you will hang, every one!'
'That shall we presently discover,' said Barnaby. 'Humphrey, we have now no choice left—what did I tell thee about the chances of the night? We must go this night. As for this villain, let him bleed to death.'
'Go!' said Madam. 'Whither, unhappy men, will you go? There is no place in the island where you can hide but with bloodhounds they will have you out. You can go nowhere in this island but you will be found and hanged, unless you are shot like rats in a hole.'
'Come, Humphrey,' said Barnaby, 'we will carry Robin. This poor woman must go too; she will else be hanged for trying to throttle him. Well, she can lend a hand to carry Robin. Madam, by your leave we will not hang, nor will we be shot. In the—in the—the cave—cave that I know of, your bloodhounds will never find us.'
'Madam,' I said, 'it is true that we shall attempt to escape. For what hath happened I am truly sorry; yet we may not suffer such a thing as was this night attempted without resistance, else should we be worse than the ignorant blacks. The Master will perhaps live, and not die. Listen, and take heed therefore.'
'Doctor,' she said, 'do not leave me. Stay with me, or he will die. Doctor, stay with me, and I will save your life. I will swear that you came at my call. Stay with me—I will save Alice as well. I will save you both. You shall be neither flogged nor hanged. I swear it. I will say that I called you for help when it was too late. Only this man and this woman shall hang. Who are they? A rogue and——'
Barnaby laughed aloud.
'Doctor,' she said, 'if you stay he will perhaps recover and forgive you all.'
Barnaby laughed again.
'Madam,' I told her, 'better death upon the gallows than any further term of life with such a man.'
'Oh!' she cried; 'he will die where he is lying!'
'That may be, I know not.' I gave her certain directions, bidding her, above all, watch the man, and cause him to lie perfectly quiet and not to speak a word, even in a whisper, and to give him a few drops of cordial from time to time.
'Come,' said Barnaby, 'we lose time, which is precious. Madam, if your husband recover—and for my part I care nothing whether he recover or whether he die—but if he should recover, tell him from me, Captain Barnaby Eykin, that I shall very likely return to this island, and that I shall then, the Lord helping, kill him in fair duello, to wipe out the lash of the cudgel which he was good enough once to lay about my head. If he dies of this trifling thrust with his own sword he must lay that to the account of my sister. Enough,' said Barnaby, 'we will now make our way to the woods and the cave.'
This said, Barnaby went to the head of Robin's bed and ordered Deb to take the foot, and so between them they carried him forth with them, while Alice followed and I went last.
We heard, long afterwards, through one Mr. Anstiss—the same young gentleman who loved Alice and would have married her—what had happened when we were gone. An hour or thereabouts afterwards, Madam woke up one of the overseers, telling him what had happened, and bidding him be ready at daybreak, with the bloodhounds, horses, and loaded guns, to follow in pursuit and bring us back.
There would be, they thought, no difficulty at all in catching us, because we were encumbered by a sick man and two women.
There was, however, more difficulty than they expected. For the footsteps led the bloodhounds to the seashore; and here the trace was lost, nor could it ever be afterwards recovered. And though the hue and cry was out over all the island, and the woods and the ravines and caves where runaway negroes hide were searched, we were never found. Therefore, since no boat at all was missing (the Guineaman had sailed away), it was certain that we could not have escaped by sea. It was fortunate, indeed, that Barnaby dropped no hint about the sea; otherwise there would have been despatched some of the boats of the port in search of us, and in that case the scuttling of the ship might have been necessary. For, had we been caught, we should certainly have been hanged for murder, after being flogged for attempted escape. For the Master died. He lay speechless until the day broke. Then he became conscious, and presently breathed his last in great anguish of body and terror of mind. What hath since become of Madam, and of that miserable family of servants and slaves, I know not. Certain it is that they could not find a more barbarous or a more savage master in place of him whom Barnaby slew if they were to search the whole of the Spanish Main and the islands upon it.
