The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane Part 13

In this way I taunted myself, until, falling into a more reasonable state of mind, I began to reason as to what I might yet do in her behalf. I concluded from the shifting of the stores that Rodrigues had determined to abandon the two ships with their crew, for the mere hulls could be of little value to him. Coming to this decision, I was for getting away from the black ship and rejoining the _Faithful Friend_, that I might be near by Lady Biddy; but what could I then do? Was not this rather a gratification of my own selfish desire than a means of benefiting her? Was I not simply adding another hungry mouth to that dest.i.tute company? With these and a hundred such fruitless arguments did I torment myself; now preparing myself to get away, now resigning myself to stay where I was, getting no nearer to a rational determination in the end that I was in the beginning.

I was still in this torment when I heard the anchor weighing and the men singing as they used to do at this business. Suddenly their singing ceased, and I heard a great angry clamor of voices from a distance; nay, I do think I heard my uncle's big voice above the rest, and then the fellows above replying with laughter and derision, so that I knew we were leaving that unhappy company behind, as was the more evident by the bending of the ship before the wind. Then, desperate to think I was being carried away from Lady Biddy, I took resolution to dash through the cabin to the gallery and cast myself into the sea, and to this end I had set my hands and feet against the wall, to thrust my body from under the cot, when the door was thrown violently open, the cabin entered, and the sacking of the bed was pressed down over my head, which made me think that Rodrigues had come again to rest himself.

Turning silently on my back I glanced under the valance. At a little distance were the bare feet of the boy; close to the valance, standing beside the cot, were the feet of a man. Thus they stood immovable for a s.p.a.ce, and then lightly they moved away and the door was closed behind them. But the sacking still bulged downward with the weight thrown on the bed. "Had Rodrigues laid there a wounded comrade?" I asked myself.

That it was Rodrigues who had entered and left the cabin I was sure, for I now heard his voice speaking low, as if giving orders to the boy, in the one adjoining.

If it be a wounded comrade he has laid here, then he is badly hurt, thought I, as I lay with my eyes fixed on the sacking, for there was no sign of movement; nor was there any sound of groaning or the like.

Only for a few minutes did matters stand thus, however; then there was a little movement above, followed by a quick start, and the next instant, in the s.p.a.ce below the valance, I saw descend the sweetest little foot that ever man did see, and then its fellow, both neatly shod, after which fell the hem of an envious petticoat that shut them from my sight.

My heart quite ceased to beat as I asked myself, "Who is this woman?"

For a moment she stood where she had stepped to the ground, as if looking around to realize where she was; then like any doe she sprang toward the little windows that opened on to the gallery, and looking out, she gave a moan of despair, that by which plaintive, delicate sound, I knew that this dear creature was Lady Biddy.

CHAPTER XIX.

I MAKE MYSELF KNOWN TO LADY BIDDY, WITH DIVERS OTHER MATTERS.

Scarce had this piteous moan pa.s.sed her tender lips when Rodrigues (as I am told), opening the door, made her a mighty respectful reverence, and, says he--

"Madam, I am delighted you have recovered of your swoon, and I trust you feel no ill-effect of the rough usage we were forced to exercise in bringing you hither."

"Where am I?" cried Lady Biddy, fiercely. "Why have you brought me here?"

"You are on board the _Robin Goodfellow_," says he, gravely, "or, as my fellows prefer to call it, the _Black Death_; and I have brought you here because I had not the heart to leave you on the _Faithful Friend_, to endure the hardships to which her company must be reduced."

"Where is my uncle? Get you hence and bring him to me!" she cries, with the same impetuous fury.

"In anything else I shall obey you punctually," says he; "but it is impossible for me to comply with this demand, for Sir Bartlemy Pengilly is in the ship yonder, which we are leaving behind."

"You gave him your promise that not one of those who were in the roundhouse should be injured in any way if he laid down his arms. It was to save me from the violence of your crew that he submitted himself with the brave men who stood by him."

"Madam, it was to that very end I gave my promise. Undoubtedly, had your uncle stood out, I could not have stayed my company from firing into the roundhouse and putting an end to the obstinate resistance there, notwithstanding you were likely to have fallen a victim with your friends."

"Would to G.o.d we had met that fate, rather than trust to your promises, dastard villain!" says she; "for then had there been an honorable end to their woes and mine."

