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diff --git a/6295-h/6295-h.htm b/6295-h/6295-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0a1450 --- /dev/null +++ b/6295-h/6295-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10868 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + No Defense, by Gilbert Parker + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of No Defense, Complete, by Gilbert Parker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: No Defense, Complete + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: October 18, 2006 [EBook #6295] +Last Updated: August 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NO DEFENSE, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + NO DEFENSE + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Gilbert Parker + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE TWO MEET + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> THE + COMING OF A MESSENGER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. + </a> THE QUARREL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER + IV. </a> THE DUEL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER + V. </a> THE KILLING OF ERRIS BOYNE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> DYCK IN PRISON <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> MOTHER AND + DAUGHTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> DYCK’S + FATHER VISITS HIM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> A + LETTER FROM SHEILA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> DYCK + CALHOUN ENTERS THE WORLD AGAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> + CHAPTER XI. </a> WHITHER NOW? <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE HOUR BEFORE THE + MUTINY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> TO + THE WEST INDIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> IN + THE NICK OF TIME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE + ADMIRAL HAS HIS SAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. + </a> A LETTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> STRANGERS ARRIVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> AT SALEM <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> LORD MALLOW + INTERVENES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> OUT + OF THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> + CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE CLASH OF RACE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> SHEILA HAS HER SAY + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE + COMING OF NOREEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> WITH + THE GOVERNOR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> THEN + WHAT HAPPENED <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE TWO MEET + </h2> + <p> + “Well, good-bye, Dyck. I’ll meet you at the sessions, or before that at + the assizes.” + </p> + <p> + It was only the impulsive, cheery, warning exclamation of a wild young + Irish spirit to his friend Dyck Calhoun, but it had behind it the humour + and incongruity of Irish life. + </p> + <p> + The man, Dyck Calhoun, after whom were sent the daring words about the + sessions and the assizes, was a year or two older than his friend, and, as + Michael Clones, his servant and friend, said, “the worst and best scamp of + them all”—just up to any harmless deviltry. + </p> + <p> + Influenced by no traditions or customs, under control of no stern records + of society, Calhoun had caused some trouble in his time by the harmless + deeds of a scapegrace, but morally—that is, in all relations of life + affected by the ten commandments—he was above reproach. Yet he was + of the sort who, in days of agitation, then common in Ireland, might + possibly commit some act which would bring him to the sessions or the + assizes. There never was in Ireland a cheerier, braver, handsomer fellow, + nor one with such variety of mind and complexity of purpose. + </p> + <p> + He was the only child of a high-placed gentleman; he spent all the money + that came his way, and occasionally loaded himself with debt, which his + angry father paid. Yet there never was a gayer heart, a more generous + spirit, nor an easier-tempered man; though, after all, he was only + twenty-five when the words with which the tale opens were said to him. + </p> + <p> + He had been successful—yet none too successful—at school and + Trinity College, Dublin. He had taken a pass degree, when he might have + captured the highest honours. He had interested people of place in the + country, but he never used promptly the interest he excited. A pretty + face, a fishing or a shooting expedition, a carouse in some secluded + tavern, were parts of his daily life. + </p> + <p> + At the time the story opens he was a figure of note among those who spent + their time in criticizing the government and damning the Irish Parliament. + He even became a friend of some young hare-brained rebels of the time; yet + no one suspected him of anything except irresponsibility. His record was + clean; Dublin Castle was not after him. + </p> + <p> + When his young friend made the remark about the sessions and assizes, + Calhoun was making his way up the rocky hillside to take the homeward path + to his father’s place, Playmore. With the challenge and the monstrous + good-bye, a stone came flying up the hill after him and stopped almost at + his feet. He made no reply, however, but waved a hand downhill, and in his + heart said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, maybe he’s right. I’m a damned dangerous fellow, there’s no doubt + about that. Perhaps I’ll kill a rebel some day, and then they’ll take me + to the sessions and the assizes. Well, well, there’s many a worse fate + than that, so there is.” + </p> + <p> + After a minute he added: + </p> + <p> + “So there is, dear lad, so there is. But if I ever kill, I’d like it to be + in open fight on the hills like this—like this, under the bright + sun, in the soft morning, with all the moor and valleys still, and the + larks singing—the larks singing! Hooray, but it’s a fine day, one of + the best that ever was!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, and patted his gun gently. + </p> + <p> + “Not a feather, not a bird killed, not a shot fired; but the looking was + the thing—stalking the things that never turned up, the white heels + we never saw, for I’m not killing larks, God love you!” + </p> + <p> + He raised his head, looking up into the sky at some larks singing above + him in the heavens. + </p> + <p> + “Lord love you, little dears,” he added aloud. “I wish I might die with + your singing in my ears, but do you know what makes Ireland what it is? + Look at it now. Years ago, just when the cotton-mills and the linen-mills + were doing well, they came over with their English legislation, and made + it hard going. When we begin to get something, over the English come and + take the something away. What have we done, we Irish people, that we + shouldn’t have a chance in our own country? Lord knows, we deserve a + chance, for it’s hard paying the duties these days. What with France in + revolution and reaching out her hand to Ireland to coax her into + rebellion; what with defeat in America and drink in Scotland; what with + Fox and Pitt at each other’s throats, and the lord-lieutenant a danger to + the peace; what with poverty, and the cow and children and father and + mother living all in one room, with the chickens roosting in the rafters; + what with pointing the potato at the dried fish and gulping it down as if + it was fish itself; what with the smell and the dirt and the poverty of + Dublin and Derry, Limerick and Cork—ah, well!” He threw his eyes up + again. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, my little love, sing on! You’re a blessing among a lot of + curses; but never mind, it’s a fine world, and Ireland’s the best part of + it. Heaven knows it—and on this hill, how beautiful it is!” + </p> + <p> + He was now on the top of a hill where he could look out towards the bog + and in towards the mellow, waving hills. He could drink in the yellowish + green, with here and there in the distance a little house; and about two + miles away smoke stealing up from the midst of the plantation where + Playmore was—Playmore, his father’s house—to be his own one + day. + </p> + <p> + How good it was! There, within his sight, was the great escarpment of rock + known as the Devil’s Ledge, and away to the east was the black spot in the + combe known as the Cave of Mary. Still farther away, towards the south, + was the great cattle-pasture, where, as he looked, a thousand cattle + roamed. Here and there in the wide prospect were plantations where Irish + landlords lived, and paid a heavy price for living. Men did not pay their + rents. Crops were spoiled, markets were bad, money was scarce, yet— + </p> + <p> + “Please God, it will be better next year!” Michael Clones said, and there + never was a man with a more hopeful heart than Michael Clones. + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun had a soul of character, originality, and wayward + distinction. He had all the impulses and enthusiasms of a poet, all the + thirst for excitement of the adventurer, all the latent patriotism of the + true Celt; but his life was undisciplined, and he had not ordered his + spirit into compartments of faith and hope. He had gifts. They were gifts + only to be borne by those who had ambitions. + </p> + <p> + Now, as he looked out upon the scene where nature was showing herself at + her best, some glimmer of a great future came to him. He did not know + which way his feet were destined to travel in the business of life. It was + too late to join the navy; but there was still time enough to be a + soldier, or to learn to be a lawyer. + </p> + <p> + As he gazed upon the scene, his wonderful deep blue eyes, his dark brown + hair thick upon his head, waving and luxuriant like a fine mattress, his + tall, slender, alert figure, his bony, capable hands, which neither sun + nor wind ever browned, his nervous yet interesting mouth, and his long + Roman nose, set in a complexion rich in its pink-and-cream hardness and + health—all this made him a figure good to see. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as he listened to the lark singing overhead, with his face + lifted to the sky, he heard a human voice singing; and presently there ran + up a little declivity to his left a girl—an Irish girl of about + seventeen years of age. + </p> + <p> + Her hat was hanging on her arm by a green ribbon. Her head was covered + with the most wonderful brown, waving hair. She had a broad, low forehead, + Greek in its proportions and lines. The eyes were bluer even than his own, + and were shaded by lashes of great length, which slightly modified the + firm lines of the face, with its admirable chin, and mouth somewhat large + with a cupid’s bow. + </p> + <p> + In spite of its ardent and luscious look, it was the mouth of one who knew + her own mind and could sustain her own course. It was open when Dyck first + saw it, because she was singing little bits of wild lyrics of the hills, + little tragedies of Celtic life—just bursts of the Celtic soul, as + it were, cheerful yet sad, buoyant and passionate, eager yet melancholy. + She was singing in Irish too. They were the words of songs taught her by + her mother’s maid. + </p> + <p> + She had been tramping over the hills for a couple of hours, virile, + beautiful, and alone. She wore a gown of dark gold, with little green + ribbons here and there. The gown was short, and her ankles showed. In + spite of the strong boots she wore they were alert, delicate, and shapely, + and all her beauty had the slender fullness of a quail. + </p> + <p> + When she saw Dyck, she stopped suddenly, her mouth slightly open. She gave + him a sidelong glance of wonder, interest, and speculation. Then she threw + her head slightly back, and all the curls gathered in a bunch and shook + like bronze flowers. It was a head of grace and power, of charm and + allurement—of danger. + </p> + <p> + Dyck was lost in admiration. He looked at her as one might look at a + beautiful thing in a dream. He did not speak; he only smiled as he gazed + into her eyes. She was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Well, who are you?” she asked with a slightly southern accent in her + voice, delicate and entrancing. Her head gave a little modest toss, her + fine white teeth caught her lower lip with a little quirk of humour; for + she could see that he was a gentleman, and that she was safe from anything + that might trouble her. + </p> + <p> + He replied to her question with the words: + </p> + <p> + “My name? Why, it’s Dyck Calhoun. That’s all.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes brightened. “Isn’t that enough?” she asked gently. + </p> + <p> + She knew of his family. She was only visiting in the district with her + mother, but she had lately heard of old Miles Calhoun and his wayward boy, + Dyck; and here was Dyck, with a humour in his eyes and a touch of + melancholy at his lips. Somehow her heart went out to him. + </p> + <p> + Presently he said to her: “And what’s your name?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m only Sheila Llyn, the daughter of my mother, a widow, visiting at + Loyland Towers. Yes, I’m only Sheila!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just be ‘only Sheila,”’ he answered admiringly, and he held out a + hand to her. “I wouldn’t have you be anything else, though it’s none of my + business.” + </p> + <p> + For one swift instant she hesitated; then she laid her hand in his. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no reason why we should not,” she said. “Your father’s + respectable.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him again with a sidelong glance, and with a whimsical, + reserved smile at her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he’s respectable, I agree, but he’s dull,” answered Dyck. “For an + Irishman, he’s dull—and he’s a tyrant, too. I suppose I deserve + that, for I’m a handful.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are, and a big handful too!” + </p> + <p> + “Which way are you going?” he asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “And you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m bound for home.” He pointed across the valley. “Do you see that + smoke coming up from the plantation over there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” she answered. “I know. That’s Playmore, your father’s + place. Loyland Towers is between here and there. Which way were you going + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Round to the left,” he said, puzzled, but agreeable. + </p> + <p> + “Then we must say good-bye, because I go to the right. That’s my nearest + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if that’s your nearest way, I’m going with you,” he said, “because—well, + because—because—” + </p> + <p> + “If you won’t talk very much!” she rejoined with a little air of + instinctive coquetry. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to talk. I’d like to listen. Shall we start?” + </p> + <p> + A half-hour later they suddenly came upon an incident of the road. + </p> + <p> + It was, alas, no uncommon incident. An aged peasant, in a sudden fit of + weakness, had stumbled on the road, and, in falling, had struck his head + on a stone and had lost consciousness. He was an old peasant of the usual + Irish type, coarsely but cleanly dressed. Lying beside him was a leather + bag, within which were odds and ends of food and some small books of + legend and ritual. He was a peasant of a superior class, however. + </p> + <p> + In falling, he had thrown over on his back, and his haggard face was + exposed to the sun and sky. At sight of him Dyck and Sheila ran forward. + Dyck dropped on one knee and placed a hand on the stricken man’s heart. + </p> + <p> + “He’s alive, all right,” Dyck said. “He’s a figure in these parts. His + name’s Christopher Dogan.” + </p> + <p> + “Where does he live?” + </p> + <p> + “Live? Well, not three hundred yards from here, when he’s at home, but + he’s generally on the go. He’s what the American Indians would call a + medicine-man.” + </p> + <p> + “He needs his own medicine now.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s over eighty, and he must have gone dizzy, stumbled, fallen, and + struck a stone. There’s the mark on his temple. He’s been lying here + unconscious ever since; but his pulse is all right, and we’ll soon have + him fit again.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, Dyck whipped out a horn containing spirit, and, while Sheila + lifted the injured head, he bathed the old man’s face with the spirit, + then opened the mouth and let some liquor trickle down. + </p> + <p> + “He’s the cleanest peasant I ever saw,” remarked Sheila; “and he’s coming + to. Look at him!” + </p> + <p> + Yes, he was coming to. There was a slight tremor of the eyelids, and + presently they slowly opened. They were eyes of remarkable poignancy and + brightness—black, deep-set, direct, full of native intelligence. For + an instant they stared as if they had no knowledge, then understanding + came to them. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s you, sir,” his voice said tremblingly, looking at Dyck. “And + very kind it is of ye!” Then he looked at Sheila. “I don’t know ye,” he + said whisperingly, for his voice seemed suddenly to fail. “I don’t know + ye,” he repeated, “but you look all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m Sheila Llyn,” the girl said, taking her hand from the old man’s + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I’m Sheila Llyn, and I’m all right in a way, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + The troubled, piercing eyes glanced from one to the other. + </p> + <p> + “No relation?” + </p> + <p> + “No—never met till a half-hour ago,” remarked Dyck. + </p> + <p> + The old man drew himself to a sitting posture, then swayed slightly. The + hands of the girl and Dyck went out behind his back. As they touched his + back, their fingers met, and Dyck’s covered the girl’s. Their eyes met, + too, and the story told by Dyck in that moment was the beginning of a + lifetime of experience, comedy, and tragedy. + </p> + <p> + He thought her fingers were wonderfully soft, warm, and full of life; and + she thought that his was the hand of a master-of a master in the field of + human effort. That is, if she thought at all, for Dyck’s warm, powerful + touch almost hypnotized her. + </p> + <p> + The old peasant understood, however. He was standing on his feet now. He + was pale and uncertain. He lifted up his bag, and threw it over his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m not needing you any more, thank God!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “So Heaven’s blessing on ye, and I bid ye good-bye. You’ve been kind to + me, and I won’t forget either of ye. If ever I can do ye a good turn, I’ll + do it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we’re not going to leave you until you’re inside your home,” said + Dyck. + </p> + <p> + The old man looked at Sheila in meditation. He knew her name and her + history. Behind the girl’s life was a long prospect of mystery. Llyn was + her mother’s maiden name. Sheila had never known her father. Never to her + knowledge had she seen him, because when she was yet an infant her mother + had divorced him by Act of Parliament, against the wishes of her church, + and had resumed her maiden name. + </p> + <p> + Sheila’s father’s name was Erris Boyne, and he had been debauched, + drunken, and faithless; so at a time of unendurable hurt his wife had + freed herself. Then, under her maiden name, she had brought up her + daughter without any knowledge of her father; had made her believe he was + dead; had hidden her tragedy with a skilful hand. + </p> + <p> + Only now, when Sheila was released from a governess, had she moved out of + the little wild area of the County Limerick where she lived; only now had + she come to visit an uncle whose hospitality she had for so many years + denied herself. Sheila was two years old when her father disappeared, and + fifteen years had gone since then. + </p> + <p> + One on either side of the old man, they went with him up the hillside for + about three hundred yards, to the door of his house, which was little more + than a cave in a sudden lift of the hill. He swayed as he walked, but by + the time they reached his cave-house he was alert again. + </p> + <p> + The house had two windows, one on either side of the unlocked doorway; and + when the old man slowly swung the door open, there was shown an interior + of humble character, but neat and well-ordered. The floor was earth, dry + and clean. There was a bed to the right, also wholesome and dry, with + horse-blankets for cover. At the back, opposite the doorway, was a + fireplace of some size, and in it stood a kettle, a pot, and a few small + pans, together with a covered saucepan. On either side of the fireplace + was a three-legged stool, and about the middle of the left-hand wall of + the room was a chair which had been made out of a barrel, some of the + staves having been sawn away to make a seat. + </p> + <p> + Once inside the house, Christopher Dogan laid his bag on the bed and waved + his hands in a formula of welcome. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m honoured,” he said, “for no one has set foot inside this place + that I’d rather have here than the two of ye; and it’s wonderful to me, + Mr. Calhoun, that ye’ve never been inside it before, because there’s been + times when I’ve had food and drink in plenty. I could have made ye + comfortable then and stroked ye all down yer gullet. As for you, Miss + Llyn, you’re as welcome as the shining of the stars of a night when + there’s no moon. I’m glad you’re here, though I’ve nothing to give ye, not + a bite nor sup. Ah, yes—but yes,” he suddenly cried, touching his + head. “Faith, then, I have! I have a drap of somethin’ that’s as good as + annything dhrunk by the ancient kings of Ireland. It’s a wee cordial that + come from the cellars of the Bishop of Dunlany, when I cured his cook of + the evil-stone that was killing her. Ah, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + He went into a corner on the left of the fireplace, opened an old jar, + thrust his arm down, and drew out a squat little bottle of cordial. The + bottle was beautifully made. It was round and hunched, and of glass, with + an old label from which the writing had faded. + </p> + <p> + With eyes bright now, Christopher uncorked the bottle and smelled the + contents. As he did so, a smile crinkled his face. + </p> + <p> + “Thank the Lord! There’s enough for the two of ye—two fine + tablespoonfuls of the cordial that’d do anny man good, no matter how bad + he was, and turn an angel of a woman into an archangel. Bless yer Bowl!” + </p> + <p> + When Christopher turned to lift down two pewter pots, Calhoun reached up + swiftly and took them from the shelf. He placed them in the hands of the + old man, who drew a clean towel of coarse linen from a small cupboard in + the wall above his head. + </p> + <p> + She and Dyck held the pots for the old man to pour the cordial into them. + As he said, there was only a good porridge-spoon of liqueur for each. He + divided it with anxious care. + </p> + <p> + “There’s manny a man,” he said, “and manny and manny a lady, too, born in + the purple, that’d be glad of a dhrink of this cordial from the cellar of + the bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Alpha, beta, gamma, delta is the code, and with the word delta,” he + continued, “dhrink every drop of it, as if it was the last thing you were + dhrinking on earth; as if the Lord stooped down to give ye a cup of + blessing from His great flagon of eternal happiness. Ye’ve got two kind + hearts, but there’s manny a day of throuble will come between ye and the + end; and yet the end’ll be right, God love ye! Now-alpha, beta, gamma, + delta!” + </p> + <p> + With a merry laugh Dyck Calhoun turned up his cup and drained the liquid + to the last drop. With a laugh not quite so merry, Sheila raised her mug + and slowly drained the green happiness away. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it good—isn’t it like the love of God?” asked the old man. + “Ain’t I glad I had it for ye? Why I said I hadn’t annything for ye to + dhrink or eat, Lord only knows. There’s nothing to eat, and there’s only + this to dhrink, and I hide it away under the bedclothes of time, as one + might say. Ah, ye know, it’s been there for three years, and I’d almost + forgot it. It was a little angel from heaven whispered it to me whir ye + stepped inside this house. I dunno why I kep’ the stuff. Manny’s the time + I was tempted to dhrink it myself, and manny’s the time something said to + me, ‘Not yet.’ The Lord be praised, for I’ve had out of it more than I + deserve!” + </p> + <p> + He took the mugs from their hands, and for a minute stood like some + ancient priest who had performed a noble ritual. As Sheila looked at him, + she kept saying to herself: + </p> + <p> + “He’s a spirit; he isn’t a man!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck’s eye met that of Sheila, and he saw with the same feeling what was + working in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we must be going,” he said to Christopher Dogan. “We must get + homeward, and we’ve had a good drink—the best I ever tasted. We’re + proud to pay our respects to you in your own house; and goodbye to you + till we meet again.” + </p> + <p> + His hand went out to the shoulder of the peasant and rested there for a + second in friendly feeling. Then the girl stretched out her hand also. The + old man took the two cups in one hand, and, reaching out the other, let + Sheila’s fingers fall upon his own. He slowly crooked his neck, and kissed + her fingers with that distinction mostly to be found among those few good + people who live on the highest or the lowest social levels, or in native + tents. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, please God we meet again! and that I be let to serve you, Miss Sheila + Llyn. I have no doubt you could do with a little help some time or + another, the same as the rest of us. For all that’s come between us three, + may it be given me, humble and poor, to help ye both that’s helped me so!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck turned to go, and as he did so a thought came to him. + </p> + <p> + “If you hadn’t food and drink for us, what have you for yourself, + Christopher?” he asked. “Have you food to eat?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well—well, do ye think I’m no provider? There was no food + cooked was what I was thinking; but come and let me show you.” + </p> + <p> + He took the cover off a jar standing in a corner. “Here’s good flour, and + there’s water, and there’s manny a wild shrub and plant on the hillside to + make soup, and what more does a man want? With the scone cooked and inside + ye, don’t ye feel as well as though ye’d had a pound of beef or a rasher + of bacon? Sure, ye do. I know where there’s clumps of wild radishes, and + with a little salt they’re good—the best. God bless ye!” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, as he stood in his doorway and looked along the road, + he saw two figures, the girl’s head hardly higher than the man’s shoulder. + They walked as if they had much to get and were ready for it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I dunno,” he said to himself. “I dunno about you, Dyck Calhoun. + You’re wild, and ye have too manny mad friends, but you’ll come all right + in the end; and that pretty girl—God save her!—she’ll come + with a smile into your arms by and by, dear lad. But ye have far to go and + much to do before that.” + </p> + <p> + His head fell, his eyes stared out into the shining distance. + </p> + <p> + “I see for ye manny and manny a stroke of bad luck, and manny a wrong + thing said of ye, and she not believing wan of them. But oh, my God, but + oh!”—his clenched hands went to his eyes. “I wouldn’t like to travel + the path that’s before ye—no!” + </p> + <p> + Down the long road the two young people travelled, gossiping much, both of + them touched by something sad and mysterious, neither knowing why; both of + them happy, too, for somehow they had come nearer together than years of + ordinary life might have made possible. They thought of the old man and + his hut, and then broke away into talk of their own countryside, of the + war with France, of the growing rebellious spirit in Ireland, of riots in + Dublin town, of trouble at Limerick, Cork, and Sligo. + </p> + <p> + At the gate of the mansion where Sheila was visiting, Dyck put into her + hands the wild flowers he had picked as they passed, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s been a great day. I’ve never had a greater. Let’s meet again, + and soon! I’m almost every day upon the hill with my gun, and it’d be + worth a lot to see you very soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’ll be forgetting me by to-morrow,” the girl said with a little + wistfulness at her lips, for she had a feeling they would not meet on the + morrow. Suddenly she picked from the bunch of wild flowers he had given + her a little sprig of heather. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if we don’t meet—wear that,” she said, and, laughing over her + shoulder, turned and ran into the grounds of Loyland Towers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE COMING OF A MESSENGER + </h2> + <p> + When Dyck entered the library of Playmore, the first words he heard were + these: + </p> + <p> + “Howe has downed the French at Brest. He’s smashed the French fleet and + dealt a sharp blow to the revolution. Hurrah!” + </p> + <p> + The words were used by Miles Calhoun, Dyck’s father, as a greeting to him + on his return from the day’s sport. + </p> + <p> + Now, if there was a man in Ireland who had a narrow view and kept his toes + pointed to the front, it was Miles Calhoun. His people had lived in + Connemara for hundreds of years; and he himself had only one passion in + life, which was the Protestant passion of prejudice. He had ever been a + follower of Burke—a passionate follower, one who believed the French + Revolution was a crime against humanity, a danger to the future of + civilization. + </p> + <p> + He had resisted more vigorously than most men the progress of + revolutionary sentiments in Ireland. He was aware that his son had far + less rigid opinions than himself; that he even defended Wolfe Tone and + Thomas Emmet against abuse and damnation. That was why he had delight in + slapping his son in the face, whenever possible, with the hot pennant of + victory for British power. + </p> + <p> + He was a man of irascible temperament and stern views, given to fits of + exasperation. He was small of stature, with a round face, eyes that + suddenly went red with feeling, and with none of the handsomeness of his + son, who resembled his mother’s family. + </p> + <p> + The mother herself had been a beautiful and remarkable woman. Dyck was, in + a sense, a reproduction of her in body and mind, for a more cheerful and + impetuous person never made a household happier or more imperfect than she + made hers. + </p> + <p> + Her beauty and continual cheerfulness had always been the joy of Dyck’s + life, and because his mother had married his father—she was a woman + of sense, with all her lightsome ways—he tried to regard his father + with profound respect. Since his wife’s death, however, Miles Calhoun had + deteriorated; he had become unreasonable. + </p> + <p> + As the elder Calhoun made his announcement about the battle of Brest and + the English victory, a triumphant smile lighted his flushed face, and + under his heavy grey brows his eyes danced with malicious joy. + </p> + <p> + “Howe’s a wonder!” he said. “He’ll make those mad, red republicans hunt + their holes. Eh, isn’t that your view, Ivy?” he asked of a naval captain + who had evidently brought the news. + </p> + <p> + Captain Ivy nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s a heavy blow for the French bloodsuckers. If their ideas creep + through Europe and get hold of England, God only knows what the end will + be! In their view, to alter everything is the only way to put things + right. No doubt they’ll invent a new way to be born before they’ve + finished.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” remarked Dyck. “The present way has + its demerits.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it throws responsibility upon the man, and gives a heap of trouble + to the woman,” said Captain Ivy with a laugh; “but they’ll change it all, + you’ll see.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck poured himself a glass of port, held it up, sniffed the aroma, and + looked through the beautiful red tinge of the wine with a happy and + critical eye. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the world could be remade in a lot of ways,” he declared. “I + shouldn’t mind seeing a bit of a revolution in Ireland—but in + England first,” he hastened to add. “They’re a more outcast folk than the + Irish.” His father scoffed. + </p> + <p> + “Look out, Dyck, or they’ll drop you in jail if you talk like that!” he + chided, his red face growing redder, his fingers nervously feeling the + buttons on his picturesque silk waistcoat. “There’s conspiracy in Ireland, + and you never truly know if the man that serves you at your table, or + brings you your horse, or puts a spade into your ground, isn’t a traitor.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door opened, and a servant entered the room. In his + hand he carried a letter which, with marked excitement, he brought to + Miles Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, he’s waiting, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And who’s he?” asked his master, turning the letter over, as though to + find out by looking at the seal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a man of consequence, if we’re to judge by the way he’s clothed.” + </p> + <p> + “Fit company, then?” his master asked, as he opened the heavily sealed + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m not saying that, for there’s no company good enough for us,” + answered the higgledy-piggledy butler, with a quirk of the mouth; “but, as + messengers go, I never seen one with more style and point.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, bring him to me,” said Miles Calhoun. “Bring him to me, and I’ll + form my own judgment—though I have some confidence in yours.” + </p> + <p> + “You could go further and fare worse, as the Papists say about purgatory,” + answered the old man with respectful familiarity. + </p> + <p> + Captain Ivy and Dyck grinned, but the head of the house seemed none too + pleased at the freedom of the old butler. + </p> + <p> + “Bring him as he is,” said Miles Calhoun. “Good God!” he added, for he + just realized that the stamp of the seal was that of the Attorney-General + of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Then he read the letter and a flush swept over his face, making its red + almost purple. + </p> + <p> + “Eternal damnation—eternal damnation!” he declared, holding the + paper at arm’s length a moment, inspecting it. He then handed it to Dyck. + “Read that, lad. Then pack your bag, for we start for Dublin by daylight + or before.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck read the brief document and whistled softly to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, you’ve got to obey orders like that, I suppose,” Dyck said. + “They want to question us as to the state of the country here.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we can tell them something. I wonder if they know how wide your + travel is, how many people you see; and if they know, how did they come to + know? There’s spies all over the place. How do I know but the man who’s + just left this room isn’t a spy, isn’t the enemy of all of us here?” + </p> + <p> + “I’d suspect Michael Clones,” remarked Dyck, “just as soon as Mulvaney.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael Clones,” said his father, and he turned to Captain Ivy, “Michael + Clones I’d trust as I’d trust His blessed Majesty, George III. He’s a rare + scamp, is Michael Clones! He’s no thicker than a cardboard, but he draws + the pain out of your hurt like a mustard plaster. A man of better sense + and greater roguery I’ve never met. You must see him, Captain Ivy. He’s + only about twelve years older than my son, but, like my son, there’s no + holding him, there’s no control of him that’s any good. He does what he + wants to do in his own way—talks when he wants to talk, fights when + he wants to fight. He’s a man of men, is Michael Clones.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door opened and the butler entered, followed by a tall, + thin, Don Quixote sort of figure. + </p> + <p> + “His excellency,” said Mulvaney, with a look slightly malevolent, for the + visitor had refused his name. Then he turned and left the room. + </p> + <p> + At Mulvaney’s words, an ironical smile crossed the face of the newcomer. + Then he advanced to Miles Calhoun. Before speaking, however, he glanced + sharply at Captain Ivy, threw an inquisitive look at Dyck, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I seem to have hurt the feelings of your butler, sir, but that cannot be + helped. I have come from the Attorney-General. My name is Leonard Mallow—I’m + the eldest son of Lord Mallow. I’ve been doing business in Limerick, and I + bring a message from the Attorney-General to ask you to attend his office + at the earliest moment.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun, noting his glance at a bottle of port, poured out a glass of + the good wine and handed it over, saying: + </p> + <p> + “It’ll taste better to you because you’ve been travelling hard, but it’s + good wine anyhow. It’s been in the cellar for forty years, and that’s + something in a land like this.” + </p> + <p> + Mallow accepted the glass of port, raised it with a little gesture of + respect, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Long life to the King, and cursed be his enemies!” So saying he flung the + wine down his throat—which seemed to gulp it like a well—wiped + his lips with a handkerchief, and turned to Miles Calhoun again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s good wine,” he said; “as good as you’d get in the cellars of + the Viceroy. I’ve seen strange things as I came. I’ve seen lights on the + hills, and drunken rioters in the roads and behind hedges, and once a shot + was fired at me; but here I am, safe and sound, carrying out my orders. + What time will you start?” he added. + </p> + <p> + He took it for granted that the summons did not admit of rejection, and he + was right. The document contained these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Trouble is brewing; indeed, it is at hand. Come, please, at once to + Dublin, and give the Lord-Lieutenant and the Government a report + upon your district. We do not hear altogether well of it, but no + one has the knowledge you possess. In the name of His Majesty you + are to present yourself at once at these offices in Dublin, and be + assured that the Lord-Lieutenant will give you warm welcome through + me. Your own loyalty gives much satisfaction here. I am, sir, + Your obedient servant, + JOHN MCNOWELL. +</pre> + <p> + “You have confidence in the people’s loyalty here?” asked Mallow. + </p> + <p> + “As great as in my own,” answered Dyck cheerily. “Well, you ought to know + what that is. At the same time, I’ve heard you’re a friend of one or two + dark spirits in the land.” + </p> + <p> + “I hold no friendships that would do hurt to my country,” answered Dyck + sharply. + </p> + <p> + Mallow smiled satirically. “As we’re starting at daylight, I suppose, I + think I’ll go to bed, if it may be you can put me up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, yes! We can put you up, Mr. Mallow,” said the old man. “You + shall have as good a bed as you can find outside the Viceregal Lodge—a + fourposter, wide and long. It’s been slept in by many a man of place and + power. But, Mr. Mallow, you haven’t said you’ve had no dinner, and you’ll + not be going to bed in this house without your food. Did you shoot + anything to-day, Dyck?” he asked his son. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t bring home a feather. There were no birds to-day, but there are + the ducks I shot yesterday, and the quail.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said his father, “and there’s the little roast pig, too. This + is a day when we celebrate the anniversary of Irish power and life.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” asked Mallow. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the battle of the Boyne,” answered his host with a little + ostentation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’re one of the Peep-o’-Day Boys, then,” remarked Mallow. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not saying that,” answered the old man. “I’m not an Ulsterman, but I + celebrate the coming of William to the Boyne. Things were done that day + that’ll be remembered when Ireland is whisked away into the Kingdom of + Heaven. So you’ll not go to bed till you’ve had dinner, Mr. Mallow! By me + soul, I think I smell the little porker now. Dinner at five, to bed at + eight, up before daylight, and off to Dublin when the light breaks. That’s + the course!” He turned to Captain Ivy. “I’m sorry, captain, but there’s + naught else to do, and you were going to-morrow at noon, anyhow, so it + won’t make much difference to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No difference whatever,” replied the sailorman. “I have to go to Dublin, + too, and from there to Queenstown to join my ship, and from Queenstown to + the coast of France to do some fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “Please God!” remarked Miles Calhoun. “So be it!” declared Mallow. + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” said Dyck. + </p> + <p> + Once again Dyck looked the visitor straight in the eyes, and back in the + horizon of Mallow’s life-sky there shone the light of an evil star. + </p> + <p> + “There’s the call to dinner,” remarked Miles Calhoun, as a bell began + ringing in the tower outside. “Come with me, Mr. Mallow, and I’ll show you + your room. You’ve had your horse put up, I hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and my bag brought in.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, come along, then. There’s no time to lose. I can smell the porker + crawling from the oven.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re a master of tempting thoughts,” remarked Mallow enthusiastically. + </p> + <p> + “Sheila—Sheila!” said Dyck Calhoun to himself where he stood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE QUARREL. + </h2> + <p> + The journey to Dublin was made by the Calhouns, their two guests, and + Michael Clones, without incident of note. Arrived there, Miles Calhoun + gave himself to examination by Government officials and to assisting the + designs of the Peep-o’-Day Boys; and indeed he was present at the + formation of the first Orange Lodge. + </p> + <p> + His narrow nature, his petty craft and malevolence, were useful in a time + of anxiety for the State. Yet he had not enough ability to develop his + position by the chances offered him. He had not a touch of genius; he had + only bursts of Celtic passion, which he had not mind enough to control. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, as days, weeks and months went on, his position became less + valuable to himself, and his financial affairs suffered from his own and + his agent’s bad management. In his particular district he was a power; in + Dublin he soon showed the weaker side of his nature. He had a bad habit of + making foes where he could easily have made friends. In his personal + habits he was sober, but erratic. + </p> + <p> + Dyck had not his father’s abstention from the luxuries of life. He drank, + he gamed, he went where temptation was, and fell into it. He steadily + diminished his powers of resistance to self-indulgence until one day, at a + tavern, he met a man who made a great impression upon him. + </p> + <p> + This man was brilliant, ebullient, full of humour, character and life, + knowing apparently all the lower world of Dublin, and moving with an + assured step. It was Erris Boyne, the divorced husband of Mrs. Llyn and + the father of Sheila Llyn; but this fact was not known to Dyck. There was + also a chance of its not becoming known, because so many years had passed + since Erris Boyne was divorced. + </p> + <p> + One day Erris Boyne said to Dyck: + </p> + <p> + “There’s a supper to-night at the Breakneck Club. Come along and have a + skinful. You’ll meet people worth knowing. They’re a damned fine lot of + fellows for you to meet, Calhoun!” + </p> + <p> + “The Breakneck Club isn’t a good name for a first-class institution,” + remarked Dyck, with a pause and a laugh; “but I’ll come, if you’ll fetch + me.” + </p> + <p> + Erris Boyne, who was eighteen years older than Dyck, laughed, flicked a + little pinch of snuff at his nose with his finger. + </p> + <p> + “Dear lad, of course I’ll come and fetch you,” he said. “There’s many a + man has done worse than lead a gay stripling like you into pleasant ways. + Bring along any loose change you have, for it may be a night of nights.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, they play cards, do they, at the Breakneck Club?” said Dyck, alive + with interest. + </p> + <p> + “Well, call it what you like, but men must do something when they get + together, and we can’t be talking all the time. So pocket your shillings.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they all the right sort?” asked Dyck, with a little touch of malice. + “I mean, are they loyal and true?” + </p> + <p> + Erris Boyne laid a hand on Dyck’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come and find out. Do you think I’d lead you into bad company? Of course + Emmet and Wolfe Tone won’t be there, nor any of that lot; but there’ll be + some men of the right stamp.” He watched Dyck carefully out of the corner + of his eye. “It’s funny,” he added, “that in Ireland the word loyal always + means being true to the Union Jack, standing by King George and his + crowd.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what would you have?” said Dyck. “For this is a day and age when + being loyal to the King is more than aught else in all the Irish world. + We’re never two days alike, we Irish. There are the United Irishmen and + the Defenders on one side, and the Peepo’-Day Boys, or Orangemen, on the + other—Catholic and Protestant, at each other’s throats. Then there’s + a hand thrust in, and up goes the sword, and the rifles, pikes, and + bayonets; and those that were ready to mutilate or kill each other fall + into each other’s arms.” + </p> + <p> + Erris Boyne laughed. “Well, there’ll soon be an end to that. The Irish + Parliament is slipping into disrepute. It wouldn’t surprise me if the + astute English bribe them into a union, to the ruin of Irish Independence. + Yet maybe, before that comes, the French will have a try for power here. + And upon my word, if I have to live under foreign rule, I’d as leave have + a French whip over me as an English!” He came a step nearer, his voice + lowered a little. “Have you heard the latest news from France? They’re + coming with a good-sized fleet down to the south coast. Have you heard + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there’s plenty one hears one doesn’t believe is gospel,” answered + Dyck, his eyes half closing. “I’m not believing all I hear, as if it was a + prayer-meeting. Anything may happen here; Ireland’s a woman—very + uncertain.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck flicked some dust from his waistcoat, and dropped his eyes, because + he was thinking of two women he had known; one of them an angel now in + company of her sister angels—his mother; the other a girl he had met + on the hills of Connemara, a wonderfully pretty girl of seventeen. How + should he know that the girl was Erris Boyne’s daughter?—although + there were times when some gesture of Boyne, some quick look, some lifting + of the eyebrows, brought back the memory of Sheila Llyn, as it did now. + </p> + <p> + Since Dyck left his old home he had seen her twice; once at Loyland + Towers, and once at her home in Limerick. The time he had spent with her + had been very brief, but full of life, interest, and character. She was + like some piquant child, bold, beautiful, uncertain, caressing in her + manner one instant, and distant at another. + </p> + <p> + She had said radiant things, had rallied him, had shown him where a + twenty-nine-pound salmon had been caught in a stream, and had fired at and + brought down a pheasant outside the covert at Loyland Towers. Whether at + Loyland Towers, or at her mother’s house in Limerick, there was no touch + of forwardness in her, or in anything she said or did. She was the most + natural being, the freest from affectation, he had ever known. + </p> + <p> + As Erris Boyne talked to him, the memory of Sheila flooded his mind, and + on the flood his senses swam like swans. He had not her careful composure. + He was just as real, but he had the wilfulness of man. She influenced him + as no woman had ever yet done; but he saw no happy ending to the dream. He + was too poor to marry; he had no trade or profession; his father’s affairs + were in a bad way. He could not bring himself to join the army or the + navy; and yet, as an Irishman moved by political ideals, with views at + once critical and yet devoted to the crown, he was not in a state to + settle down. + </p> + <p> + He did not know that Erris Boyne was set to capture him for the rebel + cause. How could he know that Boyne was an agent of the most evil forces + in Ireland—an agent of skill and address, prepossessing, with the + face of a Celtic poet and the eye of an assassin? + </p> + <p> + Boyne’s object was to bring about the downfall of Dyck Calhoun—that + is, his downfall as a patriot. At the Breakneck Club this bad business + began. Dyck had seen many people, representing the gaiety and deviltry of + life; but it was as though many doubtful people, many reckless ones, all + those with purposes, fads, and fancies, were there. Here was an + irresponsible member of a Government department; there an officer of His + Majesty’s troops; beyond, a profligate bachelor whose reputation for + traitorous diplomacy was known and feared. Yet everywhere were men known + in the sporting, gaming, or political world, in sea life or land life, + most of whom had a character untouched by criticism. + </p> + <p> + It was at this club that Dyck again met that tall, ascetic messenger from + the Attorney-General, who had brought the message to Miles Calhoun. It was + with this man—Leonard Mallow, eldest son of Lord Mallow—that + Dyck, with three others, played cards one afternoon. + </p> + <p> + The instinctive antipathy which had marked their first introduction was + carried on to this later meeting. Dyck distrusted Mallow, and allowed his + distrust exercise. It was unfortunate that Mallow won from him + three-fourths of the money he had brought to the club, and won it with a + smile not easy to forgive. + </p> + <p> + Dyck had at last secured sudden success in a scheme of his cards when + Mallow asked with a sneer: + </p> + <p> + “Did you learn that at your home in heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t they teach it where you live in hell?” was Dyck’s reply. + </p> + <p> + At this Mallow flicked Dyck across the face with his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “That’s what they teach where I belong.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s easy to learn, and we’ll do the sum at any time or place you + please.” After a moment Dyck continued: “I wouldn’t make a fuss over it. + Let’s finish the game. There’s no good prancing till the sport’s ready; so + I’ll sit and learn more of what they teach in hell!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck had been drinking, or he would not have spoken so; and when he was + drunk daring was strong in him. He hated profoundly this man-so + self-satisfied and satanic. + </p> + <p> + He kept a perfect coolness, however. Leonard Mallow should not see that he + was upset. His wanton wordiness came to his rescue, and until the end of + the game he played with sang-froid, daring, and skill. He loved cards; he + loved the strife of skill against skill, of trick against trick, of hand + against hand. He had never fought a duel in his life, but he had no fear + of doing so. + </p> + <p> + At length, having won back nearly all he had lost, he rose to his feet and + looked round. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one here from whom I can ask a favour?” + </p> + <p> + Several stepped forward. Dyck nodded. One of them he knew. It was Sir + Almeric Foyle. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Sir Almeric,” he said; “thank you. Shall it be swords or + pistols?” he asked his enemy, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Swords, if you please,” remarked Mallow grimly, for he had a gift with + the sword. + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded again. + </p> + <p> + “As you will. As you will!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE DUEL + </h2> + <p> + It was a morning such as could only be brought into existence by the Maker + of mornings in Ireland. It was a day such as Dublin placed away carefully + into the pantechnicon of famous archives. + </p> + <p> + The city of Dublin was not always clean, but in the bright, gorgeous sun + her natural filth was no menace to the eye, no repulse to the senses. + Above the Liffey, even at so early an hour, the heat shimmers like a + silver mist. The bells of churches were ringing, and the great cathedral + bells boomed in thrilling monotony over the peaceful city. Here and there + in the shabby yet renowned streets, horsemen moved along; now and then the + costermonger raised his cry of fresh fruit, flowers, and “distinguished + vegetables.” + </p> + <p> + People moved into church doorways on their way to mass or confession—some + bright and rather gorgeous beings, some in deep mourning, shy, reserved, + and obscure. Here and there, also, in certain streets—where + officials lived or worked—were soldiers afoot; soldiers with + carbines and long bayonets, with tall, slightly peaked hats, smart red + coats, belts crossing their breasts, knee-breeches and leggings, and all + with epaulets shining. They were in marked contrast to the peasant folk + with the high-peaked soft hat, knee-breeches, rough tail-coat, and + stockings, some with rifles, some with pikes, some with powder-horns slung + under their arms or in the small of the back. + </p> + <p> + Besides this show of foot-soldiers—that is, regulars and irregulars + of the Cornwallis Regiment, and men of the Defenders and the Peep-o’-Day + Boys—there were little groups of cavalry making their way to the + parade-ground, the castle, the barracks, or the courts. + </p> + <p> + Beyond these there was the jaunting-car trundling over the rough + cobblestone street, or bumping in and out of dangerous holes. Whips + cracked, and the loud voices of jarveys shouted blatant humour and Irish + fun at horse and passenger. Here and there, also, some stately coach, + bedizened with arms of the quality, made its way through the chief + streets, or across the bridges of the Liffey. + </p> + <p> + Then came the general population, moving cheerfully in the inspiriting + sun; for Irishmen move so much in a moist atmosphere that on a sunshiny + day all tristesse of life seems changed, as in a flash, into high spirits + and much activity. Not that the country, at its worst, is slow-footed or + depressed; for wit is always at the elbow of want. + </p> + <p> + Never in all Ireland’s years had she a more beautiful day than that in + which Dyck Calhoun and the Hon. Leonard Mallow met to settle their account + in a secluded corner of Phoenix Park. It was not the usual place for + duels. The seconds had taken care to keep the locale from the knowledge of + the public; especially as many who had come to know of the event at the + Breakneck Club were eager to be present. + </p> + <p> + The affair began an hour after sunrise. Neither Dyck nor Leonard Mallow + slept at home the night before, but in separate taverns near Phoenix Park. + Mallow came almost jauntily to the obscure spot. Both men had + sensitiveness, and both entered the grounds with a certain sense of + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Dyck moved and spoke like a man charged with some fluid which had + abstracted him from life’s monotonous routine. He had to consider the + chance of never leaving the grounds alive; yet as he entered the place, + where smooth grass between the trees made good footing for the work to be + done, the thrill of the greenery, the sound of the birds, the flick of a + lizard across the path, and the distant gay leap of a young deer, brought + to his senses a gust of joyous feeling. + </p> + <p> + “I never smelled such air!” he said to one of the seconds. “I never saw + the sun so beautiful!” He sniffed the air and turned his face towards the + sun. “Well, it’s a day for Ireland,” he added, in response to a gravely + playful remark of Sir Almeric Foyle. “Ireland never was so sweet. Nature’s + provoking us!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it’s a pity,” said Sir Almeric. “But I’m not thinking of bad luck + for you, Calhoun.