II n this way, unexpected and tragical, arrived our chance of escape. We walked to Carlisle Bay by way of the sea-shore, so that we might be met by none, and in order that the bloodhounds (if they should use them) in the morning might be thrown off the track. On the march that stout and lusty wench who carried one end of the bed neither called for a halt nor complained of the burden she carried all the way. It was nigh unto midnight when we arrived at the creek in which the boat lay sunk. This was within a stone's throw of John Nuthall's cottage, where were bestowed the mast, sails, oars, and gear, with such provisions as he had gotten together for the voyage. The man was sleeping when Barnaby called him, but he quickly got up, and in less than an hour we had the boat hauled out of the water, the provisions hastily thrown in, the mast stepped, our sick man and the women placed in the bows, the stern and middle of the boat being encumbered with our provisions, we had pushed down the muddy and stinking creek, we had hoisted sail, and we were stealing silently out of Carlisle Bay under a light breeze. Three or four ships were lying in the bay; but either there was no watch kept aboard, or (which is more probable) it was no one's business to hail a small sail-boat going out, probably for fishing at dawn. Besides, the night was so dark that we may very well have escaped notice. However that might be, in a quarter of an hour we were well out at sea, beyond the reach of the guns of Carlisle Bay, no longer visible to the ships in port, and without any fear of being seen until daybreak. The wind, which sometimes drops altogether in the night, still continued favourable, though very light.
I n this way, unexpected and tragical, arrived our chance of escape. We walked to Carlisle Bay by way of the sea-shore, so that we might be met by none, and in order that the bloodhounds (if they should use them) in the morning might be thrown off the track. On the march that stout and lusty wench who carried one end of the bed neither called for a halt nor complained of the burden she carried all the way. It was nigh unto midnight when we arrived at the creek in which the boat lay sunk. This was within a stone's throw of John Nuthall's cottage, where were bestowed the mast, sails, oars, and gear, with such provisions as he had gotten together for the voyage. The man was sleeping when Barnaby called him, but he quickly got up, and in less than an hour we had the boat hauled out of the water, the provisions hastily thrown in, the mast stepped, our sick man and the women placed in the bows, the stern and middle of the boat being encumbered with our provisions, we had pushed down the muddy and stinking creek, we had hoisted sail, and we were stealing silently out of Carlisle Bay under a light breeze. Three or four ships were lying in the bay; but either there was no watch kept aboard, or (which is more probable) it was no one's business to hail a small sail-boat going out, probably for fishing at dawn. Besides, the night was so dark that we may very well have escaped notice. However that might be, in a quarter of an hour we were well out at sea, beyond the reach of the guns of Carlisle Bay, no longer visible to the ships in port, and without any fear of being seen until daybreak. The wind, which sometimes drops altogether in the night, still continued favourable, though very light.
'My lads,' said Barnaby presently, drawing a long breath, 'I verily believe that we have given them the slip this time. In the morning they may go forth, if they please, with their bloodhounds to hunt for us. Let them hunt. If any inquiry is made for us at the Bridge, no boat will be missing, and so no suspicion will be awakened. They will then, I suppose, search for us among the caves and ravines of which I have heard, where there are hiding-places in plenty, but no water to drink, so that the poor devils who run away and seek a refuge there are speedily forced to come out for water, and so are caught or shot down. Well, they will hunta long time before they find us. This boat makes a little water, but I think not much. If she proves watertight, and the breeze holds, by daylight we should be well to the south of the island. Courage, therefore! All will be well yet! How goes Robin?'
He was lying as easily as we could manage for him—one rug over him and another under him. Alice sat on one side of him, and the woman they called Deb on the other. Then, because the boat sometimes shipped a little water when she dipped in the waves, Barnaby rigged a tarpaulin round the bows to prevent this; and (but this was not till next day) over the tarpaulin he made, out of a rug and a spare spar, a low tilt which, unless the weather grew bad, should shelter those three by night from dew and spray, and by day from the sun overhead and the glare and heat of the water.
'Deb,' he said softly, 'art afraid?'
'No, sir—not while my mistress is here.' (Meaning Alice.)
'If we are taken, we shall all be flogged well nigh unto death, and very likely hanged as well.'
'I am not afraid, sir.'
'We may spring a leak,' said Barnaby, 'and so go all to the bottom and be devoured. Art not afraid to die?'
'No, sir—not if I may hold my mistress by the hand, so that she may take me whither she goeth herself.'
'Good,' said Barnaby. 'As for me, I expect I shall have to go alone or with John Nuthall here. Well, there will be a goodly company of us. Go to sleep, my girl! In the morning we will serve around the first ration, with perhaps, if all be well, a dram of cordial.'
In the dim light of the stars I watched all night the three figures in the bow. Robin lay white and motionless; Alice sat, covered with her hood, bending over him; and Deb, from whose head her coif had fallen, lay, head on arm, sound asleep. She had no fear, any more than a common soldier has when he goes into action, because he trusts his captain.