"Patience, patience, lady!" says he, in a tone calculated only to arouse her greater indignation. "You are much too young to die, and too beautiful. Trust me, your fate will be a happier one than you can at present conceive. When your spirits are calmer you will see that this unfortunate business is due to the impetuosity of your uncle, and that I am the best friend you could have found, in the midst of deplorable circ.u.mstances. Your uncle fired the first shot, and the first man who fell in the conflict was on board this ship. Could you expect my men to see their innocent comrades slaughtered with indifference, or me to make no effort for their preservation from further mischief? We fought, and having overcome those who would have overcome us, we did all that a magnanimous victor could reasonably afford to do. We forgave those who laid down their arms, and gave them a ship to continue their journey in.

I had promised no injury should be inflicted upon you, and for that reason I brought you hither, where, as you see, you will be not ill-lodged, and shall have the best nurture and service the stores and my company can offer. Had I left you on the _Faithful Friend_ your case would have been different, for the vessel is badly injured, and I fear the company will be sorely put to it for provisions, as, to supply our own wants, we were obliged to take from her stores--a poor recompense for the loss and injury inflicted upon us. I have been careful to have your personal effects brought hither for your use; they are here. If anything is short of your requirements, or if--"

"Silence!" cried Lady Biddy, who, turning her back on Rodrigues, had tried to turn a deaf, indifferent ear to his harangue, but was at length by his long-winded perseverance and mock-humility wrought to an intolerable degree of impatience. "Silence!" cries she, turning upon him and stamping her little foot. "Leave me, or, by my soul, I'll put an end to this torment another way," and indeed (as I learn) she did look around in desperation for some instrument wherewith to destroy herself, being very bitterly aggrieved by this hypocrite.

Again this Rodrigues makes her a low reverence, and with his hand on the door says, "I shall hope to find your spirits easier when I next give myself the pleasure to inquire after your condition. I have had refreshment placed in this next cabin, and should you need anything, you have but to pull the bell. And so good-morning to your ladyship."

Lady Biddy gave him no reply, but as soon as he had closed the second door after him--turning the key in the outside, she ran to the bed, and casting herself upon it, gave vent to her feeling in an agony of tears.

And to hear her sobbing above me, yet striving to smother the sound, lest Rodrigues should know that her pride had broken down, would have touched any stony heart. It was so pitiful to my ear that the tears coursed down my own cheeks as I listened.

Thus she sobbed in a great tumult for some while, and then her pa.s.sion softening into mere maiden's sorrow, she murmured in a low tone, still smothering her sweet voice in the pillow lest it should be heard, and yet not able to keep quite silent either--"Oh, my heart! Oh, my poor heart!" and this she said over and over again--"Oh, my poor heart! Oh, my heart!" with mournful tremor, unable to find other words to express the commotion of her feelings.

Now would I have given anything to be of comfort to her, yet I dared not come forth from where I lay, lest my sudden appearance should move her to cry out with terror ere she discerned who I was, which would have brought Rodrigues back in a twinkling, and ruined all. So I waited patiently awhile, and when she ceased to make moan, and only sobbed at intervals, like a child exhausted with weeping, I began to gently scratch the tick of the bed with my finger-nail, making no more noise than might a mouse nibbling.

Of this she at first took no notice, but anon I observed she smothered a sob, as if to listen with greater attention, and then by the movement above I noticed she had started up as if resting on her elbow; as I still continued the scratching, she presently made a movement of the clothes, as if to frighten the thing away, for the bravest of women do greatly fear a mouse; upon which, ceasing to sc.r.a.pe the tick, I said quickly, in a very low whisper--

"Do not cry out, a friend is here--I, Benet Pengilly!"

Then whipped she off the bed, yet making no sound, and I, putting my hands and feet as I have aforesaid against the wall, pushed myself out from my cramped hiding-place, and got upon my feet before her, raising my finger and casting my eyes about for fear of discovery.

I must have been very villainous and horrid to look upon, my hair untrimmed and hanging about my face in dank wisps clotted with blood from my wound, my clothes in a like pickle, and no cleaner in my flesh than the sea had washed me the day before; but such horrors had she seen that her senses were, as it were, the accustomed to such dreadful images, and she saw me no worse than others, but rather better, for being there a friend where she thought was none but enemies.

