Sense And Sensibility And Sea Monsters Part 18

"Yes, yes," returned Elinor, colouring likewise, and hardening her heart anew against any compa.s.sion for him. "I have heard it all. And how you will explain away any part of your guilt in that dreadful business, I confess is beyond my comprehension." The boat creaked wearily as it tossed in its mooring, and Elinor froze for a second, imagining she discerned the sound of a silvered boot heel pacing the deck outside; but the ominous noise was not repeated, and her heart after a moment unclenched.

"Remember," cried Willoughby, "from whom you received the account of my behaviour. Could it be an impartial one? I acknowledge that her situation and her character ought to have been respected by me. Her affection for me deserved better treatment, and I often, with great self-reproach, recall her tenderness. I wish-I heartily wish it had never been. But I have injured more than herself; and I have injured one, whose affection for me was scarcely less warm than hers; and whose mind was infinitely superior!"

"Your indifference is no apology for your cruelly leaving her in such circ.u.mstances, abandoned by your affection and buried neck-deep by the sh.o.r.e. You must have known that while you were enjoying yourself in Devonshire pursuing fresh schemes, she was reduced to the extremest indigence-or even worse. The tide might have swallowed her whole!"

"But, upon my soul, I did not not know of her ultimate circ.u.mstances," he warmly replied. "I did not recollect that I had omitted to give her my address; and common sense might have told her how to find it out." know of her ultimate circ.u.mstances," he warmly replied. "I did not recollect that I had omitted to give her my address; and common sense might have told her how to find it out."

"Well, sir, and what said Mrs. Smith?"

"Good woman! She offered to forgive the past, if I would marry Eliza. That could not be-and I was formally dismissed from her favour and her house."

"This, I must mention, is exactly as I suspected-though my mother insisted it was a ghost who had cursed you."

"The night following this affair-I was to go the next morning- was spent by me in deliberating on what my future conduct should be. The struggle was great-but it ended too soon. My affection for Marianne, my thorough conviction of her attachment to me-it was all insufficient to outweigh that dread of poverty. I had reason to believe myself secure of my present wife, if I chose to address her, and I persuaded myself to think that nothing else in common prudence remained for me to do. I have spent my life searching for treasure-I could not abandon one, once found. And so I went to Marianne, I saw her, and saw her miserable, and left her miserable-and left her hoping never to see her again."

"Then why did you call, Mr. Willoughby?" said Elinor. "A note would have answered every purpose. Why was it necessary to call?"

"It was necessary to my own pride. I could not bear to leave the Devonshire coast in a manner that might lead you, or the rest of the neighbourhood, to suspect any part of what had really pa.s.sed between Mrs. Smith and myself-and I resolved therefore on calling at the shanty. The sight of your dear sister, however, was really dreadful; and, to heighten the matter, I found her alone. You were all gone I do not know where. I had left her only the evening before, so fully, so firmly resolved within myself on doing right! A few hours were to have engaged her to me forever; and I remember how happy, how gay were my spirits, as I rowed from your shack back to Allenham Isle, satisfied with myself, delighted with everybody! But in this, our last interview of friendship, I approached her with a sense of guilt that almost took from me the power of dissembling. Her sorrow, her disappointment, her deep regret, when I told her that I was obliged to leave Devonshire so immediately-I never shall forget it. Oh, G.o.d! What a hard-hearted rogue was I! I hid behind the portcullis of my diving helmet! I could not meet her eye!"

They were both silent for a few moments. Waves rattled the sides of the houseboat, and the old wood creaked again in the tide.

"Well, sir," said Elinor, who, though pitying him, grew increasingly impatient for his departure. "And this is all? If so then pray allow me leave to return to the deck, and my spygla.s.s, and my watch for the hated Dreadbeard."

"My G.o.d-Dreadbeard, you say?"

The infamous name brought Willoughby to his feet, and seemed in an instant to clear his head and bring his eyes to full attention. "Miss Dashwood, think what you will of me-of my morals and of my depravity in my treatment of you and your relations-but I have spent my life in pursuit of buried treasures, and though I have never crossed paths with Dreadbeard, I have learned much about pirates. Come-let us b.o.o.by-trap your boat."