Thus began our voyage: in an open boat twenty feet long, with a company of three sound men, two women, and a sick man. For arms, in case we needed them, we had none at all. If any ship crossed our track and should call upon us to surrender we could not deny that we were escaped convicts, because the dress of all but one proclaimed the fact. Who, in such a climate, would choose to wear a coarse shirt and canvas breeches, with a Monmouth cap, except it was a servant or a slave who had no choice, but must take what is given him?
But we should not surrender, come what might. If we could neither fight nor fly, we could sink. Said Barnaby, in the dead of night, whispering in my ear, 'Lad, 'tis agreed between us, we will have that clear; sooner than be taken, we will scuttle the ship, and so sink all together. If 'tis accounted murder, the blame shall lie between us.'
A little before daybreak the breeze freshened, and the waves began to rise; but not so high as to threaten the boat, which proved, indeed, a most gallant little craft, dancing over the waters as if she enjoyed being driven by the breeze. Some boats, as sailors will tell you (being always apt to compare these craft with living creatures), come thus, frolic and sprightly, from their makers' hands; while others, built of the same material and on the same lines, are, on the contrary, and always remain, heavy and lumpish; just as some children are lively and gay, while others, born of the same parents, are dull and morose.
Then the sun rose, seeming to leap out of the water, a most glorious ball of fire, which instantly warmed the cool air and began to burn and scorch our hands and faces. In these hot latitudes one understands what the ancients meant when they spoke of the dreadful Sun-God, who both gives and destroys life, and is so beneficial and yet so terrible. We, who live in a cold country, are sometimes greatly comforted by the sun, but are never burned; we feel his warmth, but understand not his power.
Then Barnaby began to gaze curiously all round the horizon. We had no glass or telescope; but his eyes were to him as good as any telescope is to most men.
'Thank the Lord!' he said, drawing breath (it was rare for Barnaby thus openly to give praise), 'there is no sail in sight. To be sure, we have the day before us. But yet'—here he began to talk as some men use when they desire to place before their own minds clearly the position of affairs. 'Very well, then—Barbadoes laying thirty miles and more nor'-east by north—vessels bound for the island from Bristol commonly sailing round the north—very well, then—we are out of their track. Yet—then again—some are driven south by stress of weather. Ay, there is our danger. Yet again, if one should see us, would she bear down upon us? I greatly doubt it. The wind will continue—that is pretty sure. If they were to discover that we had gone by boat, would they sail after us? Why, what boat could they send? And whither would they steer? And what boat have they that can sail faster than this little craft? Yet we are pretty low down in the water. Humphrey, lad'—he turned upon me his broad and sunburnt face, full of cheerfulness—'we are not within many hours of scuttling yet. A tight boat, a fair wind, a smooth sea—let us hope for the best! How goes Robin?'
There was no change in Robin, either for better or for worse.
'Sis,' said Barnaby; 'art sleeping still, Sis? Wake up, and let us eat and drink, and be jolly! What! Alice, I say! Why—we have escaped! We are far away at sea! Let us laugh and sing. If there were room in this cockle, I would dance also!'
She lifted her head, and threw back her hood. Ah! what a mournful face was there!
'Oh, brother!' she said, 'canst thou laugh and sing? Hast thou forgotten last night?'
'Why, no,' he replied. 'One must not forget last night, because it was the night of our escape. All else, I own, I can forget. Let it not stick in thy gizzard, my dear, that the man frightened thee. Rejoice rather that he thus afforded me a chance of giving him a taste of his own cold iron.'
'Nay, brother,' she said, shaking her head; then she looked round her. 'We are a long way from the land,' she said. 'When will they send out a ship to bring us back?'
'Why, d'ye see,' Barnaby replied, 'give us twelve hours more, and they may send out all their fleet, if they have one, and sail the wide world round for us, and yet not capture us. And now let us overhaul the provisions, and examine the ship's stores.' Alice pulled her hood down again, and said no more. The woman they called Deb was now wide awake, and staring about her with the greatest satisfaction.
