Roger Trewinion Part 46

"Will you tell me what time it is," I said, after some remarks had been pa.s.sed.

"Nearly leben o'clock in the vorenoon," said one of the men. "'Ave 'ee bin slaipin' here oal night?"

I nodded.

"Then you must be awful ungry."

"Yes," I said, "have you anything to eat?"

For reply, a basket containing a good deal of wholesome food was placed before me. I ate heartily, for I was hungry, and after making a good meal prepared to go on.

The men did not ask me who I was, or where I was going, but looked smilingly on the few coins I gave them, and wished me a good journey.

I went on in a dazed way the whole of the day, stopping only once for refreshment at a little wayside alehouse. I inquired of the landlord if he had heard any news, but he said, No, nothing had happened except that his sister-in-law had got another, her eleventh baby. As I did not regard this of much importance, I trudged on again as soon as I had finished my meal. That I might be going in the teeth of danger did not occur to me; in fact, I never troubled about any punishment for my deed, except the terrible punishment of my conscience.

About eight o'clock in the evening, I entered the parish of Trewinion, and soon, as if drawn by a magnet, I found my way to the place where Wilfred and I had met.

How vividly everything came back to me, and yet I seemed to have lived long years since we met. Only two days had elapsed; and I had seemed to have grown old in that time. In my excited imagination I pictured him coming towards me again; but soon my illusions were dispelled.

I looked up towards my old home, wondering if I should see any signs of what had happened, but the house was quiet, and, except for a few lights that flashed from the windows, I saw no signs of life. The p.r.o.ngs of the "Devil's Tooth" still lifted themselves in the air, but no light was there; evidently Betsey Fraddam was not visiting her old haunt that night.

Again I stood on the place on which we had wrestled, again I looked from the dizzy heights on the rocks below, as if trying to see Wilfred, but nothing was visible. The rocks told no stories; the moaning sea did not recount what had become of my brother's body.

Had he been found, I wondered? It could scarcely be otherwise.

Fisherman were constantly tramping along the beach, and when he was missed search would certainly be made. Still it might not have so happened; I would go down to the beach to see. The tide was ebbing out, and I could easily walk along the sands at the foot of the cliffs.

I went to the place where a rough track had been made, and soon got on the beach. It was a glorious night; the sea shone beneath the silvery light of the moon, and had I any melody in my heart the splash of the water on the beach must have made music to me; but there was nothing but remorse and despair within me, thus, what would have otherwise have been a song of gladness was only a wail of misery.

When I came to the place beneath the point where we had wrestled, I looked for a sign of Wilfred's body, but there was nothing to be seen, nor was there any marks on the sand, not even a footmark was visible.

This was not altogether strange, for the tide would have washed away any such marks, and yet I wondered at none being visible when such a terrible tragedy had taken place.

Near here was a cave, and, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I entered it. I spoke, but was frightened by the echo of my own voice. I dared not stay there long. Every sound was magnified so, and as the waves broke upon the sh.o.r.e their echo thundered around the walls of my grim resting-place, until it seemed filled with thousands of dark spirits of the dead.

I went out again into the night, and wandered on until I came to the witches' cave. I seemed drawn, as if by a charm, and for a minute I had a strong desire to go where I had gone long years before, when Deborah Teague tried to make me promise ever to be her friend; but fancying I heard sounds within the dark confines of the cavern, I hurried away filled with superst.i.tious fears.

Then a new feeling possessed me. I must get away from England and never return. There was no hope; no peace for me here. Wilfred was dead--destroyed by my hand, and Ruth loathed me. I would go away on the wild seas again, and perhaps, although I could never know happiness, I might find forgetfulness. Here I should be ever haunted by fears; here, too, I was in danger of the law, once away I should be safe.

The thought brought relief, it gave me something to do. It was an escape valve for my feelings, and without waiting a second I started on the road to Falmouth.

A few days later I was sailing down the Bay of Biscay, bound for Barcelona, where I hoped I might find Salambo, who had been captain of the pirate s.h.i.+p.

[1] "Croust" is a corruption of the word "carouse." This designates a meal which harvesters and haymakers have between ordinary meals on account of specially hard work.--EDITOR.

CHAPTER XXV

THE VOICE OF A FRIEND

The journey to Barcelona was uneventful, at any rate for me. During the whole time I lived in a kind of hideous dream. I was ever thinking of what I had seen and done during the little time I had been in England, but nothing was real save a horrible weight that oppressed me.