Willoughby hurriedly strode out onto the verandah and from there down onto the foredeck. Asking firstly of Elinor where the hammocks were kept, he used them to rig neat mesh tiger-traps across each of the trap-doors.

"That notorious letter," he inquired of her, when they had travelled below-decks, where he splashed cooking oil across the locked door of the stores, so it could be lit to create an impa.s.sable wall of fire. "Did she show it you?"

"Yes, I saw every note that pa.s.sed."

"When the first of hers reached me, my feelings were very, very painful. Every line, every word was-in the hackneyed metaphor which their dear writer, were she here, would forbid-a dagger to my heart."

Elinor's own heart, which had undergone many changes in the course of this extraordinary conversation, was now softened again-yet she felt it her duty to check such ideas in her companion as the last. "This is not right, Mr. Willoughby. Remember that you are married. Relate only what in your conscience you think necessary for me to hear." As she chastised him, she gingerly poked with the toe of her boot at the fake plank Willoughby had just rigged, through which a pirate's heavy boot would fall, sending him crashing into the quarterdeck.

"Marianne's note, by a.s.suring me that I was still as dear to her as in former days, awakened all my remorse. I say awakened, because time and the delights of the Sub-Marine Station, had in some measure quieted it, and I had been growing a fine hardened rapscallion, fancying myself indifferent to her, and choosing to fancy that she too must have become indifferent to me; talking to myself of our past attachment as a mere idle, trifling business, shrugging up my shoulders in proof of its being so, and silencing every reproach, overcoming every scruple, by secretly saying now and then, 'I shall be heartily glad to hear she is well married.' But this note made me know myself better. I felt that she was infinitely dearer to me than any other woman in the world, and that I was using her infamously. But everything was already settled between Miss Grey and me. To retreat was impossible. All that I had to do, was to avoid you both. I sent no answer to Marianne, intending by that to preserve myself from her further notice; and for some time I was even determined not to call in Berkeley Causeway. But at last, judging it wiser to affect the air of a cool, common acquaintance than anything else, I watched you all safely out of the docking station one morning, and left my hermit-crab sh.e.l.l."

"Watched us out of the house!"

"Even so. You would be surprised to hear how often I watched you, how often I was on the point of falling in with you. I have entered many a shop to avoid your sight, as the gondola glided past. Lodging as I did in Bond Causeway, there was hardly a day in which I did not catch a glimpse of one or other of you; and nothing but a prevailing desire to keep out of sight could have separated us so long. I avoided the Middletons as much as possible, as well as everybody else who was likely to prove an acquaintance in common. If you can can pity me, Miss Dashwood, pity my situation as it was pity me, Miss Dashwood, pity my situation as it was then then. With my head and heart full of your sister, I was forced to play the happy lover to another woman! Those three or four weeks were worse than all. Well, at last, as I need not tell you, you were forced on me; and what a sweet figure I cut! What an evening of agony it was! Aside from the feral lobsters that gouged a half dozen people to death, and I sad to not be in their number! Marianne, beautiful as an angel on one side, calling me Willoughby in such a tone! Oh, G.o.d! Holding out her hand to me, asking for protection from the armored beasts, asking me for an explanation, with those bewitching eyes fixed in such speaking solicitude on my face! And Sophia, jealous as the devil on the other hand, equally vulnerable to those h.e.l.l-claws! Such an evening! I ran away as soon as I could, but not before I had seen Marianne's sweet face as white as death. That was the last, last look I ever had of her-the last manner in which she appeared to me. It was a horrid sight! Among many horrid sights from that evening, it was the most horrid of all! Yet when I thought of her to-day as really dying-of malaria, and and yellow fever, yellow fever, and and lupus-" lupus-"

"No, not lupus."

"Really? Well, that's good."

"But the letter, Mr. Willoughby, your own letter; have you anything to say about that?"

