Marguerite De Roberval Part 11

This was a project after Gaillon's own heart. He rubbed his hands with fiendish delight, and set about giving the necessary orders. A boat was soon lowered, and filled with provisions, clothing, and ammunition in plenty. Gaillon and two or three of the desperadoes whom he had completely under his control, pulled ash.o.r.e and landed their cargo.

Roberval himself superintended the selection from the ship's stores, and thrice did he order the boat to return, each time with as large a load as it could carry.

All this time the rest of the crew stood gaping with astonishment, unable to imagine what Roberval's intentions might be, but ready, at the slightest addition to their superst.i.tious fears, to fly into open mutiny.

At last the boat returned from her third trip. Roberval, in the meantime, had ordered the women to get ready to go on sh.o.r.e, and they now came on deck, bewildered with surprise, and uncertain what fate might be in store for them. Roberval commanded them to enter the boat, which was now alongside. A murmur of dismay and sympathy went round the vessel, as the full horror of his project dawned upon the crew; but no man dared to interfere, save Pere Lebeau. Undaunted by his rebuff of a few days before, the priest stepped up to De Roberval, and fixing his eyes full upon him, he exclaimed:

"Sieur, beware what you do! What are your intentions towards these helpless women who have no other protector but yourself? You cannot be so lost to all sense of honour and chivalry as to abandon them to perish on this desolate sh.o.r.e! How can you expect the blessing of G.o.d upon this enterprise if you wilfully do this great wrong? Take care lest the Church should refuse to pardon you, and should cast from her fold the man who could be guilty of so monstrous a crime."

For a moment Roberval's gaze shifted under the scathing indignation of the priest, then, drawing him hastily aside, he muttered in an undertone:

"Spare your wrath, good Father; I but mean to teach them a lesson. I will return for them in good time--I swear it. It is but a necessary discipline that I would give them, so that they may learn to obey me for the future."

"They will die of terror!" said the priest. "You have heard the legends of the demons who haunt the island; and how do you know to what perils you are subjecting them from the savages, if not indeed from evil spirits?"

"There are no signs of habitation in the island," said De Roberval, impatiently. "My men have explored it thoroughly. No Indians have ever been there, and a good fright will do them no harm. Demons," he went on, raising his voice so that all could hear, "what care I for demons? Our blessed Lord cast seven of them forth out of Mary Magdalene, and methinks that this strumpet and her companions have each seventy times seven still in their disobedient bodies. But ash.o.r.e they shall go. Plead not for them; your prayers will be in vain."

The priest would have spoken further, but Marguerite, who now understood her uncle's design, came forward with the courage and dignity which seldom failed her, and, with head erect and unwavering voice, said calmly:

"Distress yourself no longer on our account, good Father. I welcome with joy any fate which will deliver me from the tender mercies of a tyrant.

This, then," and she turned her clear gaze upon her uncle, "is the father's care you show an orphan child? This is the protection you extend to that other fatherless and motherless girl so lately left in your charge? Can it be that a De Roberval has sunk to so ign.o.ble a breach of honour and faith? I pray G.o.d," she went on more softly, "that He may drive out the evil spirit which has possessed you, and restore your n.o.ble and generous nature. You are no longer the uncle I once loved."

She ceased speaking, and quietly allowed herself to be lowered into the boat. Marie, weeping bitterly, followed her, and finally old Bastienne, filling the air with sobs and lamentations, was deposited beside her mistress. The men took up their oars, and waited the signal for departure.

Roberval was gloomily pacing the deck. His niece's words had gone home, and he was on the point of relenting. But he had already allowed his weakness to turn him once from his purpose, and to fail again, in sight of his a.s.sembled crew, was too great a humiliation to be thought of. He hardened his heart, and said sternly to Gaillon:

"See them safely landed; take care that they want for nothing, and return quickly. We must be out of this before darkness falls. The wind is rising, and I should not care to be caught on this sh.o.r.e should a storm come up."

The boat made a hurried final trip, and the three women were put off on the desolate beach. The oarsmen needed not Gaillon's words: "Back now, with might and main," to hasten them on their return journey. They pulled for dear life; and through the overhanging mist they seemed to see the shapes of the demons dancing weirdly down to seize their prey.

Once back in the vessel the anchor was hurriedly raised, and all hands eagerly a.s.sisted in the work of getting under way once more.

But while this was taking place Roberval's heart had devised a yet more cruel vengeance.

"Bring the prisoner on deck," he exclaimed, "and let him see the results of his disobedience."