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck’s smile seemed to come from infinite distance. He was not normal; he + was submerged. He was in the great, consuming atmosphere of the bigger + world, and the greater life. He even did not hate Mallow at the moment. + The thing about to be done was to him a test of manhood. It was a call + upon the courage of the soul, a challenge of life, strength, and will. + </p> + <p> + As Mallow entered the grounds, the thought of Sheila Llyn crossed Dyck’s + mind, and the mental sight of her gladdened the eyes of his soul. For one + brief instant he stood lost in the mind’s look; then he stepped forward, + saluted, shook hands with Mallow, and doffed his coat and waistcoat. + </p> + <p> + As he did so, he was conscious of a curious coldness, even of dampness, in + the hand which had shaken that of Mallow. Mallow’s hand had a clammy touch—clammy, + but firm and sure. There was no tremor in the long, thin fingers nor at + the lips—the thin, ascetic lips, as of a secret-service man—but + in his eyes was a dark fire of purpose. The morning had touched him, but + not as it had thrown over Dyck its mantle of peace. Mallow also had + enjoyed the smell and feeling of it all, but with this difference—it + had filled him with such material joy that he could not bear the thought + of leaving it. It gave him strength of will, which would add security to + his arm and wrist. Yet, as he looked at Dyck, he saw that his work was cut + out for him; for in all his days he had never seen a man so + well-possessed, so surely in hand. + </p> + <p> + Dyck had learned swordsmanship with as skilled a master as Ireland had + known, and he had shown, in getting knowledge of the weapon, a natural + instinct and a capacity worthy of the highest purpose. He had handled the + sword since he was six, and his play was better than that of most men; but + this was, in fact, his first real duel. In the troubled state of Ireland, + with internal discord, challenge, and attack, he had more than once + fought, and with success; but that was in the rough-and-tumble of life’s + chances, as it were, with no deliberate plan to fight according to the + rules. Many times, of course, in the process of his training, he had + fought as men fight in duels, but with this difference—that now he + was permitted to disable or kill his foe. + </p> + <p> + It was clear that one or the other would not leave this ground—this + verdant, beautiful piece of mother earth—exactly as he entered it. + He would leave it wounded, incapable, or dead. Indeed, both might leave it + wounded, and the chances of success were with the older man, Mallow, whose + experience would give him an advantage. + </p> + <p> + Physically, there was not a vast deal to choose between the two men. + Mallow was lank and tall, nervously self-contained, finely concentrated, + and vigorous. Dyck was broad of shoulder, well set up, muscular, and with + a steadier eye than that of his foe. Also, as the combat developed, it was + clear that he had a hand as steady as his eye. What was more, his wrist + had superb strength and flexibility; it was as enduring and vital as the + forefoot and ankle of a tiger. As a pair they were certainly notable, and + would give a good account of themselves. + </p> + <p> + No one of temperament who observed the scene could ever forget it. The + light was perfect—evenly distributed, clear enough to permit + accuracy of distance in a stroke. The air was still, gently bracing, and, + like most Irish air, adorably sweet. + </p> + <p> + The spot chosen for the fight was a sort of avenue between great trees, + whose broad leaves warded off the direct sun, and whose shade had as yet + no black shadows. The turf was as elastic to the foot as a firm mattress. + In the trees, birds were singing with liveliness; in the distance, horned + cattle browsed, and a pair of horses stood gazing at the combatants, + startled, no doubt, by this invasion of their pasturage. From the distance + came the faint, mellow booming of church-bells. + </p> + <p> + The two men fighting had almost the air of gladiators. Their coats were + off, and the white linen of their shirts looked gracious; while the + upraised left hand of the fighters balancing the sword-thrust and the + weight of the body had an almost singular beauty. Of the two, Dyck was the + more graceful, the steadier, the quicker in his motions. + </p> + <p> + Vigilant Dyck was, but not reckless. He had made the first attack, on the + ground that the aggressor gains by boldness, if that boldness is joined to + skill; and Dyck’s skill was of the best. His heart was warm. His momentary + vision of Sheila Llyn remained with him—not as a vision, rather as a + warmth in his inmost being, something which made him intensely alert, + cheerful, defiant, exactly skilful. + </p> + <p> + He had need of all his skill, for Mallow was set to win the fight. He felt + instinctively what was working in Dyck’s mind. He had fought a number of + duels, and with a certain trick or art he had given the end to the lives + of several. He became conscious, however, that Dyck had a particular + stroke in mind, which he himself was preventing by masterful methods. It + might be one thing or another, but in view of Dyck’s training it would + perhaps be the Enniscorthy touch. + </p> + <p> + Again and again Dyck pressed his antagonist backward, seeking to muddle + his defence and to clear an opening for his own deadly stroke; but the + other man also was a master, and parried successfully. + </p> + <p> + Presently, with a quick move, Mallow took the offensive, and tried to + unsettle Dyck’s poise and disorganize his battle-plan. For an instant the + tempestuous action, the brilliant, swift play of the sword, the quivering + flippancy of the steel, gave Dyck that which almost disconcerted him. Yet + he had a grip of himself, and preserved his defence intact; though once + his enemy’s steel caught his left shoulder, making it bleed. The seconds, + however, decided that the thrust was not serious, and made no attempt to + interrupt the combat. + </p> + <p> + Dyck kept singularly cool. As Mallow’s face grew flushed, his own grew + paler, but it was the paleness of intensity and not of fear. Each man’s + remarkable skill in defence was a good guarantee against disaster due to + carelessness. Seldom have men fought so long and accomplished so little in + the way of blood-letting. At length, however, Dyck’s tactics changed. Once + again he became aggressive, and he drove his foe to a point where the + skill of both men was tried to the uttermost. It was clear the time had + come for something definite. Suddenly Dyck threw himself back with an + agile step, lunged slightly to one side, and then in a gallant foray got + the steel point into the sword-arm of his enemy. That was the Enniscorthy + stroke, which had been taught him by William Tandy, the expert swordsman, + and had been made famous by Lord Welling, of Enniscorthy. It succeeded, + and it gave Dyck the victory, for Mallow’s sword dropped from his hand. + </p> + <p> + A fatigued smile came to Mallow’s lips. He clasped the wounded arm with + his left hand as the surgeon came forward. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you got it home,” he said to Dyck; “and it’s deftly done.” + </p> + <p> + “I did my best,” answered Dyck. “Give me your hand, if you will.” + </p> + <p> + With a wry look Mallow, now seated on the old stump of a tree, held out + his left hand. It was covered with blood. + </p> + <p> + “I think we’ll have to forego that courtesy, Calhoun,” he said. “Look at + the state of my hand! It’s good blood,” he added grimly. “It’s damned good + blood, but—but it won’t do, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad it was no worse,” said Dyck, not touching the bloody hand. “It’s + a clean thrust, and you’ll be better from it soon. These great men”—he + smiled towards the surgeons—“will soon put you right. I got my + chance with the stroke, and took it, because I knew if I didn’t you’d have + me presently.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll have a great reputation in Dublin town now, and you’ll deserve + it,” Mallow added adroitly, the great paleness of his features, however, + made ghastly by the hatred in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Dyck did not see this look, but he felt a note of malice—a distant + note—in Mallow’s voice. He saw that what Mallow had said was fresh + evidence of the man’s arrogant character. It did not offend him, however, + for he was victor, and could enter the Breakneck Club or Dublin society + with a tranquil eye. + </p> + <p> + Again Mallow’s voice was heard. + </p> + <p> + “I’d have seen you damned to hell, Calhoun, before I’d have apologized at + the Breakneck Club; but after a fight with one of the best swordsmen in + Ireland I’ve learned a lot, and I’ll apologize now—completely.” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon had bound up the slight wound in Dyck’s shoulder, had stopped + the bleeding, and was now helping him on with his coat. The operation had + not been without pain, but this demonstration from his foe was too much + for him. It drove the look of pain from his face; it brought a smile to + his lips. He came a step nearer. + </p> + <p> + “I’m as obliged to you as if you’d paid for my board and lodging, Mallow,” + he said; “and that’s saying a good deal in these days. I’ll never have a + bigger fight. You’re a greater swordsman than your reputation. I must have + provoked you beyond reason,” he went on gallantly. “I think we’d better + forget the whole thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m a Loyalist,” Mallow replied. “I’m a Loyalist, and if you’re one, too, + what reason should there be for our not being friends?” + </p> + <p> + A black cloud flooded Calhoun’s face. + </p> + <p> + “If—if I’m a Loyalist, you say! Have you any doubt of it? If you + have—” + </p> + <p> + “You wish your sword had gone into my heart instead of my arm, eh?” + interrupted Mallow. “How easily I am misunderstood! I meant nothing by + that ‘if.’” He smiled, and the smile had a touch of wickedness. “I meant + nothing by it-nothing at all. As we are both Loyalists, we must be + friends. Good-bye, Calhoun!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck’s face cleared very slowly. Mallow was maddening, but the look of the + face was not that of a foe. “Well, let us be friends,” Dyck answered with + a cordial smile. “Good-bye,” he added. “I’m damned sorry we had to fight + at all. Good-bye!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE KILLING OF ERRIS BOYNE + </h2> + <p> + “There’s many a government has made a mess of things in Ireland,” said + Erris Boyne; “but since the day of Cromwell the Accursed this is the + worst. Is there a man in Ireland that believes in it, or trusts it? There + are men that support it, that are served by it, that fill their pockets + out of it; but by Joseph and by Mary, there’s none thinks there couldn’t + be a better! Have a little more marsala, Calhoun?” + </p> + <p> + With these words, Boyne filled up the long glass out of which Dyck Calhoun + had been drinking—drinking too much. Shortly before Dyck had lost + all his cash at the card-table. He had turned from it penniless and + discomfited to see Boyne, smiling, and gay with wine, in front of him. + </p> + <p> + Boyne took him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said he. “There’s no luck for you at the tables to-day. + Let’s go where we can forget the world, where we can lift the banner of + freedom and beat the drums of purpose. Come along, lad!” + </p> + <p> + Boyne had ceased to have his earlier allurement for Dyck Calhoun, but his + smile was friendly, his manner was hospitable, and he was on the spot. The + time was critical for Dyck—critical and dangerous. He had lost money + heavily; he had even exhausted his mother’s legacy. + </p> + <p> + Of late he had seen little of his father, and the little he had seen was + not fortunate. They had quarrelled over Dyck’s wayward doings. Miles + Calhoun had said some hard things to him, and Dyck had replied that he + would cut out his own course, trim his own path, walk his own way. He had + angered his father terribly, and Miles, in a burst of temper, had + disclosed the fact that his own property was in peril. They had been, + estranged ever since; but the time had come when Dyck must at least secure + the credit of his father’s name at his bank to find the means of living. + </p> + <p> + It was with this staring him in the face that Erris Boyne’s company seemed + to offer at least a recovery of his good spirits. Dissipated as Boyne’s + look was, he had a natural handsomeness which, with good care of himself + personally, well-appointed clothes, a cheerful manner, and witty talk, + made him palatable to careless-living Dublin. + </p> + <p> + This Dublin knew little of Boyne’s present domestic life. It did not know + that he had injured his second wife as badly as he had wronged his first—with + this difference, however, that his first wife was a lady, while his second + wife, Noreen, was a beautiful, quick-tempered, lovable eighteen-year-old + girl, a graduate of the kitchen and dairy, when he took her to himself. He + had married her in a mad moment after his first wife—Mrs. Llyn, as + she was now called—had divorced him; and after the first thrill of + married life was over, nothing remained with Boyne except regret that he + had sold his freedom for what he might, perhaps, have had without + marriage. + </p> + <p> + Then began a process of domestic torture which alienated Noreen from him, + and roused in her the worst passions of human nature. She came to know of + his infidelities, and they maddened her. They had no children, and in the + end he had threatened her with desertion. When she had retorted in strong + words, he slapped her face, and left her with an ugly smile. + </p> + <p> + The house where they lived was outside Dublin, in a secluded spot, yet not + far from stores and shops. There was this to be said for Noreen—that + she kept her home spotlessly clean, even with two indifferent servants. + She had a gift for housewifery, which, at its best, was as good as + anything in the world, and far better than could be found in most parts of + Ireland. + </p> + <p> + Of visitors they had few, if any, and the young wife was left alone to + brood upon her wrongs. Erris Boyne had slapped her face on the morning of + the day when he met Dyck Calhoun in the hour of his bad luck. He did not + see the look in her face as he left the house. + </p> + <p> + Ruthless as he was, he realized the time had come when by bold effort he + might get young Calhoun wholly into his power. He began by getting Dyck + into the street. Then he took him by an indirect route to what was, + reputedly, a tavern of consequence. There choice spirits met on occasion, + and dark souls, like Boyne, planned adventures. Outwardly it was a tavern + of the old class, superficially sedate, and called the Harp and Crown. + None save a very few conspirators knew how great a part it played in the + plan to break the government of Ireland and to ruin England’s position in + the land. + </p> + <p> + The entrance was by two doors—one the ordinary public entrance, the + other at the side of the house, which was on a corner. This could be + opened by a skeleton key owned by Erris Boyne. + </p> + <p> + He and Dyck entered, however, by the general entrance, because Boyne had + forgotten his key. They passed through the bar-parlour, nodding to one or + two habitues, and presently were bestowed in a room, not large, but well + furnished. It was quiet and alluring on this day when the world seemed + disconcerting. So pleasantly did the place affect Dyck’s spirits that, as + he sat down in the room which had often housed worse men than himself, he + gave a sigh of relief. + </p> + <p> + They played cards, and Dyck won. He won five times what he had lost at the + club. This made him companionable. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a poor business-cards,” he said at last. “It puts one up in the + clouds and down in the ditch all at the same time. I tell you this, Boyne—I’m + going to stop. No man ought to play cards who hasn’t a fortune; and my + fortune, I’m sorry to say, is only my face!” He laughed bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “And your sword—you’ve forgotten that, Calhoun. You’ve a lot of luck + in your sword.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve made no money out of it so far,” Dyck retorted cynically. + </p> + <p> + “Yet you’ve put men with reputations out of the running, men like Mallow.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was a bit of luck and a few tricks I’ve learned. I can’t start a + banking-account on that.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can put yourself in the way of winning what can’t be bought.” + </p> + <p> + “No—no English army for me, thank you—if that’s what you + mean.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t what I mean. In the English army a man’s a slave. He can neither + eat, nor drink, nor sleep without being under command. He has to do a lot + of dirty work without having voice in the policy. He’s a child of + discipline and order.” + </p> + <p> + “And a damned good thing that would be for most of us!” retorted Dyck. + “But I’m not one of the most.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that. Try a little more of this marsala, Calhoun. It’s the best in + the place, and it’s got a lot of good stuff. I’ve been coming to the Harp + and Crown for many years, and I’ve never had a bad drink all that time. + The old landlord is a genius. He doesn’t put on airs. He’s a good man, is + old Swinton, and there’s nothing good in the drink of France that you + can’t get here.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if that’s true, how does it happen?” asked Dyck, with a little + flash of interest. “Why should this little twopenny, one-horse place—I + mean in size and furnishments—have such luck as to get the best + there is in France? It means a lot of trouble, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It means some trouble. But let me tell you”—he leaned over the + table and laid a hand on Dyck’s, which was a little nervous—“let me + speak as an old friend to you, if I may. Here are the facts. For many a + year, you know as well as I do, ships have been coming from France to + Ireland with the very best wines and liquors, and taking back the very + best wool—smuggled, of course. Well, our little landlord here is the + damnedest rogue of all. The customs never touch him. From the coast the + stuff comes up to Dublin without a check, and, as he’s a special + favourite, he gets the best to be had in la belle France.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is he such a favourite?” asked Dyck. + </p> + <p> + Erris Boyne laughed, not loudly, but suggestively. “When a lady kisses a + man on the lips, of her own free will, and puts her arm around his neck, + is it done, do you think, because it’s her duty to do it or die? No, it’s + because she likes the man; because the man is a good friend to her; + because it’s money in her pocket. That’s the case with old Swinton. France + kisses him, as it were, because”—he paused, as though debating what + to say—“because France knows he’d rather be under her own + revolutionary government than under the monarchy of England.” + </p> + <p> + His voice had resonance, and, as he said these words, it had insistence. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Calhoun, I think old Swinton is right. We suffer here + because monarchy, with its cruel hand of iron, mistrusts us, brutalizes + us.” + </p> + <p> + He did not see enlightenment come into the half-drunken eyes of Dyck. He + only realized that Dyck was very still, and strangely, deeply interested. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Calhoun, we need in Ireland something of the spirit that’s + alive in France to-day. They’ve cleaned out the kings—Louis’s and + Marie’s heads have dropped into the basket. They’re sweeping the dirt out + of France; they’re cleaning the dark places; they’re whitewashing + Versailles and sawdusting the Tuileries; they’re purging the aristocratic + guts of France; they’re starting for the world a reformation which will + make it clean. Not America alone, but England, and all Europe, will become + republics.” + </p> + <p> + “England?” asked Dyck in a low, penetrating voice. “Aye, England, through + Ireland. Ireland will come first, then Wales, Scotland, and England. Dear + lad, the great day is come—the greatest the world has ever known. + France, the spirit of it, is alive. It will purge and cleanse the + universe!” + </p> + <p> + The suspicious, alert look passed from Dyck’s eyes, but his face had + become flushed. He reached out and poured himself another glass of wine. + </p> + <p> + “What you say may be true, Boyne. It may be true, but I wouldn’t put faith + in it—not for one icy minute. I don’t want to see here in Ireland + the horrors and savagery of France. I don’t want to see the guillotine up + on St. Stephen’s Green.” + </p> + <p> + Boyne felt that he must march carefully. He was sure of his game; but + there were difficulties, and he must not throw his chances away. Dyck was + in a position where, with his inflammable nature, he could be captured. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll tell you, Calhoun. I don’t know which is worse—Ireland + bloody with shootings and hangings, Ulster up in the north and Cork in the + south, from the Giant’s Causeway to Tralee; no two sets of feet dancing + alike, with the bloody hand of England stretching out over the Irish + Parliament like death itself; or France ruling us. How does the English + government live here? Only by bribery and purchases. It buys its way. + Isn’t that true?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded. “Yes, it’s true in a way,” he replied. “It’s so, because + we’re what we are. We’ve never been properly put in our places. The heel + on our necks—that’s the way to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Boyne looked at the flushed, angry face. In spite of Dyck’s words, he felt + that his medicine was working well. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Calhoun,” he said softly. “You’ve got to do something. + You’re living an idle life. You’re in debt. You’ve ruined your independent + fortune at the tables. There are but two courses open to you. One is to + join the British forces—to be a lieutenant, a captain, a major, a + colonel, or a general, in time; to shoot and cut and hang and quarter, and + rule with a heavy rod. That’s one way.” + </p> + <p> + “So you think I’m fit for nothing but the sword, eh?” asked Dyck with + irony. “You think I’ve got no brains for anything except the army.” + </p> + <p> + Boyne laughed. “Have another drink, Calhoun.” He poured out more wine. + “Oh, no, not the army alone; there’s the navy—and there’s the French + navy! It’s the best navy in the world, the freest and the greatest, and + with Bonaparte going at us, England will have enough to do—too much, + I’m thinking. So there’s a career in the French navy open. And listen—before + you and I are two months older, the French navy will be in the harbours of + Ireland, and the French army will land here.” He reached out and grasped + Dyck’s arm. “There’s no liberty of freedom under the Union Jack. What do + you think of the tricolour? It’s a great flag, and under it the world is + going to be ruled—England, Spain, Italy, Holland, Prussia, Austria, + and Russia—all of them. The time is ripe. You’ve got your chance. + Take it on, dear lad, take it on.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck did not raise his head. He was leaning forward with both arms on the + table, supporting himself firmly; his head was bowed as though with deep + interest in what Boyne said. And, indeed, his interest was great—so + great that all his manhood, vigour, all his citizenship, were vitally + alive. Yet he did not lift his head. + </p> + <p> + “What’s that you say about French ships in the harbours of Ireland?” he + said in a tone that showed interest. “Of course, I know there’s been a lot + of talk of a French raid on Ireland, but I didn’t know it was to be so + soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s near enough! It’s all been arranged,” replied Boyne. “There’ll + be ships-war-ships, commanded by Hoche. They’ll have orders to land on the + coast, to join the Irish patriots, to take control of the operations, and + then to march on—” + </p> + <p> + He was going to say “march on Dublin,” but he stopped. He was playing a + daring game. If he had not been sure of his man, he would not have been so + frank and fearless. + </p> + <p> + He did not, however, mislead Dyck greatly. Dyck had been drinking a good + deal, but this knowledge of a French invasion, and a sense of what Boyne + was trying to do, steadied his shaken emotions; held him firmly in the + grip of practical common sense. He laughed, hiccuped a little, as though + he was very drunk, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Of course the French would like to come to Ireland; they’d like to seize + it and hold it. Why, of course they would! Don’t we know all that’s been + and gone? Aren’t Irishmen in France grown rich in industry there after + having lost every penny of their property here? Aren’t there Irishmen + there, always conniving to put England at defiance here by breaking her + laws, cheating her officers, seducing her patriots? Of course; but what + astounds me is that a man of your standing should believe the French are + coming here now to Ireland. No, no, Boyne; I’m not taking your word for + any of these things. You’re a gossip; you’re a damned, pertinacious, + preposterous gossip, and I’ll say it as often as you like.” + </p> + <p> + “So it’s proof you want, is it? Well, then, here it is.” + </p> + <p> + Boyne drew from his pocket a small leather-bound case and took from it a + letter, which he laid on the table in front of Dyck. + </p> + <p> + Dyck looked at the document, then said: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that’s what you are, eh?—a captain in the French artillery! + Well, that’d be a surprise in Ireland if it were told.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t going to be told unless you tell it, Calhoun, and you’re too + much of a sportsman for that. Besides: + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t you have one of these if you want it—if you want it!” + </p> + <p> + “What’d be the good of my wanting it? I could get a commission here in the + army of George III, if I wanted it, but I don’t want it; and any man that + offers it to me, I’ll hand it back with thanks and be damned to you!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, then, Calhoun,” remarked Boyne, reaching out a hand to lay + it on Dyck’s arm. + </p> + <p> + Dyck saw the motion, however, and carefully drew back in his chair. “I’m + not an adventurer,” he said; “but if I were, what would there be in it for + me?” + </p> + <p> + Boyne misunderstood the look on Dyck’s face. He did not grasp the meaning + behind the words, and he said to him: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a good salary—as good as that of a general, with a commission + and the spoils of war! That’s the thing in the French army that counts for + so much—spoils of war. When they’re out on a country like this, they + let their officers loose—their officers and men. Did you ever hear + tell of a French army being pinched for fodder, or going thirsty for + drink, or losing its head for poverty or indigence?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I never did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, take the advice of an officer of the French army resident now + in Dublin,” continued Boyne, laughing, “who has the honour of being + received as the friend of Mr. Dyck Calhoun of Playmore! Take your hand in + the game that’s going on! For a man as young as you, with brains and + ambition, there’s no height he mightn’t reach in this country. Think of it—Ireland + free from English control; Ireland, with all her dreams, living her own + life, fearless, independent, as it was in days of yore. Why, what’s to + prevent you, Dyck Calhoun, from being president of the Irish Republic? You + have brains, looks, skill, and a wonderful tongue. None but a young man + could take on the job, for it will require boldness, skill, and the + recklessness of perfect courage. Isn’t it good enough for you?” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the way to do it?” asked Dyck, still holding on to his old self + grimly. “How is it to be done?” He spoke a little thickly, for, in spite + of himself, the wine was clogging his senses. It had been artistically + drugged by Boyne. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Calhoun,” continued Boyne. “I’ve known you now some time. + We’ve come in and gone out together. This day was inevitable. You were + bound to come to it one way or another. Man, you have a heart of iron; you + have the courage of Caesar or Alexander; you have the chance of doing what + no Englishman could ever do—Cromwell, or any other. Well, then, + don’t you see the fateful moment has come in Irish life and history? + Strife everywhere! Alone, what can we do? Alone, if we try to shake off + the yoke that binds us we shall be shattered, and our last end be worse + than our first. But with French ships, French officers and soldiers, + French guns and ammunition, with the trained men of the French army to + take control here, what amelioration of our weakness, what confidence and + skill on our side! Can you doubt what the end will be? Answer me, man, + don’t you see it all? Isn’t it clear to you? Doesn’t such a cause enlist + you?” + </p> + <p> + With a sudden burst of primitive anger, Dyck got to his feet, staggering a + little, but grasping the fatal meaning of the whole thing. He looked Erris + Boyne in the eyes. His own were bloodshot and dissipated, but there was a + look in them of which Boyne might well take heed. + </p> + <p> + Boyne had not counted on Dyck’s refusal; or, if it had occurred to him, + the remedy, an ancient one, was ready to his fingers. The wine was + drugged. He had watched the decline of Dyck’s fortunes with an eye of + appreciation; he had seen the clouds of poverty and anxiety closing in. He + had known of old Miles Calhoun’s financial difficulties. He had observed + Dyck’s wayside loitering with revolutionists, and he had taken it with too + much seriousness. He knew the condition of Dyck’s purse. + </p> + <p> + He was not prepared for Dyck’s indignant outburst. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you this, Erris Boyne, there’s none has ever tried me as you have + done! What do you think I am—a thing of the dirty street-corner, + something to be swept up and cast into the furnace of treason? Look you, + after to-day you and I will never break bread or drink wine together. No—by + Heaven, no! I don’t know whether you’ve told me the truth or not, but I + think you have. There’s this to say—I shall go from this place to + Dublin Castle, and shall tell them there—without mentioning your + name—what you’ve told about the French raid. Now, by God, you’re a + traitor! You oughtn’t to live, and if you’ll send your seconds to me I’ll + try and do with you as I did with Leonard Mallow. Only mark me, Erris + Boyne, I’ll put my sword into your heart. You understand—into your + filthy heart!” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the door of the room opened, and a face looked in for an + instant-the face of old Swinton, the landlord of the Harp and Crown. + Suddenly Boyne’s look changed. He burst into a laugh, and brought his + fists down on the table between them with a bang. + </p> + <p> + “By Joseph and by Mary, but you’re a patriot, Calhoun! I was trying to + test you. I was searching to find the innermost soul of you. The French + fleet, my commission in the French army, and my story about the landlord + are all bosh. If I meant what I told you, do you think I’d have been so + mad as to tell you so much, damn it? Have you no sense, man? I wanted to + find out exactly how you stood-faithful or unfaithful to the crown—and + I’ve found out. Sit down, sit down, Calhoun, dear lad. Take your hand off + your sword. Remember, these are terrible days. Everything I said about + Ireland is true. What I said about France is false. Sit down, man, and if + you’re going to join the king’s army—as I hope and trust you will—then + here’s something to help you face the time between.” He threw on the table + a packet of notes. “They’re good and healthy, and will buy you what you + need. There’s not much. There’s only a hundred pounds, but I give it to + you with all my heart, and you can pay it back when the king’s money comes + to you, or when you marry a rich woman.” + </p> + <p> + He said it all with a smile on his face. It was done so cleverly, with so + much simulated sincerity, that Dyck, in his state of semi-drunkenness, + could not, at the instant, place him in his true light. Besides, there was + something handsome and virile in Boyne’s face—and untrue; but the + untruth Dyck did not at the moment see. + </p> + <p> + Never in his life had Boyne performed such prodigies of dissimulation. He + was suddenly like a schoolboy disclosing the deeds of some adventurous + knight. He realized to the full the dangers he had run in disclosing the + truth; for it was the truth that he had told. + </p> + <p> + So serious was the situation, to his mind, that one thing seemed + inevitable. Dyck must be kidnapped at once and carried out of Ireland. It + would be simple. A little more drugged wine, and he would be asleep and + powerless—it had already tugged at him. With the help of his + confreres in the tavern, Dyck could be carried out, put on a lugger, and + sent away to France. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing else to do. Boyne had said truly that the French fleet + meant to come soon. Dyck must not be able to give the thing away before it + happened. The chief thing now was to prime him with the drugged wine till + he lost consciousness, and then carry him away to the land of the + guillotine. Dyck’s tempestuous nature, the poetry and imagination of him, + would quickly respond to French culture, to the new orders of the new day + in France. Meanwhile, he must be soaked in drugged drink. + </p> + <p> + Already the wine had played havoc with him; already stupefaction was + coming over his senses. With a good-natured, ribald laugh, Boyne poured + out another glass of marsala and pushed it gently over to Dyck’s fingers. + </p> + <p> + “My gin to your marsala,” he said, and he raised his own glass of gin, + looking playfully over the top to Dyck. + </p> + <p> + With a sudden loosening of all the fibres of his nature, Dyck raised the + glass of marsala to his lips and drained it off almost at a gulp. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a prodigious liar, Boyne,” he said. “I didn’t think any one could + lie so completely.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll teach you how, Calhoun. It’s not hard. I’ll teach you how.” + </p> + <p> + He passed a long cigar over the table to Dyck, who, however, did not light + it, but held it in his fingers. Boyne struck a light and held it out + across the small table. Dyck leaned forward, but, as he did so, the wine + took possession of his senses. His head fell forward in sleep, and the + cigar dropped from his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well—ah, well, we must do some business now!” remarked Boyne. + He leaned over Dyck for a moment. “Yes, sound asleep,” he said, and + laughed scornfully to himself. “Well, when it’s dark we must get him away. + He’ll sleep for four or five hours, and by that time he’ll be out on the + way to France, and the rest is easy.” + </p> + <p> + He was about to go to the door that led into the business part of the + house, when the door leading into the street opened softly, and a woman + stepped inside. She had used the key which Boyne had forgotten at his + house. + </p> + <p> + At first he did not hear her. Then, when he did turn round, it was too + late. The knife she carried under her skirt flashed out and into Boyne’s + heart. He collapsed on the floor without a sound, save only a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + Stooping over, Noreen drew the knife out with a little gurgling cry—a + smothered exclamation. Then she opened the door again—the side-door + leading into the street-closed it softly, and was gone. + </p> + <p> + Two hours afterwards the landlord opened the door. Erris Boyne lay in his + silence, stark and still. At the table, with his head sunk in his arms, + sat Dyck Calhoun, snoring stertorously, his drawn sword by his side. + </p> + <p> + With a cry the old man knelt on the floor beside the body of Erris Boyne. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. DYCK IN PRISON + </h2> + <p> + When Dyck Calhoun waked, he was in the hands of the king’s constables, + arrested for the murder of Erris Boyne. It was hard to protest his + innocence, for the landlord was ready to swear concerning a quarrel he had + seen when he opened the door for a moment. Dyck, with sudden caution, only + said he would make all clear at the trial. + </p> + <p> + Dublin and Ireland were shocked and thrilled; England imagined she had + come upon one of the most violent episodes of Irish history. One journal + protested that it was not possible to believe in Dyck Calhoun’s guilt; + that his outward habits were known to all, and were above suspicion, + although he had collogued—though never secretly, so far as the world + knew—with some of the advanced revolutionary spirits. None of the + loyal papers seemed aware of Erris Boyne’s treachery; and while none spoke + of him with approval, all condemned his ugly death. + </p> + <p> + Driven through the streets of Dublin in a jaunting-car between two of the + king’s police, Dyck was a mark for abuse by tongue, but was here and there + cheered by partizans of the ultra-loyal group to which his father adhered. + The effect of his potations was still upon him, and his mind was bemused. + He remembered the quarrel, Boyne’s explanation, and the subsequent + drinking, but he could recall nothing further. He was sure the wine had + been drugged, but he realized that Swinton, the landlord, would have made + away with any signs of foul play, as he was himself an agent of active + disloyalty and a friend of Erris Boyne. Dyck could not believe he had + killed Boyne; yet Boyne had been found with a wound in his heart, and his + own naked sword lying beside him on the table. The trouble was he could + not absolutely swear innocence of the crime. + </p> + <p> + The situation was not eased by his stay in jail. It began with a + revelation terribly repugnant to him. He had not long been lodged in the + cell when there came a visit from Michael Clones, who stretched out his + hands in an agony of humiliation. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you didn’t do it—you didn’t do it, sir!” he cried. “I’m sure + you never killed him. It wasn’t your way. He was for doing you harm if he + could. An evil man he was, as all the world knows. But there’s one thing + that’ll be worse than anything else to you. You never knew it, and I never + knew it till an hour ago. Did you know who Erris Boyne was? Well, I’ll + tell you. He was the father of Miss Sheila Llyn. He was divorced by Mrs. + Llyn many years ago, for having to do with other women. She took to her + maiden name, and he married again. + </p> + <p> + “Good God! Good God!” Dyck Calhoun made a gesture of horror. “He Sheila + Llyn’s father! Good God!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a passion of remorse roused him out of his semi-stupefaction. + </p> + <p> + “Michael, Michael!” he said, his voice hoarse, broken. “Don’t say such a + thing! Are you sure?” Michael nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure. I got it from one that’s known Erris Boyne and his first wife + and girl—one that was a servant to them both in past days. He’s been + down to Limerick to see Mrs. Llyn and the beautiful daughter. I met him an + hour ago, and he told me. He told me more. He told me Mrs. Llyn spoke to + him of your friendship with Erris Boyne, and how she meant to tell you who + and what he was. She said her daughter didn’t even know her father’s name. + She had been kept in ignorance.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck seated himself on the rough bed of the cell, and stared at Michael, + his hands between his knees, his eyes perturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” he said at last, “if it’s true—what you’ve told me—I + don’t see my way. Every step in front of me is black. To tell the whole + truth is to bring fresh shame upon Mrs. Llyn and her daughter, and not to + tell the whole truth is to take away my one chance of getting out of this + trouble. I see that!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you mean, sir, but I’ll tell you this—none that + knows you would believe you’d murder Erris Boyne or anny other man.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck wiped the sweat from his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you speak the truth, Michael, but it isn’t people who’ve known + me that’ll try me; and I can’t tell all.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, if it’ll help you?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t—of course I can’t. It would be disgrace eternal.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Tell me why, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck looked closely, firmly, at the old servant and friend. Should he tell + the truth—that Boyne had tried to induce him to sell himself to the + French, to invoke his aid against the English government, to share in + treason? If he could have told it to anybody, he would have done so to + Michael; but if it was true that in his drunken blindness he had killed + Boyne, he would not seek to escape by proving Boyne a traitor. + </p> + <p> + He believed Boyne was a servant of the French; but unless the facts came + out in the trial, they should not have sure origin in himself. He would + not add to his crime in killing the father of the only girl who had ever + touched his heart, the shame of proving that father to be one who should + have been shot as a traitor. + </p> + <p> + He had courage and daring, but not sufficient to carry him through that + dark chapter. He would not try to save himself by turning public opinion + against Erris Boyne. The man had been killed by some one, perhaps—and + the thing ached in his heart—by himself; but that was no reason why + the man’s death should not be full punishment for all the wrong he had + done. + </p> + <p> + Dyck had a foolish strain in him, after all. Romance was his deadly foe; + it made him do a stupid, if chivalrous, thing. Meanwhile he would warn the + government at once about the projected French naval raid. + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” said Dyck, rising again, “see my father, but you’re not to say + I didn’t kill Boyne, for, to tell the truth, I don’t know. My head”—he + put his hand to it with a gesture of despair—“my head’s a mass of + contradictions. It seems a thousand years since I entered that tavern! I + can’t get myself level with all that’s happened. That Erris Boyne should + be the father of the sweet girl at Limerick shakes me. Don’t you see what + it means? If I killed him, it spoils everything—everything. If I + didn’t kill him, I can only help myself by blackening still more the life + of one who gave being to—” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, to a young queen!” interrupted Michael. + </p> + <p> + “God knows, there’s none like her in Ireland, or in any other country at + all!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Dyck regained his composure; and it was the composure of one who + had opened the door of hell and had realized that in time—perhaps + not far off—he also would dwell in the infernal place. + </p> + <p> + “Michael, I have no money, but I’m my father’s heir. My father will not + see me starve in prison, nor want for defence, though my attitude shall be + ‘no defence.’ So bring me decent food and some clothes, and send to me + here Will McCormick, the lawyer. He’s as able a man as there is in Dublin. + Listen, Michael, you’re not to speak of Mrs. Llyn and Miss Llyn as related + to Erris Boyne. What will come of what you and I know and don’t know, + Heaven only has knowledge; but I’ll see it through. I’ve spoiled as good + chances as ever a young man had that wants to make his way; but drink and + cards, Michael, and the flare of this damned life at the centre—it + got hold of me. It muddled, drowned the best that was in me. It’s the + witch’s kitchen, is Dublin. Ireland’s the only place in the world where + they make saints of criminals and pray to them; where they lose track of + time and think they’re in eternity; where emotion is saturnine logic and + death is the touchstone of life. Michael, I don’t see any way to safety. + Those fellows down at the tavern were friends of Erris Boyne. They’re + against me. They’ll hang me if they can!” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe they can do it, master. Dublin and Ireland think more of + you than they did of Erris Boyne. There’s nothing behind you except the + wildness of youth—nothing at all. If anny one had said to me at + Playmore that you’d do the things you’ve done with drink and cards since + you come to Dublin, I’d have swore they were liars. Yet when all’s said + and done, I’d give my last drop of blood as guarantee you didn’t kill + Erris Boyne!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck smiled. “You’ve a lot of faith in me, Michael—but I’ll tell you + this—I never was so thirsty in my life. My mouth’s like a red-hot + iron. Send me some water. Give the warder sixpence, if you’ve got it, and + send me some water. Then go to Will McCormick, and after that to my + father.” + </p> + <p> + Michael shook his head dolefully. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. McCormick’s aisy—oh, aisy enough,” he said. “He’ll lep up at + the idea of defendin’ you, but I’m not takin’ pleasure in goin’ to Miles + Calhoun, for he’s a hard man these days. Aw, Mr. Dyck, he’s had a lot of + trouble. Things has been goin’ wrong with Playmore. ‘Pon honour, I don’t + know whether anny of it’ll last as long as Miles Calhoun lasts. There’ll + be little left for you, Mr. Dyck. That’s what troubles me. I tell you it’d + break my heart if that place should be lost to your father and you. I was + born on it. I’d give the best years of the life that’s left me to make + sure the old house could stay in the hands of the Calhouns. I say to you + that while I live all I am is yours, fair and foul, good and bad.” He + touched his breast with his right hand. “In here is the soul of Ireland + that leps up for the things that matter. There’s a song—but never + mind about a song; this is no place for songs. It’s a prison-house, and + you’re a prisoner charged—” + </p> + <p> + “Not charged yet, not charged,” interrupted Dyck; “but suspected of and + arrested for a crime. I’ll fight—before God, I’ll fight to the last! + Good-bye, Michael; bring me food and clothes, and send me cold water at + once.” + </p> + <p> + When the door closed softly behind Michael Clones, Dyck sat down on the + bed where many a criminal patriot had lain. He looked round the small + room, bare, unfurnished, severe-terribly severe; he looked at the blank + walls and the barred window, high up; he looked at the floor—it was + discoloured and damp. He reached out and touched it with his hand. He + looked at the solitary chair, the basin and pail, and he shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “How awful—how awful!” he murmured. “But if it was her father, and + if I killed him”—his head sank low—“if I killed her father!” + </p> + <p> + “Water, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up. It was the guard with a tin of water and a dipper. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER + </h2> + <h3> + “I don’t believe he’s guilty, mother.” + </h3> + <p> + The girl’s fine eyes shone with feeling—with protest, indignation, + anguish. As she spoke, she thrust her head forward with the vigour of a + passionate counsel. Sheila Llyn was a champion who would fight to the last + gasp for any cause she loved. + </p> + <p> + A few moments before, she had found her mother, horror-stricken, gazing at + a newspaper paragraph sent from Dublin. + </p> + <p> + Sheila at once thought this to be the cause of her mother’s agitation, and + she reached out a hand for it. Her mother hesitated, then handed the + clipping to her. Fortunately it contained no statement save the bare facts + connected with the killing of Erris Boyne, and no reference to the earlier + life of the dead man. It said no more than that Dyck Calhoun must take his + trial at the sessions. + </p> + <p> + It also stated that Dyck, though he pleaded “not guilty,” declared + frankly, through Will McCormick, the lawyer, that he had no memory of + aught that happened after he had drunk wine given him by Erris Boyne. He + said that he and Boyne had quarrelled, but had become reconciled again, + and that the drink was a pledge of their understanding. From the time he + had taken the drink until he waked in the hands of the king’s constables, + he had no memory; but he was sure he had not killed Boyne. The fact that + there was no blood on his sword was evidence. Nevertheless, he had been + committed for trial. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Llyn was sorely troubled. She knew of her daughter’s interest in Dyck + Calhoun, and of Dyck’s regard for Sheila. She had even looked forward to + marriage, and she wished for Sheila no better fate, because nearly all she + knew of Dyck was to his credit. She was unaware that his life in Dublin + had been dissipated. + </p> + <p> + If Dyck was guilty—though she could not believe it—there would + be an end of romance between him and Sheila, and their friendship must be + severed for ever. Her daughter did not know that Erris Boyne was her + father, and she must not know—in any case not yet; but if Dyck was + condemned, it was almost sure he would be hanged. + </p> + <p> + She wondered about Boyne’s widow, whose name did not appear in the + paragraph she had seen. She knew that Noreen was beautiful, but that he + had married far beneath him socially. She had imagined Erris Boyne living + in suburban quiet, not drawing his wife into his social scheme. + </p> + <p> + That is what had happened. The woman had lived apart from the daily + experiences of her husband’s life in Dublin; and it had deepened her + bitterness against him. When she had learned that Erris Boyne was no more + faithful to her than he had been to his previous wife, she had gone mad; + and Dyck Calhoun was paying the price of her madness. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Llyn did not know this. She was a woman of distinguished bearing, + though small, with a wan, sad look in her eyes always, but with a cheerful + smile. She was not poor, but well-to-do, and it was not necessary to deny + herself or her daughter ordinary comforts, and even many of the luxuries + of life. + </p> + <p> + Her hair was darker than her daughter’s, black and wavy, with here and + there streaks of grey. These, however, only added dignity to a head + beautifully balanced, finely moulded, and, in the language of the day, + most genteelly hung. She was slender, buoyant in movement yet composed, + and her voice was like her daughter’s, clear, gentle, thrilling. + </p> + <p> + Her mind and heart were given up to Sheila and Sheila’s future. That was + why a knowledge of the tragedy that had come to Dyck Calhoun troubled her + as she had not been troubled since the day she first learned of Erris + Boyne’s infidelity to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go to Dublin, mother,” said Sheila with a determined air, after + reading the clipping. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + The woman’s eyes, with their long lashes, looked searchingly into her + daughter’s face. She felt, as the years went on, that Sheila had gifts + granted to few. She realized that the girl had resources which would make + her a governing influence in whatever sphere of life she should be set. + Quietly, Sheila was taking control of their movements, and indeed of her + own daily life. The girl had a dominating skill which came in part from + herself, and also to a degree from her father; but her disposition was not + her father’s-it was her mother’s. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Llyn had never known Sheila to lie or twist the truth in all her + days. No one was more obedient to wise argument; and her mother had a + feeling that now, perhaps, the time had come when they two must have a + struggle for mastery. There was every reason why they should not go to + Dublin. There Sheila might discover that Erris Boyne was her father, and + might learn the story of her mother’s life. + </p> + <p> + Sheila had been told by her mother that her father had passed away abroad + when she was a little child. She had never seen her father’s picture, and + her mother had given her the impression that their last days together had + not been happy. She had always felt that it was better not to inquire too + closely into her father’s life. + </p> + <p> + The years had gone on and then had come the happy visit to Loyland Towers, + where she had met Dyck Calhoun. Her life at that moment had been free from + troublesome emotions; but since the time she had met Dyck at the top of + the hill, a new set of feelings worked in her. + </p> + <p> + She was as bonny a lass as ever the old world produced—lithe, with a + body like that of a boy, strong and pleasant of face, with a haunting + beauty in the eyes, a majesty of the neck and chin, and a carriage which + had made Michael Clones call her a queen. + </p> + <p> + She saw Dyck only as, a happy, wild son of the hilltop. To her he was a + man of mettle and worth, and irresponsible because he had been given no + responsibility. He was a country gentleman of Ireland, with all the + interest and peril of the life of a country gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we ought to go to Dublin, mother. We could help him, perhaps,” + Sheila insisted. + </p> + <p> + The mother shook her head mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “My child, we could do him no good at all—none whatever. Besides, I + can’t afford to visit Dublin now. It’s an expensive journey, and the + repairs we’ve been doing here have run me close.” + </p> + <p> + A look of indignation, almost of scorn, came into the girl’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if I were being tried for my life, as Dyck Calhoun is going to be, + and if I knew that friends of mine were standing off because of a few + pounds, shillings, and pence, I think I’d be a real murderer!” + </p> + <p> + The mother took her daughter’s hand. She found it cold. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, clasping it gently, “you never saw him but three + times, and I’ve never seen him but twice except in the distance; but I + would do anything in my power to help him, if I could, for I like him. The + thing for us to do—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know—sit here, twist our thumbs, and do nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “What more could we do if we went to Dublin, except listen to gossip, read + the papers and be jarred every moment? My dear, our best place is here. If + the spending of money could be of any use to him, I’d spend it—indeed + I would; but since it can’t be of any use, we must stay in our own home. + Of one thing I’m sure—if Dyck Calhoun killed Erris Boyne, Boyne + deserved it. Of one thing I’m certain beyond all else—it was no + murder. Mr. Calhoun wasn’t a man to murder any one. I don’t believe”—her + voice became passionate—“he murdered, and I don’t believe he will be + hanged.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at her mother with surprise. “Oh, dearest, dearest!” she + said. “I believe you do care for him. Is it because he has no mother, and + you have no son.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be so, beloved.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila swept her arms around her mother’s neck and drew the fine head to + her breast. + </p> + <p> + At that moment they heard the clatter of hoofs, and presently they saw a + horse and rider pass the window. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a government messenger, mother,” Sheila said. + </p> + <p> + As Sheila said, it was a government messenger, bearing a packet to Mrs. + Llyn—a letter from her brother in America, whom she had not seen for + many years. + </p> + <p> + The brother, Bryan Llyn, had gone out there as a young man before the + Revolutionary War. He had prospered, taking sides against England in the + war, and become a man of importance in the schemes of the new republican + government. Only occasionally had letters come from him to his sister, and + for nearly eleven years she had not had a single word from him. + </p> + <p> + When she opened the packet now, she felt it would help to solve—she + knew not how—the trouble between herself and her daughter. The + letter had been sent to a firm in Dublin with which Bryan Llyn had done + business, with instructions that it should be forwarded to his sister. It + had reached the hands of a government official, who was a brother of a + member of the firm, and he had used the government messenger, who was + going upon other business to Limerick, to forward it with a friendly + covering note, which ended with the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The recent tragedy you have no doubt seen in the papers must have + shocked you; but to those who know the inside the end was + inevitable, though there are many who do not think Calhoun is + guilty. I am one of them. Nevertheless, it will go hard with him, + as the evidence is strong against him. He comes from your part of + the country, and you will be concerned, of course. +</pre> + <p> + Sheila watched her mother reading, and saw that great emotion possessed + her, though the girl could not know the cause. Presently, however, Mrs. + Llyn, who had read the letter from her brother, made a joyful exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mother dear?” Sheila asked eagerly. “Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + The mother made a passionate gesture of astonishment and joy; then she + leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, with the letter—which + was closely written, in old-fashioned punctiliousness—in her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, my dear!” she said. “How strange it all is! Your Uncle Bryan + is immensely rich. He has no children and no family; his health is + failing.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed able to get no further. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it, mother?” asked Sheila again. + </p> + <p> + For an instant Mrs. Llyn hesitated; then she put the letter into Sheila’s + hands. + </p> + <p> + “Read it, my child,” she said. “It’s for you as much as for me—indeed, + more for you than for me.” Sheila took the letter. It ran as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + DEAREST SISTER: + + It is eleven years since I wrote to you, and yet, though it may seem + strange, there have not been eleven days in all that time in which I + have not wished you and Sheila were here. Sheila—why, she is a + young woman! She’s about the age you were when I left Ireland, and + you were one of the most beautiful and charming creatures God ever + gave life to. The last picture I have of you was a drawing made + soon after your marriage—sad, bad, unhappy incident. I have kept + it by me always. It warms my heart in winter; it cools my eyes in + summer. + + My estate is neither North nor South, but farther South than North. + In a sense it is always summer, but winter on my place would be like + summer in Norway—just bitingly fresh, happily alert. I’m writing + in the summer now. I look out of the window and see hundreds of + acres of cotton-fields, with hundreds upon hundreds of negroes at + work. I hear the songs they sing, faint echoes of them, even as I + write. Yes, my black folk do sing, because they are well treated. + + Not that we haven’t our troubles here. You can’t administer + thousands of acres, control hundreds of slaves, and run an estate + like a piece of clockwork without creaks in the machinery. I’ve + built it all up out of next to nothing. I landed in this country + with my little fortune of two thousand pounds. This estate is worth + at least a quarter of a million now. I’ve an estate in Jamaica, + too. I took it for a debt. What it’ll be worth in another twenty + years I don’t know. I shan’t be here to see. I’m not the man I was + physically, and that’s one of the reasons why I’m writing to you + to-day. I’ve often wished to write and say what I’m going to say + now; but I’ve held back, because I wanted you to finish your girl’s + education before I said it + + What I say is this: I want you and Sheila to come here to me, to + make my home your home, to take control of my household, and to let + me see faces I love about me as the shadows enfold me. + + Like your married life, mine was unsuccessful, but not for the same + reason. The woman I married did not understand—probably could not + understand. She gave me no children. We are born this way, or + that. To understand is pain and joy in one; to misconceive is to + scatter broken glass for bare feet. Yet when I laid her away, a few + years ago, I had terrible pangs of regret, which must come to the + heart that has striven in vain. I did my best; I tried to make her + understand, but she never did. I used at first to feel angry; then + I became patient. But I waked up again, and went smiling along, + active, vigorous, getting pleasure out of the infinitely small + things, and happy in perfecting my organization. + + This place, which I have called Moira, is to be yours—or, rather, + Sheila’s. So, in any case, you will want to come and see the home I + have made this old colonial mansion, with its Corinthian pillars and + verandah, high steps, hard-wood floors polished like a pan, every + room hung in dimity and chintz, and the smell of fruit and flowers + everywhere. You will want to see it all, and you’ll want to live + here. + + There’s little rain here, so it’s not like Ireland, and the green is + not so green; but the flowers are marvellously bright, and the birds + sing almost as well as they sing in Ireland, though there’s no lark. + Strange it is, but true, the only things that draw me back to + Ireland in my soul are you, and Sheila, whom I’ve never seen, and + the lark singing as he rises until he becomes a grey-blue speck, and + then vanishing in the sky. + + Well, you and the lark have sung in my heart these many days, and + now you must come to me, because I need you. I have placed to your + credit in the Bank of Ireland a thousand pounds. That will be the + means of bringing you here—you and Sheila—to my door, to Moira. + Let nothing save death prevent your coming. As far as Sheila’s eye + can see-north, south, east, and west—the land will be hers when I’m + gone. Dearest sister, sell all things that are yours, and come to + me. You’ll not forget Ireland here. Whoever has breathed her air + can never forget the hills and dells, the valleys and bogs, the + mountains, with their mists of rain, the wild girls, with their bare + ankles, their red petticoats, and their beautiful, reckless air. + None who has ever breathed the air of Ireland can breathe in another + land without memory of the ancient harp of Ireland. But it is as a + memory-deep, wonderful, and abiding, yet a memory. I sometimes + think I have forgotten, and then I hear coming through this Virginia + the notes of some old Irish melody, the song of some wayfarer of + Mayo or Connemara, and I know then that Ireland is persuasive and + perpetual; but only as a memory, because it speaks in every pulse + and beats in every nerve. + + Oh, believe me, I speak of what I know! I have been away from + Ireland for a long time, and I’m never going back, but I’ll bring + Ireland to me. Come here, colleen, come to Virginia. Write to me, + on the day you get this letter, that you’re coming soon. Let it be + soon, because I feel the cords binding me to my beloved fields + growing thinner. They’ll soon crack, but, please God, they won’t + crack before you come here. + + Now with my love to you and Sheila I stretch out my hand to you. + Take it. All that it is has worked for is yours; all that it wants + is you. + + Your loving brother, + + BRYAN. +</pre> + <p> + As Sheila read, the tears started from her eyes; and at last she could + read no longer, so her mother took the letter and read the rest of it + aloud. When she had finished, there was silence—a long warm silence; + then, at last, Mrs. Llyn rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Sheila, when shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + With frightened eyes Sheila sprang up. + </p> + <p> + “I said we must go to Dublin!