"Yes, yes, that that in particular. Your sister wrote to me again, the next morning after the lobster attack at Hydra-Z. You saw what she said. I was breakfasting at the Ellisons-and her letter was brought to me there from my lodgings. It happened to catch Sophia's eye before it caught mine- and its size, the elegance of the paper, the hand-writing altogether, immediately gave her a suspicion. Some had received some vague report of my attachment to a young lady in Devonshire, and what had pa.s.sed at Hydra-Z had marked who the young lady was, and made her more jealous than ever. Affecting that air of playfulness, therefore, which is delightful in a woman one loves, she opened the letter directly, and read its contents. She was well paid for her impudence. She read what made her wretched. Her wretchedness I could have borne, but her pa.s.sion-her malice-at all events it must be appeased. In short-what do you think of my wife's style of letter-writing?" in particular. Your sister wrote to me again, the next morning after the lobster attack at Hydra-Z. You saw what she said. I was breakfasting at the Ellisons-and her letter was brought to me there from my lodgings. It happened to catch Sophia's eye before it caught mine- and its size, the elegance of the paper, the hand-writing altogether, immediately gave her a suspicion. Some had received some vague report of my attachment to a young lady in Devonshire, and what had pa.s.sed at Hydra-Z had marked who the young lady was, and made her more jealous than ever. Affecting that air of playfulness, therefore, which is delightful in a woman one loves, she opened the letter directly, and read its contents. She was well paid for her impudence. She read what made her wretched. Her wretchedness I could have borne, but her pa.s.sion-her malice-at all events it must be appeased. In short-what do you think of my wife's style of letter-writing?"

"Your wife! The letter was in your own hand-writing."

"Yes, but I had only the credit of servilely copying such sentences as I was ashamed to put my name to. The original was all her own-her own happy thoughts and gentle diction. But what could I do! I copied my wife's words, and parted with the last relics of Marianne. Her three notes-un-luckily they were all in my pocketbook, or I should have denied their existence, and h.o.a.rded them forever-I was forced to put them up, and could not even kiss them. And the lock of hair-that too I had always carried about me, which was now searched by Madam with the most ingratiating virulence-the dear lock-all, every memento was torn from me."

Now they were finished in laying their traps and stood together again at the wheel, gazing out into the black of the nighttime sea. Monsieur Pierre gave a little monkey shake of the head, as if remembering the whole nasty business, and offering his beloved master every sympathy.

"I appreciate your able a.s.sistance in arming this craft, Mr. Willoughby, but you are very wrong-very blamable," said Elinor, while her voice, in spite of herself, betrayed her compa.s.sionate emotion. "You ought not to speak in this way, either of Mrs. Willoughby or my sister. You had made your own choice. It was not forced on you. Your wife has a claim to your politeness, to your respect, at least. She must be attached to you, or she would not have married you. To treat her with unkindness, to speak of her slightingly is no atonement to Marianne-nor can I suppose it a relief to your own conscience."

"Do not talk to me of my wife," said he with a heavy sigh. "She does not deserve your compa.s.sion. She knew I had no regard for her when we married. Well, married we were, and came down to Combe Magna to be happy, and afterwards returned to Sub-Marine Station Beta, before it was destroyed, to be gay. And now do you pity me, Miss Dashwood? Or have I said all this to no purpose? Am I less guilty in your opinion than I was before? Have I offered you a yellowed map, which you may follow to a forgiving place in your heart?"

"Yes, you have proved yourself, on the whole, less faulty than I had believed you. You have proved your heart less wicked, much less wicked. But I hardly know-the misery that you have inflicted-I hardly know what could have made it worse."

"Will you repeat to your sister when she is recovered, what I have been telling you? Tell her of my misery and my penitence-tell her that my heart was never inconstant to her, and if you will, that at this moment she is dearer to me than ever."

"I will tell her all that is necessary. But you have not explained to me the particular reason of your coming now, nor how you heard of her illness."

"On a fishing bank along the Thames, I ran against Sir John Middleton, and when he saw who I was-for the first time these two months- he spoke to me. His good-natured, honest, stupid soul, full of indignation against me, and concern for your sister, could not resist the temptation of telling me what he knew ought to-though probably he did not think it would would-vex me horridly. As bluntly as he could speak it, therefore, he told me that Marianne Dashwood was dying of malaria, yellow fever-and I could have sworn he said, lupus, but if you say no, wonderful-at The Cleveland The Cleveland-a letter that morning received from Mrs. Jennings declared her danger most imminent-the Palmers are all gone off in a fright, etc. What I felt was dreadful! Thus my resolution was soon made, and at eight o'clock this morning I was preparing my kayak. Now you know all."

