The Mississippi Bubble Part 16

My G.o.d! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?"

"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech.

From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly forward.

The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive, bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea.

Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to encompa.s.s all the world. In these dark ma.s.sed shadows, how much might there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might not one do, here at this gateway of the world?

"To the brigantine beyond!" cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up.

"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For G.o.d's sake, quick!

There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!"

The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law, understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway, half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his shoulder.

"Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!" cried he, and the wherryman bent hard to his oars.

Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box a m.u.f.fled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of haste.

"Hold the horses, man!" he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly gazing out into the mist which overhung the water.

"Saw you aught of a man," he demanded hastily, "a man and a woman, a tall young woman--you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway they should have found. Tell me, for G.o.d's sake, has any boat put out from this stair?"

"Why, sir," replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in mouth and hand in pocket, "since you mention it, there was a boat started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I mis...o...b.. the lady was ill."

"Get me a boat!" cried the new-comer. "A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten sovereigns, a hundred--but that ship must not weigh anchor until I board her, do you hear!"

The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry with two l.u.s.ty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the impatient stranger.

"Hurry, men!" he cried. "'Tis life and death--'tis more than life and death!"

And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up.

CHAPTER XVII

WHITHER

A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail, which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was not so plain how he had pa.s.sed the outer gates of the prison, yet those were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London city.

Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner:

"Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20 July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders stooped, and is of mean appearance.

"WESTON, High Sheriff.

Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July."

Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and indeed in other of the princ.i.p.al cities of England, they got no word of the escaped prisoner.

The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head between his hands.

Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning.

Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage."

"So now we are free," said Law, dully. "I could swear there were shackles on me."

"Yes, we are free," said Mary Connynge, "and all the world is before us.

But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about!

And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady Catharine--why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!"

"But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in America! What then of this other, and what of my brother--what of us--what of--?"

"Why, I think this," said Mary Connynge, calmly. "That you do very well to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appet.i.te the salt air ever gives me!"

Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters, the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest.

She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though but half comprehending.

"Every plan gone wrong!" cried Sir Arthur. "Every plan gone wrong, and out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom no prison could be enough of h.e.l.l! Though he be your brother, I tell it to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as n.o.ble and generous a soul us ever breathed--what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched.

And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?"

Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. "What is there left for any of us?" said he. "What is there left for me?"

"For you?" said Sir Arthur, questioningly. "Why, the next ship back from Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a woman."

"You do not understand," said Will Law. "The separation means somewhat for me."

"Surely you do not mean--you have no reference to Mary Connynge?" cried Sir Arthur.

Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry pacing up and down.

"It ran on for weeks," said Will Law. "We were to have been married. I had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the messenger of the Lady Catharine."

Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. "Then I may say to you," said he, "that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes"--and he shook his fist into the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. "Yonder he goes, somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be years from now."

So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly, steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done, both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there lay so much of fate and mystery.

BOOK II

AMERICA

CHAPTER I