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we will go to Dublin, Sheila, but it will be on our way to Uncle + Bryan’s home.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila caught her mother’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, after a moment of hesitation, “I must obey you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the one way, my child-the one thing to do. Some one in prison calls—perhaps; + some one far away who loves you, and needs us, calls—that we know. + Tell me, am I not right? I ask you, where shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + “To Virginia, mother.” + </p> + <p> + The girl’s head dropped, and her eyes filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. DYCK’S FATHER VISITS HIM + </h2> + <p> + In vain Dyck’s lawyer, Will McCormick, urged him to deny absolutely the + killing of Erris Boyne. Dyck would not do so. He had, however, immediately + on being jailed, written to the government, telling of the projected + invasion of Ireland by the French fleet, and saying that it had come to + him from a sure source. The government had at once taken action. + </p> + <p> + Regarding the death of Boyne, the only thing in his favour was that his + own sword-point was free from stain. His lawyer made the utmost of this, + but to no avail. The impression in the court was that both men had been + drinking; that they had quarrelled, and that without a duel being fought + Dyck had killed his enemy. + </p> + <p> + That there had been no duel was clear from the fact that Erris Boyne’s + sword was undrawn. The charge, however, on the instigation of the + Attorney-General, who was grateful for the information about France, had + been changed from murder to manslaughter; though it seemed clear that + Boyne had been ruthlessly killed by a man whom he had befriended. + </p> + <p> + On one of the days of the trial, Dyck’s father, bowed, morose, and + obstinate, came to see him. That Dyck and Boyne had quarrelled had been + stated in evidence by the landlord, Swinton, and Dyck had admitted it. + Miles Calhoun was bent upon finding what the story of the quarrel was; for + his own lawyer had told him that Dyck’s refusal to give the cause of the + dispute would affect the jury adversely, and might bring him imprisonment + for life. After the formalities of their meeting, Miles Calhoun said: + </p> + <p> + “My son, things are black, but they’re not so black they can’t be + brightened. If you killed Erris Boyne, he deserved it. He was a bad man, + as the world knows. That isn’t the point. Now, there’s only one kind of + quarrel that warrants non-disclosure.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean about a woman?” remarked Dyck coldly. + </p> + <p> + The old man took a pinch of snuff nervously. “That’s what I mean. Boyne + was older than you, and perhaps you cut him out with a woman.” + </p> + <p> + A wry smile wrinkled the corners of Dyck’s mouth. “You mean his wife?” he + asked with irony. “Wife—no!” retorted the old man. “Damn it, no! He + wasn’t the man to remain true to his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understand,” remarked Dyck; “but I don’t know his wife. I never saw + her, except at the trial, and I was so sorry for her I ceased to be sorry + for my self. She had a beautiful, strange, isolated face.” + </p> + <p> + “But that wouldn’t influence Boyne,” was the reply. “His first wife had a + beautiful and interesting face, but it didn’t hold him. He went marauding + elsewhere, and she divorced him by act of parliament. I don’t think you + knew it, but his first wife was one of your acquaintances—Mrs. Llyn, + whose daughter you saw just before we left Playmore. He wasn’t particular + where he made love—a barmaid or a housekeeper, it was all the same + to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope the daughter doesn’t know that Erris Boyne was her father,” said + Dyck. + </p> + <p> + “There’s plenty can tell her, and she’ll hear it sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + Miles Calhoun looked at his son with dejection. + </p> + <p> + His eyes wandered over the grimly furnished cell. His nose smelled the + damp of it, and suddenly the whole soul of him burst forth. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t give yourself a chance of escape, Dyck You know what Irish + juries are. Why don’t you tell the truth about the quarrel? What’s the + good of keeping your mouth shut, when there’s many that would profit by + your telling it?” + </p> + <p> + “Who would profit?” asked Dyck. + </p> + <p> + “Who would profit!” snarled the old man. “Well, you would profit first, + for it might break the dark chain of circumstantial evidence. Also, your + father would profit. I’d be saved shame, perhaps; I’d get relief from this + disgrace. Oh, man, think of others beside yourself! + </p> + <p> + “Think of others!” said Dyck, and a queer smile lighted his haggard face. + “I’d save myself if I honourably could.” + </p> + <p> + “The law must prove you guilty,” the old man went on. “It’s not for you to + prove yourself innocent. They haven’t proved you guilty yet.” + </p> + <p> + The old man fumbled with a waistcoat button. His eyes blinked hard. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t see,” he continued, “the one thing that’s plain to my eyes, and + it’s this—that your only chance of escape is to tell the truth about + the quarrel. If the truth were told, whatever it is, I believe it would be + to your credit—I’ll say that for you. If it was to your credit, even + if they believe you guilty of killing Erris Boyne, they’d touch you + lightly. Ah, in the name of the mother you loved, I ask you to tell the + truth about that quarrel! Give it into the hands of the jury, and let them + decide. Haven’t you got a heart in you? In the name of God—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak to me like that,” interrupted Dyck, with emotion. “I’ve + thought of all those things. I hold my peace because—because I hold + my peace. To speak would be to hurt some one I love with all my soul.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won’t speak to save me—your father—because you don’t + love me with all your soul! Is that it?” asked Miles Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + “It’s different—it’s different.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it’s a woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what it is. I will not tell. There are things more shameful + than death.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” snarled the other. “Rather than save yourself, you bring dishonour + upon him who gave you birth.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck’s face was submerged in colour. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said he, “on my honour I wouldn’t hurt you if I could help it, + but I’ll not tell the world of the quarrel between that man and myself. My + silence may hurt you, but some one else would be hurt far more if I told.” + </p> + <p> + “By God, I think you’re some mad dreamer slipped out of the ancient fold! + Do you know where you are? You’re in jail. If you’re found guilty, you’ll + be sent to prison at least for the years that’ll spoil the making of your + life; and you do it because you think you’ll spare somebody. Well, I ask + you to spare me. I don’t want the man that’s going to inherit my name, + when my time comes, to bring foulness on it. We’ve been a rough race, we + Calhouns; we’ve done mad, bad things, perhaps, but none has shamed us + before the world—none but you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have never shamed you, Miles Calhoun,” replied his son sharply. “As the + ancients said, ‘alis volat propriis’—I will fly with my own wings. + Come weal, come woe, come dark, come light, I have fixed my mind, and + nothing shall change it. You loved my mother better than the rest of the + world. You would have thought it no shame to have said so to your own + father. Well, I say it to you—I’ll stand by what my conscience and + my soul have dictated to me. You call me a dreamer. Let it be so. I’m + Irish; I’m a Celt. I’ve drunk deep of all that Ireland means. All that’s + behind me is my own, back to the shadowy kings of Ireland, who lost life + and gave it because they believed in what they did. So will I. If I’m to + walk the hills no more on the estate where you are master, let it be so. I + have no fear; I want no favour. If it is to be prison, then it shall be + prison. If it is to be shame, then let it be shame. These are days when + men must suffer if they make mistakes. Well, I will suffer, fearlessly if + helplessly, but I will not break the oath which I have taken. And so I + will not do it—never—never—never!” + </p> + <p> + He picked up the cloak which the old man had dropped on the floor, and + handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + “There is no good in staying longer. I must go into court again to-morrow. + I have to think how my lawyer shall answer the evidence given.” + </p> + <p> + “But of one thing have you thought?” asked his father. “You will not tell + the cause of the quarrel, for the reason that you might hurt somebody. If + you don’t tell the cause, and you are condemned, won’t that hurt somebody + even more?” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Dyck stood silent, absorbed. His face looked pinched, his + whole appearance shrivelled. Then, with deliberation, he said: + </p> + <p> + “This is not a matter of expediency, but of principle. My heart tells me + what to do, and my heart has always been right.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a long time. At last the old man drew the cloak + about his shoulders and turned towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute, father,” said Dyck. “Don’t go like that. You’d better not + come and see me again. If I’m condemned, go back to Playmore; if I’m set + free, go back to Playmore. That’s the place for you to be. You’ve got your + own troubles there.” + </p> + <p> + “And you—if you’re acquitted?” + </p> + <p> + “If I’m acquitted, I’ll take to the high seas—till I’m cured.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later, without further words, Dyck was alone. He heard the door + clang. + </p> + <p> + He sat for some time on the edge of his bed, buried in dejection. + Presently, however, the door opened. “A letter for you, sir,” said the + jailer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. A LETTER FROM SHEILA + </h2> + <p> + The light of the cell was dim, but Dyck managed to read the letter without + great difficulty, for the writing was almost as precise as print. The + sight of it caught his heart like a warm hand and pressed it. This was the + substance of the letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR FRIEND: + + I have wanted to visit you in prison, but my mother has forbidden + it, and so, even if I could be let to enter, I must not disobey her. + I have not read the papers giving an account of your trial. I only + know you are charged with killing a bad man, notorious in Dublin + life, and that many think he got his just deserts in being killed. + + I saw Christopher Dogan only a week ago, before we came to Dublin. + His eyes, as he talked of you, shone like the secret hill-fires + where the peasants make illegal drink. + + “Look you,” he said to me, “I care not what a jury decides. I know + my man; and I also know that if the fellow Boyne died by his hand, + it was in fair fight. I have read Dyck Calhoun’s story in the + stars; and I know what his end will be. It will be fair, not foul; + good, not bad; great, not low. Tell him that from me, miss,” was + what he said. + + I also will not believe that your fate is an evil one, that the law + will grind you between the millstones of guilt and dishonour; but if + the law should call you guilty, I still will not believe. Far away + I will think of you, and believe in you, dear, masterful, madman + friend. Yes, you are a madman, for Michael Clones told me—faith, + he loves you well!—that you’ve been living a gay life in Dublin + since you came here, and that the man you are accused of killing + was in great part the cause of it. + + I think I never saw my mother so troubled in spirit as she is at + this time. Of course, she could not feel as I do about you. It + isn’t that which makes her sad and haggard; it is that we are + leaving Ireland behind. + + Yes, she and I are saying good-bye to Ireland. That’s why I think + she might have let me see you before we went; but since it must not + be, well, then, it must not. But we shall meet again. In my soul + I know that on the hills somewhere far off, as on the first day we + met, we shall meet each other once more. Where are we going? Oh, + very far! We are going to my Uncle Bryan—Bryan Llyn, in Virginia. + A letter has come from him urging us to make our home with him. You + see, my friend— +</pre> + <p> + Then followed the story which Bryan Llyn had told her mother and herself, + and she wrote of her mother’s decision to go out to the new, great home + which her uncle had made among the cotton-fields of the South. When she + had finished that part of the tale, she went on as follows: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + We shall know your fate only through the letters that will follow + us, but I will not believe in your bad luck. Listen to me—why + don’t you come to America also? Oh, think it over! Don’t believe + the worst will come. When they release you from prison, innocent + and acquitted, cross the ocean and set up your tent under the Stars + and Stripes. Think of it! Nearly all those men in America who + fought under Washington and won were born in these islands. They + took with them to that far land the memory and love of these old + homes. You and I would have fought for England and with the British + troops, because we detest revolution. Here, in Ireland, we have + seen its evils; and yet if we had fought for the Union Jack beyond + the mountains of Maine and in the lonely woods, we should, I + believe, in the end have said that the freedom fought for by the + American States was well won. + + So keep this matter in your mind, for my mother and I will soon be + gone. She would not let me come to you,—I think I have never seen + her so disturbed as when I asked her, and she forbade me to write to + you; but I disobey her. Well, this is a sad business. I know my + mother has suffered. I know her married life was unhappy, and that + her husband—my father-died many a year ago, leaving a dark trail of + regret behind him; but, you see, I never knew my father. That was + all long ago, and it is a hundred times best forgotten. + + Our ship sails for Virginia in three days, and I must go. I will + keep looking back to the prison where lies, charged with an evil + crime, of which he is not guilty, a young man for whom I shall + always carry the spirit of good friendship. + + Do not believe all will not go well. Let us keep the courage of + our hearts and the faith of our souls—and I hope I always shall! + I believe in you, and, believing, I say good-bye. I say farewell in + the great hope that somehow, somewhere, we shall help each other on + the way of life. God be with you! + I am your friend, + SHEILA LLYN. + + P. S.—I beg you to remember that America is a good place for a + young man to live in and succeed. +</pre> + <p> + Dyck read the letter with a wonderful slowness. He realized that by happy + accident—it could be nothing else—Mrs. Llyn had been able to + keep from her daughter the fact that the man who had been killed in the + tavern by the river was her father. It was clear that the girl was kept + much to herself, read no newspapers, and saw few people, and that those + whom she saw had been careful to hold their peace about her close + relationship to Erris Boyne. None but the evil-minded would recall the + fact to her. + </p> + <p> + Sheila’s ignorance must not be broken by himself. He had done the right + thing—he had held his peace for the girl’s sake, and he would hold + it to the end. Slowly he folded up the letter, pressed it to his lips, and + put it in the pocket over his heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. DYCK CALHOUN ENTERS THE WORLD AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + “Is it near the time?” asked Michael Clones of his friend, as they stood + in front of the prison. + </p> + <p> + His companion, who was seated on a stone, wrapped in dark-green coverings + faded and worn, and looking pinched with cold in the dour November day, + said, without lifting his head: + </p> + <p> + “Seven minutes, an’ he’ll be out, God bless him!” + </p> + <p> + “And save him and protect him!” said Michael. “He deserved punishment no + more than I did, and it’s broke him. I’ve seen the grey gather at his + temples, though he’s only been in prison four years. He was condemned to + eight, but they’ve let him free, I don’t know why. Perhaps it was because + of what he told the government about the French navy. I’ve seen the joy of + life sob itself down to the sour earth. When I took him the news of his + father’s death, and told him the creditors were swallowing what was left + of Playmore, what do you think he did?” + </p> + <p> + Old Christopher Dogan smiled; his eyes twinkled with a mirth which had + more pain than gaiety. “God love you, I know what he did. He flung out his + hands, and said: ‘Let it go! It’s nothing to me.’ Michael, have I said + true?” + </p> + <p> + Michael nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Almost his very words you’ve used, and he flung out his hands, as you + said. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, he’ll be changed; but they’ve kept the clothes he had when he went + to prison, and he’ll come out in them, I’m thinking—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, no!” interrupted Michael. “That can’t be, for his clothes was stole. + Only a week ago he sent to me for a suit of my own. I wouldn’t have him + wear my clothes—he a gentleman! It wasn’t fitting. So I sent him a + suit I bought from a shop, but he wouldn’t have it. He would leave prison + a poor man, as a peasant in peasant’s clothes. So he wrote to me. Here is + the letter.” He drew from his pocket a sheet of paper, and spread it out. + “See-read it. Ah, well, never mind,” he added, as old Christopher shook + his head. “Never mind, I’ll read it to you!” Thereupon he read the note, + and added: “We’ll see him of the Calhouns risin’ high beyant poverty and + misfortune some day.” + </p> + <p> + Old Christopher nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad Miles Calhoun was buried on the hilltop above Playmore. He had + his day; he lived his life. Things went wrong with him, and he paid the + price we all must pay for work ill-done.” + </p> + <p> + “There you’re right, Christopher Dogan, and I remember the day the + downfall began. It was when him that’s now Lord Mallow, Governor of + Jamaica, came to summon Miles Calhoun to Dublin. Things were never the + same after that; but I well remember one talk I had with Miles Calhoun + just before his death. ‘Michael,’ he said to me, ‘my family have had many + ups and downs, and some that bear my name have been in prison before this, + but never for killing a man out of fair fight.’ ‘One of your name may be + in prison, sir,’ said I, ‘but not for killing a man out of fair fight. If + you believe he did, there’s no death bad enough for you!’ He was silent + for a while; then at last he whispered Mr. Dyck’s name, and said to me: + ‘Tell him that as a Calhoun I love him, and as his father I love him ten + times more. For look you, Michael, though we never ran together, but + quarrelled and took our own paths, yet we are both Calhouns, and my heart + is warm to him. If my son were a thousand times a criminal, nevertheless I + would ache to take him by the hand.’” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Look at the prison gate,” said his companion, and stood up. + </p> + <p> + As the gates of the prison opened, the sun broke through the clouds and + gave a brilliant phase to the scene. Out of the gates there came slowly, + yet firmly, dressed in peasant clothes, the stalwart but faded figure of + Dyck Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + Terribly changed he was. He had entered prison with the flush upon his + cheek, the lilt of young manhood in his eyes, with hair black and hands + slender and handsome. There was no look of youth in his face now. It was + the face of a middle-aged man from which the dew of youth had vanished, + into which life’s storms had come and gone. Though the body was held + erect, yet the head was thrust slightly forward, and the heavy eyebrows + were like a pent-house. The eyes were slightly feverish, and round the + mouth there crept a smile, half-cynical but a little happy. All freshness + was gone from his hands. One hung at his side, listless, corded; the other + doffed his hat in reply to the salute of his two humble friends. + </p> + <p> + As the gates closed behind him he looked gravely at the two men, who were + standing not a foot apart. There swept slowly into his eyes, enlarging, + brightening them, the glamour of the Celtic soul. Of all Ireland, or all + who had ever known him, these two were the only ones welcoming him into + the world again! Michael Clones, with his oval red face, big nose, steely + eye, and steadfast bearing, had in him the soul of great kings. His hat + was set firmly on his head. His knee-breeches were neat, if coarse; his + stockings were clean. His feet were well shod, his coat worn, and he had + still the look that belongs to the well-to-do peasant. He was a figure of + courage and endurance. Dyck’s hand went out to him, and a warm smile crept + to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Michael—ever—faithful Michael!” + </p> + <p> + A moisture came to Michael’s eyes. He did not speak as he clasped the hand + Dyck offered him. Presently Dyck turned to old Christopher with a kindly + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old friend! You, too, come to see the stag set loose again? You’re + not many, that’s sure.” A grim, hard look came into his face, but both + hands went out and caught the old man’s shoulders affectionately. “This is + no day for you to be waiting at prison’s gates, Christopher; but there are + two men who believe in me—two in all the world. It isn’t the + killing,” he added after a moment’s silence—“it isn’t the killing + that hurts so. If it’s true that I killed Erris Boyne, what hurts most is + the reason why I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “One way or another—does it matter now?” asked Christopher gently. + </p> + <p> + “Is it that you think nothing matters since I’ve paid the price, sunk + myself in shame, lost my friends, and come out with not a penny left?” + asked Dyck. “But yes,” he added with a smile, wry and twisted, “yes, I + have a little left!” + </p> + <p> + He drew from his pocket four small pieces of gold, and gazed ironically at + them in his palm. + </p> + <p> + “Look at them!” He held out his hand, so that the two men could see the + little coins. “Those were taken from me when I entered prison. They’ve + been in the hands of the head of the jail ever since. They give them to me + now—all that’s left of what I was.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not all, sir,” declared Michael. “There’s something left from + Playmore—there’s ninety pounds, and it’s in my pocket. It was got + from the sale of your sporting-kit. There was the boat upon the lake, the + gun, and all kinds of riffraff stuff not sold with Playmore.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded and smiled. “Good Michael!” + </p> + <p> + Then he drew himself up stiffly, and blew in and out his breath as if with + the joy of living. For four hard years he had been denied the free air of + free men. Even when walking in the prison-yard, on cold or fair days, when + the air was like a knife or when it had the sun of summer in it, it still + had seemed to choke him. + </p> + <p> + In prison he had read, thought, and worked much. They had at least done + that for him. The Attorney-General had given him freedom to work with his + hands, and to slave in the workshop like one whose living depended on it. + Some philanthropic official had started the idea of a workshop, and the + officials had given the best of the prisoners a chance to learn trades and + make a little money before they went out into the world. All that Dyck had + earned went to purchase things he needed, and to help his fellow prisoners + or their families. + </p> + <p> + Where was he now? The gap between the old life of nonchalance, frivolity, + fantasy, and excitement was as great as that between heaven and hell. Here + he was, after four years of prison, walking the highway with two of the + humblest creatures of Ireland, and yet, as his soul said, two of the best. + </p> + <p> + Stalking along in thought, he suddenly became conscious that Michael and + Christopher had fallen behind. He turned round. + </p> + <p> + “Come on. Come on with me.” But the two shook their heads. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not fitting, you a Calhoun of Playmore!” Christopher answered. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, list to me,” said Dyck, for he saw the men could not bear his + new democracy. “I’m hungry. In four years I haven’t had a meal that came + from the right place or went to the right spot. Is the little tavern, the + Hen and Chickens, on the Liffeyside, still going? I mean the place where + the seamen and the merchant-ship officers visit.” + </p> + <p> + Michael nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look you, Michael—get you both there, and order me as good a + meal of fish and chops and baked pudding as can be bought for money. Aye, + and I’ll have a bottle of red French wine, and you two will have what you + like best. Mark me, we’ll sit together there, for we’re one of a kind. + I’ve got to take to a life that fits me, an ex-jailbird, a man that’s been + in prison for killing!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s the king’s army,” said Michael. “They make good officers in it.” + </p> + <p> + A strange, half-sore smile came to Dyck’s thin lips. + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” said he, “give up these vain illusions. I was condemned for + killing a man not in fair fight. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t enter the army as an officer, and you should know it. The king + himself could set me up again; but the distance between him and me is ten + times round the world and back again!” But then Dyck nodded kindly. It was + as if suddenly the martyr spirit had lifted him out of rigid, painful + isolation, and he was speaking from a hilltop. “No, my friends, what is in + my mind now is that I’m hungry. For four years I’ve eaten the bread of + prison, and it’s soured my mouth and galled my belly. Go you to that inn + and make ready a good meal.” + </p> + <p> + The two men started to leave, but old Christopher turned and stretched a + hand up and out. + </p> + <p> + “Son of Ireland, bright and black and black and bright may be the picture + of your life, but I see for you brightness and sweet faces, and music and + song. It’s not Irish music, and it’s not Irish song, but the soul of the + thing is Irish. Grim things await you, but you will conquer where the + eagle sways to the shore, where the white mist flees from the hills, where + heroes meet, where the hand of Moira stirs the blue and the witches flee + from the voice of God. There is honour coming to you in the world.” + </p> + <p> + Having said his say, with hand outstretched, having thrilled the air with + the voice of one who had the soul of a prophet, the old man turned. Head + bent forward, he shuffled away with Michael Clones along the stony street. + </p> + <p> + Dyck watched them go, his heart beating hard, his spirit overwhelmed. + </p> + <p> + It was not far to the Castle, yet every footstep had a history. Now and + again he met people who knew him. Some bowed a little too profoundly, some + nodded; but not one stopped to speak to him, though a few among them were + people he had known well in days gone by. Was it the clothes he wore, or + was it that his star had sunk so low that none could keep it company? He + laughed to himself in scorn, and yet there kept ringing through his brain + all the time the bells of St. Anselm’s, which he was hearing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh, God, who is the sinner’s friend, + Make clean my soul once more!” + </pre> + <p> + When he arrived at the Castle walls he stood and looked long at them. + </p> + <p> + “No, I won’t go in. I won’t try to see him,” he said at last. “God, how + strange Ireland is to me! The soil of it, the trees of it, the grass of + it, are dearer than ever, but—I’ll have no more of Ireland. I’ll ask + for nothing. I’ll get to England. What’s Ireland to me? I must make my way + somewhere. There’s one in there”—he nodded towards the Castle—“that + owes me money at cards. He should open his pockets to me, and see me safe + on a ship for Australia; but I’ve had my fill of every one in Ireland. + There’s nothing here for me but shame. Well, back I’ll go to the Hen and + Chickens, to find a good dinner there.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and went back slowly along the streets by which he had come, + looking not to right nor left, thinking only of where he should go and + what he should do outside of Ireland. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the inn he sniffed the dinner Michael had ordered. + </p> + <p> + “Man alive!” he said as he entered the place and saw the two men with + their hands against the bright fire. “There’s only one way to live, and + that’s the way I’m going to try.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you’ll not try it alone, sir, if you please,” said Michael. “I’ll + be with you, if I may.” + </p> + <p> + “And I’ll bless you as you go,” said Christopher Dogan. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. WHITHER NOW? + </h2> + <p> + England was in a state of unrest. She had, as yet, been none too + successful in the war with France. From the king’s castle to the poorest + slum in Seven Dials there was a temper bordering on despair. Ministries + came and went; statesmen rose and fell. The army was indifferently + recruited and badly paid. England’s battles were fought by men of whom + many were only mercenaries, with no stake in England’s rise or fall. + </p> + <p> + In the army and navy there were protests, many and powerful, against the + smallness of the pay, while the cost of living had vastly increased. In + more than one engagement on land England had had setbacks of a serious + kind, and there were those who saw in the blind-eyed naval policy, in the + general disregard of the seamen’s position, in the means used for + recruiting, the omens of disaster. The police courts furnished the navy + with the worst citizens of the country. Quota men, the output of the Irish + prisons—seditious, conspiring, dangerous—were drafted for the + king’s service. + </p> + <p> + The admiralty pursued its course of seizing men of the mercantile marine, + taking them aboard ships, keeping them away for months from the harbours + of the kingdom, and then, when their ships returned, denying them the + right of visiting their homes. The press-gangs did not confine their + activities to the men of the mercantile marine. From the streets after + dusk they caught and brought in, often after ill-treatment, torn from + their wives and sweethearts, knocked on the head for resisting, tradesmen + with businesses, young men studying for the professions, idlers, debtors, + out-of-work men. The marvel is that the British fleets fought as well as + they did. + </p> + <p> + Poverty and sorrow, loss and bereavement, were in every street, peeped + mournfully out of every window, lurked at street corners. From all parts + of the world adventurers came to renew their fortunes in the turmoil of + London, and every street was a kaleidoscope of faces and clothes and + colours, not British, not patriot, not national. + </p> + <p> + Among these outlanders were Dyck Calhoun and Michael Clones. They had left + Ireland together in the late autumn, leaving behind them the stirrings of + the coming revolution, and plunging into another revolt which was to prove + the test and trial of English character. + </p> + <p> + Dyck had left Ireland with ninety pounds in his pocket and many tons’ + weight of misery in his heart. In his bones he felt tragedies on foot in + Ireland which concession and good government could not prevent. He had + fled from it all. When he set his face to Holyhead, he felt that he would + never live in Ireland again. Yet his courage was firm as he made his way + to London, with Michael Clones—faithful, devoted, a friend and yet a + servant, treated like a comrade, yet always with a little dominance. + </p> + <p> + The journey to London had been without event, yet as the coach rolled + through country where frost silvered the trees; where, in the early + morning, the grass was shining with dew; where the everlasting green + hedges and the red roofs of villages made a picture which pleased the eye + and stirred the soul, Dyck Calhoun kept wondering what would be his + future. He had no profession, no trade, no skill except with his sword; + and as he neared London Town—when they left Hendon—he saw the + smoke rising in the early winter morning and the business of life spread + out before him, brave and buoyant. + </p> + <p> + As from the heights of Hampstead he looked down on the multitudinous area + called London, something throbbed at his heart which seemed like hope; for + what he saw was indeed inspiring. When at last, in the Edgware Road, he + drew near to living London, he turned to Michael Clones and said: + </p> + <p> + “Michael, my lad, I think perhaps we’ll find a footing here.” + </p> + <p> + So they reached London, and quartered themselves in simple lodgings in + Soho. Dyck walked the streets, and now and then he paid a visit to the + barracks where soldiers were, to satisfy the thought that perhaps in the + life of the common soldier he might, after all, find his future. It was, + however, borne in upon him by a chance remark of Michael one day—“I’m + not young enough to be a recruit, and you wouldn’t go alone without me, + would you?”—that this way to a livelihood was not open to him. + </p> + <p> + His faithful companion’s remark had fixed Dyck’s mind against entering the + army, and then, towards the end of the winter, a fateful thing happened. + His purse containing what was left of the ninety pounds—two-fifths + of it—disappeared. It had been stolen, and in all the bitter days to + come, when poverty and misery ground them down, no hint of the thief, no + sign of the robber, was ever revealed. + </p> + <p> + Then, at last, a day when a letter came from Ireland. It was from the firm + in which Bryan Llyn of Virginia had been interested, for the letter had + been sent to their care, and Dyck had given them his address in London on + this very chance. It reached Dyck’s hands on the day after the last penny + had been paid out for their lodgings, and they faced the streets, + penniless, foodless—one was going to say friendless. The handwriting + was that of Sheila Llyn. + </p> + <p> + At a street corner, by a chemist’s shop where a red light burned, Dyck + opened and read the letter. This is what Sheila had written to him. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR FRIEND: + + The time is near (I understand by a late letter to my mother from an + official) when you will be freed from prison and will face the world + again. I have not written you since your trial, but I have never + forgotten and never shall. I have been forbidden to write to you or + think of you, but I will take my own way about you. I have known + all that has happened since we left Ireland, through the letters my + mother has received. I know that Playmore has been sold, and I am + sorry. + + Now that your day of release is near, and you are to be again a free + man, have you decided about your future? Is it to be in Ireland? + No, I think not. Ireland is no place for a sane and level man to + fight for honour, fame, and name. I hear that things are worse + there in every way than they have been in our lifetime. + + After what has happened in any case, it is not a field that offers + you a chance. Listen to me. Ireland and England are not the only + places in the world. My uncle came here to Virginia a poor man. + He is now immensely rich. He had little to begin with, but he was + young like you—indeed, a little older than you—when he first came. + He invested wisely, worked bravely, and his wealth grew fast. No + man needs a fortune to start the business of life in this country. + He can get plenty of land for almost nothing; he can get credit for + planting and furnishing his land, and, if he has friends, the credit + is sure. + + All America is ready for “the likes of you.” Think it over, and + meanwhile please know there has been placed with the firm in Dublin + money enough to bring you here with comfort. You must not refuse + it. Take it as a loan, for I know you will not take it as a gift. + + I do not know the story of the killing, even as it was told in + court. Well, some one killed the man, but not you, and the truth + will out in time. If one should come to me out of the courts of + heaven, and say that there it was declared you were a rogue, I + should say heaven was no place for me. No, of one thing I am sure— + you never killed an undefended man. Wayward, wanton, reckless, + dissipated you may have been, but you were never depraved—never! + + When you are free, lift up your shoulders to all the threats of + time, then go straight to the old firm where the money is, draw it, + take ship, and come here. If you let me know you are coming, I will + be there to meet you when you step ashore, to give you a firm hand- + clasp; to tell you that in this land there is a good place for you, + if you will win it. + + Here there is little crime, though the perils of life are many. + There is Indian fighting; there are Indian depredations; and not a + dozen miles from where I sit men have been shot for crimes + committed. The woods are full of fighters, and pirates harry the + coast. On the wall of the room where I write there are carbines + that have done service in Indian wars and in the Revolutionary War; + and here out of the window I can see hundreds of black heads-slaves, + brought from Africa and the Indies, slaves whose devotion to my + uncle is very great. I hear them singing now; over the white-tipped + cotton-fields there flows the sound of it. + + This plantation has none of the vices that belong to slavery. Here + life is complete. The plantation is one great workshop where trades + are learned and carried out-shoeing, blacksmithing, building, + working in wood and metal. + + I am learning here—you see I am quite old, for I am twenty-one now + —the art of management. They tell me that when my uncle’s day is + done—I grieve to think it is not far off—I must take the rod of + control. I work very, very hard. I have to learn figures and + finance; I have to see how all the work is done, so that I shall + know it is done right. I have had to discipline the supervisors and + bookkeepers, inspect and check the output, superintend the packing, + and arrange for the sale of the crop-yes, I arranged for the sale of + this year’s crop myself. So I live the practical life, and when I + say that you could make your home here and win success, I do it with + some knowledge. + + I beg you take ship for the Virginian coast. Enter upon the new + life here with faith and courage. Have no fear. Heaven that has + thus far helped you will guide you to the end. + + I write without my mother’s permission, but my uncle knows, and + though he does not approve, he does not condemn. + + Once more good-bye, my dear friend, and God be with you. + + SHEILA LLYN. + + P. S.—I wonder where you will read this letter. I hope it will + find you before your release. Please remember that she who wrote it + summons you from the darkness where you are to light and freedom + here. +</pre> + <p> + Slowly Dyck folded up the letter, when he had read it, and put it in his + pocket. Then he turned with pale face and gaunt look to Michael Clones. + </p> + <p> + “Michael,” said he, “that letter is from a lady. It comes from her new + home in Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + Michael nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir, I understand you,” he said. “Then she doesn’t know the + truth about her father?” Dyck sighed heavily. “No, Michael, she doesn’t + know the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it would make any difference to her if she did know.” + </p> + <p> + “It would make all the difference to me, Michael. She says she wishes to + help me. She tells me that money’s been sent to the big firm in + Dublin-money to take me across the sea to Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + Michael’s face clouded. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. To Virginia—and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Michael, we haven’t a penny in the world, you and I, but if I took one + farthing of that money I should hope you would kill me. I’m hungry; we’ve + had nothing to eat since yesterday; but if I could put my hands upon that + money here and now I wouldn’t touch it. Michael, it looks as if we shall + have to take to the trade of the footpad.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE HOUR BEFORE THE MUTINY + </h2> + <p> + In the days when Dyck Calhoun was on the verge of starvation in London, + evil naval rumours were abroad. Newspapers reported, one with + apprehension, another with tyrannous comment, mutinous troubles in the + fleet. + </p> + <p> + At first the only demand at Spithead and the Nore had been for an increase + of pay, which had not been made since the days of Charles II. Then the + sailors’ wages were enough for comfortable support; but in 1797 through + the rise in the cost of living, and with an advance of thirty per cent. on + slops, their families could barely maintain themselves. It was said in the + streets, and with truth, that seamen who had fought with unconquerable + gallantry under Howe, Collingwood, Nelson, and the other big sea-captains, + who had borne suffering and wounds, and had been in the shadow of death—that + even these men damned a system which, in its stern withdrawal of their + class for long spaces of time from their own womenfolk, brought evil + results to the forecastle. + </p> + <p> + The soldier was always in touch with his own social world, and he had + leave sufficient to enable him to break the back of monotony. He drank, + gambled, and orated; but his indulgences were little compared with the + debauches of able-bodied seamen when, after months of sea-life, they + reached port again. A ship in port at such a time was not a scene of + evangelical habits. Women of loose class, flower-girls, fruit-sellers, and + costermongers turned the forecastle into a pleasure-house where the + pleasures were not always secret; where native modesty suffered no + affright, and physical good cheer, with ribald paraphrase, was notable + everywhere. + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen, Michael?” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, Dyck looked round the forecastle of the Ariadne with a + restless and inquisitive expression. Michael was seated a few feet away, + his head bent forward, his hands clasped around his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it don’t matter one way or ‘nother,” he replied; “but it was like + this. The night you got a letter from Virginia we was penniless; so at + last I went with my watch to the pawnbroker’s. You said you’d wait till I + got back, though you knew not where I was goin’. When I got back, you were + still broodin’. You were seated on a horse-block by the chemist’s lamp + where you had read the letter. It’s not for me to say of what you were + thinkin’; but I could guess. You’d been struck hard, and there had come to + you a letter from one who meant more to you than all the rest of the + world; and you couldn’t answer it because things weren’t right. As I stood + lookin’ at you, wonderin’ what to do, though, I had twelve shillin’s in my + pocket from the watch I’d pawned, there came four men, and I knew from + their looks they were recruitin’ officers of the navy. I saw what was in + their eyes. They knew—as why shouldn’t they, when they saw a + gentleman like you in peasant clothes?—that luck had been agin’ us. + </p> + <p> + “What the end would have been I don’t know. It was you that solved the + problem, not them. You looked at the first man of them hard. Then you got + to your feet. + </p> + <p> + “‘Michael,’ says you quietly, ‘I’m goin’ to sea. England’s at war, and + there’s work to do. So let’s make for a king’s ship, and have done with + misery and poverty.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then you waved a hand to the man in command of the recruitin’ gang, and + presently stepped up to him and his friends. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sir,’ I said to you, ‘I’m not going to be pressed into the navy.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘There’s no pressin’, Michael,’ you answered. ‘We’ll be quota men. We’ll + do it for cash—for forty pounds each, and no other. You let them + have you as you are. But if you don’t want to come,’ you added, ‘it’s all + the same to me.’ + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I knew that was only talk. I knew you wanted me. Also I knew the + king’s navy needed me, for men are hard to get. So, when they’d paid us + the cash—forty pounds apiece—I stepped in behind you, and here + we are—here we are! Forty pounds apiece—equal to three years’ + wages of an ordinary recruit of the army. It ain’t bad, but we’re here for + three years, and no escape from it. Yes, here we are!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, here we’re likely to remain, Michael. There’s only this to be said—we’ll + be fighting the French soon, and it’s easy to die in the midst of a great + fight. If we don’t die, Michael, something else will turn up, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s true, sir! They’ll make an officer of you, once they see you + fight. This is no place for you, among the common herd. It’s the dregs o’ + the world that comes to the ship’s bottom in time of peace or war.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m the dregs of the world, Michael. I’m the supreme dregs.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow the letter from Virginia had decided Dyck Calhoun’s fate for him. + Here he was—at sea, a common sailor in the navy. He and Michael + Clones had eaten and drunk as sailors do, and they had realized that, as + they ate and drank on the River Thames, they would not eat and drink on + the watery fairway. They had seen the tank foul with age, from which water + was drawn for men who could not live without it, and the smell of it had + revolted Dyck’s senses. They had seen the kegs of pickled meat, and they + had been told of the evil rations given to the sailors at sea. + </p> + <p> + The Ariadne had been a flag-ship in her day, the home of an admiral and + his staff. She carried seventy-four guns, was easily obedient to her swift + sail, and had a reputation for gallantry. From the first hour on board, + Dyck Calhoun had fitted in; with a discerning eye he had understood the + seamen’s needs and the weaknesses of the system. + </p> + <p> + The months he had spent between his exit from prison and his entrance into + the Ariadne had roughened, though not coarsened, his outward appearance. + From his first appearance among the seamen he had set himself to become + their leader. His enlistment was for three years, and he meant that these + three should prove the final success of this naval enterprise, or the + stark period in a calendar of tragedy. + </p> + <p> + The life of the sailor, with its coarseness and drudgery, its inadequate + pay, its evil-smelling food, its maggoty bread, its beer drawn from casks + that once had held oil or fish, its stinking salt-meat barrels, the + hideous stench of the bilge-water—all this could in one sense be no + worse than his sufferings in jail. In spite of self-control, jail had been + to him the degradation of his hopes, the humiliation of his manhood. + </p> + <p> + He had suffered cold, dampness, fever, and indigestion there, and it had + sapped the fresh fibre of life in him. His days in London had been cruel. + He had sought work in great commercial concerns, and had almost been + grateful when rejected. When his money was stolen, there seemed nothing to + do, as he said to Michael Clones, but to become a footpad or a pirate. + Then the stormy doors of the navy had opened wide to him; and as many a + man is tempted into folly or crime by tempestuous nature, so he, forlorn, + spiritually unkempt, but physically and mentally well-composed, in a + spirit of bravado, flung himself into the bowels of the fleet. + </p> + <p> + From the moment Dyck arrived on board the Ariadne he was a marked man. + Ferens, a disfranchised solicitor, who knew his story, spread the + unwholesome truth about him among the ship’s people, and he received + attentions at once offensive and flattering. The best-educated of the + ship’s hands approached him on the grievances with which the whole navy + was stirring. + </p> + <p> + Something had put a new spirit into the life of his majesty’s ships; it + was, in a sense, the reflection of the French Revolution and Tom Paine’s + Age of Reason. What the Americans had done in establishing a republic, + what France was doing by her revolution, got into the veins and minds of + some men in England, but it got into the veins and minds of the sailor + first; for, however low his origin, he had intercourse not given to the + average landsman. He visited foreign ports, he came in touch with other + elements than those of British life and character. + </p> + <p> + Of all the ships in the navy the Ariadne was the best that Dyck Calhoun + could have entered. Her officers were humane and friendly, yet firm; and + it was quite certain that if mutiny came they would be treated well. The + agitation on the Ariadne in support of the grievances of the sailors was + so moderate that, from the first, Dyck threw in his lot with it. Ferens, + the former solicitor, first came to him with a list of proposals, which + only repeated the demands made by the agitators at Spithead. + </p> + <p> + “You’re new among us,” said Ferens to Dyck. “You don’t quite know what + we’ve been doing, I suppose. Some of us have been in the navy for two + years, and some for ten. There are men on this ship who could tell you + stories that would make your blood run cold—take my word for it. + There’s a lot of things goin’ on that oughtn’t to be goin’ on. The time + has come for reform. Have a look at this paper, and tell me what you + think.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck looked at the pockmarked face of Ferens, whose record in the courts + was a bad one, and what he saw did not disgust him. It was as though + Ferens had stumbled and been badly hit in his fall, but there were no + signs of permanent evil in his countenance. He was square-headed, + close-cropped, clear-eyed, though his face was yellow where it was not + red, and his tongue was soft in his head. + </p> + <p> + Dyck read the paper slowly and carefully. Then he handed it back without a + word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you got to say?” asked Ferens. “Nothing? Don’t you think + that’s a strong list of grievances and wrongs?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded. “Yes, it’s pretty strong,” he said, and he held up his hand. + “Number One, wages and cost of living. I’m sure we’re right there. Cost of + living was down in King Charles’s time, and wages were down accordingly. + Everything’s gone up, and wages should go up. Number Two, the prize-money + scandal. I’m with you there. I don’t see why an officer should get two + thousand five hundred times as much as a seaman. There ought to be a + difference, but not so much. Number Three, the food ought to be better; + the water ought to be better. We can’t live on rum, maggoty bread, and + foul water—that’s sure. The rum’s all right; it’s powerful natural + stuff, but we ought to have meat that doesn’t stink, and bread that isn’t + alive. What’s more, we ought to have lots of lime-juice, or there’s no + protection for us when we’re out at sea with the best meat taken by the + officers and the worst left to us; and with foul water and rotten food, + there’s no hope or help. But, if we’re going in for this sort of thing, we + ought to do it decently. We can’t slap a government in the mouth, and we + can’t kick an admiral without paying heavy for it in the end. If it’s + wholesome petitioning you’re up to, I’m with you; but I’m not if there’s + to be knuckle-dusting.” + </p> + <p> + Ferens shrugged a shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Things are movin’, and we’ve got to take our stand now when the time is + ripe for it, or else lose it for ever. Over at Spithead they’re gettin’ + their own way. The government are goin’ to send the Admiralty Board down + here, because our admiral say to them that it won’t be safe goin’ unless + they do.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are we going to do here?” asked Dyck. “What’s the game of the + fleet at the Nore?” + </p> + <p> + Ferens replied in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “Our men are goin’ to send out petitions—to the Admiralty and to the + House of Commons.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you try Lord Howe?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s not in command of a fleet now. Besides, petitions have been sent + him, and he’s taken no notice.” + </p> + <p> + “Howe? No notice—the best admiral we ever had! I don’t believe it,” + declared Dyck savagely. “Why, the whole navy believes in Howe. They + haven’t forgotten what he did in ‘94. He’s as near to the seaman as the + seaman is to his mother. Who sent the petitions to him?” + </p> + <p> + “They weren’t signed by names—they were anonymous.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and all written by the same hand, I suppose.” Ferens nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I think that’s so.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you wonder, then, that Lord Howe didn’t acknowledge them? But I’m + still sure he acted promptly. He’s a big enough friend of the sailor to + waste no time before doing his turn.” + </p> + <p> + Ferens shook his head morosely. + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” he said; “but the petitions were sent weeks ago, and + there’s no sign from Lord Howe. He was at Bath for gout. My idea is he + referred them to the admiral commanding at Portsmouth, and was told that + behind the whole thing is conspiracy—French socialism and English + politics. I give you my word there’s no French agent in the fleet, and if + there were, it wouldn’t have any effect. Our men’s grievances are not new. + They’re as old as Cromwell.