He held out his hand. She could not refuse to give him hers-he pressed it with affection.

"And you do do think something better of me than you did?"-said he, letting it fall, and leaning against the wheel as if forgetting he was to go. think something better of me than you did?"-said he, letting it fall, and leaning against the wheel as if forgetting he was to go.

Elinor a.s.sured him that she did-that she forgave, pitied, wished him well-was even interested in his happiness-and added some gentle counsel as to the behaviour most likely to promote it. His answer was not very encouraging.

"As to that," said he, "I must rub through the world as well as I can. Domestic happiness is out of the question. If, however, I am allowed to think that you and yours feel an interest in my fate and actions, it may be the means-it may put me on my guard-at least, it may be something to live for. Marianne, to be sure, is lost to me forever. Were I even by any blessed chance at liberty again-were Sophia to meet with a giant octopus, say, and I not around."

Elinor stopped him with a reproof. "Octopi seem to play an important role in your adventures, Mr. Willoughby."

With a sheepish expression, Mr. Willoughby produced a long, slim cylinder from his pocket, marked along one side with a light sketch of an eight-armed figure.

"What-"

"'Tis an octopus whistle," Willoughby slyly explained; "specially designed to emit a sound pitched to draw their attentions, no matter the weather or water. I have found that being rescued from the clasping, eight-tentacled embrace of a giant octopus tends to create-in a lady-a certain affection-"

Elinor shook her head, unsure of the words to express disapprobation at such a device, and slipped the cylinder into her pocket.

"Well," he replied, "once more good-bye. I shall now go away and live in dread of one event."

"What do you mean?"

"Your sister's marriage."

"You are very wrong. She can never be more lost to you than she is now."

"But she will be gained by someone else. And if that someone should be the very he whom, of all others, I could least bear-but I will not stay to rob myself of all your compa.s.sionate goodwill, by showing that where I have most injured I can least forgive. Good-bye. G.o.d bless you-and-oh-one more thing-"

Without a further word, he removed from the sheath of his boot a razor-sharp dirk, and pressed its handle into Elinor's hand. And then he stumbled down the gangplank, his orangutan companion trailing behind, leapt into his kayak, and sailed away.

Elinor's stood swaying with the boat's rocking motion, her thoughts silently fixed on the irreparable injury which too early an independence and its consequent habits of idleness, dissipation, and luxury, had made in the mind and character and happiness of Willoughby. The world had made him extravagant and vain-extravagance and vanity had made him cold-hearted and selfish. From a reverie of this kind she was recalled by a most terrible sound-a long, harsh shriek, that she could not recognize until she looked through the spygla.s.s-and would forever remember thereafter as the sound emitted by an orangutan when it is run through with a cutla.s.s.

For here at last, fulfilling her every terrified expectation, was The Jolly Murderess The Jolly Murderess, six black flags fluttering darkly in the moonlight, sailing unerringly forward for The Cleveland The Cleveland, rapidly narrowing the hundred or so yards between the crafts. And here was a jolly-boat, its oars manned by two cruel-eyed brigands sent as an advance party, yet closer; it was this small vessel that had intercepted Willoughby's kayak. Elinor saw the limp body of Monsieur Pierre tossed like a ragdoll into the water; she saw the escaped Willoughby swimming furiously to sh.o.r.e. And she saw, as she again raised the spygla.s.s from the jolly-boat to the ship itself, standing at the prow of The Murderess The Murderess, the author of this latest and direst calamity- Dreadbeard himself.

The terrible pirate chieftain was ma.s.sively tall, in a long and jet-black captain's coat, a cap of scarlet and gold tilted at a rakish angle backwards on his big, bearded head, and a long mane of tar-black hair spilling from his hat and down his back. He stood beside the wheel, which was manned by a ragged, dirty-faced and hunched c.o.xswain, who snarled and spat on the deck as he directed the ship on its course for The Cleveland The Cleveland. As for the hated captain, he stood stock still, his chest thrust forward, clutching in the fist of his left hand a gleaming double-edged cutla.s.s, glinting like new-forged steel in the moonlight.

