The Golden Rock Part 11

She paused for some moments, then continued quickly: "I have told you more than is known by any on board, except Mr Commins and Captain Pardoe. But I am seldom misled, and I am sure you will respect my confidence."

"I will, Miss de Anstrade."

"You must not mention my name. If you knew the Brazilians you would understand. Were this ship to fall into the hands of the President's party, and my name were discovered, there would be little mercy shown.

Ah! what fiendish punishment they can devise! Luiz, my brother, they made him walk blindfolded over the precipice at Garanagua."

She spoke scarcely above a whisper, but with an intentness that thrilled her listener, and her eyes were fixed before her, wide open and gleaming. He had seen that look before, as she stood on the bridge gazing into the tossing seas ahead, and yet seeing nothing. Now he knew that a terrible picture was before her eyes.

Instinctively he took her hand.

"I am grieved I should have awakened these memories," he said gently.

"You have not awakened them, my friend; they are burnt in."

He stood there in silence, holding her hand, which was like a lump of ice in his warm grasp, and which she allowed to remain there, unconscious of his touch. He could mark the hollow under her eyes, the lines of pain between her dark brows, and he sighed.

She sighed too; her mind came back from its troubled wanderings in the far Brazil, and she looked down at her hand, drawing it away, and regarding him with haughty disfavour.

"I am sorry," he said.

"You are strangely daring, Mr Hume."

"My thought was to show my sympathy, and I could not find words."

"It is true. You English are slow of speech, but quick to act. That is why, in this matter, I am trusting to my mother's countrymen."

"Will you trust me also, my Captain?"

"You! But we are to land you at Madeira."

"I am in your service already for a time; will you not engage me permanently?"

"But you do not understand. We cannot hope to escape the Brazilian warships without a fight, and they are but the first of the dangers to be met and overcome."

"And yet you will face those dangers?"

"For my father's freedom!"

"But Mr Webster, Captain Pardoe, these sailors, what of them?"

"They are men accustomed to danger; they know the risks they run, and are satisfied with their reward."

He flushed at this plain speech, but continued:

"And yet a few hours ago you urged me to help you?"

"And you at first declined?"

"I knew nothing then; but now you have taken me into your confidence, and I would be a poor thing, indeed, if I were to step ash.o.r.e at the first opportunity. I may not be able to do much, but--"

"You will see I do not run into needless danger--is that it, Mr Hume?"

she said, with a smile. "I accept your services, sir," she added slowly; "but I do so with a sadness at my heart that warns me of impending trouble. I hope it bodes no ill to you. My mind is fixed upon this enterprise; but, oh! often in the night my heart is heavy with forebodings, so that I could abandon myself to the relief of womanly tears, if I only dared. It is not an easy task, this," she went on, with a tremble in her voice, "for a girl to be alone among strange men; but my father, pale and stern, beckons me on, and my brother--oh, my brother!"

Her voice gave way, and she put her hand to her eyes; then, as he stood by pale, distressed, with an oppression in his throat, she thrust her hand forth with a wild gesture, and swept by him to the bridge. Frank stood awhile, then went slowly forward.

When, with a start, he came out of his reverie, it was to find the ship free of the fog, and dashing along in the grey of the evening towards the golden glory of an exquisite sunset. The sea stretched away to where glowed a rim of molten gold upon the horizon; and from this glowing band there shot streaks of fire into the sky, and rippling bars of silver on the waters, while the deepening dusk turned the blue of the ocean to a wonderful hue, shading from grey to deep black.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

LIEUTENANT GOBO.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, with lockers almost exhausted of coal, they sighted the outposts of Madeira--jagged rocks, with the clearest of outlines--and made for Funchal with some apprehension as to their reception from the Portuguese.

They had not pa.s.sed scathless through the Bay. The funnels were coated with salt, the mark of a curling sea which had swept over the bows, and the starboard boat was missing. The deck was soaked, and grimy from coal-grit,--while all on board looked worn and unwashed, as though they had been without sleep, and, indeed, they had pa.s.sed through a wearying time, tossed about like corks, compelled to hold on at every step, and drenched with spray. But though the catcher had plunged and rolled in a manner that tried the nerves of the oldest seaman, she had gone safely through those huge rollers, and they had learnt to trust in her. What they wanted now was her full capacity of coal, with some tons over for storage on the deck, to enable her to make the long pa.s.sage to Rio, if possible. The question was, Had the Portuguese been warned by the Brazilian Consul in London, and would they give them coal?

Very soon she was steering a course parallel to the vast slope of the Island, ploughing through waters of deepest violet. Innumerable little white houses dotted that seemingly inhospitable slope of coloured sandstone, many as the white crests of the waves, and each one of them when viewed through a gla.s.s was seen to be embedded in a wealth of vegetation. So steep was the slope, and so limited each settlement, that every bit of land was terraced, so that not one spadeful of the precious soil should escape. From where, at the foot, the slope terminated in a precipitous descent to the foaming wave, these terraces ascended like irregular steps far up to the heights. And there lived a frugal people, with that brilliant sea below them, and the blue, unclouded sky above, with the air tempered by the mists on the mountain ridge above to the most balmy softness, and with a soil, once saved and sc.r.a.ped together, that grew all they needed without much toil. Theirs is the life of repose, with grapes and bananas for their princ.i.p.al food, varied with onions and fish, and washed down with the wine of that iron soil.

A slothful people, perhaps, but they have discovered the secret of living on the soil and out of the soil, developing the idle ruminating pleasures of sleek cattle; happy in their little houses, their tiny plots of fruitful ground; rich in their climate, and most fortunate in their situation. What to them the aspirations of the struggling hordes of Europe, the agonised cry of the hopeless poor of more powerful countries, the ambitions and the social schemes of the proud Northerners, but the echoes of a stormy life?

The _Swift_ rounded into Funchal Bay, and anch.o.r.ed in the calm waters, under the guns of a picturesque fort covered with green. The fires were raked out, and the long craft, weather-beaten and streaked with rust stains, was at rest--an object, however, of suspicion to the peaceful merchant-ships. A tug from the sh.o.r.e shot out, encircled the catcher, and returned in haste.

"That doesn't look friendly," said Lieutenant Webster.

"They've had notice to look out for us," was the Captain's comment.

"It's what I feared; but so long as they give us coal they may do what they like."

"There's a boat putting off, sir--probably to warn us off."

"Well, we can't go without coal, and if they won't give it we'll take it."

"Yes," said Webster, looking reflectively at the fort.

The boat approached within a ship's length, and a fat man in uniform, who held the tiller, took a long look at the _Swift_, then made a signal, and was rowed back again.

The fat man was met by a number of men in uniform, and after much gesticulation the whole party entered a larger boat, flying the Portuguese flag at the peak and stern, and with an awning aft.

This time they came alongside, mounted the steps, and stood twirling their black moustaches, while their dark eyes roamed over the long deck.

"Have I the pleasure of speaking to the Captain?" said the stout man, looking at a group of three.

"I am the Captain."

"Ah! receive my respects. And the name of the ship?"

"The _Swift_--steam yacht."

"True, she has the appearance of a pleasure-boat. You intend, perhaps, to remain here? The Island of Madeira is very lovely."