'Come, John Nuthall,' Barnaby went on, 'we are hungry and thirsty. Where is the list I made for thee? Thou art our purser, our supercargo, our cook, and our steward; thou art also bo's'n and carpenter, and half the crew. Where is my list, I say? Give it me, and we will examine our stores. Look up, Sis; never cry over what is done and over. What? A villain hath received a lesson, and thou hangest thy head therefor? Look up, I say. There is now hope for all; thou shalt merrily dance at my wedding yet.'
Then he read the list, and examined each parcel or box with great care.
'A hundred and a half of bread, a soft cheese, plantains, a keg of water (nine gallons), six bottles of Canary (not one broken), a compass, a half-hour glass, a spare rug ('tis over Robin's legs), flint and steel, a bit of tarpaulin, a hatchet and hammer, a saw, some nails, a spar or two, a coil of rope and yarn, a lump of tobacco (we can chew it, though I would rather put it into a pipe), candles—faugh! they are run together in a lump; they will serve to caulk something presently.'
We had, in fact, no light during our voyage, but the tallow proved useful when—I think it was the next day—the boat started a leak.
This was all our store. 'Twas not much for six people, but Barnaby hoped that the voyage would be short. If he should be disappointed, who would not put up with short rations for a day or two for the sake of freedom?
'And now,' he said, when everything was stowed according to his mind, 'we will have breakfast. Our provisions are no great things; but, after the accursed loblollie, a bit of bread and cheese will be a feast.'
A feast indeed it was, and our captain gratified us further by opening a flask of Canary, which raised all our hearts. Strange that men should be able to recover their spirits, which should be independent of the creature comforts, by a dram of wine. As for Barnaby, I thought he would have kissed the bottle.
'It is now three months and more,' he said, 'that we have had nothing save a sup of kill-devil fresh from the still, and now we are mercifully permitted to taste again a glass of Canary. 'Tis too much!' he sighed, drinking his ration. 'Well, we have but a few bottles, and the voyage may be longer than we hope; therefore we must go upon short allowance. But fear not, Sis; there shall always be enough for Robin, poor lad.'
He then proceeded to tell us what he intended, and whither he would steer.
'We have no chart,' he said. 'What then? I can draw one as good as they are made to steer by in these seas.' He could not draw one, because he had no paper or pencil; but he carved one with the point of his knife on the seat, and marked out our course upon it day by day. 'See,' he said, 'here is Barbadoes. Our course all night hath been sou'-west. She now makes five knots an hour. It is now eight, I take it; and we must therefore be about forty miles from Barbadoes. To-morrow morning we should make the Grenadilloes, which are a hundred and fifty miles from Carlisle Bay. Hark ye! There may be a Bristol vessel sailing from Great Grenada to Barbadoes, or the other way. That would be the devil. But such ships are rare, and there is no trade between the two islands. Well, we shall give Grenada as wide a berth as may be.' Here he considered a little. 'Therefore, 'twill be our wiser plan to bear more to the south. Once south of Grenada, I take it, there will be no more danger. Off the main of South America the sea is covered with islands. They are No Man's Land; inhabitants have they none; navigators, for the most part, know them not; English, French, and Spanish ships come never to these islands. My purpose, therefore, is to put in at Great Margaritos or Tortuga for rest and fresh water, and so presently make the Dutch island of Curaçao.'
'And after that?'
'Then, my lad, we shall take ship to some country where a sailor may get a berth and a physician may find patients. It must be to Holland first; but, never fear, we shall get back to England some time; and perhaps fight another battle with a different tale to tell afterwards.'
As the day advanced, the coast of Barbadoes continually receded, until, before sunset, the island lay like a purple cloud low down in the horizon. The north-east breeze blew steadily, but the sun caused a most dreadful heat in the air, and our eyes smarted from the glare of the water and the spray that was blown upon us. It was at this time that Barnaby constructed the tilt of which I have spoken. The sea lay spread out round us in a broad circle, of which we were the centre, and the cloudless blue sky lay over us like unto a roof laid there for us alone. It is only in a ship one doth feel thus alone, in the centre of creation; even as if there were nothing but the sea around, the sky above, and our boat in the centre. Thus must the Patriarch Noah have felt when his ark floated upon the vast face of the water, and even the tops of thehigh hills were hidden and covered over. All day Barnaby scanned the horizon anxiously; but there came into sight no sail or ship whatever. To us, who sometimes see the vessels lying in a crowded port, and hear how they bring argosies from every land, it seems as if every part of the ocean must be covered with sails driving before the wind from whatever quarter it may blow. But he who considers the 'Mappa Mundi' will presently discover that there are vast expanses of sea where never a sail is seen, unless it be the fugitive sail of the pirate or the bark canoe of the native. We were now nearing such a lonely sea or part of the ocean. Barnaby knew, what these planters did not, how to steer across the unknown water to a port of safety beyond.
