The Light of Scarthey Part 48

She had seen but little of Captain Jack these last two days; interchanged but few and formal words with him, now and then, as they met morning and evening or came across each other during the day. She felt that he avoided her. But she had seen him, she had heard his voice, they had been close to each other upon the great seas, however divided, and this had been something to feed upon. Now what prospect before her hungry heart but--starvation?

At least the last precious moments should not be lost to her. She rose and dressed in haste; a difficult operation in her maimed state.

Before leaving her narrow quarters, she peered into the looking-gla.s.s with an eagerness she had never displayed in the days of her vain girlhood.

"What a fright!" she said to the anxious face that looked back at her with yearning eyes and dark burning lips. And she thought of Madeleine's placid fairness as Cain might of Abel's modest altar.

When she emerged upon deck, a strange and beautiful scene was spread to her gaze. A golden haze enveloped the water and the coast, but out of it, in brown jagged outline, against the blazing background of glowing sunlight rose the towers, the pointed roofs and spires of that old corsair's hive, St. Malo. The waters were bright green, frothed with oily foam around the s.h.i.+p. The masts cast strange long black shadows, and Molly saw one spring from her own feet as she moved into the morning glow. The _Peregrine_, she noticed, was cruising parallel with the coast, instead of making for the harbour, and just now all was very still on board. Two men, conspicuous against the yellow sky, stood apart, a little forward, with their backs turned to her.

One of these was Captain Jack, gazing steadily at the town through a telescope; the other the mate. Both were silent. Silently herself and unnoticed Molly went up and stood beside them; observing her sister's lover as intently as he that unknown distant point, she presently saw the lean hand nearest her tremble ever so slightly as it held the gla.s.s; then he turned and handed it to his companion, saying briefly, "See what you make of it."

The man lifted the gla.s.s, set it, looked, dropped his hand and faced his captain. Their eyes met, but neither spoke for a second or two.

"It is so, then?" said the captain at last.

"Aye, sir, no mistake about that. There's the tricolour up again--and be d.a.m.ned to it--as large as life, to be sure!"

The healthy tan of the captain's face had not altered by one shade; his mouth was set in its usual firm line, but, by the intuition of her fiery soul, the woman beside him knew that he had received a blow.

"A strange thing," went on Curwen in a grumbling guttural ba.s.s, "and it's only a year ago since they set up the old white napkin again. You did not look for this, sir?" He too had his intuitions.

"No, Curwen, it is the last thing I looked for. And it spells failure to me--failure once more!"

As he spoke he turned his head slightly and perceiving Molly standing close behind him glanced up sharply and frowned, then strove to smooth his brow into conventional serenity and greeted her civilly.

Curwen, clenching his hard hands together round the telescope, retired a step and stood apart, still hanging on his captain's every gesture like a faithful dog.

"What does it mean?" asked Molly, disregarding the morning salutation.

"It means strange things to France," responded Captain Jack slowly, with a bitter smile; "and to me, Madam, it means that I have come on a wild goose chase----"

He stretched out his hand for the gla.s.s once more as he spoke--although even by the naked eye the flag, minute as it was, could be seen to flash red in the breeze--and sought the far-off flutter again; and then closing the instrument with an angry snap, tossed it back.

"But what does it mean?" reiterated Molly, a wild impatience, a wild hope trembling in her breast.

"It means, Madam, that I have brought my pigs to the wrong market,"

cried Captain Jack, still with the smile that sat so strangely upon his frank lips; "that the goods I have to deliver, I cannot deliver.

For if there is any meaning in symbols, by the wave of that tricolour yonder the country has changed rulers again. My dealings were to be with the king's men, and as they are not here, at least, no longer in power--how could they be under that rag?--I must even trot the cargo home again. Not a word to the men, Curwen, but give the order to sheer off! We have lowered the blue, white and red too often, have not we?

to risk a good English s.h.i.+p, unarmed, under the nozzles of those Republican or Imperial guns."

The man grinned. The two could trust each other. Molly turned away and moved seawards, for she knew that the joy upon her face was not to be hidden. Captain Jack fell to pacing the deck with bent head, and long, slow steps.

Absorbed in dovetailing the last secret arrangements of his venture, and more intent still, during his very few hours of idleness, on the engrossing thought of love, he had had no knowledge of the extraordinary challenge to fate cast by Bonaparte, of that challenge which was to end in the last and decisive clash of French and English hosts. He had not even heard of the Corsican's return to France with his handful of grenadiers, for newspapers were scarce at Scarthey. But even had he heard, like the rest of the world, he would no doubt have thought no more of it than as a mad freak born of the vanquished usurper's foolhardy restlessness.

But the conclave of plenipotentiaries a.s.sembled at Vienna were not more thunderstruck when, on that very 19th of March, the semaph.o.r.e brought them news of the legitimate King of France once more fled, and of his country once more abandoned to the hated usurper, than was Captain Jack as he watched the distant flagstaff in the sunrise, and saw, when the morning port gun had vomited forth its white cloud on the ramparts of St. Malo, the fatal stripes run up the slender line in lieu of the white standard.

But Jack Smith's mind, like his body, was quick in action. The sun had travelled but a degree or two over the wide undulating land, the mists were yet rising, when suddenly he halted, and called the mate in those commanding tones that had, from the first time she had heard them, echoed in Molly's heart:

"Bring her alongside one of those smacks yonder, the furthest out to sea."

