"Ease your helm, sonny!" says Jack, catching the bunch from my clasp.
"Fall-back--fall-edge!" he laughed in that awful mockery of the axeman"s block. "Fall-back--fall-edge! If there"s any hacking of necks, mine is thicker than yours! I"ll run the risks. Do you wait here in shadow."
And he darted away. The gate creaked as it gave.
Then I waited for what seemed eternity.
A night-watchman shuffled along with swinging lantern, calling out: "What ho? What ho?" Townsfolks rode through the streets with a clatter of the chairmen"s feet; but no words were bandied by the fellows, for a Sabbath hush lay over the night. A great hackney-coach nigh mired in mud as it lumbered through mid-road. And M. Picot"s hound came sniffing hungrily to me.
A glare of light shot aslant the dark. Softly the door of Rebecca"s house opened. A frail figure was silhouetted against the light. The wick above snuffed out. The figure drew in without a single look, leaving the door ajar. But an hour ago, the iron righteousness of bigots had filled my soul with revolt. Now the sight of that little Puritan maid brought prayers to my lips and a Te Deum to my soul.
The prison gate swung open again with rusty protest. Two hooded figures slipped through the dark. Jack Battle had locked the gate and the keys were in my hand.
"Take them back," he gurgled out with school-lad glee. ""Twill be a pretty to-do of witchcraft to-morrow when they find a cell empty. Go hire pa.s.sage to England in Captain Gillam"s boat!"
"Captain Gillam"s boat?"
"Yes, or Master Ben"s pirate-ship of the north, if she"s there," and he had dashed off in the dark.
When Rebecca appeared above the cellar-way with a flagon that reamed to a beaded top, the keys were back on the wall.
"I was overlong," panted Rebecca, with eyes averted as of old to the folds of her white stomacher. ""Twas a stubborn bung and hard to draw."
"Dear little cheat! G.o.d bless you!--and bless you!--and bless you, Rebecca!" I cried.
At which the poor child took fright.
"It--it--it was not all a lie, Ramsay," she stammered. "The bung was hard--and--and--and I didn"t hasten----"
"Dear comrade--good-bye, forever!" I called from the dark-of the step.
"Forever?" asked the faint voice of a forlorn figure black in the doorway.
Dear, snowy, self-sacrificing spirit--"tis my clearest memory of her with the thin, grieved voice coming through the dark.
I ran to the wharf hard as ever heels nerved by fear and joy and triumph and love could carry me. The pa.s.sage I easily engaged from the ship"s mate, who dinned into my unlistening ears full account of the north sea, whither Captain Gillam was to go for the Fur Company, and whither, too, Master Ben was keen to sail, "a pirateer, along o" his own risk and gain," explained the mate with a wink, "pirateer or privateer, call "em what you will, Mister; the Susan with white sails in Boston Town, and Le Bon Garcon with sails black as the devil himself up in Quebec, ha--ha--and I"ll give ye odds on it, Mister, the devil himself don"t catch Master Ben! Why, bless you, gentlemen, who"s to jail "im here for droppin" Spanish gold in his own hold and poachin"
furs on the king"s preserve o" the north sea, when Stocking, the warden, "imself owns "alf the Susan and Cap"en Gillam, "is father, is master o" the king"s ship?"
"They do say," he babbled on, "now that Radisson, the French jack-a-boots, hath given the slip to the King"s Company, he sails from Quebec in ship o" his own. If him and Ben and the Capiten meet--oh, there"ll be times! There"ll be times!"
And "times" there were sure enough; but of that I had then small care and shook the loquacious rascal off so that he left me in peace.
First came the servants, trundling cart-loads of cases, which pa.s.sed unnoticed; for the town bell had tolled the close of Sabbath, and Monday shipping had begun.
The cusp of a watery moon faded in the gray dawn streaks of a m.u.f.fled sky, and at last came the chairmen, with Jack running alert.
From the chairs stepped the blackamoor, painted as white as paste.
Then a New Amsterdam gentleman slipped out from the curtains, followed by his page-boy and servants.
"Jack," I asked, "where is Hortense?"
The page glanced from under curls.
"Dear Jack," she whispered, standing high on her heels nigh as tall as the sailor lad. And poor Jack Battle, not knowing how to play down, stood blushing, cap in hand, till she laughed a queer little laugh and, bidding him good-bye, told him to remember that she had the squirrel stuffed.
To me she said no word. Her hand touched mine quick farewell. The long lashes lifted.
There was a look on her face.
I ask no greater joy in Paradise than memory of that look.
One lone, gray star hung over the masthead. The ship careened across the billows till star and mast-top met.
Jack fetched a deep sigh.
"There be work for sailors in England," he said.
In a flash I thought that I knew what he had meant by fools not loving in the right place.
"That were folly, Jack! She hath her station!"
Jack Battle pointed to the fading steel point above the vanishing masthead.
"Doth looking hurt yon star?" asks Jack.
"Nay; but looking may strain the eyes; and the arrows of longing come back void."
He answered nothing, and we lingered heavy hearted till the sun came up over the pillowed waves turning the tumbling waters to molten gold.
Between us and the fan-like rays behind the glossy billows--was no ship.
Hortense was safe!
There was an end-all to undared hopes.
CHAPTER V
M. RADISSON AGAIN
"Good-bye to you, Ramsay," said Jack abruptly.
"Where to, Jack?" I asked, bestirring myself. I could no more go back to Eli Kirke.
But little Jack Battle was squirming his wooden clogs into the sand as he used to dig his toes, and he answered not a word.