Elinor felt at once the ludicrousness of all Willoughby's trapdoors and netting, of any such trifling defenses; the tiny dirk he had handed her felt like a toy in her hand. Elinor trembled; The Jolly Murderess The Jolly Murderess plowed the black water. The ma.s.sive figure at the prow threw back his head and laughed-a loud, cackling, hideous bellow that rolled across the water towards her in terrible waves. plowed the black water. The ma.s.sive figure at the prow threw back his head and laughed-a loud, cackling, hideous bellow that rolled across the water towards her in terrible waves.

Dreadbeard had arrived.

CHAPTER 45

WHEN ELINOR RUSHED BACK inside the cabin and up the stairs to the bedroom of the unconscious Marianne, she found her just awaking, refreshed by so long and sweet a sleep. Elinor's heart, meanwhile, beat a rapid tattoo of terrified panic. inside the cabin and up the stairs to the bedroom of the unconscious Marianne, she found her just awaking, refreshed by so long and sweet a sleep. Elinor's heart, meanwhile, beat a rapid tattoo of terrified panic.

Peeking out the black-curtained window, she saw that the advance boat was nearly in boarding range of The Cleveland The Cleveland. She heard Dreadbeard's terrible laughter through the windows of the cabin, and then again, ever louder, nearer and nearer with every moment. The hideous sound threw her into an agitation of spirits which kept off every indication of fatigue, and made her only fearful of betraying her terror to her sister. "Go back to sleep, dear Marianne," she murmured in her ear. "Only sleep a while longer."

She raced back out onto the verandah, just in time to see the pair of foul mercenaries in their dinghy b.u.mp up against the hull and begin their ascent of the Jacob's ladder and onto The Cleveland The Cleveland.

"Avast, ye hearties!" they hollered as they climbed, "We be requestin' the pleasure of your company this fine evening!"

In Elinor's left hand she still clutched the little knife that Willoughby had pressed upon her-with her right she now s.n.a.t.c.hed up Palmer's hunting rifle and aimed it at the gangplank; as soon as the kerchiefed head of the first invader appeared over the side, she squeezed the trigger. The force of the gun pushed Elinor backwards with tremendous force into the cabin-rail; and, furthering her distress, the shot missed entirely. The intended target, a lanky, filthy tar in a ragged, patched coat, laughed wickedly as the ball sailed harmlessly over his head. He hopped insouciantly over the side and advanced across the deck. Elinor backed up against the cabin-rail, squeezed off a second ball, and this time with greater success: the second pirate took the shot directly in his face as he appeared over the side rail; his head exploded in a burst of gore, and his body flew backwards into the sea.

But before she could rise to her feet, Elinor felt the calloused hands of the filthy first pirate at her neck, squeezing with brutal force; all the pain of the throat wound she had received from the sea scorpion recurred, only to be supplanted by the terrifying sensation of the air being choked from her body. She stared up into the dirty face of the pirate, and conceived with a desperate melancholy that this would be the last sight ever to greet her eyes. Oh, she wished she had granted her full attention, when gentlemen of fortune were the fashion in-Station, to the mock fights she had seen. Oh, how she wished she had some knowledge of how to repulse the cruel attentions of a pirate!

As if in answer to her desperate thoughts, she heard the bellowing voice of Mrs. Jennings: "Whittle! Whittle him!"

Indeed, such was a form of knowledge she knew well-and, moreover, she had the proper tool to hand: Willoughby's dirk, a hilted blade, five inches long, could most a.s.suredly approximate a driftwood sculpting knife! She raised the dagger and began to cut away at the brigand's dirty grimace-one cut, then another, then another, a series of fierce slashes, imagining his hideous nut-brown face was nothing but a chunk of old driftwood she was shaping into a figurine.