Thereupon followed Curwen's hoa.r.s.e bellow, an ordered stampede upon the deck, and gracefully, with no more seeming effort than a swan upon a garden pond, the _Peregrine_ veered and glided towards the rough skiff with its single ochre sail and its couple of brown-faced fishermen, who had left their nets to watch her advance. Captain Jack leant over the side, his hands over his mouth, and hailed them in his British-French--correct enough, but stiff to his tongue, as Molly heard and smiled at, and loved him for, in woman's way, when she loves at all.

"Ahoy, the friend! A golden piece for him who will come on board and tell the news of the town."

A brief consultation between the fisher pair.

"_Un ecu d'or_," repeated Captain Jack. Then there was a flash of white teeth on the two weather-beaten faces.

"_On y va, patron_," cried one of the fellows, cheerfully, and jumped into his dinghey, while his comrade still stared and grinned, and the stalwart lads of the _Peregrine_ grinned back at the queer foreign figure with the brown cap and the big gold earrings.

Soon the fisherman's bare feet were thudding on the deck, and he stood before the English captain, cap in hand, his little, quick black eyes roaming in all directions, over the wonders of the beautiful white s.h.i.+p, with innocent curiosity. But before Captain Jack could get his tongue round another French phrase, Molly, detaching herself from her post of observation, came forward, smiling.

"Let me speak to him," she said, "he will understand me better, and it will go quicker. What is it you want to know?"

Captain Jack hesitated a moment, saw the advantage of the suggestion, and then accepted the offer with the queer embarra.s.sment that always came over him in his relations with her.

"You are very good," he said.

"Oh, I like to talk the father and mother tongue," she said, gaily and sweetly. Her eyes danced; he had never seen her in this mood, and, as before, grudgingly had to admit her beauty.

"And if you will allow it," she went on, "I am glad to be of use too."

The fisherman, twirling his cap in his knotted fingers, stared at her open mouthed. _Une si belle dame!_ like a queen and speaking his tongue that it was a music to listen to. This was in truth a s.h.i.+p of marvels. _Ah, bon Dieu, oui, Madame_, there were news at St. Malo, but it depended upon one's feelings whether they were to be regarded as good or bad--_Dame_, every one has one's opinions--but for him--_pourvu qu'on lui fiche la paix_--what did it matter who sat on the throne--His Majesty the King--His Majesty the Emperor, or Citizen Bonaparte. Oh, a poor fisherman, what was it to him? He occupied himself with his little fishes, not with great folk. (Another white-teethed grin.) What had happened? _Parbleu_, it began by the military, those accursed military (this with a cautious look around, and gathering courage by seeing no signs of disapproval, proceeding with greater volubility). The poor town was full of them, infantry and artillery; regiments of young devils--and a band of old ones too.

The veterans of _celui la_ (spitting on the deck contemptuously) they were the worst; that went without saying. A week ago there came a rumour that he had escaped--was in France--and then the ferment began--duels every day--rows in the cafes, fights in the ports. At night one would hear shouts in the streets--_Vive l'Empereur!_ and it spread, it spread. _Ma foi_--one regiment mutinied, then another--and then it was known that the Emperor had reached Paris. Oh, then it was warm! All those gentlemen, the officers who were for the King, were arrested. Then there was a grand parade on the _place d'armes_--Yes, he went there too, though he did not care much about soldiers. All the garrison was there. The colonel of the veterans came out with a flag in its case. _Portez armes!_ Good. They pull out the flag from the case: it's the old tricolour with the eagle on the top! _Presentez armes!_ And this time it was all over. Ah, one should have seen that, heard the houras, seen the bonfires! _Monsieur le Maire_ and the rest, appointed by the King, they were in a great fright, they had to give way--what does Madame say? Traitors? Oh, _bedame_ (scratching his head), it was no joke with the military just now--the whole place was under military law and, _saperlotte_, when the strong commands it is best for the weak to obey. As for him, he was only a poor fisherman.

What did he know? he was not a politician: every one to his trade. So long as they let one have the peace--He thanked the gentleman, thanked him much; thanked the lady, desired to wish her the good-morning and _Monsieur_ too. Did they like no little fresh soles this morning? He had some leaping then below in his boat. No? well the good-morning then.

They had heard enough. The fisherman paddled back to his skiff, and Molly stood watching from a little distance the motionless figure of the captain of the _Peregrine_ as with one hand clenching the hand-rail he gazed towards St. Malo with troubled eyes.

After a few minutes Curwen advanced and touched him lightly on the arm.

Captain Jack turned slowly to look at him: his face was a little pale and his jaw set. But the mate, who had served under him since the day he first stepped upon the old _St. Nicholas_, a gallant, fair-faced lad (and who knew "every turn of him," as he would have expressed it himself), saw that he had taken his decision; and he stepped back satisfied, ready to shape his course for the near harbour, or for the Pacific Ocean, or back to Scarthey itself at his master's bidding.

"Call the men up," said the captain, "they have earned their bounty and they shall have it. Though their skipper is a poorer man than he thought to be, by this fool's work yonder, his good lads shall not suffer. Tush, man, that's the order--not a word. And after that, Curwen, let her make for the sea again, northwards."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE LIGHT AGAIN--THE LADY AND THE CARGO

Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the spring to meet the suns.h.i.+ne!

_Hiawatha._

"Curwen," said Captain Jack, suddenly--the two stood together at the helm on the afternoon of the same day, and the _Peregrine_ was once more alone, a speck upon the waste of waters, "I have made up my mind to return to Scarthey."

The mate wagged his bushy eyebrows and s.h.i.+fted his hand on the helm.

"Ay, ay, sir," he said, after just an instant's pause.