Catching the meaning of my gesture, she went quickly to the panel door and spied into the next cabin, whence she came back light of foot, nodding to a.s.sure me all was safe. Then she gave me her hand, and I taking no heed whether mine was reasonably clean or proper to hold so dainty, delicate a thing, took it; and to feel those soft, cool fingers clinging tightly to my rough palm, did seem to contract every muscle of my back with physical delight. Also was my heart quickly moved with joy to perceive in her dear eyes--though they were swollen and red with weeping--a bright beam of hope and satisfaction, whilst the corners of her lips curved with a little smile.

Coming quite close to me, she whispered eagerly in my ear--

"You will save me, Benet, won't you? You will be my good friend?"

"Ay," says I as softly as she (if that might be). "With G.o.d's help, no harm shall befall you."

On this she presses my hand a little closer, and then goes again to the door, from which she returns with almost a child's glee to tell me all is safe, and to ask by what miracle I came to her succor.

This joy in the midst of such trouble and peril, this kindness to me for whom she had shown little liking hitherto, but rather detestation for the most part, will seem unnatural, as being contrary to the proud, high spirit and independence of Lady Biddy, and so would it have been at any other time; but there is none--be he a man and never so strong--but grief and terrible anxiety will reduce to the unresisting soft temper of a child; so I do think and thus explain this truth. And, indeed, she gave present proof of weakness, for while the smile was yet on her lips, she clasps her hand to her heart and sinks down, sitting on the bed as if she could no longer hold her footing.

Seeing she was faint, I went with all speed and reckless into the next chamber for that refreshment Rodrigues said was set there for her use--than which no madder thing fool ever did, for there were windows opposite the gallery looking on to the deck, and had one been prying there I must have been seen, for all the two curtains were drawn, there being s.p.a.ce enough for one to peep through from the outside if he were so minded. But--thanks be to G.o.d!--there was no one spying, and so I got the tray of refreshments from the table where it lay and carried it into the next cabin with no mischance.

This tray I set on the bed beside Lady Biddy, and she ate and drank with appet.i.te, poor soul, for all the time they had been shut up in the roundhouse--she, with her uncle, and the poor remnant of his company--not one had broken fast, for there was neither bit nor sup to be got. Which also is a reason for that behavior of Lady Biddy's to which I have spoken as seeming unnatural.

While she satisfied her own cravings she made me eat likewise, whereto I was nowise loth myself, having eaten nothing for many hours but a few paltry raisins.

As she sat on the bed, I knelt on the ground by her feet for my better convenience in eating and also conversing in that low tone to which we were constrained. So as we ate I told her how I had come aboard and hidden myself, with other matters which there is no necessity to repeat; and this I did with reasonable calm, but the abounding joy and gladness of my heart to be there alone with that dear lady, kneeling at her very feet, listening to her whisper, feasting my eyes when hers were on the refreshment and I dared to do so unseen, no pen can describe, as I doubt also no imagination can conceive.

After she had eaten and drunk and would no more, being much refreshed and invigorated, I was for taking the tray back; but here her quick wit appearing where my dullness showed, she pointed out the danger, and taking the tray, carried it herself into the next chamber.

Coming back she seated herself on a settle that ran along one side of the cabin and bidding me sit beside her, asked how I meant to contrive her escape, which indeed would have been a poser for me at another time, but did now to my excited imagination appear the easiest thing in the world. For when one's spirits are filled with joy there seems nothing insurmountable, as, on the other hand, in grief we can see no way out of our trouble.

"Why," says I, "we need not fear but we shall get away safe enough, and shortly too. For, as Rodrigues obligingly told you, the company is short of victuals, and must therefore lose no time in seeking a port where they can refresh with meat and drink; besides that, the ship may need looking to for the damage she has got. And being in a port where there are Christian souls, what is to keep us here?"

"A rascal named Rodrigues," says Lady Biddy very pertinently.

"Pish!" says I. "I have escaped him times enough to know he is a fool, for all his pretense to cleverness. Nay, have I not hid myself under his own cot in broad day? Not dreaming but you are helpless, he will think you sufficiently secured if he locks the door and sets one of his rascals to watch it. But the stern gallery is open, and as I got in so can I get out, with the night to give me help and better security."

"Do you think it will be as easy for me?" asks Lady Biddy doubtfully.

"Ay, I shall make it so, please G.o.d," says I. "For in the night that I swim to sh.o.r.e will I bring back a boat, and by a ladder of ropes shall you get down into it."