At midday our captain served out another drink of water, and to Robin I gave a sop of bread in Canary, which he seemed to suck up and to swallow with readiness.
In such a voyage, where there is nothing to do but to keep the ship on her course and to watch the horizon for a strange sail, one speedily falls into silence, and sits many hours without speech; sometimes falling asleep, lulled by the ripple of the water as the boat flies through it.
I have said nothing about the man John Nuthall. He was a plain, honest-looking man, and we found him throughout all this business faithful, brave, and patient, obedient to Barnaby, and of an even temper and contented with his share. That he had formerly been a thief in his native country cannot be denied, but I hope that we shall not refuse to any man the right of repentance.
Barnaby divided the crew—namely, himself, John Nuthall, and me—into three watches of eight hours each, of which each man kept two at a stretch. Thus, beginning the day at noon, which was the only time we knew for certain, Barnaby would himself (but this was after the first two days) lie down and sleep till sunset or a little later. Then John Nuthall lay down and took his turn of sleep till Barnaby thought it was two o'clock in the morning, when he woke him and I took his place. But for the first day or two Barnaby slept not at all, and the whole of the voyage he slept as a good watch-dog sleeps—namely, with one eye open.
At sunset he gave out another pannikin of cold water to each of us, a ration of bread and cheese, and a dram of wine. Then he commanded John Nuthall to lie down and sleep, while I took the tiller and he himself held the ropes. Then the night fell once more upon us.
Presently, while we sat there in silence, Alice rose up from her seat and came aft and sat down beside me.
'Humphrey,' she whispered, 'think you that he is truly dead?' She was speaking, not of Robin, but of the Master.
'I know not, my dear.'
'I can think of nothing but of that man's sudden end, and of what may happen to us. Say something to comfort me, Humphrey!You always had some good word to say, like manna for refreshment. My soul is low in the dust—I cannot even pray.'
'Why, my dear?' What could I say? ''Tis true that the man was struck down, and that suddenly. And yet——'
'To think that my brother—that Barnaby—should have killed him!'
'Why,' said Barnaby, 'if some one had to kill him, why not I as well as another? What odds who killed him?'
'Oh!' she said, 'that a man should be called away at such a moment, when his brain was reeling with wine and wicked thoughts!'
'He was not dead,' I told her (though I knew very well what would be the end), 'when we came away. Many a man recovers who hath had a sword-thrust through the body. He may now be on the mend—who can tell?' Yet I knew, I say, very well how it must have ended. 'Consider, my dear: he tempted the wrath of God, if any man ever did. If he is destroyed, on his own head be it—not on ours. If he recover, he will have had a lesson which will serve him for the rest of his life. If he doth not recover, he may have time left him for something of repentance and of prayer. Why, Alice, if we get safely to our port we ought to consider the punishment of this sinner (which was in self-defence, as one may truly say) the very means granted by Providence for our own escape. How else should we have got away? How else should we have resolved to venture all, even to carrying Robin with us?' All this, I repeat, I said to encourage her, because, if I know aught of wounds, a man bleeding inwardly of a sword-thrust through his vitals would have short time for the collecting of his thoughts or the repentance of his sins, being as truly cut off in the midst of them as if he had been struck down by a thunderbolt. A man may groan and writhe under the dreadful torture of such a wound, but there is little room for meditation or for repentance.
Then I asked her if she was in fear as to the event of the voyage.
'I fear nothing,' she told me, 'but to be captured and taken back to the place whence we came, there to be put in prison and flogged. That is my only fear. Humphrey, we have suffered so much that this last shame would be too great for me to bear. Oh! to be tied up before all the men, and flogged like the black women—'twould kill me, Humphrey!'
'Alice,' I said very earnestly, 'art thou, indeed, brave enough to endure death itself rather than this last barbarity?'
'Oh! Death!—death!' she cried, clasping her hands. 'What is death to me, who have lost everything?'
