Commodore Junk Part 9

"Yes. I sent for you because there was no other way of speaking to you alone."

"Quite right, my darling; and what could be better than here alone?

Mary, sweet, it will be dark directly."

"Sir, I sent for you here that I might beg of you to save my brother and poor Bart."

"Curse your brother and Bart!" said the captain, angrily. "It was not their fault that they did not kill me. They're better out of our way."

"Captain Armstrong--James--for our old love's sake will you save them?"

"No," he cried, savagely. "Yes," he added, catching Mary's wrist; "not for our old love's sake, but for our new love--the love that is to come.

Mary, I love you; I always did love you, and now I find I cannot live without you."

"Captain Armstrong!"

"James--your lover. Mary, you are everything to me. Don't struggle.

How can you be so foolish? There, yes, I will. I'll do everything.

I'll refuse to appear against them if you wish me to. I'll get them set free; but you will not hold me off like this?"

"You will save my brother?"

"Yes."

"And his friend?"

"Yes."

"Then I will always be grateful to you, and pray for your happiness."

"And be mine, Mary, my love, my own?"

"You villain! you traitor!" hissed Mary, as, taking advantage of a momentary forgetfulness, he clasped her in his arms and showered kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her hair.

But Captain Armstrong had made a mistake. It was like caressing a Cornish wrestler. There was a sharp struggle, during which he found that Mary's thews and sinews were, softly rounded as she was, strong as those of a man. She had been accustomed to row a boat in a rough sea by the hour together, and there was additional strength given to her arm by the indignation that made her blood course hotly through her veins.

How dare he, a miserable traitor, insult her as he did?

The question made the girl's blood seem to boil; and ere he could place another kiss upon her lips Mary had forgotten brother, friend, the trial everything but the fact that James Armstrong, Mistress Armstrong's husband, had clasped her in his arms; and in return she clasped him tightly in hers.

They swayed here for a moment, then there, and the next the captain was lifted completely from the shingle and literally jerked sideways, to fall with a crash and strike his head against a piece of rock. Then a sickening sensation came over him and all seemed dark, while, when he recovered a few minutes later, his head was bleeding and he was alone, and afraid with his swimming head to clamber up the rough cliff path.

"The cursed jade!" he muttered, as he recovered after a time, and went cautiously back after tying up his head, "I wish I could lay her alongside her brother in the gaol."

"Yes; I'll save him," he said with a mocking laugh, as he reached the top of the cliff and looked down at the faint light seen in the old wrecker's cottage. "I'll save him; and, in spite of all, it'll be a strange thing if Mary Dell isn't lost.

"Curse her, how strong she is!" he said after a pause.

"What shall I say! Humph! a slip on the path and a fall. I'm weak yet after the a.s.sault. Some one will have to plaster her dearest Jemmy's head--a sickly fool!"

CHAPTER NINE.

BEHIND PRISON BARS.

Mary Dell went again and again to the prison in the county town, tramping till she was footsore; but she did not see Abel, for she had to encounter double difficulties--to wit, the regulations of the authorities, and her brother's refusal to see her.

At last, though, she compa.s.sed an interview with Bart Wrigley, and the big fellow listened to her stolidly, as he enjoyed the sound of her voice, sighing heavily from time to time.

"But even you seem at times, Bart, as if you did not believe a word I say," she cried pa.s.sionately.

"Who says I don't?" said Bart, in a low growl. "You telled me you didn't, my la.s.s, and of course you didn't. Why, I'd believe anything you told me; but as for Abel, he's dead-set on it that you told the captain, and there's no moving him."

"But tell him, Bart, tell him I was angry with him for what he did--"

"What _we_ did," said Bart, who was too loyal to shirk his share.

"Well, what you both did, Bart; but that I would sooner have died than betray my own brother."

"Haw, haw! That's a wunner," said Bart, with a hoa.r.s.e laugh. "That's just what I did tell him."

"You did, Bart?"

"Ay, my la.s.s, I did; but he--"

Bart stopped.

"Yes, Bart, what did he say?"

"Said I was a blind, thick-headed fool."

"Oh, Bart, Bart, Bart! you are the best, and truest friend we ever had."

"Say that again, la.s.s, will you?" said the rough fellow.

Mary said it again with greater emphasis, and big Bart rubbed the corner of one eye with the back of his hand.

"Tell him, dear Bart, that his sister was true to him all through, and that he must believe me."

"Ay, la.s.s, I'll tell him; but don't call me 'dear Bart' again, 'cause I can't bear it."

"But you are our friend, and have always been like a brother to us."

"Ay, la.s.s, I tried to be, and I'll speak to him again. Bah! you never went again us. You couldn't. Your tongue thrashed us a bit, as you allus did, but it was for our good. And now, look here, my la.s.s, when we're gone--"

"When you're gone, Bart!" cried Mary, with her lip quivering.

"Ay, la.s.s, when we're gone, for I daresay they'll hang us."