I know that the captain sought to be friendly, while some of the pa.s.sengers seemed to be interested in the sad, silent man who ever sought to be alone, but I paid little heed to their overtures. How could I when two ghastly pa.s.sions, hatred and remorse, possessed me?

Sometimes I caught myself thinking of what Ruth had told me during those two or three sweet hours we were together. I remember asking her why she had seemed to love Wilfred the better, and why, when she saw how I loved her, she did not in some way let me know that she cared for me. And blus.h.i.+ngly she told me that, besides the reports about my boasting that she would have to marry me, which she only half believed, she was afraid I would think her forward and immodest. This set me thinking how it had all ended. How through misunderstandings our lives had been ruined, until life seemed a tragedy, and Providence only a dream. But no relief came to me, the burdens which I had myself made still crushed me to the earth, and I could see no brightness in the future.

We reached Barcelona at length, and I set out to find Salambo. I knew that if all had gone well with him I should have little difficulty in this. He had given me instructions which were unmistakable as to his whereabouts, so I started at once for the house at which he told me to inquire.

I found that this house was occupied by his own parents, and no welcome could be warmer than mine when I told them my name.

I asked them if their son was well, and I quickly found that he was well and happy, that he had found Inez, that they had been wedded, and were living not far away from them.

Quickly I found my way thither, and soon Salambo and I stood face to face. Only one look at him was enough to convince me that his parents had told me the truth.

"All is well with you, Salambo?" I said.

"Ah, all is well," he cried, "the saints have been good to me. You must see my Inez, she will be here directly."

This gave me a little hope. Salambo had committed a sin similar to mine, and yet he was happy. He had become wedded to the woman he loved, in spite of the terrible past. Might there then be some chance for me? Not that I expected to wed Ruth, I gave up all thoughts of seeing her again; but I might find rest from the terrible pangs which now made life almost unbearable. I resolved before the day was over to have a long talk with my old captain, and, if possible, to seek the same means to obtain ease and happiness.

Presently his wife came into the room. They had only been wedded a short time, and she blushed at being introduced as his wife; but I saw, in spite of everything, that she was happy. Not that she looked free from pain. There was a look in her great black eyes which told me that she had suffered terribly in the past, and the silver streaks in her raven black hair told the same story.

She was very beautiful, and I did not wonder that Salambo loved her.

From the way her eyes rested on him I knew that he reigned king of her heart.

We sat together during the evening, sometimes talking and sometimes listening to Inez--for such Salambo would have me call her--as she sung some sweet Spanish love songs, until the time came for her to retire, and then we two men, who had pa.s.sed through many strange scenes, were left together.

"You are very happy," I said, when she had left the room.

"Happy as man can be," he replied. "My Inez through all these long years was faithful to me, and has ever been as pure as an angel. And you, Tretheway, or rather, Trewinion, how did you find affairs at home?

not well, I fear."

I told him, just as I have written it in these pages, all that had happened since I left him. When I described my meeting with Bill Tregargus, and how I had heard that Ruth had died of a broken heart, driven to death by Wilfred, I saw the tears start to Salambo's eyes, and he eagerly asked what followed next. Then I told him of my meeting with Wilfred, what we had said to each other, and how we had engaged in a deadly struggle on the cliff.

"And didn't you kill him?" he cried, clenching his hands nervously; "didn't you hurl the viper on the rocks beneath?"

"Would you?" I said.

"Would I?" he cried, "ay, and be proud that I had rid the world of such a one. The saints would sanction such a deed."

I told him what had happened, at which he gave a great sigh as if of relief, after which a scornful smile played around his mouth as I told him of the terrible sufferings I had endured.

He did not speak a word during the recital of the visit to Ruth's home, but gave a start as I told him of my determination to visit her grave.

Then he sat like one entranced as I described my entrance into the church, and related how I lifted back the stone from the vault.

Breathlessly he sat while I narrated how I had removed the clasps from the coffin and looked on the still face of my darling; and then leapt like a madman from his chair as I told how I felt her hand move. After that, while I related the remainder of my story, he walked up and down the room excitedly, sometimes laughing and again giving a cry of gladness, until I came to that part where I told Ruth of my sins, whereupon he sat down again, still staring at me wildly.

"And you left her because of that?" he said in astonishment, when I had finished.