Prisoners of Chance Part 8

To this uncharitable remark I maintained dignified silence, and, flinging my somewhat uncertain limbs over the coamings, went scrambling down, leaving him to his solitary meditations.

There was no light burning in the big square room below, merely a faint yellow reflection stealing forth from that pa.s.sageway leading aft. For this blessing of Providence I was profoundly thankful. A good half-dozen of the night guard, wearing similar uniform with those I had met on duty during the afternoon, were idly lounging about the b.u.t.t of the mainmast, evidently awaiting turn on sentry post, and ready enough to welcome any diversion chancing their way which would help to break the dull tedium of the night. I observed likewise, as I made a drunken pause at the foot of the ladder in an apparently vain endeavor to steady myself, that these roisterers of the night-watch were a set of jolly dogs, and had been opening numerous bottles of red wine with which to pa.s.s lagging hours more pleasantly. They were already in that gay, thoughtless spirit of badinage which comes of fair allowance.

Good humor had laid careless hand on duty, until, the stern restraint of discipline noticeably relaxing, good fellows.h.i.+p had become king.

Their officer lay outstretched at full length upon three camp stools, a fellow long of limb, with face as dark as a Moor. He made no effort to arise from his undignified position, yet hailed me as though I had been a boon companion of his revel.

"Ha!" he exclaimed gleefully, tapping as he spoke an empty gla.s.s against the deck. "Comrades, 't is as I prophesied; we are not long robbed of the Church. See, the most reverend Father hath already returned unto his own. Truly art thou welcome, _padre_, for I fear thy flock were about to go astray without a shepherd. Ho, Alva! seest thou not the coming of thine own liege lord? or art thou already so blinded by good liquor thou would'st dare neglect the very Pope himself, did he honor us with his company? Alva, I say, you roistering hound, you drunken blade, bring hither a stool for the worthy confessor! Faith!

doth he not bear the sins of us all, and must he not be greatly aweary with so vast a load. Saint Theresa! 't is fortunate there is yet a bottle left uncracked for the good _padre_!" I gathered the heavy hood closer about my face, so as better to m.u.f.fle voice as well as conceal features; made an apparent effort to stand firm, but with such poor success I noticed the grins expand on the faces watching me.

"Peace, my son," I hiccoughed, with an a.s.sumption of drunken gravity, uplifting my disengaged arm as if in priestly benediction of the impious crew. "Tempt me not to turn aside from the solemn path of duty by offerings of that foul fiend which doth so corrupt and despoil men.

Know you, I am now on my way to perform the sweet offices of our most holy religion, and need greatly to permit my mind to dwell in peace upon more soulful things than that which lieth in the wine pot. You are mere beasts of the field, sons of Belial, children of wrath, every one of you, doomed to death, even as it is written, 'He that taketh the sword shall perish by the sword.' Laugh, will you, you drunken sc.u.m of the sea!" I shouted, glaring about savagely on the grimacing faces.

"'T is truth out of Holy Writ I speak, but I waste the precious word in such company--'t is casting pearls before swine--for there be none here who comprehend the things of the Spirit."

"The spirit say you, _padre_?" interrupted the officer, evidently in rare good humor. "_Bastinade_! thou doest wrong to all this wors.h.i.+pful company by so grievous a slur. The spirit we know right well, although I confess thou art ever a full bottle in advance of the most of us."

I cast upon him a withering glance of scorn as rebuke to his unseemly levity, venturing to lurch a step nearer.

"Hush such vain and impious speech, thou man of war," I commanded thickly, indignation apparent even through my drunkenness. "Thou makest mock of the sacred teachings of Holy Church, and art from henceforth accursed by virtue of my office. I pause here, holding converse no longer with such mocking tongue, nor linger in presence of this blasphemous crew. There resteth upon me the eternal destiny of a human, unshriven soul, and I bid thee permit my pa.s.sage; 't is the final night of earth for some upon this s.h.i.+p, and I have until now neglected to perform my priestly duty with one of the condemned. 'T is upon this holy mission I would pa.s.s thee now."