As she slashed away, blood rained down out of the pirate's face directly onto hers; she spat his black blood from her mouth. Shortly, his grip relaxed, for she had stabbed the man to death. Mrs. Jennings, in her nightclothes and cap, rushed to her side and helped Elinor to her feet. "We must hurry," she sputtered. "We face-"

"Dreadbeard, dear. I know." She pointed to where The Jolly Murderess The Jolly Murderess still sailed forward, now not more than thirty feet away; Dreadbeard still at the prow, cutla.s.s in hand, seemingly unperturbed by the dispatch of his advance party. But then, as they watched, still sailed forward, now not more than thirty feet away; Dreadbeard still at the prow, cutla.s.s in hand, seemingly unperturbed by the dispatch of his advance party. But then, as they watched, The Murderess The Murderess stopped in its forward motion, and for a long moment simply sat in the water. Elinor thought for one joyful, fleeting second, that her adversaries were, for some blessed reason, preparing to turn and sail back out to sea. She raised the spygla.s.s again, just in time to see Dreadbeard raise his huge cutla.s.s overhead as a signal and let out an unholy shout; at which signal his crew- from their various positions, arrayed along the bow, huddled in the p.o.o.p-deck, even hanging from the riggings-raised bows and let loose a bombardment of arrows. stopped in its forward motion, and for a long moment simply sat in the water. Elinor thought for one joyful, fleeting second, that her adversaries were, for some blessed reason, preparing to turn and sail back out to sea. She raised the spygla.s.s again, just in time to see Dreadbeard raise his huge cutla.s.s overhead as a signal and let out an unholy shout; at which signal his crew- from their various positions, arrayed along the bow, huddled in the p.o.o.p-deck, even hanging from the riggings-raised bows and let loose a bombardment of arrows.

Elinor and Mrs. Jennings ducked behind the captain's wheel as the deadly projectiles whizzed in a thick deadly blur around them.

"Surrender!" cried Dreadbeard's guttural voice from the prow of the Murderess Murderess. "Surrender-and mayhaps I'll spare ya keelhaulin', and only slit your throats and feed your guts to the sharks. You bein' ladies and all. Or then again, mayhaps I won't. won't."

At this bit of piratical levity, his fellow mercenaries laughed in a ragged chorus.

Elinor summoned the courage to poke her head up from behind the wheel and shout, "We shall never-" only to have her sentence caught short by blinding pain as an arrow, one of a second round let loose by her adversaries, struck her in the arm. Mrs. Jennings then demonstrated that her apprehension of pirates was as keen as Elinor's, and her ability to fight them if anything more a.s.sured.

With a mighty wail she leapt to the guns and fired The Cleveland The Cleveland's carronade with deadly accuracy; soon several of the enemy had fallen under a hail of round shot, collapsing mortally wounded to the deck. But the ship, even at that moment, resumed its forward progress as Dread-beard's men threw the pieces of their former shipmates overboard.

"Closer, my dearies," shouted Dreadbeard from his place at the prow. "Who shall be my first dance partner, I wonder? I do so love the comp'ny of a lady."

It was then that Elinor remembered the whistle. Just as The Jolly The Jolly Murderess Murderess rowed near enough that she no longer required the spygla.s.s to see the leering faces of her foes, she produced from her pocket the long, cylindrical penny-whistle that Willoughby had so shamefacedly handed her only an hour before-though it seemed now like years gone by. rowed near enough that she no longer required the spygla.s.s to see the leering faces of her foes, she produced from her pocket the long, cylindrical penny-whistle that Willoughby had so shamefacedly handed her only an hour before-though it seemed now like years gone by.

She blew it, and blew it again, and then again, knowing not whether the device would prove effective; certain only that it was their only chance at survival. And then, in a flash, from some inscrutable depth of the ocean, a long, rubbery tentacle, bedecked with suction cups, snaked its way over the side of the pirate ship and onto its fo'c'sle. In the next moment, another tentacle appeared, and then another, and then a fourth. Soon The Murderess The Murderess was surrounded by a writhing school of eight-tentacled monsters, churning the black water, banging their great oblong heads against the hull, and reaching their mult.i.tudinous tentacles into the galleys. The pirates called out to each other in their mercenary cant, confused and fearful, as one by one they were grabbed bodily by long, powerful tentacles and pulled into the water. Elinor stood frozen, awestruck, the whistle still at her lips, as the cephalopods did their grim work. was surrounded by a writhing school of eight-tentacled monsters, churning the black water, banging their great oblong heads against the hull, and reaching their mult.i.tudinous tentacles into the galleys. The pirates called out to each other in their mercenary cant, confused and fearful, as one by one they were grabbed bodily by long, powerful tentacles and pulled into the water. Elinor stood frozen, awestruck, the whistle still at her lips, as the cephalopods did their grim work.

