Part 20 (1/2)

”I am less hurt than you,” said I. ”Only my arm is numbed by the whack the English knave gave me; while you, Ludar, are bleeding, head and foot.”

”I was scratched,” said he. ”The villains who set on me were too quick, as you saw, and had me down before I could shut my fist. Why they did not despatch me then and there I know not; but in seizing me they carried their blades in their teeth, the better to use their hands, so that I was able to s.n.a.t.c.h one for my own use as I fell. It served only to rid me of one of the company. Yet I got my feet again under me, when the other two made at me, as well as the two who had fled from you.

Among them all I got these scratches. When the fifth came, who had seen the poet aloft, I knew I could hold ground no longer; so I gave way, as you saw, and made for your barrier. After that you know, and how the maiden stood by us all through, and in the end fetched the pistol which finished the business. Had these villains but been armed, it is they who would have buried us. But come in now, Humphrey, and take counsel.”

'Twas a strange s.h.i.+p's company that met that evening in the dead captain's cabin. The maiden, Ludar, I, and one of the English fellows, who had been sleeping below and knew naught of the fight till all was over. As for the poet, Ludar still refused to have him down till our conference was over.

Of all our party the maiden was, I think, the most hopeful. ”G.o.d and His saints,” said she, ”have ordered this to try us, and see of what mettle we be. Shall we despair, Sir Ludar, when He has proved His goodness to us? The past is done, the future is all before us. You are our captain now, and Humphrey and I and this brave sailor here, ay and our poor poet aloft there, are your crew to follow where you lead. I can man a gun and haul a rope, as you shall see. Come, Humphrey, what say you?”

”I have vowed,” said I, ”to follow my master to the death. Nor can I think heaven will desert us while you who belong there, are aboard.”

She blushed at this and turned it off.

”Nay, my friend, it depends on how we do the duty that lies to our hand whether we belong there or not.”

Here Ludar broke in abruptly.

”Seaman, where be we now?”

The sailor got up and went out to ascertain our bearings.

”Maiden,” said Ludar, then, more grave than I had ever seen him, ”I can make no fine speeches, such as Humphrey here or yonder monkey at the mast-head; but I accept you as one of this crew with a prouder heart than if I were offered my father's castle.”

Then he held out his great hand, and she lay her little hand in it, and her true eyes flashed up to meet his. And I who stood by knew that the compact I witnessed then was for a longer voyage than from here to Leith.

I was glad when presently the man came in and reported.

”By your leave, captain, we be eight leagues east of Flamboro' with a southerly breeze falling fast. The s.h.i.+p lies in the wind and the tiller is swinging.”

”Take the helm, master, and keep her head straight. Humphrey, fetch down the poet. He and I will mount the first watch to-night. Maiden, do you get what rest you may, ere your turn comes in the morning.”

”Ay, ay, my captain,” said she cheerily, and went.

”Humphrey,” said Ludar, calling me back, when she had gone, ”do you wonder that I love that maiden?”

”I do not,” said I.

”Is she you love as fair, as brave, as n.o.ble?”

”She is,” I answered, ”every whit as fair, every whit as brave, every whit as n.o.ble.”

”Then why,” he asked, looking hard at me, ”are you sad when you speak of her?”

”Alas,” said I, ”she loves me not. Ludar, talk not to me of her; I will go fetch the poet.”

The poor fellow was by this time well-nigh at the end of his patience.

For, though he had fixed himself cunningly in the rigging of the foremast, seating himself on the royal yard, and hugging the mast lovingly with his arms and legs, he found himself unable to budge, or even see what was going on below, by reason of the dizziness which afflicted him. How he had got up so far, and managed to cut the ropes behind him, he never could explain. But a man will do desperate feats for his life's sake.

It was no light task to dislodge him. With my maimed arm I could not haul myself up the rigging even to the lower top-yard, much less carry up to him his dangling ladder. All I could do was to hail him and bid him be of good cheer till we had him down.

”Cheer,” he cried, ”cometh not in a voice from the void, neither is there help in empty breath. Come up, for I am weary of my perch; and verily, if the mountain come not to Mahomet, the prophet must abase himself to the mountain. In short, my man, I am near tumbling.”