"I truly think, _padre_," exclaimed one of the group, with a careless laugh, "if you had another drink of red wine beneath your ca.s.sock you could never tell a prayer from a song; so for the sake of those poor devils yonder we ought to pa.s.s you this time without demanding toll."

"To whom do you go at such unseemly hour with ghostly consolations?"

inquired the Commandant, negligently rolling a cigarette between his long fingers, and resting back his head in supreme content.

"I give absolution unto De Noyan." In spite of my utmost endeavors my voice trembled mentioning the name. I watched the fellow's face narrowly, yet read nothing save reckless indifference.

"Ah! the gay Chevalier. Faith, I doubt not he hath grave need of thee and thy paternosters ere he find peace. Yet surely, _padre_, 'twas with him you were this very afternoon, while I was on guard before. I marvel greatly he should care for your company so much. Saints, he seems scarcely of the kidney to take kindly to so many prayers."

I felt a chill sweep across me even at this slight check. Had I dared too much? Had I ventured too far? I knew not, yet spoke my next words boldly, realizing that any retreat now would be impossible.

"Thou knowest little of men at such a moment; even careless hearts learn fear of G.o.d as they face the end. Holy Mother! but 't would even pale your black face, and put a stopper on that ribald tongue, were grim Death stalking at your very heels. You may smile now, making reckless mock of the sacraments, but that hour will come when you will be as a child at the knee of Mother Church. Ay, I was with the Chevalier to-day; 'twas the coming of that negro huckster which took me from his side before, and I seek now to complete the gracious work which then had well begun. Surely thou wilt not stand between a dying man and his last confession!"

"Nay; not I. Let the poor devil have his chance, as may the good Lord grant me mine. But, _padre_, I have only just returned from my last round among the prisoners, and am greatly wearied, nor will I journey that way again with you. In truth, 'tis all I can well do to guide my own footsteps, without helping along a priest of thy weight. So here, _padre_, take the key, and, mind ye, have it safely back in my hands before the s.h.i.+p's bell soundeth the half hour."

Hastily s.n.a.t.c.hing the bit of iron he flung rattling on the deck at my feet, I paused merely long enough to favor the company with parting admonition on their probable future. Then, glad enough to be thus easily rid of them, I lurched heavily forward into the narrow pa.s.sageway. Some coa.r.s.e joke launched at my expense attracted the attention of those behindhand speeded me onward.

My heart throbbed in anxious antic.i.p.ation of what unknown trial was at hand. Such rare fortune as had thus far attended my efforts, seemed too remarkable to endure; nor was it impossible that, through some unforeseen mischance, the cup of success might yet be stricken from my very lips. So far at least I had made no mistake; evidently this Pere Ca.s.sati was "hail fellow, well met" among these riotous guards aboard the "Santa Maria," and I had played the part to their complete undoing.

But now I was facing a new experience, and stiffened myself to meet it boldly, uncertain still what trick fate might have in store.

The sentinel, whom I discovered facing forward, hardly more than two paces from that door having the figures "18" painted upon it, quickly lowered his gun as I lurched unsteadily into sight. Greatly to my relief, as soon as he obtained distinct view of his unexpected visitor, he returned the piece carelessly to his shoulder, and leaned back, his elbow against the arm-rack. He was a good-natured-looking fellow, with round, boyish face, upon which streamed the full glare of a swinging-lamp suspended from a chain fastened to an upper beam. His unsuspicious appearance served greatly to rea.s.sure me.

"I give thee peace of Holy Church, my son," I muttered solemnly, leaning heavily against the jamb of the door, uplifting my hand in benediction. "May the presence of the Mother and Child guard thee in time of battle."

The face of the young soldier grew sober, and he withdrew one hand from its grasp on the s.h.i.+ning musket piously to make the sign of the cross.

"I thank thee, _padre_, for thy blessing," he returned gratefully. "It will be in accord with the prayers of those I left at home in Spain."