In several minutes time, the pirates had been vanquished-all, it seemed, but for Dreadbeard himself, who still stood unbowed at the prow of the schooner, his black eyes aglow. At his feet was a pile of chopped-up tentacles, dispatched with a few swift blows of his gleaming cutla.s.s; under his foot was an octopus's shattered skull, which he had staved in with the heel of his ma.s.sive boot. He stared unerringly at Elinor, his cutla.s.s high above his head, a virulent gleam in his eye, as the boat continued to draw forward.

"What fascinatin' friends you've got, for a la.s.s your age," smirked Dreadbeard, kicking an octopus head overboard. "I am so keen keen to make your acquain-aaaaah!" to make your acquain-aaaaah!"

Dreadbeard let out a horrid scream of pain and surprise as some-one-or something something-smashed him brutally with a length of plank on the back of his ma.s.sive s.h.a.ggy head. The pirate captain reeled, giving the stranger time to grasp the cutla.s.s from his outstretched hand and, with a single swift and powerful blow, chop off his head.

The hero was Colonel Brandon. Elinor hailed him heartily from the deck of The Cleveland The Cleveland, and he hailed her back, holding aloft the severed head of the fearsome Dreadbeard.

"Brandon? But that means-"

Elinor spun around on the deck of the houseboat, and beheld: "Mother!"

Mrs. Dashwood, whose terror, riding Colonel Brandon as he swam nearer and nearer the houseboat had produced almost the conviction of Marianne's being no more, had no voice to inquire after her, no voice even for Elinor; but she she, waiting neither for salutation nor inquiry, instantly gave the joyful relief; "Marianne lives, mother! She lives! And And we have vanquished the pirates! Happy day!" we have vanquished the pirates! Happy day!"

Her mother, catching it with all her usual warmth, was in a moment as much overcome by her happiness, as she had been before by her fears. She collapsed into Elinor's arms, right there on the foredeck, and from that position the two watched as Colonel Brandon hacked the corpse of Dreadbeard to bits with an axe seized from the deck of the ship, and threw bits of his body, one by one, overboard to the octopi who had been of such able a.s.sistance. Colonel Brandon then leapt off the deck; in an instant, had swum the scarlet-flooded water and appeared beside them on the verandah of The Cleveland The Cleveland.

As The Jolly Murderess The Jolly Murderess drifted slowly back out to sea, its peril decisively neutralized, Mrs. Dashwood was supported into the drawing-room between her daughter and her friend-and there, shedding tears of joy, though still unable to speak, embraced Elinor again and again, turning from her at intervals to press Colonel Brandon's hand, with a look which spoke at once her grat.i.tude, and her conviction of his sharing with herself in the bliss of the moment. He shared it, however, in a silence even greater than her own. drifted slowly back out to sea, its peril decisively neutralized, Mrs. Dashwood was supported into the drawing-room between her daughter and her friend-and there, shedding tears of joy, though still unable to speak, embraced Elinor again and again, turning from her at intervals to press Colonel Brandon's hand, with a look which spoke at once her grat.i.tude, and her conviction of his sharing with herself in the bliss of the moment. He shared it, however, in a silence even greater than her own.