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a light of suspicion flashed into Ferens’s face. + </p> + <p> + “You’re with us, aren’t you? You see the wrongs we’ve suffered, and how + bad it all is! Yet you haven’t been on a voyage with us. You’ve only + tasted the life in harbour. Good God, this life is heaven to what we have + at sea! We don’t mind the fightin’. We’d rather fight than eat.” An evil + grin covered his face for a minute. “Yes, we’d rather fight than eat, for + the stuff we get to eat is hell’s broil, God knows! Did you ever think + what the life of the sailor is, that swings at the top of a mast with the + frost freezin’ his very soul, and because he’s slow, owin’ to the cold, + gets twenty lashes for not bein’ quicker? Well, I’ve seen that, and a bad + sight it is. Did you ever see a man flogged? It ain’t a pretty sight. + First the back takes the click of the whip like a damned washboard, and + you see the ridges rise and go purple and red, and the man has his breath + knocked clean out of him with every blow. Nearly every stroke takes off + the skin and draws the blood, and a dozen will make the back a ditch of + murder. Then the whipper stops, looks at the lashes, feels them tender + like, and out and down it comes again. When all the back is ridged and + scarred, the flesh, that looked clean and beautiful, becomes a bloody + mass. Some men get a hundred lashes, and that’s torture and death. + </p> + <p> + “A man I knew was flogged told me once that the first blow made his flesh + quiver in every nerve from his toe-nails to his finger-nails, and stung + his heart as if a knife had gone through his body. There was agony in his + lungs, and the time between each stroke was terrible, and yet the next + came too soon. He choked with the blood from his tongue, lacerated with + his teeth, and from his lungs, and went black in the face. I saw his back. + It looked like roasted meat; yet he had only had eighty strokes. + </p> + <p> + “The punishments are bad. Runnin’ the gauntlet is one of them. Each member + of the crew is armed with three tarry rope-yarns, knotted at the ends. + Then between the master-at-arms with a drawn sword and two corporals with + drawn swords behind, the thief, stripped to the waist, is placed. The + thing is started by a boatswain’s mate givin’ him a dozen lashes. Then + he’s slowly marched down the double line of men, who flog him as he + passes, and at the end of the line he receives another dose of the cat + from the boatswain’s mate. The poor devil’s body and head are flayed, and + he’s sent to hospital and rubbed with brine till he’s healed. + </p> + <p> + “But the most horrible of all is flogging through the fleet. That’s given + for strikin’ an officer, or tryin’ to escape. It’s a sickenin’ thing. The + victim is lashed by his wrists to a capstan-bar in the ship’s long-boat, + and all the ship’s boats are lowered also, and each ship in harbour sends + a boat manned by marines to attend. Then, with the master-at-arms and the + ship’s surgeon, the boat is cast off. The boatswain’s mate begins the + floggin’, and the boat rows away to the half-minute bell, the drummer + beatin’ the rogue’s march. From ship to ship the long-boat goes, and the + punishment of floggin’ is repeated. If he faints, he gets wine or rum, or + is taken back to his ship to recover. When his back is healed he goes out + to get the rest of his sentence. Very few ever live through it, or if they + do it’s only for a short time. They’d better have taken the hangin’ that + was the alternative. Even a corpse with its back bare of flesh to the bone + has received the last lashes of a sentence, and was then buried in the mud + of the shore with no religious ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “Mind you, there’s many a man gets fifty lashes that don’t deserve them. + There’s many men in the fleet that’s stirred to anger at ill-treatment, + until now, in these days, the whole lot is ready to see the thing through—to + see the thing through—by heaven and by hell!” + </p> + <p> + The pockmarked face had taken on an almost ghastly fervour, until it + looked like a distorted cartoon-vindictive, fanatical; but Dyck, on the + edge of the river of tragedy, was not ready to lose himself in the stream + of it. + </p> + <p> + As he looked round the ship he felt a stir of excitement like nothing he + had ever known, though he had been brought up in a country where men were + by nature revolutionists, and where the sword was as often outside as + inside the scabbard. There was something terrible in a shipboard agitation + not to be found in a land-rising. On land there were a thousand miles of + open country, with woods and houses, caves and cliffs, to which men could + flee for hiding; and the danger of rebellion was less dominant. At sea, a + rebellion was like some beastly struggle in one room, beyond the walls of + which was everlasting nothingness. The thing had to be fought out, as it + were, man to man within four walls, and God help the weaker! + </p> + <p> + “How many ships in the fleet are sworn to this agitation?” Dyck asked + presently. + </p> + <p> + “Every one. It’s been like a spread of infection; it’s entered at every + door, looked out of every window. All the ships are in it, from the + twenty-six-hundred-tonners to the little five-hundred-and-fifty-tonners. + Besides, there are the Delegates.” + </p> + <p> + He lowered his voice as he used these last words. “Yes, I know,” Dyck + answered, though he did not really know. “But who is at the head?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, as bold a man as can be—Richard Parker, an Irishman. He was + once a junior naval officer, and left the navy and went into business; now + he is a quotaman, and leads the mutiny. Let me tell you that unless + there’s a good round answer to what we demand, the Nore fleet’ll have it + out with the government. He’s a man of character, is Richard Parker, and + the fleet’ll stand by him.” + </p> + <p> + “How long has he been at it?” asked Dyck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, weeks and weeks! It doesn’t all come at once, the grip of the thing. + It began at Spithead, and it worked right there; and now it’s workin’ at + the Nore, and it’ll work and work until there isn’t a ship and there isn’t + a man that won’t be behind the Delegates. Look. Half the seamen on this + ship have tasted the inside of a jail; and the rest come from the + press-gang, and what’s left are just the ragged ends of street corners. + But”—and here the man drew himself up with a flush—“but + there’s none of us that wouldn’t fight to the last gasp of breath for the + navy that since the days of Elizabeth has sailed at the head of all the + world. Don’t think we mean harm to the fleet. We mean to do it good. All + we want is that its masters shall remember we’re human flesh and blood; + that we’re as much entitled to good food and drink on sea as on land; and + that, if we risk our lives and shed our blood, we ought to have some share + in the spoils. We’re a great country and we’re a great people, but, by + God, we’re not good to our own! Look at them there.” + </p> + <p> + He turned and waved a hand to the bowels of the ship where sailors traded + with the slop-sellers, or chaffered with women, or sat in groups and sang, + or played rough games which had no vital meaning; while here and there in + groups, with hands gesticulating, some fanatics declared their principles. + And the principles of every man in the Nore fleet so far were embraced in + the four words—wages, food, drink, prize-money. + </p> + <p> + Presently Ferens stopped short. “Listen!” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a cry from the ship’s side not far away, and then came little + bursts of cheering. + </p> + <p> + “By Heaven, it’s the Delegates comin’ here!” he said. He held up a warning + palm, as though commanding silence, while he listened intently. “Yes, it’s + the Delegates. Now look at that crowd of seamen!” He swung his hand + towards the bowels of the ship. Scores of men were springing to their + feet. Presently there came a great shouting and cheers, and then four new + faces appeared on deck. They were faces of intelligence, but one of them + had the enlightened look of leadership. + </p> + <p> + “By Judas, it’s our leader, Richard Parker!” declared Ferens. + </p> + <p> + What Dyck now saw was good evidence of the progress of the agitation. + There were officers of the Ariadne to be seen, but they wisely took no + notice of the breaches of regulation which followed the arrival of the + Delegates. Dyck saw Ferens speak to Richard Parker after the men had been + in conference with Parker and the Delegates, and then turn towards + himself. Richard Parker came to him. + </p> + <p> + “We are fellow countrymen,” he said genially. “I know your history. We are + out to make the navy better—to get the men their rights. I + understand you are with us?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck bowed. “I will do all possible to get reforms in wages and food put + through, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s good,” said Parker. “There are some petitions you can draft, and + some letters also to the Admiralty and to the Houses of Lords and + Commons.” + </p> + <p> + “I am at your service,” said Dyck. + </p> + <p> + He saw his chance to secure influence on the Ariadne, and also to do good + to the service. Besides, he felt he might be able to check the worst + excesses of the agitation, if he got power under Parker. He was free from + any wish for mutiny, but he was the friend of an agitation which might end + as successfully as the trouble at Spithead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. TO THE WEST INDIES + </h2> + <p> + A fortnight later the mutiny at the Nore shook and bewildered the British + Isles. In the public journals and in Parliament it was declared that this + outbreak, like that at Spithead, was due partly to political strife, but + more extensively to agents of revolution from France and Ireland. + </p> + <p> + The day after Richard Parker visited the Ariadne the fleet had been put + under the control of the seamen’s Delegates, who were men of standing in + the ships, and of personal popularity. Their first act was to declare that + the fleet should not leave port until the men’s demands were satisfied. + </p> + <p> + The King, Prime Minister, and government had received a shock greater than + that which had come with the announcement of American independence. The + government had armed the forts at Sheerness, had sent troops and guns to + Gravesend and Tilbury, and had declared war upon the rebellious fleet. + </p> + <p> + At the head of the Delegates, Richard Parker, with an officer’s knowledge, + became a kind of bogus admiral, who, in interview with the real admirals + and the representatives of the Admiralty Board, talked like one who, + having power, meant to use it ruthlessly. The government had yielded to + the Spithead mutineers, giving pardon to all except the ringleaders, and + granting demands for increased wages and better food, with a promise to + consider the question of prize-money; but the Nore mutineers refused to + accept that agreement, and enlarged the Spithead demands. Admiral Buckner + arrived on board his flag-ship, the Sandwich, without the deference due to + an admiral, and then had to wait three hours for Parker and the Delegates + on the quarter-deck. At the interview that followed, while apologizing to + the admiral for his discourtesy, Parker wore his hat as quasi-admiral of + the fleet. The demands of the Delegates were met by reasoning on the part + of Buckner, but without effect: for the seamen of the Nore believed that + what Spithead could get by obstinacy the Nore could increase by contumacy; + and it was their firm will to bring the Lords of the Admiralty to their + knees. + </p> + <p> + The demands of the Nore Delegates, however, were rejected by the + Admiralty, and with the rejection two regiments of militia came from + Canterbury to reinforce the Sheerness garrison. The mutineers were allowed + to parade the town, so long as their conduct was decent, as Admiral + Buckner admitted it to be; but Parker declared that the presence of the + militia was an insult to the seamen in the Nore fleet. + </p> + <p> + Then ensued the beginning of the terror. When Buckner presented the + Admiralty’s refusal to deal with the Delegates, there came quick response. + The reply of the mutineers was to row into Sheerness harbour and take away + with them eight gunboats lying there, each of which fired a shot at the + fort, as if to announce that the mutineers were now the avowed enemies of + the government. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the rebels ordered all their ships together at the Great Nore, + ranging them into two crescents, with the newly acquired gunboats at the + flanks. The attitude of the authorities gave the violent mutineers their + opportunity. Buckner’s flag was struck from the mainmast-head of the + Sandwich, and the red flag was hoisted in its place. + </p> + <p> + The Delegates would not accept an official pardon for their mutiny through + Buckner. They demanded a deputation from the Admiralty, Parker saying that + no accommodation could occur without the appearance of the Lords of the + Admiralty at the Nore. Then followed threatening arrangements, and the + Delegates decided to blockade the Thames and the Medway. + </p> + <p> + It was at this time that Dyck Calhoun—who, by consent of Richard + Parker, had taken control of the Ariadne—took action which was to + alter the course of his own life and that of many others. + </p> + <p> + Since the beginning of the mutiny he had acted with decision, judgment, + and strength. He had agreed to the Ariadne joining the mutinous ships, and + he had skilfully constructed petitions to the Admiralty, the House of + Commons, and the King. His habit of thought, his knowledge of life, made + him a power. He believed that the main demands of the seamen were just, + and he made a useful organization to enforce them. It was only when he saw + the mutineers would not accept the terms granted to the Spithead rebels + that a new spirit influenced him. + </p> + <p> + He had determined to get control of the Ariadne. His gift as a speaker had + conquered his fellow-sailors, and the fact that he was an ex-convict gave + them confidence that he was no friend of the government. + </p> + <p> + One of the first things he did, after securing his own pre-eminence on the + ship, was to get the captain and officers safely ashore. This he did with + skill, and the crew of the ship even cheered them as they left. + </p> + <p> + None of the regular officers of the Ariadne were left upon her, except + Greenock, the master of the ship, whose rank was below that of lieutenant, + and whose duties were many and varied under the orders of the captain. + Greenock chose to stay, though Dyck said he could go if he wished. + Greenock’s reply was that it was his duty to stay, if the ship was going + to remain at sea, for no one else could perform his duties or do his work. + </p> + <p> + Then, by vote, Dyck became captain of the ship. He did not, however, wear + a captain’s uniform—blue coat, with white cuffs, flat gold buttons; + with lace at the neck, a white-sleeved waistcoat, knee-breeches, white + silk stockings, and a three-cornered black hat edged with gold lace and + ornamented with a cockade; with a black cravat, a straight dress sword, a + powdered cue tied with a black-silk ribbon, and epaulets of heavy gold + stuff completing the equipment. Dyck, to the end of his career at sea, + wore only the common seaman’s uniform. + </p> + <p> + Dyck would not have accepted the doubtful honour had he not had long + purposes in view. With Ferens, Michael Clones, and two others whom Ferens + could trust, a plan was arranged which Dyck explained to his fellow-seamen + on the Ariadne. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve come to the parting of the ways, brothers,” he said. “We’ve all + become liable to death for mutiny. The pardon offered by the King has been + refused, and fresh demands are made. There, I think, a real wrong has been + done by our people. The Ariadne is well supplied with food and water. It + is the only ship with sufficiency. And why? Because at the beginning we + got provisions from the shore in time; also we got permission from Richard + Parker to fill our holds from two stopped merchant-ships. Well, the rest + of the fleet know what our food and drink fitment is. They know how safe + we are, and to-day orders have come to yield our provisions to the rest of + the fleet. That is, we, who have taken time by the forelock, must yield up + our good gettings to bad receivers. I am not prepared to do it. + </p> + <p> + “On shore the Admiralty have stopped the supply of provisions to us and to + all the fleet. Our men have been arrested at Gravesend, Tilbury, and + Sheerness. The fleet could not sail now if it wished; but one ship can + sail, and it is ours. The fleet hasn’t the food to sail. On Richard + Parker’s ship, the Sandwich, there is food only for a week. The others are + almost as bad. We are in danger of being attacked. Sir Erasmus Gower, of + the Neptune, has a fleet of warships, gunboats, and amateur armed vessels + getting ready to attack us. The North Sea fleet has come to help us, but + that doesn’t save us. I’ll say this—we are loyal men in this fleet, + otherwise our ships would have joined the enemy in the waters of France or + Holland. They can’t go now, in any case. The men have lost heart. + Confidence in our cause has declined. The government sent Lords of the + Admiralty here, and they offered pardon if we accepted the terms of the + Spithead settlement. We declined the terms. That was a bad day for us, and + put every one of our heads in a noose. + </p> + <p> + “For the moment we have a majority in men and ships; but we can’t renew + our food or drink, or ammunition. The end is sure against us. Our original + agitation was just; our present obduracy is madness. This ship is + suspected. It is believed by the rest of the fleet—by ships like the + Invincible—that we’re weak-kneed, selfish, and lacking in fidelity + to the cause. That’s not true; but we have either to fight or to run, and + perhaps to do both. + </p> + <p> + “Make no mistake. The government are not cowards; the Admiralty are + gentlemen of determination. If men like Admiral Howe support the Admiralty—Howe, + one of the best friends the seaman ever had—what do you think the + end will be? Have you heard what happened at Spithead? The seamen chivvied + Admiral Alan Gardner and his colleagues aboard a ship. He caught hold of a + seaman Delegate by the collar and shook him. They closed in on him. They + handled him roughly. He sprang on the hammock-nettings, put the noose of + the hanging-rope round his neck, and said to the men who advanced + menacingly: + </p> + <p> + “‘If you will return to your duty, you may hang me at the yard-arm!’ + </p> + <p> + “That’s the kind of stuff our admirals are made of. We have no quarrel + with the majority of our officers. They’re straight, they’re honest, and + they’re true to their game. Our quarrel is with Parliament and the + Admiralty; our struggle is with the people of the kingdom, who have not + seen to it that our wrongs are put right, that we have food to eat, water + to drink, and money to spend.” + </p> + <p> + He waved a hand, as though to sweep away the criticisms he felt must be + rising against him. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think because I’ve spent four years in prison under the sternest + discipline the world offers, and have never been a seaman before, that I’m + not fitted to espouse your cause. By heaven, I am—I am—I am—I + know the wrongs you’ve suffered. I’ve smelled the water you drink. I’ve + tasted the rotten meat. I’ve seen the honest seaman who has been for years + upon the main—I’ve seen the scars upon his back got from a brutal + officer who gave him too big a job to do, and flogged him for not doing + it. I know of men who, fevered with bad food, have fallen, from the + mainmast-head, or have slipped overboard, glad to go, because of the + wrongs they’d suffered. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what our fate will be, and then I’ll put a question to you. + We must either give up our stock of provisions or run for it. Parker and + the other Delegates proclaim their comradeship; yet they have hidden from + us the king’s proclamation and the friendly resolutions of the London + merchants. I say our only hope is to escape from the Thames. I know that + skill will be needed, but if we escape, what then? I say if we escape, + because, as we sail out, orders will be given for the other mutiny ships + to attack us. We shall be fired on; we shall risk our lives. You’ve done + that before, however, and will do it again. + </p> + <p> + “We have to work out our own problem and fight our own fight. Well, what I + want to know is this—are we to give in to the government, or do we + stand to be hammered by Sir Erasmus Gower? Remember what that means. It + means that if we fight the government ships, we must either die in battle, + or die with the ropes round our necks. There is another way. I’m not + inclined to surrender, or to stand by men who have botched our business + for us. I’m for making for the sea, and, when I get there, I’m for + striking for the West Indies, where there’s a British fleet fighting + Britain’s enemies, and for joining in and fighting with them. I’m for + getting out of this river and away from England. It’s a bold plan, but + it’s a good one. I want to know if you’re with me. Remember, there’s + danger getting out, and there’s danger when and if we get out. The other + ships may pursue us. The Portsmouth fleet may nab us. We may be caught, + and, if we are, we must take the dose prepared for us; but I’m for making + a strong rush, going without fear, and asking no favour. I won’t surrender + here; it’s too cowardly. I want to know, will you come to the open sea + with me?” + </p> + <p> + There were many shouts of assent from the crowd, though here and there + came a growl of dissent. + </p> + <p> + “Not all of you are willing to come with me,” Dyck continued vigorously. + “Tell me, what is it you expect to get by staying here? You’re famished + when you’re not poisoned; you’re badly clothed and badly fed; you’re kept + together by flogging; you’re treated worse than a convict in jail or a + victim in a plague hospital. You’re not paid as well as your grandfathers + were, and you’re punished worse. Here, on the Ariadne, we’re not skulkers. + We don’t fear our duty; we are loyal men. Many of you, on past voyages, + fighting the enemy, lived on burgoo and molasses only, with rum and foul + water to drink. On the other ships there have been terrible cruelty and + offence. Surgeons have neglected and ill-treated sick men and embezzled + provisions and drinks intended for the invalids. Many a man has died + because of the neglect of the ship’s surgeons; many have been kicked about + the head and beaten, and haven’t dared to go on the sick list for fear of + their officers. The Victualling Board gets money to supply us with food + and drink according to measure. They get the money for a full pound and a + full gallon, and we get fourteen ounces of food and seven pints of liquor, + or less. Well, what do you say, friends, to being our own Victualling + Board out in the open sea, if we can get there? + </p> + <p> + “We may have to fight when we get out; but I’m for taking the Ariadne into + the great world battle when we can find it. This I want to ask—isn’t + it worth while making a great fight in our own way, and showing that + British seamen can at once be mutineers and patriots? We have a pilot who + knows the river. We can go to the West Indian Islands, to the British + fleet there. It’s doom and death to stay here; and it may be doom and + death to go. If we try to break free, and are fired on, the Admiralty may + approve of us, because we’ve broken away from the rest. See now, isn’t + that the thing to do? I’m for getting out. Who’s coming with me?” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a burly sailor pushed forward. He had the head of a viking. His + eyes were strong with enterprise. He had a hand like a ham, with long, + hairy fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” said he, “you’ve put the thing so there can be only one answer + to it. As for me, I’m sick of the way this mutiny has been bungled from + first to last. There’s been one good thing about it only—we’ve got + order without cruelty, we’ve rebelled without ravagement; but we’ve missed + the way, and we didn’t deal with the Admiralty commissioners as we ought. + So I’m for joining up with the captain here”—he waved a hand towards + Dyck—“and making for open sea. As sure as God’s above, they’ll try + to hammer us; but it’s the only way.” + </p> + <p> + He held a handkerchief-a dirty, red silk thing. “See,” he continued, “the + wind is right to take us out. The other ships won’t know what we’re going + to do until we start. I’m for getting off. I’m a pressed man. I haven’t + seen my girl for five years, and they won’t let me free in port to go and + see her. Nothing can be worse than what we have to suffer now, so let’s + make a break for it. That’s what I say. Come, now, lads, three cheers for + Captain Calhoun!” + </p> + <p> + A half-hour later, on the captain’s deck, Dyck gave the order to pass + eastward. It was sunset when they started, and they had not gone a + thousand yards before some of the mutineering ships opened fire on the + Ariadne. The breeze was good, however, and she sailed bravely through the + leaden storm. Once twice—thrice she was hit, but she sped on. Two + men were killed and several were wounded. Sails were torn, and the high + bulkheads were broken; but, without firing a shot in reply, the Ariadne + swung clear at last of the hostile ships and reached safe water. + </p> + <p> + On the edge of the open sea Dyck took stock of the position. The Ariadne + had been hit several times, and the injury done her was marked. Before + morning the dead seamen were sunk in watery graves, and the wounded were + started back to health again. By daylight the Ariadne was well away from + the land. + </p> + <p> + The first thing Dyck had done, after escaping from the river, was to study + the wants of the Ariadne and make an estimate for the future with + Greenock, the master. He calculated they had food and water enough to last + for three months, even with liberal provisioning. Going among the crew, he + realized there was no depression among them; that they seemed to care + little where they were going. It was, however, quite clear they wished to + fight—to fight the foes of England. + </p> + <p> + He knew his task was a hard one, and that all efforts at discipline would + have dangers. He knew, also, that he could have no authority, save + personality and success. He set himself, therefore, to win the confidence + of Greenock and the crew, and he began discipline at once. He knew that a + reaction must come; that the crew, loose upon their own trail, would come + to regret the absence of official command. He realized that many of them + would wish to return to the fleet at the Nore, but while the weather was + good he did not fear serious trouble. The danger would come in rough + weather or on a becalmed sea. + </p> + <p> + They had passed Beachy Head in the mist. They had seen no battle-ship, and + had sighted no danger, as they made their way westward through the + Channel. There had been one moment of anxiety. That was when they passed + Portsmouth, and had seen in the far distance, to the right of them, the + mastheads of Admiral Gardner’s fleet. + </p> + <p> + It was here that Dyck’s orderly, Michael Clones, was useful. He brought + word of murmuring among the more brutish of the crew, that some of them + wished to join Gardner’s fleet. At this news, Dyck went down among the + men. It was an unusual thing to do, but it brought matters to an issue. + </p> + <p> + Among the few dissatisfied sailors was one Nick Swaine, who had been the + cause of more trouble on the Ariadne than any other. He had a quarrelsome + mind; he had been influenced by the writings of Wolfe Tone, the Irish + rebel. One of the secrets of Dyck’s control of the crew was the fact that + he was a gentleman, and was born in the ruling class, and this was + anathema to Nick Swaine. His view of democracy was ignorance controlling + ignorance. + </p> + <p> + By nature he was insolent, but under the system of control pursued by the + officers of the Ariadne, previous to the mutiny, he had not been able to + do much. The system had bound him down. He had been the slave of habit, + custom, and daily duty. His record, therefore, was fairly clean until two + days after the escape from the Thames and the sighting of the Portsmouth + fleet. Then all his revolutionary spirit ran riot in him. Besides, the + woman to whom he had become attached at the Nore had been put ashore on + the day Dyck gained control. It roused his enmity now. + </p> + <p> + When Dyck came down, he had the gunners called to him, admonishing them + that drill must go on steadily, and promising them good work to do. Then + he turned to the ordinary seamen. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Nick Swaine strode forward within a dozen feet of Dyck. + </p> + <p> + “Look there!” he said, and he jerked a finger towards the distant + Portsmouth fleet. “Look there! You’ve passed that.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck shrugged a shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I meant to pass it,” he said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Give orders to make for it,” said Nick with a sullen eye. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not. And look you, my man, keep a civil tongue to me, who command + this ship, or I’ll have you put in irons.” + </p> + <p> + “Have me put in irons!” Swaine cried hotly. “This isn’t Dublin jail. You + can’t do what you like here. Who made you captain of this ship?” + </p> + <p> + “Those who made me captain will see my orders carried out. Now, get you + back with the rest, or I’ll see if they still hold good.” Dyck waved a + hand. “Get back when I tell you, Swaine!” + </p> + <p> + “When you’ve turned the ship to the Portsmouth fleet I’ll get back, and + not till then.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck made a motion of the hand to some boatswains standing by. Before they + could arrest him, Swaine flung himself towards Dyck with a knife in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Dyck’s hand was quicker, however. His pistol flung out, a shot was fired, + and the knife dropped from the battered fingers of Nick Swaine. + </p> + <p> + “Have his wounds dressed, then put him in irons,” Dyck commanded. + </p> + <p> + From that moment, in good order and in good weather, the Ariadne sped on + her way westward and southward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. IN THE NICK OF TIME + </h2> + <p> + Perhaps no mutineer in the history of the world ever succeeded, as did + Dyck Calhoun, in holding control over fellow-mutineers on the journey from + the English Channel to the Caribbean Sea. As a boy, Dyck had been an + expert sailor, had studied the machinery of a man-of-war, and his love of + the sea was innate and deep-seated; but his present success was based upon + more than experience. Quite apart from the honour of his nature, prison + had deepened in him the hatred of injustice. In soul he was bitter; in + body he was healthy, powerful, and sane. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, sternly, yet tactfully, he had broken down the many customs of + ship life injurious to the welfare of the men. Under his system the + sailors had good coffee for breakfast, instead of a horrible mixture made + of burnt biscuits cooked in foul water. He gave the men pea-soup and rice + instead of burgoo and the wretched oatmeal mess which was the staple thing + for breakfast. He saw to it that the meat was no longer a hateful, + repulsive mass, two-thirds bone and gristle, and before it came into the + cook’s hands capable of being polished like mahogany. He threatened the + cook with punishment if he found the meals ill-cooked. + </p> + <p> + In all the journey to the West Indian seas there had been only three + formal floggings. His attitude was not that of the commander who declared: + </p> + <p> + “I will see the man’s backbone, by God!” + </p> + <p> + He wished to secure discipline without cruelty. His greatest difficulty, + at the start, was in making lieutenants. That he overcame by appointing + senior midshipmen before the Ariadne was out of the Channel. He offered a + lieutenancy to Ferens, who had the courage to decline it. + </p> + <p> + “Make me purser,” remarked Ferens. “Make me purser, and I’ll do the job + justly.” + </p> + <p> + As the purser of the Ariadne had been sent to the sick-bay and was likely + to die (and did die subsequently), Ferens was put into his + uniform-three-cornered cocked hat, white knee-breeches, and white + stockings. The purser of a man-of-war was generally a friend of the + captain, going with him from ship to ship. + </p> + <p> + Of the common sailors, on the whole, Dyck had little doubt. He had + informed them that, whatever happened, they should not be in danger; that + the ship should not join the West Indian fleet unless every man except + himself received amnesty. If the amnesty was not granted, then one of two + things should happen—the ship must make for a South American port, + or she must fight. Fighting would not frighten these men. + </p> + <p> + It was rather among the midshipmen that Dyck looked for trouble. + Sometimes, with only two years’ training at Gosport, a youngster became a + midshipman on first going to sea, and he could begin as early as eleven + years of age. A second-rate ship like the Ariadne carried eighteen + midshipmen; and as six lieutenants were appointed from them, only twelve + remained. From these twelve, in the dingy after-cockpit, where the + superficial area was not more than twelve square feet; where the air was + foul, and the bilges reeked with a pestilential stench; where the purser’s + store-room near gave out the smell of rancid butter and poisonous cheese; + where the musty taint of old ropes came to them, there was a spirit of + danger. + </p> + <p> + Dyck was right in thinking that in the midshipmen’s dismal berth the first + flowers of revolt to his rule would bloom. + </p> + <p> + Sailors, even as low as the pig-sty men, had some idea of fair play; and + as the weeks that had passed since they left the Thames had given them + better food and drink, and lessened the severity of those above them, real + obedience had come. + </p> + <p> + It was not strange that the ship ran well, for all the officers under the + new conditions, except Dyck himself, had had previous experience. The old + lieutenants had gone, but midshipmen, who in any case were trained, had + taken their places. The rest of the ship’s staff were the same, except the + captain; and as Dyck had made a friend of Greenock the master, a man of + glumness, the days were peaceful enough during the voyage to the Caribbean + Sea. + </p> + <p> + The majority saw that every act of Dyck had proved him just and capable. + He had rigidly insisted on gun practice; he had keyed up the marines to a + better spirit, and churlishness had been promptly punished. He was, in + effect, what the sailors called a “rogue,” or a “taut one”—seldom + smiling, gaunt of face but fearless of eye, and with a body free from + fatigue. + </p> + <p> + As the weather grew warmer and the days longer, and they drew near to the + coast of Jamaica, a stir of excitement was shown. + </p> + <p> + “You’d like to know what I’m going to do, Michael, I suppose?” said Dyck + one morning, as he drank his coffee and watched the sun creeping up the + sky. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in three days we shall know what’s to become of us, and I have no + doubt or fear. This ship’s a rebel, but it’s returning to duty. We’ve + shown them how a ship can be run with good food and drink and fair + dealing, and, please God, we’ll have some work to do now that belongs to a + man-of-war!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I know what you mean to do,” replied Michael. “You mean to get all + of us off by giving yourself up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, some one has to pay for what we’ve done, Michael.” A dark, ruthless + light came into Dyck’s eyes. “Some one’s got to pay.” A grim smile crossed + his face. “We’ve done the forbidden thing; we’ve mutinied and taken to the + open sea. We were fired on by the other mutiny ships, and that will help + our sailors, but it won’t help me. I’m the leader. We ought, of course, to + have taken refuge with the nearest squadron of the king’s ships. Well, + I’ve run my luck, and I’ll have to pay.” + </p> + <p> + He scratched his chin with a thumb-nail-a permanent physical trait. “You + see, the government has pardoned all the sailors, and will hang only the + leaders. I expect Parker is hung already. Well, I’m the leader on the + Ariadne. I’m taking this ship straight to his majesty’s West Indian fleet, + in thorough discipline, and I’ll hand it over well-found, well-manned, + well-officered, on condition that all go free except myself. I came aboard + a common sailor, a quota man, a prison-bird, penniless. Well, have I shown + that I can run a ship? Have I learned the game of control? During the + weeks we’ve been at sea, bursting along, have I proved myself?” + </p> + <p> + Michael smiled. “What did I say to you the first night on board, sir? + Didn’t I say they’d make an officer of you when they found out what brains + you had? By St. Patrick, you’ve made yourself captain with the good-will + of all, and your iron hand has held the thing together. You’ve got a great + head, too, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck looked at him with a face in which the far future showed. + </p> + <p> + “Michael, I’ve been lucky. I’ve had good men about me. God only knows what + would have happened to me if the master hadn’t been what he is—a + gentleman who knows his job-aye, a gentleman through and through! If he + had gone against me, Michael”—he flicked a finger to the sky—“well, + that much for my chances! I’d have been dropped overboard, or stabbed in + my cabin, as was that famous Captain Pigot, son of an admiral, who had as + much soul as you’d find in a stone-quarry. When two men had dropped from + the masts, hurrying to get down because of his threat that the last man + should be thrashed—when the two men lay smashed to pieces at his + feet, Pigot said: ‘Heave the lubbers overboard.’ That night, Michael, the + seamen rose, crept to his cabin, stabbed him to death, pitched his body + overboard, put his lieutenants to sea in open boats, and then ran away to + South America. Well, I’ve escaped that fate, because this was a good ship, + and all the officers knew their business, and did it without cruelty. I’ve + been well served. It was a great thing making the new lieutenants from the + midshipmen. There never was a better lot on board a ship.” + </p> + <p> + Michael’s face clouded. “Sir, that’s true. The new lieutenants have done + their work well, but them that’s left behind in the midshipmen’s berth—do + you think they’re content? No, sir. The only spot on board this ship where + there lurks an active spirit against you is in the midshipmen’s berth. + Mischief’s there, and that’s what’s brought me to you now.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck smiled. “I know that. I’ve had my eye on the midshipmen. I’ve never + trusted them. They’re a hard lot; but if the rest of the ship is with me, + I’ll deal with them promptly. They’re not clever or bold enough to do + their job skilfully. They’ve got some old hands down there—hammock-men, + old stagers of the sea that act as servants to them. What line do they + take?” + </p> + <p> + Michael laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + “What I know I’ve got from two of them, and it is this—the young + gentlemen’ll try to get control of the ship.” + </p> + <p> + The cynicism deepened in Dyck’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Get control of the ship, eh? Well, it’ll be a new situation on a king’s + ship if midshipmen succeed where the rest dare not try. Now, mark what I’m + going to do.” + </p> + <p> + He called, and a marine showed himself. + </p> + <p> + “The captain’s compliments to the master, and his presence here at once. + Michael,” he continued presently, “what fools they are! They’re scarcely a + baker’s dozen, and none of them has skill to lead. Why, the humblest + sailor would have more sense than to start a revolt, the success of which + depends upon his personal influence, and the failure of which must end in + his own ruin. Does any one think they’re the kind to lead a mutiny within + a mutiny? Listen to me I’m not cruel, but I’ll put an end to this plot. + We’re seven hundred on this ship, and she’s a first-class sailer. I + warrant no ship ever swam the seas that looks better going than she does. + So we’ve got to see that her, record is kept clean as a mutineer.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the master appeared. He saluted. “Greenock,” said Dyck, “I + wonder if you’ve noticed the wind blowing chilly from the midshipmen’s + berth.” A lurking devilish humour shot from Greenock’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, I’ve smelled that wind.” + </p> + <p> + “Greenock, we’re near the West Indian Islands. Before we eat many meals + we’ll see land. We may pass French ships, and we may have to fight. Well, + we’ve had a good running, master; so I’ll tell you what I mean to do.” + </p> + <p> + He then briefly repeated what he had said to Michael, and added + </p> + <p> + “Greenock, in this last to-do, I shall be the only man in danger. The + king’s amnesty covers every one except the leaders—that lets you + off. The Delegate of the Ariadne is aboard the Invincible, if he’s not + been hanged. I’m the only one left on the Ariadne. I’ve had a good time, + Greenock—thanks to you, chiefly. I think the men are ready for + anything that’ll come; but I also think we should guard against a revolt + of the midshipmen by healthy discipline now. Therefore I’ll instruct the + lieutenants to spread-eagle every midshipman for twelve hours. There’s a + stiff wind; there’s a good stout spray, and the wind and spray should cool + their hot souls. Meanwhile, though without food, they shall have water as + they need it. If at the end of the twelve hours any still seems to be + difficult, give him another twelve. Look!” + </p> + <p> + He stretched out a hand to the porthole on his right. “Far away in front + are islands. You cannot see them yet, but those little thickening mists in + the distance mean land. Those are the islands in front of the Windward + Passage. I think it would be a good lesson for the young gentlemen to be + spread-eagled against the mists of their future. It shall be’ done at + once; and pass the word why it’s done.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later there was laughter in every portion of the ship, for the + least popular members of the whole personnel were being dragooned into + discipline. The sailors had seen individual midshipmen spread-eagled and + mastheaded, while all save those they could bribe were forbidden to bring + them drink or food; but here was a whole body of junior officers, punished + en masse, as it were, lashed to the rigging and taking the wind and the + spray in their teeth. + </p> + <p> + Before the day was over, the whole ship was alive with anticipation, for, + in the far distance, could be seen the dark blue and purplish shadows + which told of land; and this brought the minds of all to the end of their + journey, with thoughts of the crisis near. + </p> + <p> + Word had been passed that all on board were considered safe—all + except the captain who had manoeuvred them to the entrance of the + Caribbean Sea. Had he been of their own origin, they would not have placed + so much credence in the rumour; but coming as he did of an ancient Irish + family, although he had been in jail for killing, the traditional respect + for the word of a gentleman influenced them. When a man like Ferens, on + the one hand, and the mutineer whose fingers had been mutilated by Dyck in + the Channel, on the other—when these agreed to bend themselves to + the rule of a usurper, some idea of Calhoun’s power may be got. + </p> + <p> + On this day, with the glimmer of land in the far distance, the charges of + all the guns were renewed. Also word was passed that at any moment the + ship must be cleared for action. Down in the cockpit the tables were got + ready by the surgeon and the loblolly-boys; the magazines were opened, and + the guards were put on duty. + </p> + <p> + Orders were issued that none should be allowed to escape active share in + the coming battle; that none should retreat to the orlop deck or the lower + deck; that the boys should carry the cartridge-cases handed to them from + the magazine under the cover of their coats, running hard to the guns. The + twenty-four-pounders-the largest guns in use at the time-the + eighteen-pounders, and the twelve-pounder guns were all in good order. + </p> + <p> + The bags of iron balls called grape-shot-the worst of all—varying in + size from sixteen to nine balls in a bag, were prepared. Then the + canister, which produced ghastly murder, chain-shot to bring down masts + and spars, langrel to fire at masts and rigging, and the dismantling shot + to tear off sails, were all made ready. The muskets for the marines, the + musketoons, the pistols, the cutlasses, the boarding-pikes, the axes or + tomahawks, the bayonets and sailors’ knives, were placed conveniently for + use. A bevy of men were kept busy cleaning the round shot of rust, and + there was not a man on the ship who did not look with pride at the guns, + in their paint of grey-blue steel, with a scarlet band round the muzzle. + </p> + <p> + To the right of the Ariadne was the coast of Cuba; to the left was the + coast of Haiti, both invisible to the eye. Although the knowledge that + they were nearing land had already given the officers and men a feeling of + elation, the feeling was greatly intensified as they came through the Turk + Island Passage, which is a kind of gateway to the Windward Passage between + Cuba and Haiti. The glory of the sunny, tropical world was upon the ship + and upon the sea; it crept into the blood of every man, and the sweet + summer weather gave confidence to their minds. It was a day which only + those who know tropical and semitropical seas can understand. It had the + sense of soaking luxury. + </p> + <p> + In his cabin, with the ship’s chart on the table before him, Dyck Calhoun + studied the course of the Ariadne. The wind was fair and good, the + sea-birds hovered overhead. From a distant part of the ship came the sound + of men’s voices in song. They were singing “Spanish Ladies”: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “We hove our ship to when the wind was sou’west, boys, + We hove our ship to for to strike soundings clear; + Then we filled our main tops’l and bore right away, boys, + And right up the Channel our course did we steer. + + “We’ll rant and we’ll roar like true British sailors, + We’ll range and we’ll roam over all the salt seas, + Until we strike soundings in the Channel of old England + From Ushant to Scilly ‘tis thirty-five leagues.” + </pre> + <p> + Dyck raised his head, and a smile came to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you sing of a Channel, my lads, but it’s a long way there, as you’ll + find. I hope to God they give us some fighting!... Well, what is it?” he + asked of a marine who appeared in his doorway. + </p> + <p> + “The master of the ship begs to see you, sir,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + A moment afterwards Greenock entered. He asked Dyck several questions + concerning the possible fighting, the disposition of ammunition and all + that, and said at last: + </p> + <p> + “I think we shall be of use, sir. The ship’s all right now.” + </p> + <p> + “As right as anything human can be. I’ve got faith in my star, master.” + </p> + <p> + A light came into the other man’s dour face. “I wish you’d get into + uniform, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Uniform? No, Greenock! No, I use the borrowed power, but not the borrowed + clothes. I’m a common sailor, and I wear the common sailor’s clothes. + You’ve earned your uniform, and it suits you. Stick to it; and when I’ve + earned a captain’s uniform I’ll wear it. I owe you the success of this + voyage so far, and my heart is full of it, up to the brim. Hark, what’s + that?” + </p> + <p> + “By God, it’s guns, sir! There’s fighting on!” + </p> + <p> + “Fighting!” + </p> + <p> + Dyck stood for a minute with head thrust forward, eyes fixed upon the + distant mists ahead. The rumble of the guns came faintly through the air. + An exultant look came into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Master, the game’s with us—it is fighting! I know the difference + between the two sets of guns, English and French. Listen—that quick, + spasmodic firing is French; the steady-as-thunder is English. Well, we’ve + got all sail on. Now, make ready the ship for fighting.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s almost ready, sir.” + </p> + <p> + An hour later the light mist had risen, and almost suddenly the Ariadne + seemed to come into the field of battle. Dyck Calhoun could see the + struggle going on. The two sets of enemy ships had come to close quarters, + and some were locked in deadly conflict. Other ships, still apart, fired + at point-blank range, and all the horrors of slaughter were in full swing. + From the square blue flag at the mizzen top gallant masthead of one of the + British ships engaged, Dyck saw that the admiral’s own craft was in some + peril. The way lay open for the Ariadne to bear down upon the French ship, + engaged with the admiral’s smaller ship, and help to end the struggle + successfully for the British cause. + </p> + <p> + While still too far away for point-blank range, the Ariadne’s guns began + upon the French ships distinguishable by their shape and their colours. + Before the first shot was fired, however, Dyck made a tour of the decks + and gave some word of cheer to the men, The Ariadne lost no time in + getting into the thick of the fight. The seamen were stripped to the + waist, and black silk handkerchiefs were tightly bound round their heads + and over their ears. + </p> + <p> + What the French thought of the coming of the Ariadne was shown by the + reply they made presently to her firing. The number of French ships in + action was greater than the British by six, and the Ariadne arrived just + when she could be of greatest service. The boldness of her seamanship, and + the favour of the wind, gave her an advantage which good fortune helped to + justify. + </p> + <p> + As she drew in upon the action, she gave herself up to great danger; she + was coming in upon the rear of the French ships, and was subject to fierce + attack. To the French she seemed like a fugitive warrior returning to his + camp just when he was most needed, as was indeed the case. Two of her + shots settled one of the enemy’s vessels; and before the others could + converge upon her, she had crawled slowly up against the off side of the + French admiral’s ship, which was closely engaged with the Beatitude, the + British flagship, on the other side. + </p> + <p> + The canister, chain-shot, and langrel of the French foe had caused much + injury to the Ariadne, and her canvas was in a sore plight. Fifty of her + seamen had been killed, and a hundred and fifty were wounded by the time + she reached the starboard side of the Aquitaine. She would have lost many + more were it not that her onset demoralized the French gunners, while the + cheers of the British sailors aboard the Beatitude gave confidence to + their mutineer comrades. + </p> + <p> + On his own deck, Dyck watched the progress of the battle with the joy of a + natural fighter. He had carried the thing to an almost impossible success. + There had only been this in his favour, that his was an unexpected + entrance—a fact which had been worth another ship at least. He saw + his boarders struggle for the Aquitaine. He saw them discharge their + pistols, and then resort to the cutlass and the dagger; and the marines + bringing down their victims from the masts of the French flag-ship. + </p> + <p> + Presently he heard the savagely buoyant shouts of the Beatitude men, and + he realized that, by his coming, the admiral of the French fleet had been + obliged to yield up his sword, and to signal to his ships—such as + could—to get away. That half of them succeeded in doing so was + because the British fleet had been heavily handled in the fight, and would + have been defeated had it not been for the arrival of the Ariadne. + </p> + <p> + Never, perhaps, in the history of the navy had British ships clamped the + enemy as the Aquitaine was clamped by the Beatitude and the Ariadne. + Certain it is that no admiral of the British fleet had ever to perform two + such acts in one day as receiving the submission of a French admiral and + offering thanks to the captain of a British man-of-war whom, while + thanking, he must at once place under arrest as a mutineer. What might + have chanced further to Dyck’s disadvantage can never be known, because + there appeared on the deck of the Beatitude, as its captain under the + rear-admiral, Captain Ivy, who, five years before, had visited Dyck and + his father at Playmore, and had gone with them to Dublin. + </p> + <p> + The admiral had sent word to the Ariadne for its captain to come to the + Beatitude. When the captain’s gig arrived, and a man in seaman’s clothes + essayed to climb the side of the flag-ship, he was at first prevented. + Captain Ivy, however, immediately gave orders for Dyck to be admitted, but + without honours. + </p> + <p> + On the deck of the Beatitude, Dyck looked into the eyes of Captain Ivy. He + saluted; but the captain held out a friendly hand. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a mutineer, Calhoun, but your ship has given us victory. I’d like + to shake hands with one that’s done so good a stroke for England.” + </p> + <p> + A queer smile played about Calhoun’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve brought the Ariadne back to the fleet, Captain Ivy. The men have + fought as well as men ever did since Britain had a navy. I’ve brought her + back to the king’s fleet to be pardoned.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must be placed under arrest, Calhoun. Those are the orders—that + wherever the Ariadne should be found she should be seized, and that you + should be tried by court-martial.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded. “I understand. When did you get word?” + </p> + <p> + “About forty-eight hours ago. The king’s mail came by a fast frigate.” + </p> + <p> + “We took our time, but we came straight from the Channel to find this + fleet. At the mouth of the Thames we willed to find it, and to fight with + it—and by good luck so we have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me take you to the admiral,” said Captain Ivy. + </p> + <p> + He walked beside Dyck to the admiral’s cabin. “You’ve made a terrible mess + of things, Calhoun, but you’ve put a lot right to-day,” he said at the + entrance to the cabin. “Tell me one thing honestly before we part now—did + you kill Erris Boyne?” Dyck looked at him long and hard. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know—on my honour I don’t know! I don’t remember—I + was drunk and drugged.” + </p> + <p> + “Calhoun, I don’t believe you did; but if you did, you’ve paid the price—and + the price of mutiny, too.” In the clear blue eyes of Captain Ivy there was + a look of friendliness. “I notice you don’t wear uniform, Calhoun,” he + added. “I mean a captain’s uniform.” Dyck smiled. “I never have.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment the door of the admiral’s cabin was opened. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dyck Calhoun of the Ariadne, sir,” said Captain Ivy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE ADMIRAL HAS HIS SAY + </h2> + <p> + The admiral’s face was naturally vigorous and cheerful, but, as he looked + at Dyck Calhoun, a steely hardness came into it, and gave a cynical twist + to the lips. He was a short man, and spare, but his bearing had dignity + and every motion significance. + </p> + <p> + He had had his high moment with the French admiral, had given his commands + to the fleet and had arranged the disposition of the captured French + ships. He was in good spirits, and the wreckage in the fleet seemed not to + shake his nerve, for he had lost in men far less than the enemy, and had + captured many ships—a good day’s work, due finally to the man in + sailor’s clothes standing there with Captain Ivy. The admiral took in the + dress of Calhoun at a glance—the trousers of blue cloth, the + sheath-knife belt, the stockings of white silk, the white shirt with the + horizontal stripes, the loose, unstarched, collar, the fine black silk + handkerchief at the throat, the waistcoat of red kerseymere, the shoes + like dancing-pumps, and the short, round blue jacket, with the flat gold + buttons—a seaman complete. He smiled broadly; he liked this mutineer + and ex-convict. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Calhoun, eh!” he remarked mockingly, and bowed satirically. + “Well, you’ve played a strong game, and you’ve plunged us into great + difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck did not lose his opportunity. “Happily, I’ve done what I planned to + do when we left the Thames, admiral,” he said. “We came to get the chance + of doing what, by favour of fate, we have accomplished. Now, sir, as I’m + under arrest, and the ship which I controlled has done good service, may I + beg that the Ariadne’s personnel shall have amnesty, and that I alone be + made to pay—if that must be—for the mutiny at the Nore.” + </p> + <p> + The admiral nodded. “We know of your breaking away from the mutinous + fleet, and of their firing on you as you passed, and that is in your + favour. I can also say this: that bringing the ship here was masterly + work, for I understand there were no officers on the Ariadne. She always + had the reputation of being one of the best-trained ships in the navy, and + she has splendidly upheld that reputation. How did you manage it, Mr. + Calhoun?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck briefly told how the lieutenants were made, and how he himself had + been enormously indebted to Greenock, the master of the ship, and all the + subordinate officers. + </p> + <p> + The admiral smiled sourly. “I have little power until I get instructions + from the Admiralty, and that will take some time. Meanwhile, the Ariadne + shall go on as she is, and as if she were—and had been from the + first, a member of my own squadron.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck bowed, explained what reforms he had created in the food and + provisions of the Ariadne, and expressed a hope that nothing should be + altered. He said the ship had proved herself, chiefly because of his + reforms. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, she’s been badly hammered. She’s got great numbers of wounded + and dead, and for many a day the men will be busy with repairs.” + </p> + <p> + “For a man without naval experience, for a mutineer, an ex-convict and a + usurper, you’ve done quite well, Mr. Calhoun; but my instructions were, if + I captured your ship, and you fell into my hands, to try you, and hang + you.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Captain Ivy intervened. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he said, “the instructions you received were general. They could + not anticipate the special service which the Ariadne has rendered to the + king’s fleet. I have known Mr. Calhoun; I have visited at his father’s + house; I was with him on his journey to Dublin, which was the beginning of + his bad luck. I would beg of you, sir, to give Mr. Calhoun his parole on + sea and land until word comes from the Admiralty as to what, in the + circumstances, his fate shall be.” + </p> + <p> + “To be kept on the Beatitude on parole!” exclaimed the admiral. + </p> + <p> + “Land or sea, Captain Ivy said. I’m as well-born as any man in the king’s + fleet,” declared Dyck. “I’ve as clean a record as any officer in his + majesty’s navy, save for the dark fact that I was put in prison for + killing a man; and I will say here, in the secrecy of an admiral’s cabin, + that the man I killed—or was supposed to kill—was a traitor. + If I did kill him, he deserved death by whatever hand it came. I care not + what you do with me”—his hands clenched, his shoulders drew up, his + eyes blackened with the dark fire of his soul—“whether you put me on + parole, or try me by court-martial, or hang me from the yard-arm. I’ve + done a piece of work of which I’m not ashamed. I’ve brought a mutinous + ship out of mutiny, sailed her down the seas for many weeks, disciplined + her, drilled her, trained her, fought her; helped to give the admiral of + the West Indian squadron his victory. I enlisted; I was a quota man. I + became a common sailor—I and my servant and friend, Michael Clones. + I shared the feelings of the sailors who mutinied. I wrote petitions and + appeals for them. I mutinied with them. Then at last, having been made + leader of the ship, with the captain and the lieutenants sent safely + ashore, and disagreeing with the policy of the Delegates in not accepting + the terms offered, I brought the ship out, commanding it from the + captain’s cabin, and have so continued until to-day. If I’m put ashore at + Jamaica, I’ll keep my parole; if I stay a prisoner here, I’ll keep my + parole. If I’ve done you service, admiral, be sure of this, it was done + with clear intent. My object was to save the men who, having mutinied and + fled from Admiralty control, are subject to capital punishment.” + </p> + <p> + “Your thinking came late. You should have thought before you mutinied,” + was the sharp reply. + </p> + <p> + “As a common sailor I acted on my conscience, and what we asked for the + Admiralty has granted. Only by mutiny did the Admiralty yield to our + demands. What I did I would do again! We took our risks in the Thames + against the guns that were levelled at us; we’ve taken our risks down here + against the French to help save your squadron, and we’ve done it. The men + have done it, because they’ve been loyal to the flag, and from first to + last set to make the Admiralty and the people know they have rights which + must be cherished. If all your men were as faithful to the Crown as are + the men on the Ariadne, then they deserve well of the King. But will you + put for me on paper the written word that every man now aboard the Ariadne + shall be held guiltless in the eyes of the admiral of this fleet; that the + present officers shall remain officers, that the reforms I have made shall + become permanent? For myself, I care not; but for the men who have fought + under me, I want their amnesty. And I want Michael Clones to be kept with + me, and Greenock, the master, and Ferens, the purser, to be kept where + they are. Admiral, I think you know my demands are just. Over there on the + Ariadne are a hundred and fifty wounded at least, and fifty have been + killed. Let the living not suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “You want it all on the nail, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “I want it at this moment when the men who have fought under me have + helped to win your battle, sir.” There was something so set in Dyck’s + voice that the admiral had a sudden revulsion against him, yet, after a + moment of thought, he made a sign to Captain Ivy. Then he dictated the + terms which Dyck had asked, except as to the reforms he had made, which + was not in his power to do, save for the present. + </p> + <p> + When the document had been signed by the admiral, Dyck read the contents + aloud. It embodied nearly all he had asked. + </p> + <p> + “Now I ask permission for one more thing only, sir—for the new + captain of the Ariadne to go with me to her, and there I will read this + paper to the crew. I will give a copy of it to the new captain, whoever he + may be.” + </p> + <p> + The admiral stood for a moment in thought. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Ivy, I transfer you to the Ariadne. It’s better that some one who + understands, as you do, should be in control after Calhoun has gone. Go + with him now, and have your belongings sent to you. I appoint you + temporary captain of the Ariadne, because I think no one could deal with + the situation there so wisely. Ivy, every ship in the squadron must treat + the Ariadne respectfully. Within two days, Mr. Calhoun, you shall be + landed at Jamaica, there to await the Admiralty decree. I will say this: + that as the sure victory of our fleet has come through you, you shall not + suffer in my report. Fighting is not an easy trade, and to fight according + to the rules is a very hard trade. Let me ask you to conduct yourself as a + prisoner of war on parole.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. A LETTER + </h2> + <p> + With a deep sigh, the planter raised his head from the table where he was + writing, and looked out upon the lands he had made his own. They lay on + the Thomas River, a few hours’ horseback travelling from Spanish Town, the + capital, and they had the advantage of a plateau formation, with mountains + in the far distance and ravines everywhere. + </p> + <p> + It was Christmas Day, and he had done his duty to his slaves and the folk + on his plantation. He had given presents, had attended a seven o’clock + breakfast of his people, had seen festivities of his negroes, and the + feast given by his manager in Creole style to all who came—planting + attorneys, buccras, overseers, bookkeepers, the subordinates of the local + provost-marshal, small planters, and a few junior officers of the army and + navy. + </p> + <p> + He had turned away with cynicism from the overladen table, with its + shoulder of stewed wild boar in the centre; with its chocolate, coffee, + tea, spruce-beer, cassava-cakes, pigeon-pies, tongues, round of beef, + barbecued hog, fried conchs, black crab pepper-pod, mountain mullet, and + acid fruits. It was so unlike what his past had known, so “damnable + luxurious!” Now his eyes wandered over the space where were the grandilla, + with its blossom like a passion-flower, the black Tahiti plum, with its + bright pink tassel-blossom, and the fine mango trees, loaded half with + fruit and half with bud. In the distance were the guinea cornfields of + brownish hue, the cotton-fields, the long ranges of negro houses like + thatched cottages, the penguin hedges, with their beautiful red, blue, and + white convolvuluses; the lime, logwood, and breadfruit trees, the + avocado-pear, the feathery bamboo, and the jack-fruit tree; and between + the mountains and his own sugar-estates, negro settlements and pens. He + heard the flight of parrots chattering, he watched the floating + humming-bird, and at last he fixed his eyes upon the cabbage tree down in + the garden, and he had an instant desire for it. It was a natural and + human taste—the cabbage from the tree-top boiled for a simple yet + sumptuous meal. + </p> + <p> + He liked simplicity. He did not, as so many did in Jamaica, drink claret + or punch at breakfast soon after sunrise. In a land where all were + bon-vivants, where the lowest tradesmen drank wine after dinner, and rum, + brandy and water, or sangaree in the forenoon, a somewhat lightsome view + of table-virtues might have been expected of the young unmarried planter. + For such was he who, from the windows of his “castle,” saw his domain + shimmering in the sun of a hot December day. + </p> + <p> + It was Dyck Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + With an impatient air he took up the sheets that he had been reading. + Christmas Day was on his nerves. The whole town of Kingston, with its + twenty to thirty thousand inhabitants, had but one church. If he entered + it, even to-day, he would have seen no more than a hundred and fifty to + two hundred people; mostly mulattoes—“bronze ornaments”—and + peasants in shag trousers, jackets of coarse blue cloth, and no + waistcoats, with one or two magistrates, a dozen gentlemen or so, and + probably twice that number of ladies. It was not an island given over to + piety, or to religious habits. + </p> + <p> + Not that this troubled Dyck Calhoun; nor, indeed, was he shocked by the + fact that nearly every unmarried white man in the island, and many married + white men, had black mistresses and families born to the black women, and + that the girls had no married future. They would become the temporary + wives of white men, to whom they were on the whole faithful and devoted. + It did not even vex him that a wretched mulatto might be whipped in the + market-square for laying his hands upon a white man, and that if he was a + negro-slave he could be shot for the same liberty. + </p> + <p> + It all belonged to the abnormal conditions of an island where black and + white were in relations impossible in the countries from which the white + man had come. It did not even startle Dyck that all the planters, and the + people generally in the island, from the chief justice and custos + rotulorum down to the deckswabber, cultivated amplitude of living. + </p> + <p> + But let Dyck tell his own story. The papers he held were sheets of a + letter he was writing to one from whom he had heard nothing since the + night he enlisted in the navy, and that was nearly three years before. + This was the letter: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MY DEAR FRIEND: + + You will see I address you as you have done me in the two letters I + have had from you in the past. You will never read this letter, but + I write it as if you would. For you must know I may never hope for + personal intercourse with you. I was imprisoned for killing your + father, Erris Boyne, and that separates us like an abysss. It + matters little whether I killed him or not; the law says I did, and + the law has taken its toll of me. I was in prison for four years, + and when freed I enlisted in the king’s navy, a quota man, with my + servant-friend, Michael Clones. That was the beginning of painful + and wonderful days for me. I was one of the mutineers of the Nore, + and— +</pre> + <p> + Here followed a description of the days he had spent on the Ariadne and + before, and of all that happened down to the time when he was arrested by + the admiral in the West Indian Sea. He told how he was sent over to the + Ariadne with Captain Ivy to read the admiral’s letter to the seamen, and + then, by consent of the admiral, to leave again with Michael Clones for + Jamaica, where he was set ashore with twenty pounds in his pocket—and + not on parole, by the admiral’s command. Here the letter shall again take + up the story, and be a narrative of Dyck Calhoun’s life from that time + until this Christmas Day. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + What to do was the question. I knew no one in Jamaica—no one at + all except the governor, Lord Mallow, and him I had fought with + swords in Phoenix Park five years before. I had not known he was + governor here. I came to know it when I first saw him riding over + the unpaved street into Kingston from Spanish Town with his suite, + ornate with his governorship. He was a startling figure in scarlet, + with huge epaulets on his lieutenant-general’s uniform, as big a pot + as ever boiled on any fire-chancellor, head of the government and of + the army, master of the legislature, judging like one o’clock in the + court of chancery, controller of the affairs of civil life, and + maker of a policy of which he alone can judge who knows what + interests clash in the West Indies. + + English, French, Spanish, and Dutch are all hereabout. All struggle + for place above the other in the world of commerce and society, + though chiefly it is the English versus the French in these days; + and the policy of the governor is the policy of the country. He + never knows whether there will be a French naval descent or whether + the blacks in his own island will do as the blacks in St. Domingo + did—massacre the white people in thousands. Or whether the free + blacks, the Maroons, who got their freedom by treaty with Governor + Trelawney, when the British commander changed hats with Cudjoe, the + Maroon chief, as the sealing of the bargain—whether they will rise + again, as they before have risen, and bring terror into the white + settlement; and whether, in that case, all negro-slaves will join + them, and Jamaica become a land of revolution. + + Of what good, then, will be the laws lately passed regulating the + control of slaves, securing them rights never given before, even + forbidding lashes beyond forty-nine! Of what use, then, the + punishment of owners who have ill-used the slaves? The local + councils who have power to punish never proceed against white men + with rigour; and to preserve a fair balance between the white man up + above and the black down below is the responsibility of the fair- + minded governor. If, like Mallow, he is not fair-minded, then is + the lash the heavier, and the governor has burdens greater than + could easily be borne in lands where the climate is more friendly. + + Lord Mallow did not see me when I passed him in the street, but he + soon came to know of me from the admiral and Captain Ivy, who told + him all my story since I was freed from jail. Then he said I should + be confined in a narrow space near to Kingston, and should have no + freedom; but the admiral had his way, and I was given freedom of the + whole island till word should come from the Admiralty what should be + done with me. To the governor’s mind it was dangerous allowing me + freedom, a man convicted of crime, who had been imprisoned, had been + a mutineer, had stolen one of his majesty’s ships, and had fled to + the Caribbean Sea. He thought I should well be at the bottom of the + ocean, where he would soon have put me, I make no doubt, if it had + not been for the admiral, and Captain Ivy—you do not know him, I + think—who played a good part to me, when men once close friends + have deserted me. + + Well, we had, Michael and I, but twenty pounds between us; and if + there was not plenty of free food in the island, God knows what + would have become of us! But there it was, fresh in every field, by + every wayside, at every doorway. We could not starve, or die of + thirst, or faint for lack of sleep, since every bush was a bed in + spite of the garapatos or wood-ticks, the snore of the tree-toad, + the hoarse shriek of the macaw, and the shrill gird of the guinea- + fowl. Every bed was thus free, and there was land to be got for a + song, enough to grow what would suffice for two men’s daily wants. + But we did not rest long upon the land—I have it still, land which + cost me five pounds out of the twenty, and for the rest there was an + old but on the little place—five acres it was, and good land too, + where you could grow anything at all. Heaven knows what we might + have become in that tiny plantation, for I was sick of life, and the + mosquitos and flying ants, and the chattering parroquets, the grim + gallinazo, and the quatre, or native bed—a wooden frame and canvas; + but one day at Kingston I met a man, one Cassandro Biatt, who had an + obsession for adventure, and he spoke to me privately. He said he + knew me from people’s talk, and would I listen to him? What was + there to do? He was a clean-cut rogue, if ever there was one, but + a rogue of parts, as he proved; and I lent an ear. + + Now, what think you was his story? Well, but this—that off the + coast of Haiti, there was a ship which had been sunk with every man + on board, and with the ship was treasure without counting-jewels + belonging once to a Spaniard of high place, who was taking them to + Paris. His box had been kept in the captain’s cabin, and it could + be found, no doubt, and brought to the surface. Even if that were + not possible, there was plenty of gold on the ship, and every piece + of it was good money. There had been searching for the ship, but + none had found it; but he, Cassandro Biatt, had sure knowledge, got + from an obi-man, of the place where it lay. It would not be an + expensive business, but, cheap as it was, he had no means of raising + cash for the purpose; while I could, no doubt, raise the needed + money if I set about it. That was how he put it to me. Would I do + it? It was not with me a case of “no shots left in the locker, no + copper to tinkle on a tombstone.” I was not down to my last + macaroni, or quarter-dollar; but I drank some sangaree and set about + to do it. I got my courage from a look towards Rodney’s statue in + its temple—Rodney did a great work for Jamaica against Admiral de + Grasse. + + Why should I tell Biatt the truth about myself? He knew it. + Cassandro was an accomplished liar, and a man of merit of his kind. + This obi-man’s story I have never believed; yet how Biatt came to + know where that treasure-ship was I do not know now. + + Yes, out we went through the harbour of Kingston, beyond the + splendid defences of Port Royal and the men-of-war there, past the + Palisadoes and Rock Fort, and away to the place of treasure-trove. + We found it—that lost galleon; and we found the treasure-box of the + captain’s cabin. We found gold too; but the treasure-box was the + chief thing; and we made it ours after many a hard day. Three + months it was from the day Biatt first spoke to me to the day when, + with an expert diver, we brought the box to the surface and opened + it. + + How I induced one of the big men of Jamaica to be banker and skipper + for us need not be told; but he is one of whom men have dark + sayings—chiefly, I take it, because he does bold, incomprehensible + things. That business paid him well, for when the rent of the ship + was met, and the few men on it paid—slaves they were chiefly—he + pocketed ten thousand pounds, while Biatt and I each pouched forty + thousand, and Michael two thousand. Aye, to be sure, Michael was in + it! He is in all I do, and is as good as men of ten times his birth + and history. Michael will be a rich man one day. In two years his + two thousand have grown to four, and he misses no chance. + + But those days when Biatt and I went treasure-ship hunting were not + without their trials. If we had failed, then no more could this + land have been home or resting-place for us. We should only have + been sojourners with no name, in debt, in disgrace, a pair of + braggart adventurers, who had worked a master-man of the island for + a ship, and money and men, and had lost all except the ship! Though + to be sure, the money was not a big thing—a few hundred pounds; + but the ship was no flea-bite. It was a biggish thing, for it could + be rented to carry sugar—it was, in truth, a sugar-ship of four + hundred tons—but it never carried so big a cargo of sugar as it did + on the day when that treasure-box was brought to the surface of the + sea. + + I’m bound to say this—one of the straightest men I ever met, liar + withal, was Cassandro Biatt. He took his jewels and vanished up the + seas in a flourish. He would not even have another try at the gold + in the bowels of the ship. + + “I’ve got plenty to fill my paunch, and I’ll go while I’ve enough. + It’s the men not going in time that get left in the end”—that’s + what he said. + + And he was right; for other men went after the gold and got some of + it, and were caught by French and South American pirates and lost + all they had gained. Still another group went and brought away ten + thousand pounds, and lost it in fighting with Spanish buccaneers. + So Biatt was right, and went away content, while I stayed here— + because I must—and bought the land and house where I have my great + sugar-plantation. It is an enterprise of volume, and all would be + well if I were normal in mind and body; but I am not. I have a past + that stinks to heaven, as Shakespeare says, and I am an outlaw of + the one land which has all my soul and name and heritage. Yes, that + is what they have done to me—made a convict, an outlaw of me. I + may live—but not in the British Isles; and if any man kills me, he + is not liable to the law. + + Men do not treat me badly here, for I have property and money, and + this is a land where these two things mean more than anywhere else, + even more than in a republic like that where you live. Here men + live according to the law of the knife, fork, and bottle, yet + nowhere in the world is there deeper national morality or wider + faith or endurance. It is a land where the sea is master, where + naval might is the chief factor, and weighs down all else. + + Here the navies of the great powers meet and settle their disputes, + and every being in the island knows that life is only worth what a + hundred-ton brig-of-war permits. I have seen here in Jamaica the + off-scourings of the French and Spanish fleets on parole; have seen + them entering King’s House like loyal citizens; have even known of + French prisoners being used as guards at the entrance of King’s + House, and I have informed the chief justice of dismal facts which + ought to have moved him. But what can you expect of a chief justice + who need not be a lawyer, as this one is not, and has other means of + earning income which, though not disloyal, are lowering to the + status of a chief justice? And not the chief justice alone. I have + seen French officers entertained at Government House who were guilty + of shocking inhumanities and cruelties. The governor, Lord Mallow, + is much to blame. On him lies the responsibility; to him must go + the discredit. For myself, I feel his enmity on every hand. I + suffer from his suggestions; I am the victim of his dark moods. + + If I want a concession from a local council, his hand is at work + against me; if I see him in the street, I get a courtesy tossed, as + you would toss a bone to a dog. If I appear at the king’s ball, + which is open to all on the island who are respectable, I am treated + with such disdain by the viceroy of the king that all the island is + agog. I went one day to the king’s ball the same as the rest of the + world, and I went purposely in dress contrary to the regulations. + Here was the announcement of the affair in the Royal Gazette, which + was reproduced in the Chronicle, the one important newspaper in the + island: + + KING’S HOUSE, + October 27th, 1797. + + KING’S BALL. + + There will be a Ball given by His Honour the Lieutenant- + Governor, on Tuesday evening, the 6th day of December next, + in honour of + + HIS MAJESTY’S BIRTHDAY. + + To prevent confusion, Ladies and Gentlemen are requested to + order their carriages to come by the Old Court House, and go + off by the Long Room. + + N.B.—No gentlemen can possibly be admitted in boots, or + otherwise improperly dressed. + + Well, in a spirit of mutiny—in which I am, in a sense, an expert— + I went in boots and otherwise “improperly dressed,” for I wore my + hair in a queue, like a peasant. What is more, I danced with a + negress in the great quadrille, and thereby offended the governor + and his lady aunt, who presides at his palace. It matters naught to + me. On my own estate it was popular enough, and that meant more to + me than this goodwill of Lord Mallow. + + He does not spare me in his recitals to his friends, who carry his + speech abroad. His rancour against me is the greater, I know, + because of the wealth I got in the treasure-ship, to prevent which + he tried to prohibit my leaving the island, through the withholding + of a leave-ticket to me. His argument to the local authorities was + that I had no rights, that I am a murderer and a mutineer, and + confined to the island, though not on parole. He almost succeeded; + but the man to whom I went, the big rich man intervened, + successfully—how I know not—and I was let go with my permit- + ticket. + + What big things hang on small issues! If my Lord Mallow had + prevented me leaving the island, I shouldn’t now own a great + plantation and three hundred negroes. I shouldn’t be able to pay + my creditors in good gold Portuguese half-johannes and Spanish + doubloons, and be free of Spanish silver, and give no heed to the + bitt, which, as you perhaps know, is equal to fivepence in British + money, such as you and I used to spend when you were Queen of + Ireland and I was your slave. + + Then I worshipped you as few women have been worshipped in all the + days of the world—oh, cursed spite of life and time that I should + have been jailed for killing your bad father! Aye, he was a bad + man, and he is better in his grave than out of it, but it puts a + gulf between you and me which nothing will ever bridge—unless it + should some day be known I did not kill him, and then, no doubt, it + will be too late. + + On my soul, I don’t believe I put my sword into him; but if I did, + he well deserved it, for he was worse than faithless to your mother, + he was faithless to his country—he was a traitor! I did not tell + that story of his treachery in court—I did not tell it because of + you. You did not deserve such infamy, and the truth came not out at + the trial. I, in my view, dared not, lest it might injure you, and + you had suffered enough—nay, more than enough—through him. + + I wonder how you are, and if you have changed—I mean in appearance. + I am sure you are not married; I should have felt it in my bones, + if you were. No, no, my sweet lass, you are not married. But + think—it is more than seven long years since we met on the hills + above Playmore, and you put your hand in mine and said we should be + friends for all time. It is near three years since a letter came to + me from you, and in the time I have made progress. + + I did not go to the United States, as you asked me to do. Is it not + plain I could not? My only course was to avoid you. You see, your + mother knows the truth—knows that I was jailed for killing your + father and her divorced husband. Therefore, the only way to do was + as I did. I could not go where you were. There should be hid from + you the fact that Erris Boyne was a traitor. This is your right, in + my mind. Looking back, I feel sure I could have escaped jail if I + had told what I knew of Erris Boyne; and perhaps it would have been + better, for I should, no doubt, have been acquitted. Yet I could + not have gone to you, for I am not sure I did not kill him. + + So it is best as it is. We are as we are, and nothing can make all + different for us. I am a dissolute planter of Jamaica who has + snatched from destiny a living and some riches. I have a bad name + in the world. Yet by saving the king’s navy from defeat out here I + did a good turn for my country and the empire. + + So much to the good. It brought me freedom from the rope and pardon + for my chief offence. Then, in company with a rogue, I got wealth + from the depths of the sea, and here I am in the bottom of my + luxury, drunken and obscene—yes, obscene, for I permit my overseers + and my manager to keep black women and have children by them. That + I do not do so myself is no virtue on my part, but the virtue of a + girl whom I knew in Connemara. I fill myself with drink. I have a + bottle of madeira or port every night, and pints of beer or claret. + I am a creature of low habits, a man sodden with self-indulgence. + And when I am in drink, no slaver can be more cruel and ruthless. + + Yet I am moderate in eating. The meals that people devour here + almost revolt me. They eat like cormorants and drink like dry + ground; but at my table I am careful, save with the bottle. This + is a land of wonderful fruits, and I eat in quantities pineapple, + tamarind, papaw, guava, sweet-sop, star-apple, granadilla, hog-plum, + Spanish-gooseberry, and pindal-nut. These are native, but there are + also the orange, lemon, lime, shaddock, melon, fig, pomegranate, + cinnamon, and mango, brought chiefly from the Spanish lands of South + America. The fruit-market here is good, Heaven knows, and I have my + run of it. Perhaps that is why my drink does not fatten me greatly. + Yes, I am thin—thinner even than when you saw me last. How + wonderful a day it was! You remember it, I’m sure. + + We stood on the high hills, you and I, looking to the west. It was + a true Irish day. A little in front of us, in the sky, were great + clusters of clouds, and beyond them, as far as eye could see, were + hills so delicately green, so spotted with settlements, so misty and + full of glamour, and so cheerful with the western light. And the + storm broke—do you remember it? It broke, but not on us. It fell + on the middle of the prospect before us, and we saw beyond it the + bright area of sunny country where men work and prophesy and slave, + and pray to the ancient gods and acclaim the saints, and die and + fructify the mould; where such as Christopher Dogan live, and men a + thousand times lower than he. Christopher came to the jail the day + I was released—with Michael Clones he came. He read me my bill of + life’s health—what was to become of me—the black and the white of + it, the good and the bad, the fair and the foul. Even the good + fortune of the treasure from the sea he foresaw, and much else that + has not come to me, and, as I think, will never come; for it is too + full a cup for me so little worthy of it. + + It seems strange to me that I am as near to the United States here + in Jamaica, or almost as near, as one in London is to one in Dublin; + and yet one might as well be ten thousand leagues distant for all it + means to her one loves in the United States. Yes, dear Sheila, I + love you, and I would tear out the heart of the world for you. I + bathe my whole being in your beauty and your charm. I hunger for + you—to stand beside you, to listen to your voice, to dip my prison + fingers into the pure cauldron of your soul and feel my own soul + expand. I wonder why it is that to-day I feel more than I ever felt + before the rare splendour of your person. + + I have always admired you and loved you, always heard you calling + me, as if from some sacred corner of a perfect world. Is it that + yesterday’s dissipation—yes, I was drunk yesternight, drunk in a + new way. I was drunk with the thought of you, the longing for you. + I picked a big handful of roses, and in my mind gave them into your + hands. And I thought you smiled and said: + + “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter Paradise.” So I + followed you to your home there in the Virginian country. It was a + dream, all except the roses, and those I laid in front of the box + where I keep your letters and a sketch I made of you when we were + young and glad—when I was young and glad. For I am an old man, + Sheila, in all that makes men old. My step is quick still, my eye + is sharp, and my brain beats fast, but my heart is ancient. I am an + ancient of days, without hope or pleasure, save what pleasure comes + in thinking of one whom I worship, yet must ever worship from afar. + + I wonder why I seem to feel you very near to-day! Perhaps it’s + because ‘tis Christmas Day. I am not a religious man but Christmas + is a day of memories. + + Is it because of the past in Ireland? Am I only—God, am I only to + be what I am for the rest of my days, a planter denied the pleasure + of home by his own acts! Am I only a helpless fragment of a world + of lost things? + + I have no friends—but yes, I have. I have Michael Clones and + Captain Ivy, though he’s far away-aye, he’s a friend of friends, is + Captain Ivy. These naval folk have had so much of the world, have + got the bearings of so many seas, that they lose all littleness, and + form their own minds. They are not like the people who knew me in + Ireland—the governor here is one of them—and who believe the worst + of me. The governor—faugh, he was made for bigger and better + things! He is one of the best swordsmen in the world, and he is + out against me here as if I was a man of importance, and not a + commonplace planter on an obscure river. I have no social home + life, and yet I live in what is called a castle. A Jamaica castle + has none of the marks of antiquity, chivalry, and distinction which + castles that you and I know in the old land possess. + + What is my castle like? Well, it is a squarish building, of + bungalow type, set on a hill. It has stories and an attic, with a + jutting dormer-window in the front of the roof; and above the lowest + story there is a great verandah, on which the livingrooms and + bedrooms open. It is commodious, and yet from a broad standpoint it + is without style or distinction. It has none of those Corinthian + pillars which your homesteads in America have. Yet there is in it a + simple elegance. It has no carpets, but a shining mahogany floor, + for there are few carpets in this land of heat. It is a place where + music and mirth and family voices would be fitting; but there are no + family voices here, save such as speak with a negro lisp and + oracularly. + + I can hear music at this moment, and inside my castle. It comes + from the irrepressible throats of my cook and my housemaid, who have + more joy in the language of the plantation than you could have in + the songs of St. Angelus. The only person in this castle out of + spirits is its owner. + + My castle is embowered in a loose grove of palms and acacias, + pimento shrubs, splendid star-apples, and bully-trees, with wild + lemon, mahogany, dogwood, Jerusalem-thorn, and the waving plumes of + bamboo canes. There is nothing British in it—nothing at all. It + stands on brick pillars, is reached by a stair of marble slabs, and + has a great piazza on the front. You enter a fine, big hall, dark- + you will understand that, though it is not so hot in Virginia, for + the darkness makes for coolness. From the hall the bedrooms open + all round. We are not so barbaric here as you might think, for my + dining-room, which lies beyond the hall, with jalousies or movable + blinds, exposed to all the winds, is comfortable, even ornate. + There you shall see waxlights on the table, and finger-glasses with + green leaves, and fine linen and napkins, and plenty of silver—even + silver wine-coolers, and beakers of fame and beauty, and flowers, + flowers everywhere, and fruit of exquisite charm. I have to live + in outward seeming as do my neighbours, even to keeping a black + footman, gorgeously dressed, with bare legs. + + Here at my window grows a wild aloe, and it is in flower. Once only + in fifty years does this aloe flower, and I pick its sweet verdure + now and offer it to you. There it lies, beside this letter that I + am writing. It is typical of myself, for only once has my heart + flowered, and it will be only once in fifty years. The perfume of + the flower is like an everlasting bud from the last tree of Time. + See, my Sheila, your drunken, reckless lover pulls this sweet + offering from his garden and offers it to you. He has no virtues; + and yet he would have been a thousand times worse, if you had not + come into his life. He had in him the seeds of trouble, the + sproutings of shame, for even in the first days of his love there in + Dublin he would not restrain himself. He drank, he played cards, he + fought and went with bad company—not women, never that; but he kept + the company of those through whom he came at last to punishment for + manslaughter. + + Yet, without you, who can tell what he might have been? He might + have fallen so low that not the wealth of ten thousand treasure- + boxes could give him even the appearance of honesty. And now he + offers you what you cannot accept—can never accept—a love as deep + as the life from which he came; a love that would throttle the world + for you, that would force the doors of hell to bring you what you + want. + + What do you want? I know not. Perhaps you have inherited the vast + property to which you were the heir. If you have, what can you want + that you have not means to procure? Ah, I have learned one thing, + my friend ‘one can get nearly everything with money. It is the + hidden machinery which makes the world of success go round. With + brains, you say? Yes, money and brains, but without the money + brains seldom win alone. Do not I know? When I was in prison, with + estate vanished and home gone and my father in his grave, who was + concerned about me? + + Only the humblest of all God’s Irish people; but with them I have + somehow managed to win back lost ground. I am a stronger man than I + was in all that men count of value in the world. I have an estate + where I work like any youth who has everything before him. I have + nothing before me, yet I shall go on working to the end. Why? + Because I have some faculties which are more than bread and butter, + and I must give them opportunity. + + Yet I am not always sane. Sometimes I feel I could march out and + sweep into the sea one of the towns that dot the coast of this + island. I have the bloody thirst, as said the great Spanish + conquistador. I would like—yes, sometimes I would like to sweep + to a watery grave one of the towns that are a glory to this island, + as Savanna la Mar was swept to oblivion in the year 1780 by a + hurricane. You can still see the ruins of the town at the bottom of + the sea—I have sailed over it in what is now the harbour, and there + beneath, on the deep sands, lost to time and trouble, is the slain + and tortured town of Savanna la Mar. Was the Master of the World + angry that day when, with a besom of wind and a tidal wave, He swept + the place into the sea? Or was it some devil’s work while the Lord + of All slept? As the Spanish say, Quien sabe? + + Then there was that other enormous incident which made a man to be + swallowed by an earthquake, then belched out again into the sea and + picked up and restored to life again, and to live for many years. + Indeed, yes, it is so. His tombstone may be seen even at this day + at Green Bay, Kingston. His name was Lewis Galdy, and he is held in + high repute in this land. + + I feel sometimes as Beelzebub may feel, and I long to do what + Beelzebub might do as part of his mission. Sometimes a madness + of revolt comes over me, and I long to ravage all the places I see, + all the people I know—or nearly all. Why I do not have negroes + thrashed and mutilated, as some do, I know not. Over against the + southern shore in the parish of St. Elizabeth is an estate called + Salem, owned, it is said, by an American, where the manager does + such things. I am told that savageries are found there. There + are too many absentee owners of land in this island, and the wrongs + done by agents who have no personal honour at stake are all too + plentiful. If I could, I would have no slavery, would set all the + blacks free, making full compensation to the owners, and less to the + absentee owners. + + I look out on a world of summer beauty and of heat. I see the sheep + in hundreds on the far hills of pasturage—sheep with short hair, + small and sweet as any that ever came from the South Downs. I see + the natives in their Madras handkerchiefs. I see upon the road some + planter in his ketureen—a sort of sedan chair; I see a negro + funeral, with its strange ceremony and its gumbies of African drums. + I see yam-fed planters, on their horses, making for the burning, + sandy streets of the capital. I see the Scots grass growing five + and six feet high, food unsurpassed for horses—all the foliage too + —beautiful tropical trees and shrubs, and here and there a huge + breeding-farm. Yet I know that out beyond my sight there is the + region known as Trelawney, and Trelawney Town, the headquarters of + the Maroons, the free negroes—they who fled after the Spanish had + been conquered and the British came, and who were later freed and + secured by the Trelawney Treaty. I know that now they are ready to + rise, that they are working among the slaves; and if they rise the + danger is great to the white population of the island, who are + outnumbered ten to one. + + The governor has been warned, but he gives no heed, or treats it all + lightly, pointing out how few the Maroons are. He forgets that a + few determined men can demoralize a whole state, can fight and + murder and fly to dark coverts in the tropical woods, where they + cannot be tracked down and destroyed; and, if they have made + supporters of the slaves, what consequences may not follow! + + What do the Maroons look like? They are ferocious and isolated, + they are proud and overbearing, they are horribly cruel, but they + are potent, and are difficult to reach. They are not small and + meagre, but are big, brawny fellows, clothed in wide duck trousers + and shirts, and they are well-armed—cutlass, powder-horn, + haversack, sling, shot-gun, and pouch for ball. They dress as the + country requires, and they are strong fighters against our soldiers + who are burdened with heavy muskets, and who defy the climate, with + their stuffed coats, their weighty caps, and their tight cross- + belts. The Maroons are not to be despised. They have brains, the + insolence of freedom among natives who are not free, and vast + cruelty. They can be mastered and kept in subjection, can be made + allies, if properly handled; but Lord Mallow goes the wrong way + about it all. He permits things that inflame the Maroons. + + One thing is clear to me—only by hounds can these people be + defeated. So sure am I upon this point, that I have sent to Cuba + for sixty hounds, with which, when the trouble comes—and it is not + far off—we shall be able to hunt the Maroons with the only weapon + they really fear—the dog’s sharp tooth. It may be the governor may + intervene on the arrival of the dogs; but I have made friends with + the provost-marshal-general and some members of the Jamaica + legislature; also I have a friend in the deputy of the provost- + marshal-general in my parish of Clarendon here, and I will make a + good bet that the dogs will be let come into the island, governor + or no governor. + + When one sets oneself against the Crown one must be sure of one’s + ground, and fear no foe, however great and high. Well, I have won + so far, and I shall win in the end. Mallow should have some respect + for one that beat him at Phoenix Park with the sword; that beat him + when he would have me imprisoned here; that beat him in the matter + of the ship for Haiti, and that will beat him on every hazard he + sets, unless he stoops to underhand acts, which he will not do. + That much must be said for him. He plays his part in no small way, + and he is more a bigot and a fanatic loyalist than a rogue. + Suppose—but no, I will not suppose. I will lay my plans, I will + keep faith with people here who trust me, and who know that if I am + stern I am also just, and I will play according to the rules made by + better men than myself. +</pre> + <p> + But what is this I see? Michael Clones—in his white jean waistcoat, + white neckcloth and trousers, and blue coat—is coming up the drive + in hot haste, bearing a letter. He rides too hard. He has never carried + himself easily in this climate. He treats it as if it was Ireland. He will + not protect himself, and, if penalty followed folly, should now be in his + grave. I like you, Michael. You are a boon, but— + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. STRANGERS ARRIVE + </h2> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun’s letter was never ended. It was only a relic of the years + spent in Jamaica, only a sign of his well-being, though it gave no real + picture of himself. He did not know how like a tyrant he had become in + some small ways, while in the large things he remained generous, urbane, + and resourceful. He was in appearance thin, dark-favoured, buoyant in + manner, and stern of face, with splendid eyes. Had he dwelt on Olympus, he + might have been summoned to judge and chastise the sons of men. + </p> + <p> + When Michael Clones came to the doorway, Dyck laid down his quill-pen and + eyed the flushed servant in disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Michael? Wherefore this starkness? Is some one come from + heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “Not precisely from heaven, y’r honour, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But—yes, Michael! Have done with but-ing, and come to the real + matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, they’ve come from Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun slowly got to his feet, his face paling, his body stiffening. + From Virginia! Who should be come from Virginia, save she to whom he had + just been writing? + </p> + <p> + “Who has come from Virginia?” He knew, but he wanted it said. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, you knew a vessel came from America last night. Well, in her was + one that was called the Queen of Ireland long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Queen of Ireland—well, what then?” Dyck’s voice was tuneless, his + manner rigid, his eyes burning. “Well, she—Miss Sheila Llyn and her + mother are going to the Salem Plantation, down by the Essex Valley + Mountain. It is her plantation now. It belonged to her uncle, Bryan Llyn. + He got it in payment of a debt. He’s dead now, and all his lands and + wealth have come to her. Her mother, Mrs. Llyn, is with her, and they + start to-morrow or the next day for Salem. There’ll be different doings at + Salem henceforward, y’r honour. She’s not the woman to see slaves treated + as the manager at Salem treated ‘em.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun made an impatient gesture at this last remark. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, Michael. Where are they now?” + </p> + <p> + “They’re at Charlotte Bedford’s lodgings in Spanish Town. The governor + waited on them this morning. The governor sent them flowers and—” + </p> + <p> + “Flowers—Lord Mallow sent them flowers! Hell’s fiend, man, suppose + he did?” + </p> + <p> + “There are better flowers here than in any Spanish Town.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, take them, Michael; but if you do, come here again no more while + you live, for I’ll have none of you. Do you think I’m entering the lists + against the king’s governor?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve done it before, sir, and there’s no harm in doing it again. One + good turn deserves another. I’ve also to tell you, sir, that Lord Mallow + has asked them to stay at King’s House.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Mallow has asked Americans to stay at King’s House!” + </p> + <p> + “But they’re Irish, and he knew them in Ireland, y ‘r honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he knew me in Ireland, and I’m proscribed!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that’s different, as you know. There’s no war on now, and they’re + only good American citizens who own land in this dominion of the king; so + why shouldn’t he give them courtesy?” + </p> + <p> + “From whom do you get your information?” asked Dyck Calhoun with an air of + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “From Darius Boland, y’r honour,” answered Michael, with a smile. “Who is + Darius Boland, you’re askin’ in y’r mind? Well, he’s the new manager come + from the Llyn plantations in Virginia; and right good stuff he is, with a + tongue that’s as dry as cut-wheat in August. And there’s humour in him, + plenty-aye, plenty. When did I see him, and how? Well, I saw him this + mornin’, on the quay at Kingston. He was orderin’ the porters about with + an air—oh, bedad, an air! I saw the name upon the parcels—Miss + Sheila Llyn, of Moira, Virginia, and so I spoke to him. The rest was aisy. + He looked me up and down in a flash, like a searchlight playin’ on an + enemy ship, and then he smiled. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘who might you be? For + there’s queer folks in Jamaica, I’m told.’ So I said I was Michael Clones, + and at that he doffed his hat and held out a hand. ‘Well, here’s luck,’ + said he. ‘Luck at the very start! I’ve heard of you from my mistress. + You’re servant to Mr. Dyck Calhoun—ain’t that it?’ And I nodded, and + he smiled again—a smile that’d cost money anywhere else than in + Jamaica. He smiled again, and give a slow hitch to his breeches as though + they was fallin’ down. Why, sir, he’s the longest bit of man you ever saw, + with a pointed beard, and a nose that’s as long as a midshipman’s + tongue-dry, lean, and elastic. He’s quick and slow all at once. His small + eyes twinkle like stars beatin’ up against bad weather, and his skin’s the + colour of Scots grass in the dead of summer-yaller, he’d call it if he + called it anything, and yaller was what he called the look of the sky + above the hills. Queer way of talk he has, that man, as queer as—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, Michael. But what else? How did you come to talk about the + affairs of Mrs. and Miss Llyn? He didn’t just spit it out, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, not so quick and free as spittin’, y’r honour; but when he’d sorted + me out, as it were, he said Miss Llyn had come out here to take charge of + Salem; her own estate in Virginia bein’ in such good runnin’ order, and + her mind bein’ active. Word had come of the trouble with the manager here, + and one of the provost-marshal’s deputies had written accounts of the + flogging and ill-treatment of slaves, and that’s why she come—to put + things right at Salem!” + </p> + <p> + “To put things wrong in Jamaica, Michael, that’s why she’s come. To loose + the ball of confusion and free the flood of tragedy—that’s why she’s + come! Man, Michael, you know her history—who she was and what + happened to her father. Well, do you think there’s no tragedy in her + coming here? I killed her father, they say, Michael. I was punished for + it. I came here to be free of all those things—lifted out and away + from them all. I longed to forget the past, which is only shame and + torture; and here it is all spread out at my door again like a mat, which + I must see as I go in and out. Essex Valley—why, it’s less than a + day’s ride from here, far less than a day’s ride! It can be ridden in four + or five hours at a trot. Michael, it’s all a damnable business. And here + she is in Jamaica with her Darius Boland! There was no talk on Boland’s + part of their coming here, was there Michael?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all, sir, but there was that in the man’s eye, and that in his + tone, which made me sure he thought Miss Llyn and you would meet.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be strange, wouldn’t it, in this immense continent!” Dyck + remarked cynically. + </p> + <p> + “She knew I was here before she came?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, she knew. She had seen your name in the papers—English and + Jamaican. She knew you had regained your life and place, and was a man of + mark here.” + </p> + <p> + “A marked man, you mean, Michael—a man whom the king has had to + pardon of a crime because of an act done that served the State. I am + forbidden to return to the British Isles or to the land of my birth, + forbidden free traffic as a citizen, hammered out of recognition by the + strokes of enmity. A man of mark, indeed! Aye, with the broad arrow on me, + with the shame of prison and mutiny on my name!” + </p> + <p> + “But if she don’t believe?” + </p> + <p> + “If she don’t believe! Well, she must be told the truth at last. I wonder + her mother let her come here. Her mother knew part of the truth. She hid + it all from the girl—and now they are here! I must see it through, + but it’s a wretched fate, Michael.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps her mother didn’t know you were here, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck laughed grimly. “Michael, you’ve a lawyer’s mind. Perhaps you’re + right. The girl may have hid from her mother all newspapers referring to + me. That may well be; but it’s not the way that will bring understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it’s the truth, sir, for Darius Boland spoke naught of the mother—indeed, + he said only what would make me think the girl came with her own ends in + view. Faith, I’m sure the mother did not know.” + </p> + <p> + “She will know now. Your Darius Boland will tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “By St. Peter, it doesn’t matter who tells her, sir. The business must be + faced.” + </p> + <p> + “Michael, order my horse, and I will go to Spanish Town. This matter must + be brought to a head. The truth must be told. Order my horse!” + </p> + <p> + “It is the very heat of the day, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then at five o’clock, after dinner, have my horse here.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I to ride with you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded. “Yes, Michael. There’s only one thing to do—face all + the facts with all the evidence, and you are fact and evidence too. You + know more of the truth than any one else.” + </p> + <p> + Several hours later, when the sun was abating its force a little, after + travelling the burning roads through yams and cocoa, grenadillas and all + kinds of herbs and roots and vagrant trees, Dyck Calhoun and Michael + Clones came into Spanish Town. Dyck rode the unpaved streets on his horse + with its high demipicque Spanish saddle, with its silver stirrups and + heavy bit, and made his way towards Charlotte Bedford’s lodgings. + </p> + <p> + Dyck looked round upon the town with new eyes. He saw it like one for the + first time visiting it. He saw the people passing through the wide + verandahs of the houses, like a vast colonnade, down the street, to be + happily sheltered from the fierce sun. As he had come down from the hills + he thought he had never seen the houses look more beautiful in their + gardens of wild tamarinds, kennips, cocoa-nuts, pimentos, and palms, + backed by negro huts. He had seen all sorts of people at the draw-wells of + the houses-British, Spanish, French, South American, Creoles, and here and + there a Maroon, and the everlasting negro who sang as he worked: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Come along o’ me, my buccra brave, + You see de shild de Lord he gave: + You drink de sangaree, + I make de frichassee—” + </pre> + <p> + Here a face peeped out from the glazed sash of the jalousies of the + balconies above—a face that could never be said to be white, though + it had only a tinge of black in its coaxing beauty. There a workman with + long hair and shag trousers painted the prevailing two-storied house the + prevailing colour, white and green. There was a young naval officer in + full dress, gold-buckled shoes, white trousers, short jacket with gold + swab on shoulders, dress-sword and smart gait making for supper at King’s + House. + </p> + <p> + A long-legged “son of a gun” of a Yankee had a “clapper-claw,” or + handshake, with a planting attorney in a kind of four-posted gig, canopied + in leather and curtained clumsily. The Yankee laughed at the heavy + straight shafts and the mule that drew the volante, as the gig was called, + and the vehicle creaked and cried as it rolled along over the road, which + was like a dry river-bed. There a French officer in Hessian boots, white + trousers, blue uniform, and much-embroidered scarlet cuffs watched with + amusement a slave carrying a goglet, or earthen jar, upon his head like an + Egyptian, untouched by the hand, so adding dignity to carriage. He was + holding a “round-aboutation” with an old hag who was telling his fortune. + </p> + <p> + As they passed King’s House, they saw troops of the viceroy’s guests + issuing from the palace-officers of the king’s navy and army, officers and + men of the Jamaica militia, pale-faced, big-eyed men of the Creole class, + mulattoes, quadroons and octoroons, Samboes with their wives in loose + skirts, white stockings, and pinnacle hats. There also passed, in the + streets, black servants with tin cases on their heads, or carrying parcels + in their arms, and here and there processions of servants, each with + something that belonged to their mistresses, who would presently be + attending the king’s ball. + </p> + <p> + Snatches of song were heard, and voices of men who had had a full meal and + had “taken observations”—as looking through the bottom of a glass of + liquor was called by people with naval spirit—were mixed in careless + carousal. + </p> + <p> + All this jarred on Dyck Calhoun and gave revolt to his senses. Yet he was + only half-conscious of the great sensuousness of the scene as he passed + through it. Now and then some one doffed a hat to him, and very + occasionally some half-drunken citizen tossed at him a remark meant to + wound; but he took no notice, and let things pleasant and provocative pass + down the long ranges of indifference. + </p> + <p> + All was brought to focus at last, however, by their arrival at Charlotte + Bedford’s lodgings, which, like most houses in the town, had a lookout or + belfry fitted with green blinds and a telescope, and had a green-painted + wooden railing round it. + </p> + <p> + At the very entrance, inside the gate, in the garden, they saw Sheila + Llyn, her mother, and Darius Boland, who seemed to be enduring from the + mother some sharp reprimand, to the amusement of the daughter. As the gate + closed behind Dyck and Michael, the three from Virginia turned round and + faced them. As Dyck came forward, Sheila flushed and trembled. She was no + longer a young girl, but her slim straightness and the soft lines of her + figure, gave her a dignity and charm which made her young womanhood + distinguished—for she was now twenty-five, and had a carriage of + which a princess might have been proud. Yet it was plain that the entrance + of Dyck at this moment was disturbing. It was not what she had foreseen. + </p> + <p> + She showed no hesitation, however, but came forward to meet her visitor, + while Michael fell back, as also did Darius Boland. Both these seemed to + realize that the less they saw and heard the better; and they presently + got together in another part of the garden, as Dyck Calhoun came near + enough almost to touch Sheila. + </p> + <p> + Surely, he thought, she was supreme in appearance and design. She was like + some rare flower of the field, alert, gentle, strong, intrepid, with + buoyant face, brown hair, blue eyes and cream-like skin. She was touched + by a rose on each cheek and made womanly by firm and yet generous breasts, + tenderly imprisoned by the white chiffon of her blouse in which was one + bright sprig of the buds of a cherry-tree-a touch of modest luxuriance on + a person sparsely ornamented. It was not tropical, this picture of Sheila + Llyn; it was a flick of northern life in a summer sky. It was at once + cheerful and apart. It had no August in it; no oil and wine. It was the + little twig that grew by a running spring. It was fresh, dominant and + serene. It was Connemara on the Amazon! It was Sheila herself, whom time + had enriched with far more than years and experience. It was a personality + which would anywhere have taken place and held it. It was undefeatable, + persistent and permanent; it was the spirit of Ireland loose in a world + that was as far apart from Ireland as she was from her dead, dishonoured + father. + </p> + <p> + And Dyck? At first she felt she must fly to him—yes, in spite of the + fact that he had suffered prison for manslaughter. But a nearer look at + him stopped the impulse at its birth. Here was the Dyck Calhoun she had + known in days gone by, but not the Dyck she had looked to see; for this + man was like one who had come from a hanging, who had seen his dearest + swinging at the end of a rope. His face was set in coldness; his hair was + streaked with grey; his forehead had a line in the middle; his manner was + rigid, almost frigid, indeed. Only in his eyes was there that which denied + all that his face and manner said—a hungry, absorbing, hopeless + look, the look of one who searches for a friend in the denying desert. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, when he bowed low to her, and looked her in the eyes as no one in + all her life had ever done, she had an almost agonized understanding of + what a man feels who has been imprisoned—that is, never the same + again. He was an ex-convict, and yet she did not feel repelled by him. She + did not believe he had killed Erris Boyne. As for the later crime of + mutiny, that did not concern her much. She was Irish; but, more than that, + she was in sympathy with the mutineers. She understood why Dyck Calhoun, + enlisting as a common sailor, should take up their cause and run risk to + advance it. That he had advanced it was known to all the world; that he + had paid the price of his mutiny by saving the king’s navy with a stolen + ship had brought him pardon for his theft of a ship and mutiny; and that + he had won wealth was but another proof of the man’s power. + </p> + <p> + “You would not come to America, so I came here, and—” She paused, + her voice trembling slightly. “There is much to do at Salem,” he added + calmly, and yet with his heart beating, as it had not beaten since the day + he had first met her at Playmore. + </p> + <p> + “You would not take the money I sent to Dublin for you—the gift of a + believing friend, and you would not come to America!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall have to tell you why one day,” he answered slowly, “but I’ll pay + my respects to your mother now.” So saying he went forward and bowed low + to Mrs. Llyn. Unlike her daughter, Mrs. Llyn did not offer her hand. She + was pale, distraught, troubled—and vexed. She, however, murmured his + name and bowed. “You did not expect to see me here in Jamaica,” he said + boldly. + </p> + <p> + “Frankly, I did not, Mr. Calhoun,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You resent my coming here to see you? You think it bold, at least.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him closely and firmly. “You know why I cannot welcome you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I have paid the account demanded by the law. And you had no regard + for him. You divorced him.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila had drawn near, and Dyck made a gesture in her direction. “She does + not know,” he said, “and she should not hear what we say now?