'Nay, but consider, my dear. To die at sea—it means to sink down under the cold water out of the light of day; to be choked for want of air; perhaps to be devoured quick by sharks; to lie at the bottom of the water, the seaweed growing over your bones; to be rolled about by the troubled waves——'
'Humphrey, these are old wives' tales. Why, if it had been lawful I would have killed myself long ago. But I must not lose heaven as well as earth. A brief pang it is to die, and then to be happy for ever. What do I care whether the seaweed covers my bones, or the cold clay? Oh, Humphrey, Humphrey, why should I care any longer to live?'
'My dear,' I said, 'if we escape in safety there may yet be happiness in store. No man knoweth the future.' She shook her head. 'Happiness,' I told her, 'doth not commonly come to man in the way which he most desires and prays. For, if he doth obtain the thing for which he hath so ardently prayed, he presently finds that the thing bringeth not the joy he so much expected. Or it comes too late, as is the case often with honours and wealth, when one foot is already in the grave. I mean, my dear, that we must not despair because the thing which most we desired is taken from us. Perhaps we ought not to desire anything at all, except what the Lord shall provide. But that is a hard saying, and if men desired nothing it is certain they would no longer work.' I talked thus at length to divert her mind from her troubles. 'To thee, poor child,' I said, 'have been given afflictions many and great—the loss of godly parents, a husband whom thou must avoid, and the deprivation of earthly love. Yet, since thou art so brave, Alice, I will tell thee—I thought not to tell thee anything of this——'
'What, Humphrey? What?'
'Briefly, Alice, thou shalt not be taken alive.'
'How—unless you kill me?'
'We are agreed, my dear—Barnaby and I—that if we cannot escape any boats which may pursue us the boat shall be sunk, and so we shall all drown together. Indeed, Alice, I confess that I am not myself so much in love with life as to return to that captivity and intolerable oppression from which we have gotten away. Therefore, be assured, we will all drown rather than go back.'
'Oh!' she sighed, but with relief, 'now shall I fear nothing. I have not lost everything, since I have thee still—and Barnaby. Alas! my head has been so full of what Madam said—that we should be certainly caught, and all of us flogged. To be flogged! Who would not rather die?'—she shivered and trembled. 'To be flogged!—Humphrey, I could not bear the shame!' She trembled and shivered as she repeated this confession of fear.
'Fear not, my dear,' I said; 'there are those on the boat who love thee too well to suffer that extreme of barbarity. Put that fear out of thy mind. Think only that we may have to die, but that we shall not be taken. To die, indeed, is very likely our fate: for we have but a quarter of an inch of frail wood between us and the seas. If a storm should arise, we fill with water and go down; if the wind should drop we should be becalmed, and so perish miserably of hunger and thirst; if Barnaby steer not aright——'
'Humphrey,' said Barnaby, 'fill not her innocent head with rubbish. 'Tis not the time of tornadoes, and there will be no storm. The wind at this season never drops, therefore we shall not lie becalmed. And as for my steering aright, why, with a compass—am I a lubber?'
'Brother,' she said, 'if I am not to be flogged, the rest concerns me little. Let us say no more about it. I am now easy in my mind. Robin sleeps, Humphrey. He hath slept since the sun went down, and this afternoon he looked as if he knew me. Also, he took the bread sopped in Canary eagerly, as if he relished it.'
'These seas,' said Barnaby, 'are full of sharks.'
I knew not what he meant, because we were speaking of Robin.
'Sharks have got their senses, as well as humans,' he went on.
Still I understood him not.
'When a man on board a ship is going to die, the sharks find it out, and they follow that ship until he does die and is flung overboard. Then they devour his body and go away, unless there is more to follow. I have looked for sharks, and there are none following the boat; wherefore, though I am not a doctor, I am sure that Robin will not die.'
'I know not at all,' I said, 'how that may be. There are many things believed by sailors which are superstitions—fond beliefs nourished by the continual presence of perils. On the other hand, the senses of man are notoriously as far below those of creatures as his intellect is above them (yet a skilful man may read the premonition of death in a sick man's face). Therefore I know not but a shark may have a sense, like unto the eye of a hawk or the scent of a hound, with which to sniff the approach of death afar off. Let us comfort ourselves, Alice, with Barnaby's assurance.'
''Tis a well proved and tried thing,' said Barnaby; 'and sailors, let me tell thee, Master Doctor, have no superstitions or idle beliefs.'