When Claude stood beside him on the high p.o.o.p, he ordered him to look at the island, where the three women stood together on the beach. The long confinement in the semi-darkness of the hold had affected Claude's eyesight, and for a moment, as he gazed across the lines of the gleaming waves, he could see nothing. But just as the returning boat reached the ship's side, and the men hastily came on board, he caught sight of the group upon the sh.o.r.e.

"O just G.o.d!" he cried, "can this be permitted?"

"Thus," replied De Roberval, "a just G.o.d has made me the instrument to chastise vice. Behold, young man, the work of your hands!"

"Were my hands free," said De Pontbriand, fiercely, "I would become an instrument of G.o.d to rid the world of the basest liar and tyrant who ever served his master, the Devil."

"I will be generous," said De Roberval. "Free the dog's hands, and let him wave a last adieu to his paramour."

The rusty lock turned, the manacles fell upon the deck, and Claude stood free. But free on an ocean prison, with enemies on all sides! He gave one glance round, met the cruel eyes of Gaillon close behind him, and like a flash plunged headlong into the ocean.

"Shoot the villain down!" shouted De Roberval.

One of the men seized an arquebuse, and levelled it at the struggling form in the water. He pulled the trigger, but no sooner did the powder splutter in the pan than the gun burst in his hands, and a piece of the metal, entering his brain, laid him dead on the deck.

"The demons, the demons!" exclaimed the panic-stricken crew. "The demons claim the swimmer for their own!"

"Let him go!" said De Roberval. "He is too weak to reach the sh.o.r.e. He has saved me the trouble of ending his life, as I should sooner or later have had to do. Now for Charlesbourg Royal. No man will venture to resist my will in future."

The anchor was already raised, and in a few moments _L'Heureux_ began to forge ahead, and to widen the s.p.a.ce between her and the accursed island.

As Claude had stood on the p.o.o.p he was plainly visible to the watchers on the sh.o.r.e. They saw him leap into the sea, and heard the report of the arquebuse. Their hearts stood still with fear: but they strained their eyes eagerly across the dazzling surface of the water. Could he have escaped? Yes, there on the summit of a wave, in the wake of the rapidly retreating vessel, they saw him struggling. He was swimming. He was making for the sh.o.r.e. G.o.d help him! Holy Mother help him! Blessed Jesu, guide him and give him strength!

Old Bastienne's sobs had given place to fervent e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of prayer; and as she prayed she held before her the cross which King Francis had bestowed upon De Roberval--the precious relic said to have been fashioned from a fragment of the true cross of our Lord.

Bastienne was a pious soul, and, moreover, a quick-witted one. She had heard the legends of the island, which had pa.s.sed among the sailors, and when she grasped the fact that they were to be put ash.o.r.e, she made some excuse to return below, crept into De Roberval's cabin, and stole the precious relic from its case, concealing it carefully in her bodice.

No evil spirit could come near the place where this blessed piece of wood might be; with this in their possession they were safe from all the powers of darkness. She now held the cross aloft, believing that it would give the swimmer power to reach the sh.o.r.e.

Weakened by his long imprisonment, his arms almost useless through lack of employment, his strength sapped for want of proper nourishment, De Pontbriand was manfully struggling with the salt, green waves. His head was sinking lower and lower, a deadly numbness was seizing his limbs, and his heart was almost failing him when his half-closed eyes caught the gleam of the golden cross, as the setting sun fell upon it, held high in the air by Bastienne. He made no further effort to swim. A good hundred yards intervened between him and the sh.o.r.e. He must husband his strength. The waves, he knew, would carry him ash.o.r.e; and with just enough motion in his limbs to keep him afloat, he allowed himself to be borne along. But the northern water was chilling him to the marrow; and although he could plainly see the women on the beach, and could hear their prayers and cries of encouragement, he felt himself sinking, and De Roberval's prophecy seemed about to be realised. When within forty feet of the sh.o.r.e his chilled limbs relaxed, his eyes closed, and he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

But Bastienne had all her wits about her. In her young days she had plunged into the Somme as joyously as the bravest Picard lads, and old as she was her limbs were still strong and st.u.r.dy. Without a moment's hesitation, when she saw Claude's strength leave him, she plunged into the water, struck out boldly in his direction, and, just as he sank from sight, her strong arm grasped him. With all her remaining strength she dragged him after her to the sh.o.r.e, and Marguerite and Marie rushed into the water to their waists to help her with her burden.

Far off in the retreating ship the watchers believed that he had been given a prey to the demons. Pa.s.sing a headland they came upon a full-grown seal, which slid from the rocks into the sea, presenting to them its half-human face. Believing it to be a demon, they crossed themselves in terror, and as Claude disappeared from their sight they were convinced that it had gone in search of him, and dragged him down into the infernal world.