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Llyn nodded, and in a low tone told Sheila that she wished to be + alone with Dyck for a little while. In Dyck’s eyes, as he watched Sheila + go, was a thing deeper than he had ever known or shown before. In her + white gown, and with her light step, Sheila seemed to float away—a + picture graceful, stately, buoyant, “keen and small.” As she was about to + pass beyond a clump of pimento bushes, she turned her head towards the + two, and there was that in her eyes which few ever see and seeing are + afterwards the same. It was a look of inquiry, or revelation, of emotion + which went to Dyck’s heart. + </p> + <p> + “No, she does not know the truth,” Mrs. Llyn said. “But it has been hard + hiding it from her. One never knew whether some chance remark, some + allusion in the papers, would tell her you had killed her father.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I kill her father?” asked Dyck helplessly. “Did I? I was found guilty + of it, but on my honour, Mrs. Llyn, I do not know, and I do not think I + did. I have no memory of it. We quarrelled. I drew my sword on him, then + he made an explanation and I madly, stupidly drank drugged wine in + reconciliation with him, and then I remember nothing more—nothing at + all.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the cause of your quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck looked at her long before answering. “I hid that from my father even, + and hid it from the world—did not even mention it in court at the + trial. If I had, perhaps I should not have gone to jail. If I had, perhaps + I should not be here in Jamaica. If I had—” He paused, a flood of + reflection drowning his face, making his eyes shine with black sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you had!... Why did you not? Wasn’t it your duty to save + yourself and save your friends, if you could? Wasn’t that your plain + duty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and that was why I did not tell what the quarrel was. If I had, even + had I killed Erris Boyne, the jury would not have convicted me. Of that I + am sure. It was a loyalist jury.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it strange that now after all these years, when I have settled the + account with judge and jury, with state and law—that now I feel I + must tell you the truth. Madam, your ex-husband, Erris Boyne, was a + traitor. He was an officer in the French army, and he offered to make me + an officer also and pay me well in French Government money, if I would + break my allegiance and serve the French cause—Ah, don’t start! He + knew I was on my last legs financially. He knew I had acquaintance with + young rebel leaders like Emmet, and he felt I could be won. So he made his + proposal. Because of your daughter I held my peace, for she could bear it + less than you. I did not tell the cause of the quarrel. If I had, there + would have been for her the double shame. That was why I held my peace—a + fool, but so it was!” + </p> + <p> + The woman seemed almost robbed of understanding. His story overwhelmed + her. Yet what the man had done was so quixotic, so Celtic, that her senses + were almost paralysed. + </p> + <p> + “So mad—so mad and bad and wild you were,” she said. “Could you not + see it was your duty to tell all, no matter what the consequences. The man + was a villain. But what madness you were guilty of, what cruel madness! + Only you could have done a thing like that. Erris Boyne deserved death—I + care not who killed him—you or another. He deserved death, and it + was right he should die. But that you should kill him, apart from all else—why, + indeed, oh, indeed, it is a tragedy, for you loved my daughter, and the + killing made a gulf between you! There could be no marriage in such a + case. She could not bear it, nor could you. But please know this, Mr. + Calhoun, that she never believed you killed Erris Boyne. She has said so + again and again. You are the only man who has ever touched her mind or her + senses, though many have sought her. Wherever she goes men try to win her, + but she has no thought for any. Her mind goes back to you. Just when you + entered the garden I learned—and only then-that you were here. She + hid it from me, but Darius Boland knew, and he had seen your man, Michael + Clones, and she had then made him tell me. I was incensed. I was her + mother, and yet she had hid the thing from me. I thought she came to this + island for the sake of Salem, and I found that she came not for Salem, but + for you.... Ah, Mr. Calhoun, she deserves what you did to save her, but + you should not have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “She deserves all that any better man might do. Why don’t you marry her to + some great man in your Republic? It would settle my trouble for me and + free her mind from anxiety. Mrs. Llyn, we are not children, you and I. You + know life, and so do I, and—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him. “Be sure of this, Mr. Calhoun, she knows life even + better than either of us. She is, and has always been, a girl of sense and + judgment. When she was a child she was my master, even in Ireland. Yet she + was obedient and faithful, and kept her head in all vexed things. She will + have her way, and she will have it as she wants it, and in no other + manner. She is one of the world’s great women. She is unique. Child as she + is, she still understands all that men do, and does it. Under her hands + the estates in Virginia have developed even more than under the hands of + my brother. She controls like another Elizabeth. She has made those + estates run like a spool of thread, and she will do the same here with + Salem. Be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why does she not marry? Is there no man she can bear? She could have the + highest, that’s sure.” He spoke with passion and insistence. If she were + married his trouble would be over. The worst would have come to him—like + death. His eyes were only two dark fires in a face that was as near to + tragic pain crystallized as any the world has seen. Yet there was in it + some big commanding thing, that gave it a ghastly handsomeness almost; + that bathed his look in dignity and power, albeit a reckless power, a + thing that would not be stayed by any blandishments. He had the look of a + lost angel, one who fell with Belial in the first days of sin. + </p> + <p> + “There is no man she can bear—except here in Jamaica. It is no use. + Your governor, Lord Mallow, whom she knew in Ireland, who is distant kin + of mine, he has already made advances here to her, as he did in Ireland—you + did not know that. Even before we left for Virginia he came to see us, and + brought her books and flowers, and here, on our arrival, he brought her + choicest blooms of his garden. She is rich, and he would be glad of an + estate that brings in scores of thousands of pounds yearly. He has asked + us to stay at King’s House, but we have declined. We start for Salem in a + few hours. She wants her hand on the wheel.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Mallow—he courts her, does he?” His face grew grimmer. “Well, + she might do worse, though if she were one of my family I would rather see + her in her grave than wedded to him. For he is selfish—aye, as few + men are! He would eat and keep his apple too. His theory is that life is + but a game, and it must be played with steel. He would squeeze the life + out of a flower, and give the flower to his dog to eat. He thinks first + and always of himself. He would—but there, he would make a good + husband as husbands go for some women, but not for this woman! It is not + because he is my enemy I say this. It is because there is only one woman + like your daughter, and that is herself; and I would rather see her + married to a hedger that really loved her than to Lord Mallow, who loves + only one being on earth—himself. But see, Mrs. Llyn, now that you + know all, now that we three have met again, and this island is small and + tragedy is at our doors, don’t you think your daughter should be told the + truth. It will end everything for me. But it would be better so. It is now + only cruelty to hide the truth, harsh to continue a friendship which will + only appal her in the end. If we had not met again like this, then silence + might have been best; but as she is not cured of her tender friendship + made upon the hills at Playmore, isn’t it well to end it all? Your + conscience will be clearer, and so will mine. We shall have done the right + thing at last. Why did you not tell her who her father was? Then why blame + me! You held your peace to save your daughter, as you thought. I held my + tongue for the same reason; but she is so much a woman now, that she will + understand, as she could not have understood years ago in Limerick. In + God’s name, let us speak. One of us should tell her, and I think it should + be you. And see, though I know I did right in withholding the facts about + the quarrel with Erris Boyne, yet I favour telling her that he was a + traitor. The whole truth now, or nothing. That is my view.” + </p> + <p> + He saw how lined and sunken was her face, he noted the weakness of her + carriage, he realized the task he was putting on her, and his heart + relented. “No, I will do it,” he added, with sudden will, “and I will do + it now, if I may.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not to-day-not to-day!” she said with a piteous look. “Let it not be + to-day. It is our first day here, and we are due at King’s House to-night, + even in an hour from now.” + </p> + <p> + “You want her at her glorious best, is that it?” It seemed too strange + that the pure feminine should show at a time of crisis like this, but + there it was. It was this woman’s way. But he added presently: “When she + asks you what we have talked about, what will you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not easy? I am a mother,” she said meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “And I am an ex-convict, and a mutineer—is that it?” + </p> + <p> + She inclined her head. “It should not be difficult to explain. When you + came I was speaking as I felt, and she will not think it strange if I give + that as my reason.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it wise? Isn’t it better to end it all now? Suppose Lord Mallow + tells her.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not before. He is not likely now,” was the vexed reply. “Is it a + thing a gentleman will speak of to a lady?” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not know Mallow. If he thought she had seen me to-day, he + would not hesitate. What would you do if you were Lord Mallow?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to-day,” she persisted. “It is all so many years ago. It can hurt + naught to wait a little longer.” + </p> + <p> + “When and where shall it be?” he asked gloomily. “At Salem—at Salem. + We shall be settled then—and steady. There is every reason why you + should consider me. I have suffered as few women have suffered, and I do + not hate you. I am only sorry.” + </p> + <p> + Far down at the other end of the garden he saw Sheila. Her face was in + profile—an exquisite silhouette. She moved slowly among the pimento + bushes. + </p> + <p> + “As you wish,” he said with a heavy sigh. The sight of the girl anguished + his soul. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. AT SALEM + </h2> + <p> + The plantation of Salem was in a region below the Pedro Plains in the + parish of St. Elizabeth, where grow the aloe, and torch-thistle, and + clumps of wood which alter the appearance of the plain from the South + Downs of England, but where thousands of cattle and horses even in those + days were maintained. The air of the district was dry and elastic, and it + filtered down to the valleys near like that where Salem was with its + clusters of negro huts and offices, its mills and distilleries where sugar + and rum were made. Salem was situated on the Black River, accessible by + boats and canoes. The huts of negro slaves were near the sugar mills, + without regard to order, but in clusters of banana, avocado-pear, limes + and oranges, and with the cultivated land round their huts made an + effective picture. + </p> + <p> + One day every fortnight was allowed the negroes to cultivate their crops, + and give them a chance to manufacture mats for beds, bark-ropes, + wicker-chairs and baskets, earthen jars, pans, and that kind of thing. The + huts themselves were primitive to a degree, the floor being earth, the + roof, of palm-thatch or the leaves of the cocoa-nut tree, the sides + hard-posts driven in the ground and interlaced with wattle and plaster, + and inside scarcely high enough for its owner to walk upright. The + furniture was scant—a quatre, or bed, made of a platform of boards, + with a mat and a blanket, some low stools, a small table, an earthen + water-jar, and some smaller ones, a pail and an iron pot, and calabashes + which did duty for plates, dishes and bowls. In one of the two rooms + making the hut, there were always the ashes of the night-fire, without + which negroes could not sleep in comfort. + </p> + <p> + These were the huts of the lowest grade of negro-slaves of the fields. The + small merchants and the domestics had larger houses with boarded floors, + some even with linen sheets and mosquito nets, and shelves with plates and + dishes of good ware. Every negro received a yearly allowance of Osnaburgh + linen, woollen, baize and checks for clothes, and some planters also gave + them hats and handkerchiefs, knives, needles and thread, and so on. + </p> + <p> + Every plantation had a surgeon who received a small sum for attendance on + every slave, while special cases of midwifery, inoculation, etc., had a + particular allowance. The surgeon had to attend to about four hundred to + five hundred negroes, on an income of L150 per annum, and board and + lodging and washing, besides what he made from his practice with the + whites. + </p> + <p> + Salem was no worse than some other plantations on the island, but it was + far behind such plantations as that owned by Dyck Calhoun, and had been + notorious for the cruelties committed on it. To such an estate a lady like + Sheila Llyn would be a boon. She was not on the place a day before she + started reforms which would turn the plantation into a model scheme. + Houses, food, treatment of the negroes, became at once a study to her, and + her experience in Virginia was invaluable. She had learned there not to + work the slaves too hard in the warm period of the day; and she showed her + interest by having served at her own table the favourite olio the slaves + made of plantains, bananas, yams, calalue, eddoes, cassavi, and sweet + potatoes boiled with salt fish and flavoured with cayenne pepper. This, + with the unripe roasted plantain as bread, was a native relish and + health-giving food. + </p> + <p> + Ever since the day when she had seen Dyck Calhoun at Spanish Town she had + been disturbed in mind. Dyck had shown a reserve which she felt was not + wholly due to his having been imprisoned for manslaughter. In one way he + looked little older. His physique was as good, or better than when she + first saw him on the hills of Playmore. It was athletic, strenuous, + elastic. Yet there was about it the abandonment of despair—at least + of recklessness. The face was older, the head more powerful, the hair + slightly touched with grey-rather there was one spot in the hair almost + pure white; a strand of winter in the foliage of summer. It gave a touch + of the bizarre to a distinguished head, it lent an air of the singular to + a personality which had flare and force—an almost devilish force. + That much was to be said for him, that he had not sought to influence her + to his own advantage. She was so surrounded in America by men who knew her + wealth and prized her beauty, she was so much a figure in Virginia, that + any reserve with regard to herself was noticeable. She was enough feminine + to have pleasure in the fact that she was thought desirable by men; yet it + played an insignificant part in her life. + </p> + <p> + It did not give her conceit. It was only like a frill on the skirts of + life. It did not play any part in her character. Certainly Dyck Calhoun + had not flattered her. That one to whom she had written, as she had done, + should remove himself so from the place of the deserving friend, one whom + she had not deserted while he was in jail as a criminal—that he + should treat her so, gave every nerve a thrill of protest. Sometimes she + trembled in indignation, and then afterwards gave herself to the work on + the estate or in the household—its reform and its rearrangement; + though the house was like most in Jamaica, had adequate plate, linen, + glass and furniture. At the lodgings in Spanish Town, after Dyck Calhoun + had left, her mother had briefly said that she had told Dyck he could not + expect the conditions of the Playmore friendship should be renewed; that, + in effect, she had warned him off. To this Sheila had said that the + killing of a man whose life was bad might be punishable. In any case, that + was in another land, under abnormal conditions; and, with lack of logic, + she saw no reason why he should be socially punished in Jamaica for what + he had been legally punished for in Ireland. As for the mutiny, he had + done what any honest man of spirit would do; also, he had by great bravery + and skill brought victory to the king’s fleet in West Indian waters. + </p> + <p> + Then it was she told her mother how she had always disobeyed her commands + where Dyck was concerned, that she had written to him while he was in + jail; that she had come to Jamaica more to see him than to reform Salem; + that she had the old Celtic spirit of brotherhood, and she would not be + driven from it. In a sudden burst of anger her mother had charged her with + deceit; but the girl said she had followed her conscience, and she + dismissed it all with a gesture as emphatic as her mother’s anger. + </p> + <p> + That night they had dined with Lord Mallow, and she saw that his + attentions had behind them the deep purpose of marriage. She had not been + overcome by the splendour of his retinue and table, or by the magnificence + of his guests; though the military commander-in-chief and the temporary + admiral on the station did their utmost to entertain her, and some of the + local big-wigs were pompous. Lord Mallow had ability and knew how to use + it; and he was never so brilliant as on this afternoon, for they dined + while it was still daylight and hardly evening. He told her of the customs + of the country, of the people; and slyly and effectively he satirized some + of his grandiloquent guests. Not unduly, for one of them, the most + renowned in the island, came to him after dinner as he sat talking to + Sheila, and said: “I’m very sorry, your honour, but good Almighty God, I + must go home and cool coppers.” Then he gave Sheila a hot yet clammy hand, + and bade her welcome as a citizen to the island, “alien but respected, + beautiful but capable!” Sheila had seen a few of the Creole ladies present + at their best-large-eyed, simple, not to say primitive in speech, and very + unaffected in manner. She had learned also that the way to the Jamaican + heart was by a full table and a little flattery. + </p> + <p> + One incident at dinner had impressed her greatly. Not far away from her + was a young lady, beautiful in face and person, and she had seen a + scorpion suddenly shoot into her sleeve and ruthlessly strike and strike + the arm of the girl, who gave one cry only and then was still. Sheila saw + the man next to the girl—he was a native officer—secure the + scorpion, and then whip from his pocket a little bag of indigo, dip it in + water, and apply the bag to the wounded arm, immediately easing the wound. + This had all been done so quickly that it was over before the table had + been upset, almost. + </p> + <p> + “That is the kind of thing we have here,” said Lord Mallow. “There is a + lady present who has seen in one day a favourite black child bitten by a + congereel, a large centipede in her nursery, a snake crawl from under her + child’s pillow, and her son nearly die from a bite of the black spider + with the red spot on its tail. It is a life that has its trials—and + its compensations.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw a man’s head on a pole on my way to King’s House. You have to use + firm methods here,” Sheila said in reply. “It is not all a rose-garden. + You have to apply force.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow smiled grimly. “C’est la force morale toujours.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I should not have thought it was moral force always,” was the + ironical reply. + </p> + <p> + “We have criminals here,” declared the governor with aplomb, “and they + need some handling, I assure you. We have in this island one of the worst + criminals in the British Empire.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I thought he was in the United States!” answered the girl sedately. + </p> + <p> + “You mean General George Washington,” remarked the governor. “No, it is + one who was a friend and fellow-countryman of yours before he took to + killing unarmed men.” + </p> + <p> + “You refer to Mr. Dyck Calhoun, I doubt not, sir? Well, he is still a + friend of mine, and I saw him today—this afternoon, before I came + here. I understood that the Crown had pardoned his mutiny.” + </p> + <p> + The governor started. He was plainly annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “The crime is there just the same,” he replied. “He mutinied, and he stole + a king’s ship, and took command of it, and brought it out here.” + </p> + <p> + “And saved you and your island, I understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he said that, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “He said nothing at all to me about it. I have been reading the Jamaica + Cornwall Chronicle the last three years.” + </p> + <p> + “He is ever a source of anxiety to me,” declared the governor. + </p> + <p> + “I knew he was once in Phoenix Park years ago,” was the demure yet sharp + reply, “but I thought he was a good citizen here—a good and + well-to-do citizen.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow flushed slightly. “Phoenix Park—ah, he was a capable + fellow with the sword! I said so always, and I’d back him now against a + champion; but many a bad man has been a good swordsman.” + </p> + <p> + “So, that’s what good swordsmanship does, is it? I wondered what it was + that did it. I hear you fight him still—but with a bludgeon, and he + dodges it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” declared Lord Mallow tartly. “Ah, wasn’t there some + difference over his going for the treasure to Haiti? Some one told me, I + think, that you were not in favour of his getting his ticket-of-leave, or + whatever it is called, and that the provost-marshal gave it to him, as he + had the right to do.” + </p> + <p> + “You have wide sources of information in this case. I wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “No, your honour need not wonder. I was told that by a gentleman on the + steamer coming here. He was a native of the island, I think—or + perhaps it was the captain, or the mate, or the boatswain. I can’t recall. + Or maybe it came to me from my manager, Darius Boland, who hears things + wherever he is, one doesn’t know how; but he hears them. He is to me what + your aide-de-camp is to you,” she nodded towards a young man near by at + the table. + </p> + <p> + “And do you dress your Darius Boland as I dress my aide in scarlet, with + blue facings and golden embroidery, and put a stiff hat with a feather on + his head?” + </p> + <p> + “But no, he does not need such things. I am a Republican now. I am a + citizen of the United States, where men have no need of uniform to tell + the world what they are. You shall see my Darius Boland—indeed, you + have seen him. He was there to-day when you gave me the distinction of + your presence.” + </p> + <p> + “That dry, lean, cartridge of a fellow, that pair of pincers with a face!” + </p> + <p> + “And a tongue, your honour. If you did not hear it yet, you will hear it. + He is to be my manager here. So he will be under your control—if I + permit him.” + </p> + <p> + “If you permit him, mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “If I permit him, yes. You are a power, but you are not stronger than the + laws and rules you make. For instance, there was the case of Mr. Dyck + Calhoun. When he came, you were for tying him up in one little corner of + this island—the hottest part, I know, near to Kingston, where it + averages ninety degrees in the shade at any time of the year. But the King + you represent had not restricted his liberties so, and you being the King, + that is, yourself, were forced to abide by your own regulations. So it may + be the same with Darius Boland. He may want something, and you, high up, + looking down, will say, ‘What devilry is here!’ and decline. He will then + turn to your chief-justice or provost-marshal-general, or a deputy of the + provost-marshal, and they will say that Darius Boland shall have what he + wants, because it is the will of the will you represent.” + </p> + <p> + Almost the last words the governor used to her were these: “Those only + live at peace here who are at peace with me”; and her reply had been: “But + Mr. Dyck Calhoun lives at peace, does he not, your honour?” + </p> + <p> + To that he had replied: “No man is at peace while he has yet desires.” He + paused a minute and then added: “That Erris Boyne killed by Dyck Calhoun—did + you ever see him that you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I remember,” she replied quickly. “I never lived in Dublin.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be. But did you never know his history?” She shook her head in + negation. His eyes searched her face carefully, and he was astonished when + he saw no sign of confusion there. “Good God, she doesn’t know. She’s + never been told!” he said to himself. “This is too startling. I’ll speak + to the mother.” + </p> + <p> + A little later he turned from the mother with astonishment. “It’s + madness,” he remarked to himself. “She will find out. Some one will tell + her.... By heaven, I’ll tell her first,” he hastily said. “When she knows + the truth, Calhoun will have no chance on earth. Yes, I’ll tell her + myself. But I’ll tell no one else,” he added; for he felt that Sheila, + once she knew the truth, would resent his having told abroad the true + story of the Erris Boyne affair. + </p> + <p> + So Sheila and her mother had gone to their lodgings with depression, but + each with a clear purpose in her mind. Mrs. Llyn was determined to tell + her daughter what she ought to have known long before; and Sheila was firm + to make the one man who had ever interested her understand that he was + losing much that was worth while keeping. + </p> + <p> + Then had followed the journey to Salem. Yet all the while for Sheila one + dark thought kept hovering over everything. Why should life be so + complicated? Why should this one man who seemed capable and had the + temperament of the Irish hills and vales be the victim of punishment and + shame—why should he shame her? + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, without her mother’s knowledge, she sent Darius Boland through + the hills in the early morning to Enniskillen, Dyck Calhoun’s place, with + a letter which said only this: “Is it not time that you came to wish us + well in our new home? We shall expect you to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + When Dyck read this note he thought it was written by Sheila, but inspired + by the mother; and he lost no time in making his way down across the + country to Salem, which he reached a few hours after sunrise. At the + doorway of the house he met Mrs. Llyn. + </p> + <p> + “Have you told her?” he asked in anxiety. Astonished at his presence she + could make no reply for a moment. “I have told her nothing,” she answered. + “I meant to do so this morning. I meant to do it—I must.” + </p> + <p> + “She sent me a letter asking if it was not time I came to wish you well in + your house, and you and she would expect me to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew naught of her writing you,” was the reply—“naught at all. + But now that you are here, will you not tell her all?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck smiled grimly. “Where is she?” he asked. “I will tell her.” + </p> + <p> + The mother pointed down the garden. “Yonder by the clump of palms I saw + her a moment ago. If you go that way you will find her.” + </p> + <p> + In another moment Dyck Calhoun was on his way to the clump of palms, and + before he reached it, the girl came out into the path. She was dressed in + a black silk skirt with a white bodice and lace, as he had seen her on her + arrival in Kingston, and at her throat was a sprig of the wild pear-tree. + When she saw him, she gave a slight start, then stood still, and he came + to her. + </p> + <p> + “I have your letter,” he said, “and I came to say what I ought to say + about your living here: you will bring blessings to the place.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him steadfastly. “Shall we talk here,” she said, “or inside + the house? There is a little shelter here in the trees”—pointing to + the right—“a shelter built by the late manager. It has the covering + of a hut, but it is open at two sides. Will you come?” As she went on + ahead, he could not fail to notice how slim and trim she was, how + perfectly her figure seemed to fit her gown-as though she had been poured + into it; and yet the folds of her skirt waved and floated like silky + clouds around her! Under cover of the shelter, she turned and smiled at + him. + </p> + <p> + “You have seen my mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I have just come from her,” he answered. “She bade me tell you what ought + to have been told long ago, and you were not, for there seemed no reason + that you should. You were young and ignorant and happy. You had no cares, + no sorrows. The sorrows that had come to your mother belonged to days when + you were scarce out of the cradle. But you did not know. You were not + aware that your mother had divorced your father for crime against marital + fidelity and great cruelty. You did not know even who that father was. + Well, I must tell you. Your father was a handsome man, a friend of mine + until I knew the truth about him, and then he died—I killed him, so + the court said.” + </p> + <p> + Her face became ghastly pale. After a moment of anguished bewilderment, + she said: “You mean that Erris Boyne was my father?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I mean that. They say I killed him. They say that he was found with + no sword drawn, but that my open sword lay on the table beside me while I + was asleep, and that it had let out his life-blood.” + </p> + <p> + “Why was he killed?” she asked, horror-stricken and with pale lips. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, but if I killed him, it was because I revolted from the + proposals he made to me. I—” He paused, for the look on her face was + painful to see, and her body was as that of one who had been struck by + lightning. It had a crumpled, stricken look, and all force seemed to be + driven from it. It had the look of crushed vitality. Her face was set in + paleness, her eyes were frightened, her whole person was, as it were, in + ghastly captivity. His heart smote him, and he pulled himself together to + tell her all. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” she said. “I want to hear. I want—to know all. I ought to + have known—long ago; but that can’t be helped now. Continue—please.” + </p> + <p> + Her words had come slowly, in gasps almost, and her voice was so frayed he + could scarcely recognize it. All the pride of her nature seemed shattered. + </p> + <p> + “If I killed him,” he said presently, “it was because he tried to tempt me + from my allegiance to the Crown to become a servant of France, to—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short, for a cry came from her lips which appalled him. + </p> + <p> + “My God—my God!” she said with bloodless lips, her eyes fastened on + his face, her every look and motion the inflection of despair. “Go on—tell + all,” she added presently with more composure. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly he described what happened in the little room at the traitor’s + tavern, of the momentary reconciliation and the wine that he drank, + drugged wine poured out but not drunk by Erris Boyne, and of his later + unconsciousness. At last he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Why did these things not come out at the trial?” she asked in hushed + tones. + </p> + <p> + He made a helpless gesture. “I did not speak of them because I thought of + you. I hid it—I did not want you to know what your father was.” + </p> + <p> + Something like a smile gathered at her pale lips. “You saved me for the + moment, and condemned yourself for ever,” she said in a voice of torture. + “If you had told what he was—if you had told that, the jury would + not have condemned you, they would not have sent you to prison.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I did the right thing,” he said. “If I killed your father, + prison was my proper punishment. But I can’t remember. There was no other + clue, no other guide to judgment. So the law said I killed him, and—he + had evidently not drawn his sword. It was clear he was killed + defenceless.” + </p> + <p> + “You killed a defenceless man!” Her voice was sharp with agony. “That was + mentioned at the trial—but I did not believe it then—in that + long ago.” She trembled to her feet from the bench where she was sitting. + “And I do not believe it now—no, on my soul, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “But it makes no difference, you see. I was condemned for killing your + father, and the world knows that Erris Boyne was your father, and here + Lord Mallow, the governor, knows it; and there is no chance of friendship + between you and me. Since the day he was found dead in the room, there was + no hope for our friendship, for anything at all between us that I had + wished to be there. You dare not be friends with me—” + </p> + <p> + Her face suddenly suffused and she held herself upright with an effort. + She was about to say, “I dare, Dyck—I do dare!” but he stopped her + with a reproving gesture. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you dare not, and I would not let you if you would. I am an + ex-convict. They say I killed your father, and the way to understanding + between us is closed.” + </p> + <p> + She made a protesting gesture. “Closed! Closed!—But is it closed? + No, no, some one else killed him, not you. You couldn’t have done it. You + would have fought him—fought him as you did Lord Mallow, and in + fighting you might have killed him, but your sword never let out his life + when he was defenceless—never.” + </p> + <p> + A look of intense relief, almost of happiness, came to Dyck’s face. “That + is like you, Sheila, but it does not cure the trouble. You and I are as + far apart as noon and midnight. The law has said the only thing that can + be said upon it.” + </p> + <p> + She sank down again upon the wooden bench. “Oh, how mad you were, not to + tell the whole truth long ago! You would not have been condemned, and then—” + </p> + <p> + She paused overcome, and his self-control almost deserted him. With strong + feeling he burst out: “And then, we might have come together? No, your + mother—your friends, myself, could not have let that be. See, + Sheila, I will tell you the whole truth now—aye, the whole absolute + truth. I have loved you since the first day I saw you on the hills when + you and I rescued Christopher Dogan. Not a day has passed since then when + you were not more to me than any other woman in all the world.” + </p> + <p> + A new light came into her face, the shadows left her eyes, and the pallor + fled from her lips. “You loved me?” she said in a voice grown soft-husky + still, but soft as the light in a summer heaven. “You loved me—and + have always loved me since we first met?” + </p> + <p> + Her look was so appealing, so passionate and so womanly, that he longed to + reach out his arms to her, and say, “Come—come home, Sheila,” but + the situation did not permit that, and only his eyes told the story of + what was in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “I have always loved you, Sheila, and shall do so while I have breath and + life. I have always given you the best that is in me, tried to do what was + good for us both, since my misfortune—crime, Lord Mallow calls it, + as does the world. Never a sunrise that does not find you in the forefront + of all the lighted world; never a flower have I seen that does not seem + sweeter—it brings thoughts of you; never a crime that does not + deepen its shame because you are in the world. In prison, when I used to + mop my floor and clean down the walls; when I swept the dust from the + corners; when I folded up my convict clothes; when I ate the prison food + and sang the prison hymns; when I placed myself beside the bench in the + workshop to make things that would bring cash to my fellow-prisoners in + their need; when I saw a minister of religion or heard the Litany; when I + counted up the days, first that I had spent in jail and then the days I + had still to spend in jail; when I read the books from the prison library + of the land where you had gone, and of the struggle there; when I saw you, + in my mind’s eye, in the cotton-fields or on the verandah of your house in + Virginia—I had but one thought, and that was the look in your face + at Playmore and Limerick, the sound of your voice as you came singing up + the hill just before I first met you, the joyous beauty of your body.” + </p> + <p> + “And at sea?” she whispered with a gesture at once beautiful and pathetic, + for it had the motion of helplessness and hopelessness. What she had heard + had stirred her soul, and she wanted to hear more—or was it that she + wished to drain the cup now that it was held to her lips?-drain it to the + last drop of feeling. + </p> + <p> + “At sea,” he answered, with his eyes full of intense feeling—“at + sea, I was free at last, doomed as I thought, anguished in spirit, and yet + with a wild hope that out of it would come deliverance. I expected to lose + my life, and I lived each day as though it would be my last. I was chief + rogue in a shipful of rogues, chief sinner in a hell of sinners, and yet I + had no remorse and no regret. I had done all with an honest purpose, with + the good of the sailors in my mind; and so I lived in daily touch with + death, honour, and dishonour. Yet I never saw a sailor in the shrouds, or + heard the night watch call ‘All’s well!’ in the midst of night and mutiny, + that I did not long for a word from you that would take away the sting of + death. Those days at sea for ten long weeks were never free from anxiety, + not anxiety for myself, only for the men who had put me where I was, had + given me captain’s rank, had—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he stopped, and took from his pocket the letter he was writing on + the very day she landed in Jamaica. He opened it and studied it for a + moment with a dark look in his face. + </p> + <p> + “This I wrote even as you were landing in Jamaica, and I knew naught of + your coming. It was an outbreak of my soul. It was the truth written to + you and for you, and yet with the feeling that you would never see it. I + was still writing it when Michael Clones came up the drive to tell me you + and your mother were here. Now, I know not what Christopher Dogan would + say of it, but I say it is amazing that in the hour you were first come to + this land I should be moved to tell you the story of my life since I left + prison; since, on receiving your letter in London, forwarded from Dublin, + I joined the navy. But here it is with all the truth and terror in it.—Aye, + there was terror, for it gave the soul of my life to one I never thought + to see again; and, if seeing, should be compelled to do what I have done—tell + her the whole truth at once and so have it over. + </p> + <p> + “But do not think that in telling it now I repent of my secrecy. I repent + of nothing; I would not alter anything. What was to be is, and what is has + its place in the book of destiny. No, I repent nothing, yet here now I + give you this to read while still my story of the days of which you know + is in your ears. Here it is. It will tell the whole story; for when you + have read it and do understand, then we part to meet no more as friends. + You will go back to Virginia, and I will stay here. You will forgive the + unwilling wrong I have done you, but you will make your place in life + without thought of me. You will marry some one—not worthy of you, + for that could not be; but you will take to yourself some man from among + the men of this world. You will set him apart from all other men as yours, + and he will be happy, having been blessed beyond deserving. You will not + regret coming here; but you will desire our friendship to cease; and what + has been to be no more, while the tincture of life is in your veins. + Sheila, read this thing, for it is the rest of the story until now.” + </p> + <p> + He handed her the papers, and she took them with an inclination of the + head which said: “Give it to me. I will read it now while my eyes can + still bear to read it. I have laid on my heart the nettle of shame, and + while it is still burning there I will read all that you have to teach + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go out in the garden while you read it,” he said. “In a half-hour + I will come back, and then we can say good-bye,” he added, with pain in + his voice, but firmly. + </p> + <p> + “No, do not go,” she urged. “Sit here on the bench—at the end of it + here,” she said, motioning with her hand. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head in negation. “No, I will go and say to your mother that + I have told you, and ease her mind, for I know she herself meant to tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + As he went he looked at her face closely. It was so young, so pathetic, so + pale, yet so strangely beautiful, and her forehead was serene. That was + one of her characteristics. In all her life, her forehead remained + untroubled and unlined. Only at her mouth and in her eyes did misery or + sorrow show. He looked into her eyes now, and he was pleased with what he + saw; for they had in them the glow of understanding and the note of will + which said: “You and I are parted, but I believe in you, and I will not + show I am a weak woman by futile horror. We shall meet no more, but I + shall remember you.” + </p> + <p> + That was what he saw, and it was what he wished to see. He knew her + character would stand the test of any trial, and it had done so. Horror + had struck her, but had not overwhelmed her. She had cried out in her + agony, but she had not been swept out into chaos. She had no weak passions + and no futilities. But as he turned away now, it was with the sharp + conviction that he had dealt a blow from which the girl would recover, but + would never be the same again. She was rich “beyond the dreams of + avarice,” but that would not console her. She had resources within + herself, had what would keep her steady. Her real power and force, her + real hope, were in her regnant soul which was not to be cajoled by life’s + subterfuges. Her lips opened now, as though she would say something, but + nothing came from them. She only shook her head sadly, as if to say: “You + understand. Go, and when you come again, it will be for us to part in + peace—at least in peace.” + </p> + <p> + Out in the garden he found her mother. After the first agitated + greeting-agitated on her part, he said: “The story has been told, and she + is now reading—” + </p> + <p> + He told her the story of the manuscript, and added that Sheila had carried + herself with courage. Presently the woman said to him: “She never believed + you killed Erris Boyne. Well, it may not help the situation, but I say + too, that I do not believe you did. I cannot understand why you did not + deny having killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not deny. In any case, the law punished me for it, and the book + is closed for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you never thought that some one—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have thought, but who is there? The crowd at the Dublin hotel + where the thing was done were secret, and they would lie the apron off a + bishop. No, there is no light, and, to tell the truth, I care not now.” + </p> + <p> + “But if you are not guilty—it is not too late; there is my girl! If + the real criminal should appear—can you not see?” + </p> + <p> + The poor woman, distressedly pale, her hair still abundant, her eyes still + bright, her pulses aglow, as they had ever been, made a gesture of appeal + with hands that were worn and thin. She had charm still, in a way as great + as her daughter’s. + </p> + <p> + “I can see—but, Mrs. Llyn, I have no hope. I am a man whom some men + fear—” + </p> + <p> + “Lord Mallow!” she interjected. + </p> + <p> + “He does not fear me. Why do you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “I speak with a woman’s intuition. I don’t know what he fears, but he does + fear you. You are a son of history; you had a duel with him, and beat him; + you have always beaten him, even here where he has been supreme as + governor—from first to last, you have beaten him.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall be even with him at the last—at the very last,” was + Dyck Calhoun’s reply. “We were made to be foes. We were from the first. I + felt it when I saw him at Playmore. Nothing has changed since then. He + will try to destroy me here, but I will see it through. I will try and + turn his rapier-points. I will not be the target of his arrows without + making some play against him. The man is a fool. I could help him here, + but he will have none of it, and he is running great risks. He has been + warned that the Maroons are restive, that the black slaves will rise if + the Maroons have any initial success, and he will listen to no advice. He + would not listen to me, but, knowing that, I got the provost-marshal to + approach him, and when he knew my hand was in it, he stiffened. He would + have naught to do with it, and so no preparations are made. And up there”—he + turned and pointed—“up there in Trelawney the Maroons are plotting + and planning, and any day an explosion may occur. If it occurs no one will + be safe, especially if the blacks rise too—I mean the black slaves. + There will be no safety then for any one.” + </p> + <p> + “For us as well, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “For you as well as all others, and you are nearer to Trelawney than most + others. You are in their path. So be wise, Mrs. Llyn, and get back to + Virginia as soon as may be. It is a better place than this.” + </p> + <p> + “My daughter is mistress here,” was the sorrowful reply. “She will have + her own way.” + </p> + <p> + “Your daughter will not care to stay here now,” he answered firmly. + </p> + <p> + “She will do what she thinks her duty in spite of her own feelings, or + yours, or mine. It is her way, and it has always been her way.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell her what I fear, and she may change her mind.” + </p> + <p> + “But the governor may want her to stay,” answered Mrs. Llyn none too + sagely, but with that in her mind which seemed to justify her. + </p> + <p> + “Lord Mallow—oh, if you think there is any influence in him to keep + her, that is another question,” said Dyck with a grim smile. “But, + nevertheless, I think you should leave here and go back to Virginia. It is + no safe place for two ladies, in all senses. Whatever Lord Mallow thinks + or does, this is no place for you. This place is your daughter’s for her + to do what she chooses with it, and I think she ought to sell it. There + would be no trouble in getting a purchaser. It is a fine property.” + </p> + <p> + “But the governor might not think as you do; he might not wish it sold.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Llyn was playing a bold, indeed a reckless game. She wanted to show + Dyck there were others who would interest themselves in Sheila even if he, + Dyck, were blotted from the equation; that the girl could look high, if + her mind turned towards marriage. Also she felt that Dyck should know the + facts before any one else, so that he would not be shocked in the future, + if anything happened. Yet in her deepest heart she wished him well. She + liked him as she had never liked any of Sheila’s admirers, and if the + problem of Erris Boyne had been solved, she would gladly have seen him + wedded to Sheila. + </p> + <p> + “What has the governor to do with it!” he declared. “It is your daughter’s + own property, and she is free to hold or to part with it. There is no + Crown consent to ask, no vice-regal approval needed.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he became angry, almost excited. His blood pounded in his veins. + Was this man, Mallow, to come between his and her fate always, come into + his problem at the most critical moment? “God in heaven!” he said in a + burst of passion, “is this a land of the British Empire or is it not? Why + should that man break in on every crisis? Why should he do this or that—say + yea or nay, give or take away! He is the king’s representative, but he is + bound by laws as rigid as any that bind you or me. What has he to do with + your daughter or what concerns her? Is there not enough trouble in the + world without bringing in Lord Mallow? If he—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short, for he saw coming from the summerhouse, Sheila with his + paper in her hand. She walked slowly and with dignity. She carried her + head high and firmly, and the skin of her face was shining with light as + she came on. Dyck noticed how her wide skirts flicked against the flowers + that bordered the path, and how her feet seemed scarcely to touch the + ground as she walked—a spirit, a regnant spirit of summer she + seemed. But in her face there was no summer, there was only autumn and + winter, only the bright frost of purpose. As she came, her mother turned + as though to leave Dyck Calhoun. She called to her to wait, and Mrs. Llyn + stood still, anxious. As Sheila came near she kept her eyes fixed on Dyck. + When she reached them, she held out the paper to him. + </p> + <p> + “It is wonderful,” she said quietly, “that which you have written, but it + does not tell all; it does not say that you did not kill my father. You + are punished for the crime, and we must abide by it, even though you did + not kill Erris Boyne. It is the law that has done it, and we cannot abash + the law.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall meet no more then!” said Dyck with decision. + </p> + <p> + Her lips tightened, her face paled. “There are some things one may not do, + and one of them is to be openly your friend—at present.” + </p> + <p> + He put the letter carefully away in his pocket, his hand shaking, then + flicking an insect from the collar of his coat, he said gently, yet with + an air of warning: “I have been telling Mrs. Llyn about the Maroons up + there”—he pointed towards Trelawney—“and I have advised your + going back to Virginia. The Maroons may rise at any moment, and no care is + being taken by Lord Mallow to meet the danger. If they rise, you, here, + would be in their way, and I could not guarantee your safety. Besides, + Virginia is a better place—a safer place than this,” he added with + meaning. + </p> + <p> + “You wish to frighten me out of Jamaica,” she replied with pain in her + voice. “Well, I will not go till I have put this place in order and + brought discipline and good living here. I shall stay here in Jamaica till + I have done my task. There is no reason why we should meet. This place is + not so large as Ireland or America, but it is large enough to give + assurance we shall not meet. And if we meet, there is no reason why we + should talk. As for the Maroons, when the trouble comes, I shall not be + unprepared.” She smiled sadly. “The governor may not take your advice, but + I shall. And remember that I come from a land not without its dangers. We + have Red Indians and black men there, and I can shoot.” + </p> + <p> + He waved a hand abruptly and then made a gesture—such as an ascetic + might make-of reflection, of submission. “I shall remember every word you + have said, and every note of your voice will be with me in all the lonely + years to come. Good-bye—but no, let me say this before I go: I did + not know that Erris Boyne was your father until after he was dead. So, if + I killed him, it was in complete ignorance. I did not know. But we have + outlived our friendship, and we must put strangeness in its place. + Good-bye—God protect you!” he added, looking into Sheila’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with sorrow. Her lips opened but no words came forth. He + passed on out of the garden, and presently they heard his horse’s hoofs on + the sand. + </p> + <p> + “He is a great gentleman,” said Mrs. Llyn. + </p> + <p> + Her daughter’s eyes were dry and fevered. Her lips were drawn. “We must + begin the world again,” she said brokenly. Then suddenly she sank upon the + ground. “My God—oh, my God!” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. LORD MALLOW INTERVENES + </h2> + <p> + Two months went by. In that time Sheila and Dyck did not meet, though Dyck + saw her more than once in the distance at Kingston. Yet they had never met + since that wonderful day at Salem, when they had parted, as it might seem, + for ever. Dyck had had news of her, however, for Darius Boland had come + and gone between the two plantations, and had won Michael Clones’ + confidence. He knew more perhaps than he ever conveyed to Dyck, who saw + him and talked with him, gave him advice as to the customs of Jamaica, and + let him see the details in the management of Enniskillen. + </p> + <p> + Yet Dyck made no inquiries as to how Mrs. Llyn and Sheila were; first + because he chose not to do so, and also because Darius Boland, at one time + or another, would of his own accord tell what Mrs. Llyn and Sheila were + doing. One day Boland brought word that the governor had, more than once, + visited Salem with his suite; that he had sat in judgment on a case in + Kingston concerning the estate of Salem, and had given decision in its + favour; and that Mrs. Llyn and Sheila visited him at Spanish Town and were + entertained at King’s House at second breakfast and dinner—in short, + that Lord Mallow was making hay in Salem Plantation. This was no surprise + to Dyck. He had full intuition of the foray the governor would make on + Sheila, her estate and wealth. + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow had acted with discretion, and yet with sufficient passion to + warrant some success. He was trying to make for himself a future which + might mean the control of a greater colony even. If he had wealth, that + would be almost a certainty, and he counted Sheila’s gold as a guarantee + of power. He knew well how great effect could be produced at Westminster + and at the Royal Palace by a discreet display of wealth. He was also aware + that no scandal could be made through an alliance with Sheila, for she had + inherited long after the revolutionary war and with her skirts free from + responsibility. England certainly would welcome wealth got through an + Irish girl inheriting her American uncle’s estates. So, steadily and + happily, he pressed his suit. At his dinner-parties he gave her first + place nearly always, and even broke the code controlling precedence when + his secretary could be overruled. Thus Sheila was given honour when she + did not covet it, and so it was that one day at Salem when the governor + came to court her she was able to help Dyck Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + “Then you go to Enniskillen?” Lord Mallow said to Darius Boland, as he + entered the plantation, being met by the astute American. + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes, your honour,” was the careful reply. “I suppose you know what + Mr. Calhoun’s career has been, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, in a way, your honour. They tell me he is a good swordsman.” + </p> + <p> + The governor flushed. “He told you that, did he?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, your honour, never. He told me naught. He does not boast. He’s as + modest as a man from Virginia. He does not brag at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, I heard it in the town! They speak of him there. They all know + that Kingston and Spanish Town, and all the other places, would have been + French by now, if it hadn’t been for him. Oh, they talk a lot about him in + Kingston and thereabouts!” + </p> + <p> + “What swordsmanship do they speak of that was remarkable?” + </p> + <p> + “Has your honour forgotten, then? Sure, seven years is a poor limit for a + good memory.” The blow was a shrewd one, for Darius Boland knew that + Phoenix Park must be a galling memory to his honour. But Darius did not + care. He guessed why the governor was coming to Salem, and he could not + shirk having his hand in it. He had no fear of the results. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, seven years is a poor limit,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + The governor showed no feeling. He had been hit, and he took it as part of + the game. “Ah, you mean the affair in Phoenix Park?” he said with no + apparent feeling. + </p> + <p> + Darius tossed his head a little. “Wasn’t it a clever bit of work? Didn’t + he get fame there by defeating one of the best swordsmen—in + Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow nodded. “He got fame, which he lost in time,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You mean he put the sword that had done such good work against a champion + into a man’s bowels, without ‘by your leave,’ or ‘will you draw and + fight’?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like that,” answered the governor sagely. + </p> + <p> + “Is it true you believed he’d strike a man that wasn’t armed, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The governor winced, but showed nothing. “He’d been drinking—he is a + heavy drinker. Do you never drink with him?” + </p> + <p> + Darius Boland’s face took on a strange look. Here was an intended insult + to Dyck Calhoun. Right well the governor knew their relative social + positions. Darius pulled at the hair on his chin reflectively. “Yes, I’ve + drunk his liquor, but not as you mean, your honour. He’d drink with any + man at all: he has no nasty pride. But he doesn’t drink with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Modest enough he is to be a good republican, eh, Boland?” + </p> + <p> + “Since your honour puts it so, it must stand. I’ll not dispute it, me + being what I am and employed by whom I am.” + </p> + <p> + Darius Boland had a gift of saying the right thing in the right way, and + he had said it now. The governor was not so dense as to put this man + against him, for women were curious folk. They often attach importance to + the opinion of a faithful servant and let it weigh against great men. He + had once lost a possible fortune by spurning a little terrier of the + daughter of the Earl of Shallow, and the lesson had sunk deep into his + mind. He was high-placed, but not so high as to be sure of success where a + woman was concerned, and he had made up his mind to capture Sheila Llyn, + if so be she could be caught flying, or settled, or sleeping. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, he has drunk with worse men than republicans. Boland. He was a + common sailor. He drank what was given him with whom it chanced in the + fo’castle.” + </p> + <p> + Darius sniffed a little, and kept his head. “But he changed all that, your + honour, and gave sailormen better drink than they ever had, I hear. In + Jamaica he treats his slaves as though they were men and not Mohicans.