Whether or not guards on duty in the corridor had orders to pa.s.s the father unquestioned, this lad, at least, made no effort to prevent my inserting the great iron key within the lock of the door. Doubtless my possession of it was accepted as evidence of my right to its use; anyway he remained there in that same careless posture, a pleased smile on his face, watching me curiously. The heavy nail-studded door swung noiselessly ajar; with single questioning glance backward at the motionless sentry, I stepped within, closed it behind me, and stood, my heart throbbing fiercely, face to face with her husband--the man to whom had been given the woman I loved,--Chevalier Charles de Noyan, condemned to die at sunrise.

CHAPTER VII

THE CHEVALIER DE NOYAN

It seems strange any man should deliberately venture life for one he had never seen; one whom, moreover, he hated with an intensity of pa.s.sion seldom experienced between man and man. I have not been of revengeful disposition, nor often indulged in grave personal dislike, yet it would be wrong in this simple narrative for me to attempt concealment of my own impulses. So it is impossible to deny that, from the first moment when she called Charles de Noyan husband, I felt toward him a degree of animosity deeper than I had before supposed it possible for me to entertain relative to any human being. It was bitter memory of the past, a belief that I had once won the heart of this fair girl, only to be balked of reward by spectral hands of religion, which swayed me thus strongly. To my thought this stranger was one who had purchased, from priests at the altar, what was mine by divine decree; what would remain mine forever from the mandate of love unchangeable, eternally sealed by higher power than any priestly ritual.

Yet I had already pa.s.sed through a day and night of intense excitement, of grave peril, endeavoring to preserve the life of this man whom I would more gladly see die than any one I ever knew. I stood now in the open jaws of my own destruction, where the slightest false movement, or ill-judged word, upon his part or my own, must mean betrayal; where an awakening of suspicion in the simple mind of the sentry without, or of his captain in the corridor; the return to consciousness, or chance discovery, of the bound priest upon the upper deck, would ruin every hope, sentencing me to a fate no less speedy or certain than that which now awaited him I sought to serve. All this had I risked that I might aid in the escape of the one and only man in all the wide world who stood between me and the woman I loved.

It was an odd position, a heartless caprice of fate. I felt the full measure of its strangeness, yet the thought never occurred to me of shrinking back from duty, nor slightest dream of realizing a personal victory through any act of baseness. I was not there for his sake, or my own, but to redeem my pledged word to her whose slightest wish was law, whose pleading face forever rose before me. Nevertheless, as I stood fronting him for the first time, there was little except bitter hatred in my heart--hatred which, no doubt, burned for the instant within my eyes,--but a hatred which never returned, to curse my memory, from that day unto this. I may have found much to test my patience, much to dislike about him in those weary weeks which followed, much of weakness and of fickle spirit, but naught ever gave birth anew to the deep resentment I buried there.

The room in which I found myself was long and narrow, dimly lighted by an oil lamp screwed fast into a blackened beam overhead. Along one side was the bare wall, unrelieved in its plain planking except for a small cracked mirror and a highly colored picture of the Virgin in a rude frame. Opposite, two berths were arranged one above the other, both partially concealed by a dingy red curtain extending from ceiling to floor. The only other furniture I noted in my hasty survey consisted of a rough stool chair, and a huge iron-bound, wooden sea-chest, the last so bulky as almost completely to block the narrow s.p.a.ce between the lower berth and the opposite wall. Seated upon the stool, which was tilted back upon two legs, his shoulders resting comfortably on a pillow pressed against the wall, his long limbs extended in posture of supreme contentment and laziness, upon the chest, was the man of my desperate search, the gallant soldier of France, the leader of rebellion, condemned to die before the rifles within four short hours.

I have never greatly feared death, have witnessed it often and in many hideous forms, yet always believed it would test my nerves to the uttermost to face it as a certainty under guard of enemies. Yet here was one, young in years, strong of limb, vigorous of hope, with all the joy of life just opening before him; a man of wealth, of fas.h.i.+on, and of ease, who was seemingly awaiting the inevitable hour of his doom with as calm indifference as if it meant no more than the pleasant summons to a Creole ball. With one glance I made a mental picture of him--a young, high-bred face, marred somewhat by dissipation and late hours, yet beneath that dim light appearing almost boyishly fresh, and bearing upon its every feature the plain impress of reckless humor, and indolent content. It was the face of a youth rather than a man; of one more accustomed to looking upon gay companions at the club than on the horrors of a battlefield; one who could justly be expected to boast of fair conquests, yet who might prove somewhat slow at drawing sword to front a warrior of mettle, unless his blood were heated with wine.