Meanwhile, Marguerite sat on the sh.o.r.e, with Claude's pale face in her hands, kissing his lips and eyes, and praying the Holy Virgin to restore him, and not to take her last hope from her.

CHAPTER X

For a time it seemed as if Claude were indeed dead. The women chafed his cold hands, and did all that Bastienne's skill could suggest; but their efforts seemed unavailing, and they had almost abandoned hope, when Marie, searching among the stores, found a case of brandy, and hastened to moisten his lips with the liquor. Soon, to their great joy, the blood began to come back to his cheek, and they could feel his heart beat. At last he opened his eyes like one in a dream, and met those of Marguerite bending over him. The nightmare he had just pa.s.sed through came back to him--the fearful struggle to reach the sh.o.r.e, the sound of the water in his ears, like the ringing of innumerable bells, the feeling of despair that had come over him as he felt himself sinking. Full consciousness returned to him at the sound of Marguerite's voice exclaiming:

"He lives! O Mary be praised, we are saved!"

Saved indeed, but for what? An island prison in an unfrequented ocean, where years might pa.s.s before a ship hove in sight. Night was fast drawing in, and they were shelterless, in a dreary, unknown waste, exposed to they knew not what dangers. They were three helpless women, two of them tenderly nurtured and wholly unused to want or privation; and De Pontbriand was in no condition to be of any a.s.sistance. Their position seemed indeed desperate, and Claude cursed the bitter fate which had made him the cause of bringing such misfortune on his beloved.

But old Bastienne came once more to the rescue. Her stolid, peasant endurance and ready Picard wit stood the whole party in good stead. She found a flint and steel--for De Roberval had provided for all necessities--and with the aid of the two girls she collected brushwood and dry branches enough to make a huge fire, the smoke of which, rising high into the air, was visible on the horizon from the departing ship.

The sailors fell on their knees in terror at the sight, believing it another proof that the demons were consuming their victims with unquenchable flames.

Bastienne soon had Claude's wet clothes dried, and his strength revived by hot stimulants. Provisions they had in plenty--of the rude fare which was provided on ship-board in those days--and the old woman prepared a hasty meal, of which she forced the two girls to partake. But by this time the darkness had gathered round them, and it was impossible to do anything further that night.

Fortunately, the time of year was a favourable one. The weather was warm, even for June; and the storm which Roberval had predicted seemed to have pa.s.sed over, for the present at all events. The balmy air and clear sky of a Canadian summer night made the prospect of spending it in the open air a much less terrible one than it would otherwise have been. They kept their fire up all night, as a protection, but they met with no alarms, and were unmolested, save by the insects which swarmed in the air around them, attracted by the light. Claude, worn out by fatigue, slept the deep sleep of exhaustion, and Marguerite spent most of the night watching by his side, while the other two women attended to the fire.

The short June night soon gave place to the ghostly, grey twilight before the dawn; and at last the welcome streaks of colour in the east proclaimed to the weary watchers that daylight was again at hand. Their first night in their island home was over.

The morning broke fair and cloudless, and the little colony of four set about surveying their situation, and exploring their new domain. They found it a wilderness indeed--barren, rocky, almost devoid of vegetation, save for the coa.r.s.e bracken and juniper bushes which grew in patches, and for an occasional clump of birches, stunted pines, or firs.

No sign that any human foot save their own had ever visited it could be discovered: and the only animals they met with were hares in abundance, and foxes, both red and black, which scampered away in terror at their approach, and surveyed them from a distance with bright, timid eyes.

Sea-birds in great numbers hovered about the cliffs on the sh.o.r.e, and what most aroused their astonishment and interest, were the solemn, ungainly auks, which had their abodes along the beach. These uncouth and helpless-looking birds, disturbed in their occupation of fishing among the rocky shallows, waddled off in alarm at the approach of the intruders, who were irresistibly moved to laughter at their clumsy movements. No doubt these strange creatures had in part given rise to many a weird tale of the demon inhabitants of the island.

De Pontbriand, whose strength was wonderfully recruited by the long rest and Bastienne's skilful treatment, set about preparing some kind of shelter for the women before another night should descend upon them. His soldiering experiences, and still more his adventures in the wilds of Canada, came to his aid, and he was not long in constructing a sort of rude wigwam, such as he had seen the Indians build wherever they pitched their camps. Fragrant pine boughs made a luxurious couch, and the exhausted girls were glad to throw themselves down and sleep, while Claude kept watch by the fire outside. On the next day, and the two following ones, he employed himself in thatching the primitive dwelling with birch bark and whatever materials he could find which would shed the rain from its sloping sides. For himself, he found a sheltered hollow among the rocks, where neither wind nor rain could affect him greatly, and their stores he disposed among the many similar rocky caverns with which the island abounded.