As soon as Mrs. Dashwood had recovered herself, to see Marianne was her first desire; and in two minutes she was with her beloved child, rendered dearer to her than ever by absence, unhappiness, and danger. Elinor's delight, as she saw what each felt in the meeting, was only checked by an apprehension of its robbing Marianne of further sleep- but Mrs. Dashwood could be calm, could be even prudent, when the life of a child was at stake, and Marianne, satisfied in knowing her mother was near her, and conscious of being too weak for conversation, submitted readily to the necessity of silence and quiet. Mrs. Dashwood would would sit up with her all night; and Elinor, in compliance with her mother's entreaty, went to bed. But the rest, which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours of the most wearing anxiety, and pirate battle, seemed to make requisite, was kept off by irritation of spirits. Willoughby, "poor Willoughby," as she now allowed herself to call him, was constantly in her thoughts; she would not but have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed, now acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly before. But her promise of relating it to her sister was invariably painful. She dreaded the performance of it, dreaded what its effect on Marianne might be; doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower, and visualized Mrs. Willoughby being consumed by a great octopus, as the pirates had been so recently. Then, remembering Colonel Brandon, reproved herself, felt that to sit up with her all night; and Elinor, in compliance with her mother's entreaty, went to bed. But the rest, which one night entirely sleepless, and many hours of the most wearing anxiety, and pirate battle, seemed to make requisite, was kept off by irritation of spirits. Willoughby, "poor Willoughby," as she now allowed herself to call him, was constantly in her thoughts; she would not but have heard his vindication for the world, and now blamed, now acquitted herself for having judged him so harshly before. But her promise of relating it to her sister was invariably painful. She dreaded the performance of it, dreaded what its effect on Marianne might be; doubted whether after such an explanation she could ever be happy with another; and for a moment wished Willoughby a widower, and visualized Mrs. Willoughby being consumed by a great octopus, as the pirates had been so recently. Then, remembering Colonel Brandon, reproved herself, felt that to his his sufferings and his constancy far more than to his rival's, the reward of her sister was due, and wished anything rather than Mrs. Willoughby's death. sufferings and his constancy far more than to his rival's, the reward of her sister was due, and wished anything rather than Mrs. Willoughby's death.

THE HERO WAS COLONEL BRANDON.

Marianne continued to mend every day-her boils burst and healed, her cheeks cooled and her pulse calmed. The brilliant cheerfulness of Mrs. Dashwood's looks and spirits proved her to be, as she repeatedly declared herself, one of the happiest women in the world. Elinor could not hear the declaration, nor witness its proofs without sometimes wondering whether her mother ever recollected Edward. In turns they kept watch on the horizon for more pirates, and saw none. But Mrs. Dashwood, trusting to the temperate account of her own disappointment which Elinor had sent her, was led away by the exuberance of her joy to think only of what would increase it. Marianne was restored to her from a danger in which, as she now began to feel, her own mistaken judgment in encouraging the unfortunate attachment to Willoughby, had contributed to place her.

Only once in this generally joyful interlude did Elinor see a shadow pa.s.s over her mother's face-when she inquired as to the status of her youngest youngest sister. sister.

"Margaret . . ." said Mrs. Dashwood, with an anxious glance to Marianne, whom she clearly did not wish to trouble with any distasteful news, "Margaret remains on the island." When pressed on the meaning of this ambiguous reply, Mrs. Dashwood would only shake her head with a furrowed brow, and Elinor thought it best to let the issue drop.

And Mrs. Dashwood had yet another source of joy unthought of by Elinor. It was thus imparted to her, as soon as any opportunity of private conference between them occurred.

"At last we are alone. My Elinor, you do not yet know all my happiness. Colonel Brandon loves Marianne. He has told me so himself."

Her daughter, feeling by turns both pleased and pained, surprised and not surprised, was all silent attention.

"You are never like me, dear Elinor, or I should wonder at your composure now. Had I sat down to wish for any possible good to my family, I should have fixed on Colonel Brandon's marrying one of you as the object most desirable. And I believe Marianne will be the most happy with him of the two. If she can bring herself to forget, or tolerate, the ma.s.s of writhing tentacles upon his face."

Elinor pa.s.sed this off with a smile.

"He opened his whole heart to me yesterday when we stopped to rest upon a slippery rock, midway from Pestilent Isle to here. It came out quite unawares, quite undesignedly. I could talk of nothing but my child, of course, and he could not conceal his distress; I saw that it equaled my own, and he made me acquainted with his earnest, tender, constant, affection for Marianne. He has loved her, my Elinor, ever since the first moment of seeing her."

Here Elinor perceived not the language nor the professions of Colonel Brandon, but the natural embellishments of her mother's active fancy, which fashioned everything delightful to her as it chose.