Such were my first impressions, until I noted a certain manliness imparted thereto by the heavy moustaches adorning the upper lip, almost yellow in color, curled sharply upward, so heavily waxed at the ends as nearly to reach the ears, or rather to lose themselves amid the luxuriant growth of hair. This latter, of the same unusual tinge, swept low over the shoulders, and was trimmed squarely across the forehead according to a fas.h.i.+on then prevalent among young French cavaliers. His dress was not a uniform, but that of the latest mode in the province, somewhat exaggerated, I thought, as to length of the bronze shoes and glaring color of the waistcoat. All these details I noted, as he turned somewhat indolently in my direction, calmly flipping the ash from off a cigarette, and permitting a spiral of thin blue smoke to curl slowly upward from his lips into the air.

"So it is you, you miserable, drunken reprobate!" he exclaimed, a touch of temper tingling in a voice I felt must naturally be soft and low.

"Have you dared come back to pester me with your abominable consolations? Sacre! did I not bid you this afternoon to let me alone?

I care nothing for your tipsy paternosters. Faith, man, it will be pleasanter to face that firing squad to-morrow than your drunken prayers to-night. Come, get out of the room before I lay unregenerate hands upon your shaven poll. I am but giving you fair warning, priest, for I am quick of blow when my blood is heated, nor care I greatly for the curses of Mother Church."

I stepped quickly forward, coming as directly before him as the great sea-chest would permit, fearful lest his loud words might be distinguishable beyond the closed door. Then, with silent gesture of warning, I flung aside the heavy cowl which had concealed my features.

"You, I presume, are Charles de Noyan," I said gravely. "I am not Father Ca.s.sati, nor drunken priest of any Order of Holy Church."

The prisoner was thoroughly astounded. This I could perceive by the sudden gleam leaping into his eyes, but that he retained marvellous control over every muscle was abundantly proven by the fact that no change of att.i.tude, or of voice, gave slightest evidence of emotion.

"Well, Mother of G.o.d preserve me!" he exclaimed, with a short, reckless laugh. "'Tis some small comfort to know even that much. Yet may I politely inquire who the devil you are, to invade thus coolly the bedchamber of a gentleman, without so much as asking leave, at this unholy hour of the morning? _Pardieu_, man, are you aware that this is the last night on earth I have?"

He was staring at me through blue rings of tobacco smoke, very much as one might observe some peculiar animal seen for the first time.

"Had it been otherwise you might rest a.s.sured I should never have troubled you," I replied, some constraint in my voice, his boyish bravado of speech rasping harshly upon my nerves. "But time presses, Chevalier; there remains small s.p.a.ce for useless exchange of compliment, nor does indifference appear becoming to those in such grave peril as you and I."

"_Sacre_! are you also one of us? Surely, I have no recollection of your face."

"I am one in so far as I now face the same fate at the hands of the Spaniards, although, it is true, I had no part in your uprising. I am not of your race."

He laughed easily, pa.s.sing one slender, white hand carelessly through his long hair.

"Pah! you scarcely need tell me that, for the taste of the French tongue seems ill-suited to your lips. Yet I would have you speak out more plainly! I play not easily into the hands of strangers."

"Why not? You could hardly be worse off than you are now."

"_Pardieu_! you are not so far wrong in your philosophy, friend. Still I stick to my text, and if you care to hold further speech with me it will be well to declare yourself. I have ever been a bit careful as to my a.s.sociates."

"It makes small odds, Chevalier, who I am; nor will it greatly aid you to learn my name, which is plain Geoffrey Benteen, without even a handle of any kind to it, nor repute, save that of an honest hunter along the upper river. I say who I am makes small odds, for I come not with application for members.h.i.+p into your social circle, nor with card of introduction from some mutual friend."

His expressive eyebrows uplifted in surprise.