'Well, that may be. As to Robin's disease, I can pronounce nothing upon it. Nay, had I the whole library of Padua to consult, I could learn nothing that would help me. First, the mind falls into a languishing and spiritless condition. That causeth the body to lie open to attacks of any disease which may be threatening. Then, the body, being ill at ease, works upon the mind, and causes it to wander beyond control. So that the soul, which is bound up with body and mind, cannot show herself or manifest her will. It is the will which shows the presence of the soul: the will which governs body and mind alike. But if I know aught of disease, if a change comes upon Robin it will either swiftly cure or swiftly kill.'
'Humphrey,' she whispered, 'if he recover, how shall I meet his face? How shall I reply when he asks me concerning my faith?'
'My dear, he knows all. 'Twas that knowledge, the pity of it,and the madness of it, believe me, which threw him into so low a condition.'
'I have looked daily for reproaches in thy kind eyes, Humphrey. I have found none, truly. But from Robin—oh! I dare not think of meeting those eyes of his.'
'Reproach thee will he never, Alice. Sorrow and love, I doubt not, will lie in his eyes all his life. What thou hast done was for him and for thy father and thy brother and for all of us. But, oh! the pity—and the villainy! Fear not to meet the poor lad's eyes, Alice.'
'I long to see the light of reason in those dear eyes—and yet I fear. Humphrey, I am married; but against my will. I am a wife, and yet no wife; I am resolved that, come what may, I will never, never go to my husband. And I love my Robin still—oh!' she sobbed, 'I love my Robin still!'
'If we die,' I told her, 'you shall go down with your arm round his neck, and so you shall die together.'
Then we sat silent a while.
'My dear,' I said, 'lie down and take some sleep.'
'I cannot sleep, Humphrey, for the peace of mind which hath fallen me upon. If Robin now come to his senses again I shall not fear him. And the night, it is so peaceful—so cool and so peaceful;' the wind had dropped, till there was barely enough to fill the sail, and only enough way on the boat to make a soft murmur of the water along her sides. 'The sea is so smooth; the sky is so bright and so full of stars. Can there be, anywhere, a peace like this? Alas! if we could sail still upon a silent and peaceful ocean! But we must land somewhere. There will be men, and where there are men there is wickedness, with drink and wrath and evil passions—such as we have left behind us. Humphrey—oh! my brother Humphrey!—it would be sweet if the boat would sink beneath us now, and so, with Robin's hand in mine, we could all go together to the happy land, where there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage.'
From beneath the tilt there came a voice—I verily believe it was an answer sent straight from heaven to comfort this poor faithful soul. 'Alice'—it was the voice of Robin, in his right mind at last. 'Alice,' he said, 'we will continue to love each other, yet without sin.'
'Oh, Robin! Robin!' she moved quickly to his side and fell upon her knees. 'Robin, thou wilt recover?'
'Stay!' I interposed. 'Robin will first have a cup of cordial.'
'I have been sleeping,' he said; 'I know not what hath happened. We are in a boat, it seems, and on the open sea. Unless I am still dreaming, we are slaves to a planter in Barbadoes! And this is Alice—who was in England! And I know not what it means.'
'You have been ill, Robin,' I told him. 'You have been nigh unto death. Many things have happened of which we will speak,but not now. Alice is at your side, and Barnaby is navigating the boat. Drink this cup of wine—so—sleep now; and in the morning, if it please Heaven, you shall be so strong that you shall hear everything. Ask no more questions, but sleep. Give him your hand, Alice.'
She obeyed me, sitting at his side and taking his hand in hers, and so continued for the rest of the night, Robin sleeping peacefully.
In a word, he was restored. The fresh sea-breeze brought him back to life and reason; and, though he was still weak, he was now as sound in his mind as any man could desire to be. And in the morning we told him all that had been done, whereat he marvelled.
Alice might love him still. That was most true, yet between them stood her husband. Why, there was another man in the boat who also loved a girl he could never wed. His passion, I swear, was full of constancy, tenderness, and patience. Would Robin be as patient?
When the day broke again we were still sailing over a lonely sea, with never a sail in sight, and never a sign of land.
And now Robin was sitting up, his face pale, and his hands thin. But the light of reason was in his eyes, and on his lips such a smile of tenderness as we were wont to see there in the days of old.
'Said I not,' cried Barnaby, 'that he would recover? Trust the sharks for common-sense. And again an open sea, with never a sail in sight. Praise the Lord, therefore!'
But Alice, when the sun rose above the waves, threw back her hood and burst forth into singing:—