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he’ll have less freedom in future, Boland, for word has come from + London that he’s to keep to his estate and never leave it.” + </p> + <p> + Darius looked concerned, and his dry face wrinkled still more. “Ah, and + when was this word come, your honour?” + </p> + <p> + “But yesterday, Boland, and he’ll do well to obey, for I have no choice + but to take him in hand if he goes gallivanting.” + </p> + <p> + “Gallivanting—here, in Jamaica! Does your honour remember where we + are?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in a bishop’s close, Boland.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not in a bishop’s close, nor in an archdeacon’s garden. For of all + places on earth where they defy religion, this is the worst, your honour. + There’s as much religion here as you’ll find in a last year’s bird’s-nest. + Gallivanting—where should he gallivant?” + </p> + <p> + The governor waved a contemptuous hand. “It doesn’t need ingenuity to find + a place, for some do it on their own estate. I have seen it.” + </p> + <p> + Darius spoke sharply. “Your honour, there’s naught on Mr. Calhoun’s estate + that’s got the taint, and he’s not the man to go hunting for it. Drink—well, + suppose a gentleman does take his quartern, is it a crime? I ask your + honour, is that a crime in Jamaica?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no crime, Boland; nevertheless, your Mr. Calhoun will have to take + his fill on his own land from the day I send him the command of the London + Government.” + </p> + <p> + “And what day will that be, your honour?” + </p> + <p> + To be questioned by one who had been a revolutionary was distasteful to + the governor. “That day will be when I find the occasion opportune, my + brave Boland,” he said sourly. + </p> + <p> + “Why ‘brave,’ your honour?” There was an ominous light in Darius’ eye. + </p> + <p> + “Did you not fight with George Washington against the King of England—against + King George? And if you did, was that not brave?” + </p> + <p> + “It was true, your honour,” came the firm reply. “It was the one right + good thing to do, as we proved it by the victory we had. We did what we + set out to do. But see, if you will let a poor man speak his mind, if I + were you I’d not impose the command on Mr. Calhoun.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Boland?” + </p> + <p> + Darius spoke courageously. “Your honour, he has many friends in Jamaica, + and they won’t stand it. Besides, he won’t stand it. And if he contests + your honour, the island will be with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he popular here as all that?” asked the governor with a shrug of the + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “They don’t give their faith and confidence to order, your honour,” + answered Darius with a dry inflection. + </p> + <p> + The burr in the voice did not escape the other’s attentive ear. He swung a + glance sharply at Darius. “What is the secret of his popularity—how + has it been made?” he asked morosely. + </p> + <p> + Darius’ face took on a caustic look. “He’s only been in the island a short + time, your honour, and I don’t know that I’m a good judge, but I’ll say + the people here have great respect for bravery and character.” + </p> + <p> + “Character! Character!” sniffed the governor. “Where did he get that?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know his age, but it’s as old as he is—his character. + Say, I’m afraid I’m talking too much, your honour. We speak our minds in + Virginia; we never count the cost.” + </p> + <p> + The governor waved a deprecating hand. “You’ll find the measure of your + speech in good time, Boland, I’ve no doubt. Meanwhile, you’ve got the + pleasure of hunting it. Character, you say. Well, that isn’t what the + judge and jury said.” + </p> + <p> + Darius took courage again. Couldn’t Lord Mallow have any decency? + </p> + <p> + “Judge and jury be damned, your honour,” he answered boldly. “It was an + Irish verdict. It had no sense. It was a bit of ballyhack. He did not kill + an unarmed man. It isn’t his way. Why, he didn’t kill you when he had you + at his mercy in Phoenix Park, now, did he, governor?” + </p> + <p> + A flush stole up the governor’s face from his chin. Then he turned to + Boland and looked him straight in the eyes. “That’s true. He had me at his + mercy, and he did not take my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why do you head the cabal against him? Why do you take joy in + commanding him to stay on his estate? Is that grateful, your honour?” + </p> + <p> + The governor winced, but he said: “It’s what I am ordered to do, my man. + I’m a servant of the Crown, and the Crown has ordained it.” + </p> + <p> + Again Darius grew stronger in speech. “But why do you have pleasure in it? + Is nothing left to your judgment? Do you say to me that if he keeps the + freedom such as he has enjoyed, you’d punish him? Must the governor be as + ruthless as his master? Look, your honour, I wouldn’t impose that command—not + till I’d taken his advice about the Maroons anyway. There’s trouble + brewing, and Mr. Calhoun knows it. He has warned you through the + provost-marshal. I’d heed his warning, your honour, or it may injure your + reputation as a ruler. No, I’d see myself in nethermost hell before I’d + meddle with Mr. Calhoun. He’s a dangerous man, when he’s moved.” + </p> + <p> + “Boland, you’ll succeed as a schoolmaster, when all else fails. You teach + persistently.” + </p> + <p> + “Your honour is clever enough to know what’s what, but I’d like to see the + Maroons dealt with. This is not my country, but I’ve got interests here, + or my mistress has, and that’s the same to me.... Does your honour travel + often without a suite?” + </p> + <p> + The governor waved a hand behind him. “I left them at the last plantation, + and rode on alone. I felt safe enough till I saw you, Boland.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled grimly, and a grimmer smile stole to the lean lips of the + manager of Salem. “Fear is a good thing for forward minds, your honour,” + he said with respect in the tone of his voice and challenge in the words. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll say this, Boland, your mistress has been fortunate in her staff. You + have a ready tongue.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I’m readier in other things, your honour, as you’d find on occasion. + But I thank you for the compliment in a land where compliments are few. + For a planter’s country it has few who speak as well as they entertain. + I’ll say this for the land you govern, the hospitality is rich and rare.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way, Boland?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your honour, it is the custom for a man and his whole family to go + on a visit to a neighbour, perhaps twenty or forty miles away, bring their + servants—maybe a dozen or more—and sit down on their + neighbour’s hearthstone. There they eat his food, drink his wine, exhaust + his fowl-yard and debilitate his cook—till all the resources of the + place are played out; then with both hands round his friend’s neck the man + and his people will say adieu, and go back to their own accumulated larder + and await the return visit. The wonder is Jamaica is so rich, for truly + the waste is harmful. We have the door open in Virginia, but not in that + way. We welcome, but we don’t debauch.” + </p> + <p> + The governor smiled. “As you haven’t old friends here, you should make + your life a success—ah, there is the open door, Boland, and your + mistress standing in it. But I come without my family, and with no fell + purposes. I will not debilitate the cook; I will not exhaust the + fowl-yard. A roasted plantain is good enough for me.” + </p> + <p> + Darius’ looks quickened, and he jerked his chin up. “So, your honour, so. + But might I ask that you weigh carefully the warning of Mr. Calhoun. + There’s trouble at Trelawny. I have it from good sources, and Mr. Calhoun + has made preparations against the sure risings. I’d take heed of what he + says. He knows. Your honour, it is not my mistress in the doorway, it is + Mrs. Llyn; she is shorter than my mistress.” + </p> + <p> + The governor shaded his brow with his hands. Then he touched up his horse. + “Yes, you are right, Boland. It is Mrs. Llyn. And look you, Boland, I’ll + think over what you’ve said about the Maroons and Mr. Calhoun. He’s doing + no harm as he is, that’s sure. So why shouldn’t he go on as he is? That’s + your argument, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Boland nodded. “It’s part of my argument, not all of it. Of course he’s + doing no harm; he’s doing good every day. He’s got a stiff hand for the + shirker and the wanton, but he’s a man that knows his mind, and that’s a + good thing in Jamaica.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he come here-ever?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been here only once since our arrival. There are reasons why he + does not come, as your honour kens, knowing the history of Erris Boyne.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later Darius Boland said to Sheila: “He’s got an + order from England to keep Mr. Calhoun to his estate and to punish him, if + he infringes the order.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila started. “He will infringe the order if it’s made, Boland. But the + governor will be unwise to try and impose it. I will tell him so.” + </p> + <p> + “But, mistress, he should not be told that this news comes from me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he should not, Boland. I can tempt him to speak of it, I think. He + hates Mr. Calhoun, and will not need much prompting.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila had changed since she saw Dyck Calhoun last. Her face was thinner, + but her form was even fuller than it was when she had bade him good-bye, + as it seemed to him for ever, and as it at first seemed to her. Through + anxious days and nights she had fought with the old passion; and at last + it seemed the only way to escape from the torture was by making all + thought of him impossible. How could this be done? Well, Lord Mallow would + offer a way. Lord Mallow was a man of ancient Irish family, was a + governor, had ability, was distinguished-looking in a curious lean way; + and he had a real gift with his tongue. He stood high in the opinion of + the big folk at Westminster, and had a future. He had a winning way with + women—a subtle, perniciously attractive way with her sex, and to + herself he had been delicately persuasive. He had the ancient gift of + picturesqueness without ornamentation. He had a strong will and a healthy + imagination. He was a man of mettle and decision. + </p> + <p> + Of all who had entered her field outside of Dyck Calhoun he was the most + attractive; he was the nearest to the possible husband which she must one + day take. And if at any day at all, why not now when she needed a man as + she had never done—when she needed to forget? The sardonic critic + might ask why she did not seek forgetfulness in flight; why she remained + in Jamaica where was what she wished to forget. There was no valid reason, + save a business one, why she should remain in Jamaica, and she was in a + quandary when she put the question. There were, however, other reasons + which she used when all else failed to satisfy her exigeant mind. There + was the question of vessels to Virginia or New York. They were few and not + good, and in any case they could have no comfortable journey to the United + States for several weeks at least, for, since the revolutionary war, + commerce with the United States was sparse. + </p> + <p> + Also, there was the question of Salem. She did not feel she ought to waste + the property which her Uncle Bryan had nurtured with care. In justice to + his memory, and in fairness to Darius Boland, she felt she ought to stay—for + a time. It did not occur to her that these reasons would vanish like mist—that + a wilful woman would sweep them into the basket of forgetfulness, and do + what she wished in spite of reason: that all else would be sacrificed, if + the spirit so possessed her. Truth was that, far back in her + consciousness, there was a vision of better days and things. It was as + though some angel touched the elbow of her spirit and said: “Stay on, for + things will be better than they seem. You will find your destiny here. + Stay on.” + </p> + <p> + So she had stayed. She was deluding herself to believe that what she was + doing was all for the best; that the clouds were rising; that her fate had + fairer aspects than had seemed possible when Dyck Calhoun told her the + terrible tale of the death of her father, Erris Boyne. Yet memory gave a + touch of misery and bitterness to all she thought and did. For twenty-five + years she had lived in ignorance as to her paternity. It surely was futile + that her mother should have suffered all those years, with little to cheer + her, while her daughter should be radiant in health and with a mind free + from care or sadness. Yet the bitterest thing of all was the thought that + her father was a traitor, and had died sacrificing another man. When Dyck + had told her first, she had shivered with anger and shame—but anger + and shame had gone. Only one thing gave her any comfort—the man who + knew Erris Boyne was a traitor, and could profit by telling it, held his + tongue for her own sake, kept his own counsel, and went to prison for four + years as the price of his silence. He was now her neighbour and he loved + her, and, if the shadow of a grave was not between them, would offer + himself in marriage to her. This she knew beyond all doubt. He had given + all a man can give—had saved her and killed her father—in + ignorance had killed her father; in love had saved herself. What was to be + done? + </p> + <p> + In a strange spirit Sheila entered the room where the governor sat with + her mother. She had reached the limit of her powers of suffering. Soon + after her mother had left the room, the governor said: + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think I have come here to-day?” + </p> + <p> + He added to the words a note of sympathy, even of passion in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “It was to visit my mother and myself, and to see how Salem looks after + our stay on it, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to see your mother and yourself, but chiefly the latter. As for + Salem, it looks as though a mastermind had been at work, I see it in + everything. The slaves are singing. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + He held up a finger as though to indicate attention and direction. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “One, two, three, + All de same; + Black, white, brown, + All de same; + All de same. + One, two, three—” + </pre> + <p> + They could hear the words indistinctly. + </p> + <p> + “What do the words mean?” asked Sheila. “I don’t understand them.” + </p> + <p> + “No more do I, but I think they refer to the march of pestilence or + plague. Numbers, colour, race, nothing matters, the plague sweeps all + away. Ah, then, I was right,” he added. “There is the story in other + words. Listen again.” + </p> + <p> + To clapping of hands in unison, the following words were sung: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “New-come buckra, + He get sick, + He tak fever, + He be die; + He be die. + New-come buckra—” + </pre> + <p> + “Well, it may be a chant of the plague, but it’s lacking in poetry,” she + remarked. “Doesn’t it seem so to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I certainly shouldn’t go so far as that. Think of how much of a story + is crowded into those few words. No waste, nothing thrown away. It’s all + epic, or that’s my view, anyhow,” said the governor. “If you look out on + those who are singing it, you’d see they are resting from their labours; + that they are fighting the ennui which most of us feel when we rest from + our labours. Let us look at them.” + </p> + <p> + The governor stood up and came to the open French windows that faced the + fields of sugar-cane. In the near distance were clumps of fruit trees, of + hedges of lime and flowering shrubs, rows of orange trees, mangoes, red + and purple, forbidden-fruit and grapefruit, the large scarlet fruit of the + acqui, the avocado-pear, the feathering bamboo, and the Jack-fruit tree, + with its enormous fruit like pumpkins. Parrots were chattering in the + acacia and in the Otaheite plum tree, with its bright pink blossoms like + tassels, and flanking the negro huts by the river were bowers of + grenadilla fruit. Around the negro huts were small individual plantations + kept by the slaves, for which they had one day a fortnight, besides + Sundays, free to work on their own account. Here and there also were + patches of “ground-fruit,” as the underground vegetables were called, + while there passed by on their way to the open road leading to Kingston + wains loaded with sugar-casks, drawn by oxen, and in two cases by sumpter + mules. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything finer than that in Virginia?” asked the governor. “I + have never been in Virginia, but I take this to be in some ways like that + state. Is it?” + </p> + <p> + “In some ways only. We have not the same profusion of wild fruits and + trees, but we have our share—and it is not so hot as here. It is a + better country, though.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way is it better?” the governor asked almost acidly. + </p> + <p> + “It is better governed.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that? Isn’t Jamaica well governed?” + </p> + <p> + “Not so well that it couldn’t be improved,” was Sheila’s reply. + </p> + <p> + “What improvements would you suggest?” Lord Mallow asked urbanely, for he + was set to play his cards carefully to-day. + </p> + <p> + “More wisdom in the governor,” was the cheerful and bright reply. + </p> + <p> + “Is he lacking in wisdom?” + </p> + <p> + “In some ways, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you mind specifying some of the things?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he is careless.” + </p> + <p> + “Careless—as to what?” + </p> + <p> + Sheila smiled. “He is indifferent to good advice. He has been told of + trouble among the Maroons, that they mean to rise; he has been advised to + make preparations, and he makes none, and he is deceived by a show of + loyalty on the part of the slaves. Lord Mallow, if the free Maroons rise, + why should not the black slaves rise at the same time? Why do you not + act?” + </p> + <p> + “Is everybody whose good opinion is worth having mad?” answered the + governor. “I have sent my inspectors to Trelawney. I have had reports from + them. I have used every care—what would you have me do?” + </p> + <p> + “Used every care? Why don’t you ensure the Maroons peaceableness by + advancing on them? Why don’t you take them prisoners? They are enraged + that two of their herdsmen should be whipped by a negro-slave under the + order of one of your captains. They are angry and disturbed and have + ambushed the roads to Trelawney, so I’m told.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Calhoun tell you that when he was here?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not that which Mr. Calhoun told me the only time he came here. But + who Erris Boyne was. I never knew till, in his honour, he told me, coming + here for that purpose. I never knew who my father was till he told me. My + mother had kept it from me all my life.” + </p> + <p> + The governor looked alert. “And you have not seen him since that day?” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him, but I have not spoken to him. It was in the distance + only.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your manager, Mr. Boland, sees him.” + </p> + <p> + “My manager does not share my private interests—or troubles. He is + free to go where he will, to speak to whom he chooses. He visits + Enniskillen, I suppose—it is a well-managed plantation on Jamaican + lines, and its owner is a man of mark.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila spoke without agitation of any kind; her face was firm and calm, + her manner composed, her voice even. As she talked, she seemed to be + probing the centre of a flower which she had caught from a basket at the + window, and her whole personality was alight and vivifying, her good + temper and spirit complete. As he looked at her, he had an overmastering + desire to make her his own—his wife. She was worth hundreds of + thousands of pounds; she had beauty, ability and authority. She was the + acme of charm and good bearing. With her he could climb high on the ladder + of life. He might be a really great figure in the British world-if she + gave her will to help him, to hold up his hands. It had never occurred to + him that Dyck Calhoun could be a rival, till he had heard of Dyck’s visit + to Sheila and her mother, till he had heard Sheila praise him at the first + dinner he had given to the two ladies on Christmas Day. + </p> + <p> + On that day it was clear Sheila did not know who her father was; but + stranger things had happened than that she should take up with, and even + marry, a man imprisoned for killing another, even one who had been + condemned as a mutineer, and had won freedom by saving the king’s navy. + But now that Sheila knew the truth there could be no danger! Dyck Calhoun + would be relegated to his proper place in the scheme of things. Who was + there to stand between him and his desire? What was there to stay the + great event? He himself was a peer and high-placed, for it was a time when + the West Indian Islands were a centre of the world’s fighting, where men + like Rodney had made everlasting fame; where the currents of + world-controversy challenged, met and fought for control. + </p> + <p> + The West Indies was as much a cock-pit of the fighting powers as ever + Belgium was; and in those islands there was wealth and the power which + wealth buys; the clash of white and black and coloured peoples; the naval + contests on the sea; the horrible massacres and enslavement of free white + peoples, as in St. Domingo and Grenada; the dominating attacks of people + fighting for control—peoples of old empires like France and Spain, + and new empires like that of Britain. These were a centre of colonial life + as important as had been the life in Virginia and New York and the New + England States and Canada—indeed, more important than Canada in one + sense, for the West Indies brought wealth to the British Isles, and had a + big export trade. He lost no time in bringing matters to an issue. + </p> + <p> + He got to his feet and came near to her. His eyes were inflamed with + passion, his manner was impressive. He had a distinguished face, become + more distinguished since his assumption of governorship, and authority had + increased his personality. + </p> + <p> + “A man of mark!” he said. “You mean a marked man. Let me tell you I have + an order from the British Government to confine him to his estate; not to + permit him to leave it; and, if he does, to arrest him. That is my + commanded duty. You approve, do you not? Or are you like most women, soft + at heart to bold criminals?” + </p> + <p> + Sheila did not reply at once. The news was no news to her, for Darius + Boland had told her; but she thought it well to let the governor think he + had made a new, sensational statement. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said at last, looking him calmly in the eyes. “I have no soft + feelings for criminals as criminals, none at all. And there is every + reason why I should be adamant to this man, Dyck Calhoun. But, Lord + Mallow, I would go carefully about this, if I were you. He is a man who + takes no heed of people, high or low, and has no fear of consequences. + Have you thought of the consequences to yourself? Suppose he resists, what + will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “If he resists I will attack him with due force.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you will send your military and police to attack him?” The gibe + was covered, but it found the governor’s breast. He knew what she was + meaning. + </p> + <p> + “You would not expect me to do police work, would you? Is that what your + president does? What your great George Washington does? Does he make the + state arrests with his own hand?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt he would if the circumstances were such as to warrant it. + He has no small vices, and no false feelings. He has proved himself,” she + answered boldly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, in that case,” responded Lord Mallow irritably, “the event will be + as is due. The man is condemned by my masters, and he must submit to my + authority. He is twice a criminal, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And yet a hero and a good swordsman, and as honest as men are made in a + dishonest world. Your Admiralty and your government first pardoned the + man, and then gave him freedom on the island which you tried to prevent; + and now they turn round and confine him to his acres. Is that pardon in a + real sense? Did you write to the government and say he ought not to be + free to roam, lest he should discover more treasure-chests and buy another + estate? Was it you?” + </p> + <p> + The governor shook his head. “No, not I. I told the government in careful + and unrhetorical language the incident of his coming here, and what I did, + and my reasons for doing it—that was all.” + </p> + <p> + “And you being governor they took your advice. See, my lord, if this thing + is done to him it will be to your own discomfiture. It will hurt you in + the public service.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to hear you speak, mistress, it would almost seem you had a fondness + for the man who killed your father, who went to jail for it, and—” + </p> + <p> + “And became a mutineer,” intervened the girl flushing. “Why not say all? + Why not catalogue his offences? Fondness for the man who killed my father, + you say! Yes, I had a deep and sincere fondness for him ever since I met + him at Playmore over seven years ago. Yes, a fondness which only his crime + makes impossible. But in all that really matters I am still his friend. He + did not know he was killing my father, who had no claims upon me, none at + all, except that through him I have life and being; but it is enough to + separate us for ever in the eyes of the world, and in my eyes. Not + morally, of course, but legally and actually. He and I are as far apart as + winter and summer; we are parted for ever and ever and ever.” + </p> + <p> + Now at last she was inflamed. Every nerve in her was alive. All she had + ever felt for Dyck Calhoun came rushing to the surface, demanding + recognition, reasserting itself. As she used the words, “ever and ever and + ever,” it was like a Cordelia bidding farewell to Lear, her father, for + ever, for there was that in her voice which said: “It is final separation, + it is the judgment of Jehovah, and I must submit. It is the last word.” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow saw his opportunity, and did not hesitate. “No, you are wrong, + wholly wrong,” he said. “I did not bias what I said in my report—a + report I was bound to make—by any covert prejudice against Mr. + Calhoun. I guarded myself especially”—there he lied, but he was an + incomparable liar—“lest it should be used against him. It would + appear, however, that the new admiral’s report with mine were laid + together, and the government came to its conclusion accordingly. So I am + bound to do my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “If you—oh, if you did your duty, you would not obey the command of + the government. Are there not times when to obey is a crime, and is not + this one of them? Lord Mallow, you would be doing as great a crime as Mr. + Dyck Calhoun ever committed, or could commit, if you put this order into + actual fact. You are governor here, and your judgment would be accepted—remember + it is an eight weeks’ journey to London at the least, and what might not + happen in that time! Are you not given discretion?” + </p> + <p> + The governor nodded. “Yes, I am given discretion, but this is an order.” + </p> + <p> + “An order!” she commented. “Then if it should not be fulfilled, break it + and take the consequences. The principle should be—Do what is right, + and have no fear.” + </p> + <p> + “I will think it over,” answered the governor. “What you say has immense + weight with me—more even than I have words to say. Yes, I will think + it over—I promise you. You are a genius—you prevail.” + </p> + <p> + Her face softened, a new something came into her manner. “You do truly + mean it?” she asked with lips that almost trembled. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her that to do this thing for Dyck Calhoun was the least that + was possible, and it was perhaps the last thing she might ever be able to + do. She realized how terrible it would be for him to be shorn of the + liberty he had always had; how dangerous it might be in many ways; and how + the people of the island might become excited by it—and troublesome. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I mean it,” answered Lord Mallow. “I mean it exactly as I say it.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled. “Well, that should recommend you for promotion,” she said + happily. “I am sure you will decide not to enforce the order, if you think + about it. You shall be promoted, your honour, to a better place,” she + repeated, half-satirically. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I then?” he asked with a warm smile and drawing close to her. + “Shall I? Then it can only be by your recommendation. Ah, my dear, my + beautiful dear one,” he hastened to add, “my life is possible henceforward + only through you. You have taught me by your life and person, by your + beauty and truth, by your nobility of mind and character how life should + be lived. I have not always deserved your good opinion nor that of others. + I have fought duels and killed men; I have aspired to place; I have + connived at appointment; I have been vain, overbearing and insistent on my + rights or privileges; I have played the dictator here in Jamaica; I have + not been satisfied save to get my own way; but you have altered all that. + Your coming here has given me a new outlook. Sheila, you have changed me, + and you can change me infinitely more. I who have been a master wish to + become your slave. I want you—beloved, I want you for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + He reached out as though to take her hand, but she drew back from him. His + thrilling words had touched her, as she had seldom been touched, as she + had never been touched by any one save the man that must never be hers; + she was submerged for the moment in the flood of his eloquence, and his + yielding to her on the point of Dyck’s imprisonment gave fresh accent to + his words. Yet she could not, she dared not yet say yes to his demand. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” she said, “oh, you have stirred me! Yet I dare not reply to you + as you wish. Life is hard as it is, and you have suddenly made it harder. + What is more, I do not, I cannot, believe you. You have loved many. Your + life has been a covert menace. Oh, I know what they said of you in + Ireland. I know not of your life here. I suppose it is circumspect now; + but in Ireland it was declared you were notorious with women.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a lie,” he answered. “I was not notorious. I was no better and no + worse than many another man. I played, I danced attendance, I said soft + nothings, but I was tied to no woman in all Ireland. I was frolicsome and + adventurous, but no more. There is no woman who can say I used her ill or + took from her what I did not—” + </p> + <p> + “Atone for, Lord Mallow?” + </p> + <p> + “Atone—no. What I did not give return for, was what I was going to + say.” + </p> + <p> + The situation was intense. She was in a place from which there was no + escape except by flight or refusal. She did not really wish to refuse. + Somehow, there had come upon her the desire to put all thought of Dyck + Calhoun out of her mind by making it impossible for her to think of him; + and marriage was the one sure and complete way—marriage with this + man, was it possible? He held high position, he was her fellow countryman + and an Irish peer, and she was the daughter of an evil man, who was, above + all else, a traitor to his country, though Lord Mallow did not know that. + The only one she knew possessed of the facts was the man she desired to + save herself from in final way—Dyck Calhoun. Her heart was for the + moment soft to Lord Mallow, in spite of his hatred of Dyck Calhoun. The + governor was a man of charm in conversation. He was born with rare + faculties. Besides, he had knowledge of humanity and of women. He knew how + women could be touched. He had appealed to Sheila more by ability than by + aught else. His concessions to her were discretion in a way. They opened + the route to her affections, as his place and title could not do. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, believe me, Sheila, I was a man who had too many temptations—that + was all. But I did not spoil my life by them, and I am here a trusted + servant of the government. I am a better governor than your first words to + me would make you seem to think.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were shining, her face was troubled, her tongue was silent. She + knew not what to say. She felt she could not say yes—yet she wanted + to escape from him. Her good fortune did not desert her. Suddenly the door + of the room opened and her mother entered. + </p> + <p> + “There is a member of your suite here, your honour, asking for you. It is + of most grave importance. It is urgent. What shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Say nothing. I am coming,” said the governor. “I am coming now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. OUT OF THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES + </h2> + <p> + That night the Maroons broke loose upon Jamaica, and began murder and + depredation against which the governor’s activities were no check. Estates + were invaded, and men, women and children killed, or carried into the + mountains and held as hostages. In the middle and western part of the + island the ruinous movements went on without being stayed; planters and + people generally railed at the governor, and said that through his neglect + these dark things were happening. It was said he had failed to punish + offences by the Maroons, and this had given them confidence, filling them + with defiance. They had one advantage not possessed by the government + troops and militia—they were masters of every square rod of land in + the middle and west of the island. Their plan was to raid, to ambush, to + kill and to excite the slaves to rebel. + </p> + <p> + The first assault and repulse took place not far from Enniskillen, Dyck + Calhoun’s plantation, and Michael Clones captured a Maroon who was + slightly wounded. + </p> + <p> + Michael challenged him thus: “Come now, my blitherin’ friend, tell us your + trouble—why are you risin’? You don’t do this without cause—what’s + the cause?” + </p> + <p> + The black man, naked except for a cloth about his loins, and with a small + bag at his hip, slung from a cord over his shoulder, showed his teeth in a + stark grimace. + </p> + <p> + “You’re a newcomer here, massa, or you’d know we’re treated bad,” he + answered. “We’re robbed and trod on and there’s no word kept with us. We + asked the governor for more land and he moved us off. We warned him + against having one of our head young men flogged by a slave in the + presence of slaves—for we are free men, and he laughs. So, knowing a + few strong men can bring many weak men to their knees, we rose. I say this—there’s + plenty weak men in Jamaica, men who don’t know right when they see it. So + we rose, massa, and we’ll make Jamaica sick before we’ve done. They can’t + beat us, for we can ambush here, and shoot those that come after us. We + hide, one behind this rock and one behind that, two or three together, and + we’re safe. But the white soldiers come all together and beat drums and + blow horns, and we know where they are, and so we catch ‘em and kill ‘em. + You’ll see, we’ll capture captains and generals, and we’ll cut their heads + off and bury them in their own guts.” + </p> + <p> + He made an ugly grimace, and a loathsome gesture, and Michael Clones felt + the man ought to die. He half drew his sword, but, thinking better of it, + he took the Maroon to the Castle and locked him up in a slave’s hut, + having first bound him and put him in the charge of one he could trust. + But as he put the man away, he said: + </p> + <p> + “You talk of your people hiding, and men not being able to find you; but + did you never hear of bloodhounds, that can hunt you down, and chew you + up? Did you never hear of them?” + </p> + <p> + The man’s face wrinkled like a rag, for there is one thing the native + fears more than all else, and that is the tooth of the hound. But he + gathered courage, and said: “The governor has no hounds. There ain’t none + in Jamaica. We know dat—all of us know dat—all of us know dat, + massa.” + </p> + <p> + Michael Clones laughed, and it was not pleasant to hear. “It may be the + governor has no bloodhounds, and would not permit their being brought into + the island, but my master is bringing them in himself—a lot with + their drivers from Cuba, and you Maroons will have all you can do to hide. + Sure, d’ye think every wan in the island is as foolish as the governor? If + you do, y’are mistaken, and that’s all there is to say.” + </p> + <p> + “The hounds not here—in de island, massa!” declared the Maroon + questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll be here within the next few hours, and then where will you and + your pals be? You’ll be caught between sharp teeth—nice, red, sharp, + bloody teeth; and you’ll make good steak-better than your best olio.” + </p> + <p> + The native gave a moan—it was the lament of one whose crime was come + tete-a-tete with its own punishment. + </p> + <p> + “That’s the game to play,” said Michael to himself as he fastened the door + tight. “The hounds will settle this fool-rebellion quicker than aught + else. Mr. Calhoun’s a wise man, and he ought to be governor here. + Criminal? As much as the angel Gabriel! He must put down this rebellion—no + wan else can. They’re stronger, the Maroons, than ever they’ve been. + They’ve planned this with skill, and they’ll need a lot of handlin’. We’re + safe enough here, but down there at Salem—well, they may be caught + in the bloody net. Bedad, that’s sure.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments afterwards he met Dyck Calhoun. “Michael,” said Dyck, + “things are safe enough here, but we’ve prepared! The overseers, + bookkeepers and drivers are loyal enough. But there are others not so + safe. I’m going to Salem-riding as hard as I can, with six of our best + men. They’re not so daft at Salem as we are, Michael. They won’t know how + to act or what to do. Darius Boland is a good man, but he’s only had + Virginian experience, and this is different. A hundred Maroons are as good + as a thousand white soldiers in the way the Maroons fight. There are a + thousand of them, and they can lay waste this island, if they get going. + So I shall stop them. The hounds are outside the harbour now, Michael. The + ship Vincent, bringing them, was sighted by a sloop two days ago, making + slowly for Kingston. She should be here before we’ve time to turn round. + Michael, the game is in our hands, if we play it well. Do you go down to + Kingston and—” + </p> + <p> + He detailed what Michael was to do on landing the hounds, and laid out + plans for the immediate future. “They’re in danger at Salem, Michael, so + we must help them. The hounds will settle this whole wretched business.” + </p> + <p> + Michael told him of his prisoner, and what effect the threat about the + hounds had had. A look of purpose came into Dyck’s face. + </p> + <p> + “A hound is as fair as a gun, and hounds shall be used here in Jamaica. + The governor can’t refuse their landing now. The people would kill him if + he did. It was I proposed it all.” + </p> + <p> + “Look, sir—who’s that?” asked Michael, as they saw a figure riding + under the palms not far away. + </p> + <p> + It was very early morning, and the light was dim yet, but there was + sufficient to make even far sight easy. Dyck shaded his forehead with his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not one of our people, Michael. It’s a stranger.” + </p> + <p> + As the rider came on he was stopped by two of the drivers of the estate. + Dyck and Michael saw him hold up a letter, and a moment later he was on + his way to Dyck, galloping hard. Arrived, he dropped to the ground, and + saluted Dyck. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Salem, sir,” he said, and handed it over to Dyck. + </p> + <p> + Dyck nodded, broke the seal of the letter and read it quickly. Then he + nodded again and bade the man eat a hearty breakfast and return with him + on one of the Enniskillen horses, as his own would be exhausted. “We’ll + help protect Salem, my man,” said Dyck. + </p> + <p> + The man grinned. “That’s good,” he answered. “They knew naught of the + rising when I left. But the governor was there yesterday, and he’d protect + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, fellow, the governor would go straight to Spanish Town where he + belongs, when there is trouble.” + </p> + <p> + When the man had gone, Dyck turned to his servant. “Michael,” he said, + “the news in the letter came from Darius Boland. He says the governor told + him he had orders from England to confine me here at Enniskillen, and he + meant to do it. We’ll see how he does it. If he sends his marshals, we’ll + make Gadarene swine of them.” + </p> + <p> + There was a smile at his lips, and it was contemptuous, and the lines of + his forehead told of resolve. “Michael,” he added, “we’ll hunt Lord Mallow + with the hounds of our good fortune, for this war is our war. They can’t + win it without me, and they shan’t. Without the hounds it may be a two + years’ war—with the hounds it can’t go beyond a week or so.” + </p> + <p> + “If the hounds get here, sir! But if they don’t?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck laid his hand upon the sword at his side. “If they don’t get here, + Michael, still the war will be ours, for we understand fighting, and the + governor does not. Confine me here, will he? If he does, he’ll be a better + man than I have ever known him, Michael. In a few hours I shall be at + Salem, to do what he could not, and would not, do if he could. His love is + as deep as water on a roof, no deeper. He’ll think first of himself, and + afterwards of the owner of Salem or any other. Let me show you what I mean + to do once we’ve Salem free from danger. Come and have a look at my + chart.” + </p> + <p> + Some hours later Dyck Calhoun, with his six horsemen, was within a mile or + so of Salem. They had ridden hard in the heat and were tired, but there + was high spirit in the men, for they were behind a trusted leader—a + man who ate little, but who did not disdain a bottle of Madeira or a glass + of brandy, and who made good every step of the way he went—watchful, + alert, careful, determined. They cared little what his past had been. + Jamaica was not a heaven for the good, but it was a haven for many who had + been ill-used elsewhere; where each man, as though he were really in a new + world, was judged by his daily actions and not by any history of a hidden + or an open past. As they came across country, Dyck always ahead, they saw + how he responded to every sign of life in the bush, how he moved always + with discretion where ambush seemed possible. They knew how on his own + estate he never made mistakes of judgment; that he held the balance + carefully, and that his violences, rare and tremendous, were not outbursts + of an unregulated nature. “You can’t fool Calhoun,” was a common phrase in + the language of Enniskillen, and there were few in the surrounding country + who would not have upheld its truth. + </p> + <p> + Now, to-day, he was almost moodily silent, reserved and watchful. None + knew the eddies of life which struggled for mastery in him, nor of his + horrible disappointments. None knew of his love for Sheila. Yet all knew + that he had killed—or was punished for killing—Erris Boyne. + None of them had seen Sheila, but all had heard of her, and the governor’s + courtship of her, and all wondered why Dyck Calhoun should be doing what + clearly the governor should do. + </p> + <p> + Somehow, in spite of the criminal record with which Calhoun’s life was + stained, they had a respect for him they did not have for Lord Mallow. + Dyck’s life in Jamaica was clean; and his progress as a planter had been + free from black spots. He even kept no mistress, and none had ever known + him to have to do with women, black, brown, or white. He had never gone + a-Maying, as the saying was, and his only weakness or fault—if it + was a fault—was a fondness for the bottle of good wine which was + ever open on his table, and for tobacco in the smoking-leaf. To-day he + smoked incessantly and carefully. He threw no loose ends of burning + tobacco from cigar or pipe into the loose dry leaves and stiff-cut ground. + Yet they knew the small clouds floating away from his head did not check + his observation. That was proved beyond peradventure when they were within + sight of the homestead of Salem on an upland well-wooded. It was in + apparently happy circumstances, for they could see no commotion about the + homestead; they saw men with muskets, evidently keeping guard—yet + too openly keeping guard, and so some said to each other. + </p> + <p> + Presently Dyck reined his horse. Each man listened attentively, and eyed + the wood ahead of them, for it was clear Dyck suspected danger there. For + a moment there seemed doubt in Dyck’s mind what to do, but presently he + had decided. + </p> + <p> + “Ride slow for Salem,” he said. “It’s Maroons there in the bush. They are + waiting for night. They won’t attack us now. They’re in ambush—of + that I’m sure. If they want to capture Salem, they’ll not give alarm by + firing on us, so if we ride on they’ll think we haven’t sensed them. If + they do attack us, we’ll know they are in good numbers, for they’ll be + facing us as well as the garrison of Salem. But keep your muskets ready. + Have a drink,” he added, and handed his horn of liquor. “If they see us + drink, and they will, they’ll think we’ve only stopped to refresh, and + we’ll be safe. In any case, if they attack, fire your muskets at them and + ride like the devil. Don’t dismount and don’t try to find them in the + rocks. They’ll catch us that way, as they’ve caught others. It’s a poor + game fighting hidden men. I want to get them into the open down below, and + that’s where they’ll be before we’re many hours older.” + </p> + <p> + With this he rode on slightly ahead, and presently put his horse at a + gentle canter which he did not increase as they neared the place where the + black men ambushed. Every man of the group behaved well. None showed + nervousness, even when one of the horses, conscious of hidden Maroons in + the wood, gave a snort and made a sharp movement out of the track, in an + attempt to get greater speed. + </p> + <p> + That was only for an instant, however. Yet every man’s heart beat faster + as they came to the place where the ambush was. Indeed, Dyck saw a bush + move, and had a glimpse of a black, hideous face which quickly + disappeared. Dyck’s imperturbable coolness kept them steady. They even + gossiped of idle things loud enough for the hidden Maroons to hear. No + face showed suspicion or alarm, as they passed, while all felt the + presence of many men in the underbrush. Only when they had passed the + place, did they realize the fulness of the danger through which they had + gone. Dyck talked to them presently without turning round, for that might + have roused suspicion, and while they were out of danger now, there was + the future and Dyck’s plan which he now unfolded. + </p> + <p> + “They’ll come down into the open before it’s dark,” he said quietly, “and + when they do that, we’ll have ‘em. They’ve no chance to ambush in the + cane-fields now. We’ll get them in the open, and wipe them out. Don’t look + round. Keep steady, and we’ll ride a little more quickly soon.” + </p> + <p> + A little later they cantered to the front door of the Salem homestead. + </p> + <p> + The first face they saw there was that of Darius Boland. It had a look of + trouble. Dyck explained. “We thought you might not have heard of the rise + of the Maroons. We have no ladies at Enniskillen. We prepared, and we’re + safe enough there, as things are. Your ladies must go at once to Spanish + Town, unless—” + </p> + <p> + “Unless they stay here! Well, they would not be unwise, for though the + slaves under the old management might have joined the Maroons, they will + not do so now. We have got them that far. But, Mr. Calhoun, the ladies + aren’t here. They rode away into the hills this morning, and they’ve not + come back. + </p> + <p> + “I was just sending a search party for them. I did not know of the rise of + the Maroons.” + </p> + <p> + “In what direction did they go?” asked Dyck with anxiety, though his tone + was even. + </p> + <p> + Darius Boland pointed. “They went slightly northwest, and if they go as I + think they meant to do, they would come back the way you came in.” + </p> + <p> + “They were armed?” Dyck asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they were armed,” was the reply. “Miss Llyn had a small pistol. She + learned to carry one in Virginia, and she has done so ever since we came + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Boland,” said Dyck with anxiety. “Up there in the hills by which + we came are Maroons hidden, and they will invade this place to-night. We + were ready to fight them, of course, as we came, but it’s a risky + business, and we wanted to get them all if possible. We couldn’t if we had + charged them there, for they were well-ambushed. My idea was to let them + get into the open between there and here, and catch them as they came. It + would save our own men, and it would probably do for them. If Mrs. and + Miss Llyn come back that way, they will be in greater danger than were we, + for the Maroons were coming here to capture the ladies and hold them as + hostages; and they would not let them pass. In any case, the risk is + immense. The ladies must be got to Spanish Town, for the Maroons are + desperate. They know we have no ships of the navy here now, and they rely + on their raiding powers and the governor’s weakness. They have placed + their men in every part of the middle and western country, and they came + upon my place last evening and were defeated. Several were killed and one + taken prisoner. They can’t be marched upon like an army. Their powers of + ambush are too great. They must be run down by bloodhounds. It’s the only + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Bloodhounds—there are no bloodhounds here!” said Darius Boland. + “And if there were, wouldn’t pious England make a fuss?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun was about to speak sharply, but he caught sarcasm in Darius + Boland’s face, and he said: “I have the bloodhounds. They’re outside the + harbour now, and I intend to use them.” + </p> + <p> + “If the governor allows you!” remarked Darius Boland ironically. “He does + not like you or your bloodhounds. He has his orders, so he says.” + </p> + <p> + Dyck made an impatient gesture. “I will not submit to his orders. I have + earned my place in this is land, and he shall not have his way. The ladies + must be brought to Spanish Town, and placed where the governor’s men can + protect them.” + </p> + <p> + “The governor’s men! Indeed. They might as well stay here; we can surely + protect them.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, for you have skill, Boland, and you are cautious, but is it fair + for ladies to stay in this isolated spot with murderers about? When the + ladies come back, they must be sent at once to Spanish Town. Can’t you + see?” + </p> + <p> + Darius Boland bowed. “What you say goes always,” he remarked, “but tell + me, sir, who will take the ladies to Spanish Town?” + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun read the inner meaning of Darius Boland’s words. They did not + put him out of self-control. It was not a time to dwell on such things. It + was his primary duty to save the ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Boland,” he said sharply, “I shall start now. We must find the + ladies. What sort of a country is it through which they pass?” He pointed. + </p> + <p> + “Bad enough in some ways. There’s an old monastery of the days of the + Spaniards up there”—he pointed or the ruins of one, “and it is a + pleasant place to rest. I doubt not they rested there, if—” + </p> + <p> + “If they reached it!” remarked Dyck with crisp inflection. “Yes, they + would rest there—and it would be a good place for ambush by the + Maroons, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Good enough from the standpoint of the Maroons,” was the reply, the voice + slightly choked. + </p> + <p> + “Then we must go there. It’s a damnable predicament—no, you must not + come with me! You must keep command here.” + </p> + <p> + He hastily described the course to be followed by those of his own men who + stayed to defend, and then said: “Our horses are fagged. If you loan us + four I’ll see they are well cared for, and returned in kind or cash. I’ll + take three of my men only, and loan you three of the best. We’ll fill our + knapsacks and get away, Boland.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, Calhoun and his three men, with a guide added by + Boland, had started away up the road which had been ridden by Mrs. Llyn + and Sheila. One thing was clear, the Maroons on the hill did not know of + the absence of Sheila and her mother, or they would not be waiting. He did + not like the long absence of the ladies. It was ominous at such a time. + </p> + <p> + Dyck and his small escort got away by a road unseen from where the Maroons + were, and when well away put their horses to a canter and got into the + hills. Once in the woods, however, they rode alertly, and Dyck’s eyes were + everywhere. He was quick to see a bush move, to observe the flick of a + branch, to catch the faintest sound of an animal origin. He was obsessed + with anxiety, for he had a dark fear that some ill had happened to the + two. His blood almost dried in his veins when he thought of the fate which + had followed the capture of ladies in other islands like Haiti or Grenada. + </p> + <p> + It did not seem possible that these beautiful women should have fallen + into the outrageous hands of savages. He knew the girl was armed, and that + before harm might come to her she would end her own life and her mother’s + also; but if she was caught from behind, and the opportunity of suicide + should not be hers—what then? + </p> + <p> + Yet he showed no agitation to his followers. His eyes were, however, + intensely busy, and every nerve was keen to feel. Life in the open had + developed in him the physical astuteness of the wild man, and he had all + the gifts that make a supreme open-air fighter. He sensed things; but with + him it was feeling, and not scent or hearing; his senses were such perfect + listeners. He had the intense perception of a delicate plant, those + wonderful warnings which only come to those who live close to nature, who + study from feeling the thousand moods and tenses of living vegetables and + animal life. He was a born hunter, and it was not easy to surprise him + when every nerve was sharp with premonition. He saw the marks of the hoofs + of Sheila’s and her mother’s horses in the road, knowing them by the + freshness of the indentations. An hour, two hours passed, and they then + approached the monasterial ruin of which Boland had spoken. Here, + suddenly, Dyck dropped to the ground, for he saw unmistakable signs of + fright or flurry in the hoofmarks. + </p> + <p> + He quickly made examination, and there were signs of women’s feet and also + a bare native foot, but no signs of struggle or disturbance. The + footprints, both native and white, were firmly placed, but the horses’ + hoof-prints showed agitation. Presently the hoofmarks became more composed + again. Suddenly one of Dyck’s supporters exclaimed he had picked up a + small piece of ribbon, evidently dropped to guide those who might come + searching. Presently another token was found in a loose bit of buckle from + a shoe. Then, suddenly, upon the middle of the road was a little pool of + blood and signs that a body had lain in the dust. + </p> + <p> + “She shot a native here,” said Dyck to his men coolly. “There are no signs + of a struggle,” remarked the most observant. + </p> + <p> + “We must go carefully here, for they may have been imprisoned in the ruin. + You stay here, and I’ll go forward,” he added, with a hand on his sword. + “I’ve an idea they’re here. We have one chance, my lads, and let’s keep + our heads. If anything should happen to me, have a try yourselves, and see + what you can do. The ladies must be freed, if they’re there. There’s not + one of you that won’t stand by to the last, but I want your oath upon it. + By the heads or graves of your mothers, lads, you’ll see it through? Up + with your hands!” + </p> + <p> + Their hands went up. “By our mothers’ heads or graves!” they said in low + tones. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he replied. “I’ll go on ahead. If you hear a call, or a shot + fired, forward swiftly.” + </p> + <p> + An instant later he plunged into the woods to the right of the road, by + which he would come upon the ruins from the rear. He held a pistol as he + stole carefully yet quickly forward. He was anxious there should be no + delay, but he must not be rash. Without meeting anyone he came near the + ruins. They showed serene in the shade of the trees. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly came from the ruin a Maroon of fierce, yet not cruel + appearance, who laid a hand behind his ear, and looked steadfastly towards + that part of the wood where Dyck was. It was clear he had heard something. + Dyck did not know how many Maroons there might be in the ruins, or near + it, and he did not attack. It was essential he should know the strength of + his foe; and he remained quiet. Presently the native turned as though to + go back into the ruins, but changed his mind, and began to tour the stony, + ruined building. Dyck waited, and presently saw more natives come from the + ruins, and after a moment another three. These last were having an + argument of some stress, for they pulled at each other’s arms and even + caught at the long cloths of their headdresses. + </p> + <p> + “They’ve got the ladies there,” thought Dyck, “but they’ve done them no + harm yet.” He waited moments longer to see if more natives were coming + out, then said to himself: “I’ll make a try for it now. It won’t do to run + the risk of going back to bring my fellows up. It’s a fair risk, but it’s + worth taking.” + </p> + <p> + With that he ran softly to the entrance from which he had seen the men + emerge. Looking in he saw only darkness. Then suddenly he gave a soft + call, the call of an Irish bird-note which all people in Ireland—in + the west and south of Ireland—know. If Sheila was alive and in the + place she would answer it, he was sure. He waited a moment, and there was + no answer. Then he called again, and in an instant, as though from a great + distance, there came the reply of the same note, clearer and more + bell-like than his own. + </p> + <p> + “She’s there!” he said, and boldly entered the place. It was dark and + damp, but ahead was a break in the solid monotony of ruined wall, and he + saw a clear stream of light beyond. He stole ahead, got over the stone + obstructions, and came on to a biggish room which once had been a + refectory. Looking round it he saw three doors—one evidently led + into the kitchen, one into a pantry, and one into a hall. It was clear the + women were alone, or some one would have come in answer to his call. Who + could tell when they would come? There was no time to be lost. With an + instinct, which proved correct, he opened the door leading into the old + kitchen, and there, tied, and with pale faces, but in no other sense + disordered, were Sheila and her mother. He put his fingers to his lips, + then hastily cut them loose from the ropes of bamboo, and helped them to + their feet. + </p> + <p> + “Can you walk?” he whispered to Mrs. Llyn. She nodded assent, and braced + herself. “Then here,” he said, “is a pistol. Come quickly. We may have to + fight our way out. Don’t be afraid to fire, but take good aim first. I + have some men in the wood beyond where you shot the native,” he added to + Sheila. “They’ll come at once if I call, or a shot is fired. Keep your + heads, and we shall be all right. They’re a dangerous crew, but we’ll beat + them this time. Come quickly.” + </p> + <p> + Presently they were in the refectory, and a moment after that they were + over the stones, and near the entrance, and then a native appeared, armed. + Without an instant’s hesitation Dyck ran forward, and as he entered, put + his sword into the man’s vitals, and he fell, calling out as he fell. + </p> + <p> + “The rest will be on us now,” said Dyck, “and we must keep going.” + </p> + <p> + Three more natives appeared, and he shot two. + </p> + <p> + Catching a pistol from Sheila he aimed at the third native and wounded + him, but did not kill him. The man ran into the wood. Presently more + Maroons came—a dozen or more, and rushed for the entrance. They were + met by Dyck’s fire, and now also Sheila fired and brought down her man. + Dyck wounded another, and in great skill loaded again, but at that moment + three of the Maroons rushed down into the ruins. + </p> + <p> + They were astonished to see Dyck there, and more astonished to receive—first + one and then another—his iron in their bowels. The third man made a + stroke at Dyck with his lance, and only gashed Dyck’s left arm. Then he + turned and fled out into the open, and was met by a half-dozen others. + They all were about to rush the entrance when suddenly four shots behind + them brought three of them down, and the rest fled into the wood shouting. + In another moment Dyck and the ladies were in the open, and making for the + woods, the women in front, the men behind, loading their muskets as they + ran, and alive to the risks of the moment. + </p> + <p> + The dresses of the ladies were stained and soiled with dust and damp, but + otherwise they seemed little the worse for the adventure, save that Mrs. + Llyn was shaken, and her face was pale. + </p> + <p> + “How did you know where we were, and why did you come?” she said, after + they had got under way, having secured the horses which Sheila and her + mother had ridden. + </p> + <p> + Briefly Dyck explained how as soon as he had dealt with the revolt of the + Maroons at his own place he came straight to Salem. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you were unused to the ways of the country and to our sort of + native here, and I felt sure you would not refuse to take help—even + mine at a pinch. But what happened to you?” he added, turning to Sheila. + </p> + <p> + It was only yesterday Sheila had determined to cut him wholly out of her + life by assenting to marry Lord Mallow. Yet here he was, and she could + scarcely bear to look into his face. He was shut off from her by every + fact of human reason. These were days when the traditions of family life + were more intense than now; when to kill one’s own father was not so bad + as to embrace, as it were, him or her who had killed that father. Sheila + felt if she were normal she ought to feel abhorrence against Dyck; yet she + felt none at all, and his saving them had given a new colour to their + relations. If he had killed her father, the traitor, he had saved + themselves from death or freed them from a shameful captivity which might + have ended in black disaster. She kept herself in hand, and did not show + confusion. + </p> + <p> + “We had not heard of the rising of the Maroons,” she said. “The governor + was at Salem yesterday and a message came from his staff to say would he + come at once. His staff were not at Salem, but at the next plantation + nearer to Spanish Town. Lord Mallow went. If he suspected the real trouble + he said naught, but was gone before you could realize it. The hours went + by, night came and passed, then my mother and I, this morning, resolved to + ride to the monastery, and then round by the road you travelled back to + Salem.” + </p> + <p> + “There are Maroons now on that hill above your place. They were in ambush + when we passed, but we took no notice. It was not wise to invite trouble. + Some of us would have been killed, but—” + </p> + <p> + He then told what had been in his mind, and what might be the outcome—the + killing or capture of the whole group, and safety for all at Salem. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished, she continued her story. “We rode for an hour + unchallenged, and then came the Maroons. At first I knew not what to do. + We were surrounded before we could act. I had my pistol ready, and there + was the chance of escape—the faint chance—if we drove our + horses on; but there was also the danger of being fired at from behind! So + we sat still on our horses, and I asked them how they dared attack white + ladies. I asked them if they had never thought what vengeance the governor + would take. They did not understand my words, but they grasped the + meaning, and one of them, the leader, who understood English, was inclined + to have reason. As it was, we stopped what might have been our murder by + saying it would be wiser to hold us as hostages, and that we were + Americans. That man was killed—by you. A shot from your pistol + brought him down as he rushed forward to enter the ruins. But he took care + of us as we went forward, and when I shot one of his followers for laying + his hand upon me in the saddle—he caught me by the leg under my + skirt—he would allow no retaliation. I knew boldness was the safe + part to play. + </p> + <p> + “But in the end we were bound with ropes as you found us, while they + waited for more of their people to come, those, no doubt, you found + ambushed on the hill. As we lay, bound as you saw us, the leader said to + us we should be safe if he could have his way, but there were bad elements + among the Maroons, and he could not guarantee it. Yet he knew the + government would pay for our release, would perhaps give the land for + which they had asked with no avail. We must, therefore, remain prisoners. + If we made no efforts to escape, it would be better in the end. ‘Keep your + head steady, missy, try no tricks, and all may go well; but I have bad + lot, and they may fly at you.’ That was the way he spoke. It made our + blood run cold, for he was one man, with fair mind, and he had around him + men, savage and irresponsible. Black and ruthless, they would stop at + nothing except the sword at their throats or the teeth in their flesh.” + </p> + <p> + “The teeth in their flesh!” said Dyck with a grim smile. “Yes, that is the + only way with them. Naught can put the fear of God into them except + bloodhounds, and that Lord Mallow will not have. He has been set against + it until now. But this business will teach him. He may change his mind + now, since what he cares for is in danger—his place and his ladies!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Llyn roused herself to say: “No, no, Mr. Calhoun, you must not say + that of him. His place may be in danger, but not his ladies. He has no + promise of that.... And see, Mr. Calhoun, I want to say that, in any case, + you have paid your debt, if you owe one to us. For a life taken you have + given two lives—to me and my girl. I speak as one who has a right to + say it! Erris Boyne was naught to me at all, but he was my daughter’s + father, and that made everything difficult. I could make him cease to be + my husband, and I did; but I could not make him cease to be her father.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no love for Erris Boyne,” said Sheila. Misery was heavy on her. + “None at all, but he was my father.” + </p> + <p> + “See, all’s well still at Salem,” said Dyck waving a hand as though to + change the talk. “All’s as we left it.” + </p> + <p> + There in the near distance lay Salem, serene. All tropical life about + seemed throbbing with life and soaking with leisure. + </p> + <p> + “We were in time,” he added. “The Maroons are still in ambush. The sun is + beginning to set though, and the trouble may begin. We shall get there + about sundown—safe, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “Safe, thank God—and you,” said Sheila’s mother. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE CLASH OF RACE + </h2> + <p> + In the King’s House at Spanish Town the governor was troubled. All his + plans and prophecies had come to naught. He had been sure there would be + no rebellion of the Maroons, and he was equally sure that his career would + be made hugely successful by marriage with Sheila Llyn—but the + Maroons had revolted, and the marriage was not settled! + </p> + <p> + Messages had been coming from the provost-marshal-general of reports from + the counties of Middlesex and Cornwall, that the Maroons were ravaging + everywhere and that bands of slaves had joined them with serious disasters + to the plantation people. Planters, their wives and children had been + murdered, and in some districts the natives were in full possession and + had destroyed, robbed and ravaged. He had summoned his commander of the + militia forces, had created special constables, and armed them, and had + sent a ship to the Bahamas to summon a small British fleet there. He had + also mapped out a campaign against the Maroons, which had one grave + demerit—it was planned on a basis of ordinary warfare and not with + Jamaica conditions in mind. The provost-marshal warned him of the futility + of these plans, but he had persisted in them. He had later been shocked, + however, by news that the best of his colonels had been ambushed and + killed, and that others had been made prisoners and treated with + barbarity. From everywhere, except one, had come either news of defeat or + set-back. + </p> + <p> + One good thing he immediately did: he threw open King’s House to the + wounded, and set the surgeons to work, thereby checking bitter criticism + and blocking the movement rising against him. For it was well known he had + rejected all warnings, had persisted in his view that trust in the Maroons + and fair treatment of themselves and the slaves were all that was needed. + </p> + <p> + As he walked in the great salon or hall of audience where the wounded lay—over + seventy feet long and thirty wide, with great height, to which beds and + conveniences had been hastily brought—it seemed to him that he was + saving, if barely saving, his name and career. Standing beside one of the + Doric pillars which divided the salon from an upper and lower gallery of + communications, he received the Custos of Kingston. As the Custos told his + news the governor’s eyes were running along the line of busts of ancient + and modern philosophers on the gilt brackets between the Doric pilasters. + They were all in bronze, and his mind had the doleful imagination of brown + slave heroes placed there in honour for services given to the country. The + doors at the south end of the great salon opened now and then into the + council chambers beyond, and he could see the surgeons operating on the + cases returned from the plantations. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour,” said the Custos, “things have suddenly improved. The hounds + have come from Cuba and in the charge of ten men—ten men with sixty + hounds. That is the situation at the moment. All the people at Kingston + are overjoyed. They see the end of the revolt.” + </p> + <p> + “The hounds!” exclaimed the governor. “What hounds?” + </p> + <p> + “The hounds sent for by Dyck Calhoun—surely your honour remembers!” + </p> + <p> + Surely his honour did, and recalled also that he forbade the importation + of the hounds; but he could not press that prohibition now. “The mutineer + and murderer, Dyck Calhoun!” he exclaimed. “And they have come!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your honour, and gone with Calhoun’s man, Michael Clones, to Salem.” + </p> + <p> + “To Salem—why Salem?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Calhoun is there fighting the Maroons in that district. The + Maroons first captured the ladies of Salem as they rode in the woods. They + were beaten at that game by Calhoun and four men; the ladies then were + freed and taken back to Salem. Then the storm burst on Salem—burst, + but did not overwhelm. Calhoun saved the situation there; and when his + hounds arrive at Salem he will range over the whole country. It is against + the ideas of the people of England, but it does our work in Jamaica as + nothing else could. It was a stroke of genius, the hounds, your honour!” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow was at once relieved and nonplussed. No doubt the policy of + the hounds was useful, and it might save his own goose, but it was, in a + sense, un-English to hunt the wild man with hounds. Yet was it un-English? + What was the difference between a sword and a good sharp tooth save that + the sword struck and let go and the tooth struck and held on? It had been + said in England that to hunt negroes with hounds was barbarous and + cowardly; but criminals were hunted with bloodhounds in all civilized + countries; and as for cowardice, the man who had sent for these hounds was + as brave as any old crusader! No, Dyck Calhoun could not be charged with + cowardice, and his policy of the hounds might save the island and the + administration in the end. They had arrived in the very hour of Jamaica’s + and Lord Mallow’s greatest peril. They had gone on to the man who had been + sane enough to send for them. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about the landing of the hounds,” said Lord Mallow. + </p> + <p> + “It was last night about dusk that word came from the pilot’s station at + Port Royal that the vessel Vincent was making for port, and that she. came + from Cuba. Presently Michael Clones, the servant of Dyck Calhoun, came + also to say that the Vincent was the ship bringing Calhoun’s hounds from + Cuba, and asking permit for delivery. This he did because he thought you + were opposed to the landing. In the light of our position here, we granted + the delivery. + </p> + <p> + “When the vessel came to anchor, the hounds with their drivers were + landed. The landing was the signal for a great display on the part of the + people and the militia—yes, the militia shared in the applause, your + honour! They had had a taste of war with the Maroons and the slaves, and + they were well inclined to let the hounds have their chance. Resolutions + were then passed to approach your honour and ask that full powers be given + to Calhoun to pursue the war without thought of military precedent or of + Calhoun’s position. He has no official place in the public life here, but + he is powerful with the masses. It is rumoured you have an order to + confine him to his plantation; but to apply it would bring revolution in + Jamaica. There are great numbers of people who love his courage, what he + did for the King’s navy, and for his commercial success here, and they + would resent harsh treatment of him. They are aware, your honour, that he + and you knew each other in Ireland, and they think you are hard on him. + People judge not from all the facts, but from what they see and hear.” + </p> + <p> + During the Custos’ narrative, Lord Mallow was perturbed. He had the common + sense to know that Dyck Calhoun, ex-convict and mutineer as he was, had + personal power in the island, which he as governor had not been able to + get, and Dyck had not abused that power. He realized that Dyck’s + premonition of an outbreak and sending for the hounds was a stroke of + genius. He recalled with anger Dyck’s appearance, in spite of regulations, + in trousers at the King’s ball and his dancing with a black woman, and he + also realized that it was a cool insult to himself. It was then he had + given the home authorities information which would poison their mind + against Dyck, and from that had come the order to confine him to his + plantation. + </p> + <p> + Yet he felt the time had come when he might use Dyck for his own purposes. + That Dyck should be at Salem was a bitter dose, but that could amount to + nothing, for Sheila could never marry the man who had killed her father, + however bad and mad her father was. Yet it gravelled his soul that Dyck + should be doing service for the lady to whom he had offered his own hand + and heart, and from whom he had had no word of assent. It angered him + against himself that he had not at once sent soldiers to Salem to protect + it. He wished to set himself right with Sheila and with the island people, + and how to do so was the question. + </p> + <p> + First, clearly, he must not apply the order to confine Dyck to his + plantation; also he must give Dyck authority to use the hounds in hunting + down the Maroons and slaves who were committing awful crimes. He forthwith + decided to write, asking Dyck to send him outline of his scheme against + the rebels. That he must do, for the game was with Dyck. + </p> + <p> + “How long will it take the hounds to get to Salem?” he asked the Custos + presently in his office, with deepset lines in his face and a determined + look in his eyes. He was an arrogant man, but he was not insane, and he + wished to succeed. It could only be success if he dragged Jamaica out of + this rebellion with flying colours, and his one possible weapon was the + man whom he detested. + </p> + <p> + “Why, your honour, as we sent them by wagons and good horses they should + be in Dyck Calhoun’s hands this evening. They should be there by now + almost, for they’ve been going for hours, and the distance is not great.” + </p> + <p> + The governor nodded, and began to write. A halfhour later he handed to the + Custos what he had written. + </p> + <p> + “See what you think of that, Custos,” he said. “Does it, in your mind, + cover the ground as it should?” + </p> + <p> + The Custos read it all over slowly and carefully, weighing every word. + Presently he handed back the paper. “Your honour, it is complete and + masterly,” he said. “It puts the crushing of the revolt into the hands of + Mr. Calhoun, and nothing could be wiser. He has the gifts of a leader, and + he will do the job with no mistake, and in a time of crisis like this, + that is essential. You have given him the right to order the militia to + obey him, and nothing could be better. He will organize like a master. We + haven’t forgotten his fight on the Ariadne. Didn’t the admiral tell the + story at the dinner we gave him of how this ex-convict and mutineer, by + sheer genius, broke the power of the French at the critical moment and + saved our fleet, though it was only three-fourths that of the French?” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t think the French will get us some day?” asked the governor with + a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I certainly don’t since our defences have been improved. Look at the + sixty big cannon on Fort Augusta! They’d be knocked to smithereens before + they could get into the quiet waters of the harbour. Don’t forget the + narrows, your honour. Then there’s the Apostle’s Battery with its huge + shot, and the guns of Fort Royal would give them a cross-fire that would + make them sick. Besides, we could stop them within the shoals and reefs + and narrow channels before they got near the inner circle. It would only + be the hand of God that would get them in, and it doesn’t work for + Frenchmen these days, I observe. No, this place is safe, and King’s House + will be the home of British governors for many a century.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that’s your gallant faith, and no doubt you are right, but go on with + your tale of the hounds,” said Lord Mallow. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour, as the hounds went away with Michael Clones there was + greater applause than I have ever seen in the island except when Rodney + defeated De Grasse. Imagine a little sloop in the wash of the seas and the + buccaneers piling down on him, and no chance of escape, and then a great + British battleship appearing, and the situation saved—that was how + we were placed here till the hounds arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour, this morning’s—this early morning’s exit of the hounds + was like a procession of veterans to Walhalla. There was the sun breaking + over the tops of the hills, a crimsonish, greyish, opaline touch of soft + sprays or mists breaking away from the onset of the sunrise; and all the + trees with night-lips wet sucking in the sun and drinking up the light + like an overseer at a Christmas breakfast; and you know what that is. And + all the shore, rocky and sandy, rough and smooth, happy and homely, + shimmering in the radiance. And hundreds of Creoles and coloured folk + beating the ground in agitation, and slaves a-plenty carrying boxes to the + ships that are leaving, and white folk crowding the streets, and bugles + blowing, and the tramp of the militia, and the rattle of carts on the + cobble-stones, and the voices of the officers giving orders, and turmoil + everywhere. + </p> + <p> + “Then, suddenly, the sharp sound of a long whip and a voice calling, and + there rises out of the landing place the procession—the sixty dogs + in three wagons, their ten drivers with their whips, but keeping order by + the sound of their voices, low, soft, and peculiar, and then the horses + starting into a quick trot which presently would become a canter—and + the hounds were off to Salem! There could be no fear with the hounds loose + to do the hunting.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose when they get to Salem their owner is no more.” + </p> + <p> + The Custos laughed. “Him, your honour—him no more! Isn’t he the man + of whom the black folk say: ‘Lucky buckra—morning, lucky new-comer!’ + If that’s his reputation, and the coming of his hounds just when the + island most needed them is good proof of it, do you think he’ll be killed + by a lot of dirty Maroons! Ah, Calhoun’s a man with the luck of the devil, + your honour! He has the pull—as sure as heaven’s above he’ll make + success. If you command your staff to have this posted as a proclamation + throughout the island, it will do as much good as a thousand soldiers. The + military officers will not object, they know how big a man he is, and they + have had enough. The news is not good from all over the island, for there + are bad planters and bad overseers, and they’ve poisoned large fields of + men in many quarters of the island, and things are wrong. + </p> + <p> + “But this proclamation will put things right. It will stop the slaves from + revolting; it will squelch the Maroons, and I’m certain sure Calhoun will + have Maroons ready to fight for us, not against us, before this thing is + over. I tell you, your honour, it means the way out—that’s what it + means. So, if you’ll give me your order, keeping a copy of it for the + provost-marshal, I’ll see it’s delivered to Dyck Calhoun before morning—perhaps + by midnight. It’s not more than a six hours’ journey in the ordinary way.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment an aide-de-camp entered, and with grave face presented to + the governor the last report from the provost-marshal-general. Then he + watched the governor read the report. + </p> + <p> + “Ten more killed and twenty wounded!” said the governor. “It must be + stopped.” + </p> + <p> + He gave the Custos the letter to Dyck Calhoun, and a few moments later + handed the proclamation to his aide-de-camp. + </p> + <p> + “That will settle the business, your honour,” said the aide-de-camp as he + read the proclamation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. SHEILA HAS HER SAY + </h2> + <p> + “Then, tell me please, what you know of the story,” said the governor to + Sheila at King’s House one afternoon two weeks later. “I only get meagre + reports from the general commanding. But you close to the intimate source + of the events must know all.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila shrank at the suggestion in the governor’s voice, but she did not + resent it. She had purposes which she must carry out, and she steeled + herself. She wanted to get from Lord Mallow a pledge concerning Dyck + Calhoun, and she must be patient. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing direct from Mr. Calhoun, your honour!” she said, “but only + through his servant, Michael Clones, who is a friend of my Darius Boland, + and they have met often since the first outbreak. You know, of course, + what happened at Port Louise—how the Maroons seized and murdered the + garrison, how families were butchered when they armed first, how barbarism + broke loose and made all men combine to fight the rebels. Even before Mr. + Calhoun came they had had record of a sack of human ears, cut from the + dead rebel-slaves, when they had been killed by faithful slaves, and good + progress was made. But the revolters fixed their camps on high rocks, and + by blowing of shells brought many fresh recruits to the struggle. It was + only when Mr. Calhoun came with his hounds that anything decisive was + done. For the rebels—Maroons and slaves—were hid, well + entrenched and cautious, and the danger was becoming greater every day. On + Mr. Calhoun’s arrival, he was almost caught in ambush, being misled, and + saved himself only by splendid markmanship. He was attacked by six rebels + of whom he killed four, and riding his wounded horse over the other two he + escaped. Then he set the hounds to work and the rebellion in that district + was soon over.” + </p> + <p> + “It was gathering strength with increasing tragedy elsewhere,” remarked + the governor. “Some took refuge in hidden places, and came out only to + steal, rob, and murder—and worse. In one place, after a noted slave, + well known for his treachery, had been killed—Khoftet was his name—his + head was cut off by slaves friendly to us and his heart roasted and eaten. + There is but one way to deal with these people. No gaming or drinking must + be allowed, blowing of shells or beating of drums must be forbidden, and + every free negro or mulatto must wear on his arm a sign—perhaps a + cross in blue or red.” + </p> + <p> + “Slavery is doomed,” said Sheila firmly. “Its end is not far off.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, they still keep slaves in the land of Washington and Alexander + Hamilton. They are better off here at any rate than in their own country, + where they were like animals among whom they lived. Here they are safe + from poverty, cared for in sickness, and have no fear of being handed over + to the keepers of carrion, or being the food of the gallinaso. They can + feed their fill on fricasees of macaca worms and steal without punishment + teal or ring-tailed pigeons and black crabs from the massa.” + </p> + <p> + “But they are not free. They are atoms in heaps of dust. They have no + rights—no liberties.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila was agitated, but she showed no excitement. + </p> + <p> + She seemed to Lord Mallow like one who had perfect control of herself, and + was not the victim of anticipation. She seemed, save for her dark + searching eyes, like one who had gone through experience which had + disciplined her to control. Only her hands were demonstrative—yet + quietly so. Any one watching her closely would have seen that her hands + were sensitive, expressed even more markedly than her eyes or lips what + were her feelings. Her tragedy had altered her in one sense. She was paler + and thinner than ever she had been, but there was enough of her, and that + delicately made, which gave the governor a thrill of desire to make her + his own for the rest of his life or hers. He had also gone through much + since they had last met, and he had seen his own position in the balance—uncertain, + troubled, insecure. He realized that he had lost reputation, which had + scarcely been regained by his consent to the use of the hounds and giving + Dyck Calhoun a free hand, as temporary head of the militia. He could not + put him over the regular troops, but as the general commanding was, in + effect, the slave of Dyck Calhoun, there was no need for anxiety. + </p> + <p> + Dyck Calhoun had smashed the rebellion, had quieted the island, had risen + above all the dark disturbances of revolt like a master. He had + established barracks and forts at many points in the island, and had + stationed troops in them; he had subdued Maroons and slaves by the hounds. + Yet he had punished only the chief of those who had been in actual + rebellion, and had repressed the violent punishments of the earlier part + of the conflict. He had forbidden any one to be burned alive, and had + ordered that no one should be executed without his first judging—with + the consent of the governor!—the facts of the case. + </p> + <p> + Dyck had built up for himself a reputation as no one in all the history of + the island had been able to do. He commanded by more than official + authority—by personality and achievement. There was no one in the + island but knew they had been saved by his prudence, foresight and skill. + It was to their minds stupendous and romantic. Fortunately they showed no + strong feeling against Lord Mallow. By placing King’s House at disposal as + a hospital, and by gifts of food and money to wives and children of + soldiers and civilians, the governor had a little eradicated his record of + neglect. + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow had a way with him when he chose to use it. He was not without + the gift for popularity, and he saw now that he could best attain it by + treating Dyck Calhoun well. He saw troops come and go, he listened to + grievances, he corrected abuses, he devised a scheme for nursing, he + planned security for the future, he gave permission for buccaneer trading + with the United States, he had by legislative order given the Creoles a + better place in the civic organism. This was a time for broad policy—for + distribution of cassavi bread, yams and papaws, for big, and maybe rough, + display of power and generosity. He was not blind to the fact that he + might by discreet courses impress favourably his visitor. All he did was + affected by that thought. He could not but think that Sheila would judge + of him by what he did as much as by what he said. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her now with interest and longing. He loved to hear her talk, + and she had information which was no doubt truer than most he received—was + closer to the brine, as it were. + </p> + <p> + “What more can you tell me of Mr. Calhoun and his doings?” he asked + presently. “He is lucky in having so perfect a narrator of his histories—yet + so unexpected a narrator.” + </p> + <p> + A flush stole slowly up Sheila’s face, and gave a glow even to the roots + of her hair. She could not endure these references to the dark gulf + between her and Dyck Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” she said sharply, “it is not meet that you should say such + things. Mr. Calhoun was jailed for killing my father—let it be at + that. The last time you saw me you offered me your hand and heart. Well, + do you know I had almost made up my mind to accept your hand, when the + news of this trouble was brought to you, and you left us—to + ourselves and our dangers!” + </p> + <p> + The governor started. “You are as unfriendly as a ‘terral garamighty,’ you + make me draw my breath thick as the blackamoors, as they say. I did what I + thought best,” he said. “I did not think you would be in any danger. I had + not heard of the Maroons being so far south as Salem.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet it is the man who foresees chances that succeeds, as you should know + by now, your honour. I was greatly touched by the offer you made me—indeed, + yes,” she added, seeing the rapt eager look in his face. “I had been told + what had upset me, that Dyck Calhoun was guilty of killing my father, and + all the world seemed dreadful. Yes, in the reaction, it was almost on my + tongue to say yes to you, for you are a good talker, you had skill in much + that you did, and with honest advice from a wife might do much more. So I + was in a mind to say yes. I had had much to try me, indeed, so very much. + Ever since I first saw Dyck Calhoun he had been the one man who had ever + influenced me. He was for ever in my mind even when he was in prison—oh, + what is prison, what is guilt even to a girl when she loves! Yes, I loved + him. There it was. He was ever in my mind, and I came here to Jamaica—he + was here—for what else? Salem could have been restored by Darius + Boland or others, or I could have sold it. I came to Jamaica to find him + here—unwomanly, perhaps, you will say.” + </p> + <p> + “Unusual only with a genius—like you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you do not speak what is in your mind, your honour. You say what you + feel is the right thing to say—the slave of circumstances. I will be + wholly frank with you. I came here to see Dyck Calhoun, for I knew he + would not come to see me. Yes, there it was, a real thing in his heart. If + he had been a lesser man than he is, he would have come to America when he + was freed from prison. But he did not, would not, come. He knew he had + been found guilty of killing my father, and that for him and me there + could be no marriage—indeed he never asked me to marry him. + </p> + <p> + “Yet I know he would have done so if he could. When I came to know what he + was jailed for doing, I felt there was no place for him and me together in + the world. Yet my heart kept crying out to him, and I felt there was but + one thing left for me to do, and that was to make it impossible for me to + think of him even, or for him to think of me. Then you came and offered me + your hand. It was a hand most women might have been glad to accept from + the standpoint of material things. And you were Irish like myself, and + like the boy I loved. I was sick of the robberies of life and time, and I + wanted to be out of it all in some secure place. What place so secure from + the sorrow that was eating at my heart as marriage! It said no to every + stir of feeling that was vexing me, to every show of love or remembrance. + So I listened to you. It was not because you were a governor or a peer—no, + not that! For even in Virginia I had offers from one higher than yourself—and + younger, and a peer also. No, it was not material things that influenced + me, but your own intellectual eminence; for you have more brains than most + men, as you know so well.” + </p> + <p> + The governor interrupted her with a gesture. “No, no, I am not so vain as + you think. If I were I should have seen at Salem that you meant to say + yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you know well you have gifts, though you have made sad mistakes here. + Do not think it was your personality, your looks that induced me to think + of you, to listen to you. When Mr. Calhoun told me the truth, and gave me + a letter he had written to me—” + </p> + <p> + “A letter—to you?” + </p> + <p> + There was surprise in the governor’s voice—surprise and chagrin, for + the thing had moved him powerfully. “Yes, a letter to me which he never + meant me to have. It was a kind of diary of his heart, and it was written + even while I was landing on the island on Christmas Day. It was the most + terribly truthful thing, opening his whole soul to the girl whom he had + always loved, but from whom he was separated by a thing not the less + tragical because it was merely technical. He gave it me to read, and when + I read it I saw there was no place for me in the world except a convent or + marriage. The convent could not be, for I was no Catholic, and marriage + seemed the only thing possible. That day you came I saw only one thing to + do—one mad, hopeless thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad and hopeless!” burst out Lord Mallow. “How so? Your very reason shows + that it was sane, well founded in the philosophy of the heart.” + </p> + <p> + He was eager to win her yet, and he did not see the end at which she + aimed. He felt he must tell her all the passion and love he felt. But her + look gave no encouragement, her eyes were uninviting. + </p> + <p> + Sheila smiled painfully. “Yes, mad and hopeless, for be sure of this: we + cannot kill in one day the growth of years. I could not cure myself of + loving him by marrying you. There had to be some other cure for that. I + never knew and never loved my father. But he was my father, and if Mr. + Calhoun killed him, I could not marry him. But at last I came to know that + your love and affection could not make me forget him—no, never. I + realize that now. He and I can never come together, but I owe him so much—I + owe him my life, for he saved it; he must ever have a place in my heart, + be to me more than any one else can be. I want you to do something for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to have removed from him the sentence of the British + Government. I want him to be free to come and go anywhere in the world—to + return to England if he wishes it, to be a free man, and not a victim Off + Outlawry. I want that, and you ought to give it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Indignation filled her eyes. “You ask why. He has saved your + administration and the island from defeat and horrible loss. He has + prevented most of the slaves from revolting, and he conquered the Maroons. + The empire is his debtor. Will you do this for one who has done so much + for you?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow was disconcerted, but he did not show it. “I can do no more + than I have done. I have not confined him to his plantation as the + Government commanded; I cannot go beyond that.” + </p> + <p> + “You can put his case from the standpoint of a patriot.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the governor hesitated, then he said: “Because you ask me—” + </p> + <p> + “I want it done for his sake, not for mine,” she returned with decision. + “You owe it to yourself to see that it is done. Gratitude is not dead in + you, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow flushed. “You press his case too hard. You forget what he is—a + mutineer and a murderer, and no one should remember that as you should.” + </p> + <p> + “He has atoned for both, and you know it well. Besides, he was not a + murderer. Even the courts did not say he was. They only said he was guilty + of manslaughter. Oh, your honour, be as gallant as your name and place + warrant.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her for a moment with strange feelings in his heart. Then he + said: “I will give you an answer in twenty-four hours. Will that do, sweet + persuader?” + </p> + <p> + “It might do,” she answered, and, strange to say, she had a sure feeling + that he would say yes, in spite of her knowledge that, in his heart of + hearts, he hated Calhoun. + </p> + <p> + As she left the room, Lord Mallow stood for a moment looking after her. + </p> + <p> + “She loves the rogue in spite of all!” he said bitterly. “But she must + come with me. They are apart as the poles. Yet I shall do as she wishes if + I am to win her.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE COMING OF NOREEN + </h2> + <p> + The next day came a new element in the situation: a ship arrived from + England. On it was one who had come to Jamaica to act as governess to two + children of the officer commanding the regular troops in the island. She + had been ill for a week before nearing Kingston, and when the Regent + reached the harbour she was in a bad way. The ship’s doctor was despondent + about her; but he was a second-rate man, and felt that perhaps an island + doctor might give her some hope. When she was carried ashore she was at + once removed to the home of the general commanding at Spanish Town, and + there a local doctor saw her. + </p> + <p> + “What is her history?” he asked, after he had seen the haggard face of the + woman. + </p> + <p> + The ship’s doctor did not know; and the general commanding was in the + interior at the head of his troops. There was no wife in the general’s + house, as he was a widower; and his daughters, of twelve and fourteen, + under a faithful old housekeeper, had no knowledge of the woman’s life. + </p> + <p> + When she was taken to the general’s house she was in great dejection, and + her face had a look of ennui and despair. She was thin and worn, and her + eyes only told of the struggle going on between life and death. + </p> + <p> + “What is her name?” asked the resident doctor. “Noreen Balfe,” was the + reply of the ship’s doctor. + </p> + <p> + “A good old Irish name, though you can see she comes of the lower ranks of + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Married?” + </p> + <p> + The ship’s doctor pointed to her hand which had a wedding-ring. “Ah, yes, + certainly... what hope have you of her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what to say. The fever is high. She isn’t trying to live; + she’s got some mental trouble, I believe. But you and I would be of no use + in that kind of thing.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t take to new-fangled ideas of mental cure,” said the ship’s + doctor. “Cure the body and the mind will cure itself.” + </p> + <p> + A cold smile stole to the lips of the resident doctor. Those were days of + little scientific medical skill, and no West Indian doctor had knowledge + enough to control a discussion of the kind. “But I’d like to see some one + with brains take an interest in her,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “I leave her in your hands,” was the reply. “I’m a ship’s medico, and + she’s now ashore.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pity,” said the resident doctor reflectively, as he watched a + servant doing necessary work at the bedside. “She hasn’t long to go as she + is, yet I’ve seen such cases recover.” + </p> + <p> + As they left the room together they met Sheila and one of the daughters of + the house. “I’ve come to see the sick woman from the ship, if I may,” + Sheila said. “I’ve just heard about her, and I’d like to be of use.” + </p> + <p> + The resident doctor looked at her with admiration. She was the most + conspicuous figure in the island, and her beauty was a fine support to her + wealth and reputation. It was like her to be kind in this frank way. + </p> + <p> + “You can be of great use if you will,” he said. “The fever is not + infectious, I’m glad to say. So you need have no fear of being with her—on + account of others.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no fear,” responded Sheila with a friendly smile, “and I will go + to her now—no, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to go alone,” she added + as she saw the doctor was coming with her. + </p> + <p> + The other bowed and nodded approvingly. “The fewer the better,” he said. + “I think you ought to go in alone—quite alone,” he said with gentle + firmness, for he saw the girl with Sheila was also going with her. + </p> + <p> + So it was that Sheila entered alone, and came to the bed and looked at the + woman in the extreme depression of fever. “Prepare some lime-juice, + please,” she said to the servant on the other side of the bed. “Keep it + always beside the bed—I know what these cases are.” + </p> + <p> + The servant disappeared, and the eyes of the sick woman opened and looked + at Sheila. There shot into them a look of horror and relief in one, if + such a thing might be. A sudden energy inspired her, and she drew herself + up in bed, her face gone ghastly. + </p> + <p> + “You are Sheila Boyne, aren’t you?” she asked in a low half-guttural note. + </p> + <p> + “I am Sheila Llyn,” was the astonished reply. “It’s the same thing,” came + the response. “You are the daughter of Erris Boyne.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila turned pale. Who was this woman that knew her and her history? + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” she asked—“your real name—what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Noreen Balfe; it was Noreen Boyne.” For a moment Sheila could + not get her bearings. The heavy scent of the flowers coming in at the + window almost suffocated her. She seemed to lose a grip of herself. + Presently she made an effort at composure. “Noreen Boyne! You were then + the second wife of Erris Boyne?” + </p> + <p> + “I was his second wife. His first wife was your mother—you are like + your mother!” Noreen said in agitation. + </p> + <p> + The meaning was clear. Sheila laid a sharp hand on herself. “Don’t get + excited,” she urged with kindly feeling. “He is dead and gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is dead and gone.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Noreen seemed to fight for mastery of her emotion, and Sheila + said: “Lie still. It is all over. He cannot hurt us now.” + </p> + <p> + The other shook her head in protest. “I came here to forget, and I find + you—his daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “You find more than his daughter; you find his first wife, and you find + the one that killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “The one that killed him!” said the woman greatly troubled. “How did you + know that?” + </p> + <p> + “All the world knows it. He was in prison four years, and since then he + has been a mutineer, a treasure-hunter, a planter, and a saviour of these + islands!” + </p> + <p> + The sick woman fell back in exhaustion. At that moment the servant entered + with a pitcher of lime-juice. Sheila took it from her and motioned her out + of the room; then she held a glass of the liquid to the stark lips. + </p> + <p> + “Drink,” she said in a low, kind voice, and she poured slowly into the + patient’s mouth the cooling draught. A moment later Noreen raised herself + up again. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dyck Calhoun is here?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He is here, and none to-day holds so high a place in the minds of all who + live here. He has saved the island.” + </p> + <p> + “All are here that matter,” said Noreen. “And I came to forget!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you remember?” asked Sheila. “I remember all—how he died!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Sheila had a desire to shriek aloud. This woman—did this + woman then see Erris Boyne die? Was she present when the deed was done? If + so, why was she not called to give evidence at the trial. But yes, she was + called to give evidence. She remembered it now, and the evidence had been + that she was in her own home when the killing took place. + </p> + <p> + “How did he die?” she asked in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “One stroke did it—only one, and he fell like a log.” She made a + motion as of striking, and shuddered, covering her eyes with trembling + hands. + </p> + <p> + “You tell me you saw Dyck Calhoun do this to an undefended man—you + tell me this!” + </p> + <p> + Sheila’s anger was justified in her mind. That Dyck Calhoun should + </p> + <p> + “I did not see Dyck Calhoun strike him,” gasped the woman. “I did not say + that. Dyck Calhoun did not kill Erris Boyne!” + </p> + <p> + “My God!—oh, my God!” said Sheila with ashen lips, but a great light + breaking in her eyes. “Dyck Calhoun did not kill Erris Boyne! Then who + killed him?” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause, then—“I killed him,” said the woman in + agony. “I killed him.” + </p> + <p> + A terrible repugnance seized Sheila. After a moment she said in agitation: + “You killed him—you struck him down! Yet you let an innocent man go + to prison, and be kept there for years, and his father go to his grave + with shame, with estates ruined and home lost—and you were the + guilty one—you—all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “It was part of my madness. I was a coward and I thought then there were + reasons why I should feel no pity for Dyck Calhoun. His father injured + mine—oh, badly! But I was a coward, and I’ve paid the price.” + </p> + <p> + A kinder feeling now took hold of Sheila. After all, what this woman had + done gave happiness into her—Sheila’s-hands. It relieved Dyck + Calhoun of shame and disgrace. A jail-bird he was still, but an innocent + jail-bird. He had not killed Erris Boyne. Besides, it wiped out forever + the barrier between them. All her blind devotion to the man was now + justified. His name and fame were clear. Her repugnance of the woman was + as nothing beside her splendid feeling of relief. It was as though the + gates of hell had been closed and the curtains of heaven drawn for the + eyes to see. Six years of horrible shame wiped out, and a new world was + before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + This woman who had killed Erris Boyne must now suffer. She must bear the + ignominy which had been heaped upon Dyck Calhoun’s head. Yet all at once + there came to her mind a softening feeling. Erris Boyne had been rightly + killed by a woman he had wronged, for he was a traitor as well as an + adulterer—one who could use no woman well, who broke faith with all + civilized tradition, and reverted to the savage. Surely the woman’s crime + was not a dark one; it was injured innocence smiting depravity, tyranny + and lust. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, as she looked at the woman who had done this thing, she, whose + hand had rid the world of a traitor and a beast, fell back on the pillow + in a faint. With an exclamation Sheila lifted up the head. If the woman + was dead, then there was no hope for Dyck Calhoun; any story that she—Sheila—might + tell would be of no use. Yet she was no longer agitated in her body. Hands + and fingers were steady, and she felt for the heart with firm fingers. + Yes, the heart was still beating, and the pulse was slightly drumming. + Thank God, the woman was alive! She rang a bell and lifted up the head of + the sick woman. + </p> + <p> + A moment later the servant was in the room. Sheila gave her orders + quickly, and snatched up a pencil from the table. Then, on a piece of + paper, she wrote the words: “I, not Dyck Calhoun, killed Erris Boyne.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later, Noreen’s eyes opened, and Sheila spoke to her. “I + have written these words. Here they are—see them. Sign them.” + </p> + <p> + She read the words, and put a pencil in the trembling fingers, and, on the + cover of a book Noreen’s fingers traced her name slowly but clearly. Then + Sheila thrust the paper in her bosom, and an instant later a nurse, sent + by the resident doctor, entered. + </p> + <p> + “They cannot hang me or banish me, for my end has come,” whispered Noreen + before Sheila left. + </p> + <p> + In the street of Spanish Town almost the first person Sheila saw was Dyck + Calhoun. With pale, radiant look she went to him. He gazed at her + strangely, for there was that in her face he could not understand. There + was in it all the faith of years, all the truth of womanhood, all the + splendour of discovery, all that which a man can see but once in a human + face and be himself. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” she said, and she moved towards King’s House. He obeyed. + For some moments they walked in silence, then all at once under a magnolia + tree she stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to read what a woman wrote who has just arrived in the island + from England. She is ill at the house of the general commanding.” + </p> + <p> + Taking from her breast the slip of paper, she handed it to him. He read it + with eyes and senses that at first could hardly understand. + </p> + <p> + “God in heaven—oh, merciful God!” he said in great emotion, yet with + a strange physical quiet. + </p> + <p> + “This woman was his wife,” Sheila said. + </p> + <p> + He handed the paper back. He conquered his agitation. The years of + suffering rolled away. “They’ll put her in jail,” he said with a strange + regret. He had a great heart. + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not,” was the reply. Yet she was touched by his compassion + and thoughtfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she is going to die—and there is no time to lose. Come, we + will go to Lord Mallow.” + </p> + <p> + “Mallow!” A look of bitter triumph came into Dyck’s face. “Mallow—at + last!” he said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. WITH THE GOVERNOR + </h2> + <p> + Lord Mallow frowned on his secretary. “Mr. Calhoun to see me! What’s his + business?” + </p> + <p> + “One can guess, your honour. He’s been fighting for the island.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should he see me? There is the general commanding.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary did not reply, he knew his chief; and, after a moment, Lord + Mallow said: “Show him in.” When Dyck Calhoun entered the governor gave + him a wintry smile of welcome, but did not offer to shake hands. “Will you + sit down?” he said, with a slow gesture. + </p> + <p> + Calhoun made a dissenting motion. “I prefer to stand, your honour.” + </p> + <p> + This was the first time the two men had met alone since Dyck had arrived + in Jamaica, or since his trial. Calhoun was dressed in planter’s costume, + and the governor was in an officer’s uniform. They were in striking + contrast in face and figure—the governor long, lanky, ascetic in + appearance, very intellectual save for the riotous mouth, and very spick + and span—as though he had just stepped out of Almack’s; while + Calhoun was tough and virile, and with the air of a thorough outdoor man. + There was in his face the firm fighting look of one who had done things + and could tackle big affairs—and something more; there was in it + quiet exultation. Here he was now at last alone with the man who had done + him great harm, and for whom he had done so much; who had sought to wipe + him off the slate of life and being; who had tried to win the girl from + whom he himself had been parted. + </p> + <p> + In spite of it all—of his life in jail, of his stark mutiny, of the + oppression of the governor, he had not been beaten down, but had prospered + in spite of all. He had by his will, wisdom and military skill, saved the + island in its hour of peril, saved its governor from condemnation; and + here he was facing the worst enemy of his life with the cards of success + in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “You have done the island and England great service, Mr. Calhoun,” said + the governor at last. + </p> + <p> + “It is the least I could do for the land where I have made my home, where + I have reaped more than I have sown.” + </p> + <p> + “We know your merit, sir.” + </p> + <p> + A sharp satirical look came into Calhoun’s face and his voice rang out + with vigour. “And because you knew my merit you advised the crown to + confine me to my estate, and you would have had me shot if you could. I am + what I am because there was a juster man than yourself in Jamaica. Through + him I got away and found treasure, and I bought land and have helped to + save this island and your place. What do I owe you, your honour? Nothing + that I can see—nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a mutineer, and but that you showed your courage would have been + hung at the yard-arm, as many of your comrades in England were.” + </p> + <p> + A cold smile played at Calhoun’s lips. “My luck was as great as my + courage, I know. I have the luck of Enniscorthy!” + </p> + <p> + At the last words the governor winced, for it was by that touch Calhoun + had defeated him in the duel long ago. It galled him that this man whom he + detested could say such things to him with truth. Yet in his heart of + hearts he had for Calhoun a great respect. Calhoun’s invincible will had + conquered the worst in Mallow’s nature, had, in spite of himself, created + a new feeling in him. There was in Mallow the glimmer of greatness, and + only his supreme selfishness had made him what he was. He laid a hand on + himself now, though it was not easy to do so. + </p> + <p> + “It was not the luck of Enniscorthy that sent Erris Boyne to his doom,” he + said, however, with anger in his mind, for Dyck’s calm boldness stirred + the worst in him. He thought he saw in him an exultancy which could only + come from his late experiences in the field. It was as though he had come + to triumph over the governor. Mallow said what he had said with malice. He + looked to see rage in the face of Dyck Calhoun, and was nonplussed to find + that it had only a stern sort of pleasure. The eyes of Calhoun met his + with no trace of gloom, but with a valour worthy of a high cause—their + clear blue facing his own with a constant penetration. Their intense + sincerity gave him a feeling which did not belong to authority. It was not + the look of a criminal, whatever the man might be—mutineer and + murderer. As for mutineer, all that Calhoun had fought for had been at + last admitted by the British Government, and reforms had been made that + were due to the mutiny at the Nore. Only the technical crime had been done + by Calhoun, and he had won pardon by his bravery in the battle at sea. + Yes, he was a man of mark, even though a murderer. + </p> + <p> + Calhoun spoke slowly. “Your honour, you have said what you have a right to + say to a man who killed Erris Boyne. But this man you accuse did not do + it.” The governor smiled, for the assumption was ridiculous. He shrugged a + shoulder and a sardonic curl came to his lip. + </p> + <p> + “Who did it then?” + </p> + <p> + “If you will come to the house of the general commanding you will see.” + </p> + <p> + The governor was in a great quandary. He gasped. “The general commanding—did + he kill Erris Boyne, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Not he, yet the person that did it is in this house. Listen, your honour. + I have borne the name of killing Erris Boyne, and I ought to have killed + him, for he was a traitor. I had proofs of it; but I did not kill him, and + I did not betray him, for he had alive a wife and daughter, and something + was due to them. He was a traitor, and was in league with the French. It + does not matter that I tell you now, for his daughter knows the truth. I + ought to have told it long ago, and if I had I should not have been + imprisoned.” + </p> + <p> + “You were a brave man, but a fool—always a fool,” said the governor + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Not so great a fool that I can’t recover from it,” was the calm reply. + “Perhaps it was the best thing that ever happened to me, for now I can + look the world in the face. It’s made a man of me. It was a woman killed + him,” was Calhoun’s added comment. “Will your honour come with me and see + her?” + </p> + <p> + The governor was thunderstruck. “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “As I have told you-in the house of the general commanding.” + </p> + <p> + The governor rose abashed. “Well, I can go there now. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you would prefer I should not go with you in the street. The + world knows me as a mutineer, thinks of me as a murderer! Is it fair to + your honour?” + </p> + <p> + Something in Calhoun’s voice roused the rage of Lord Mallow, but he + controlled it, and said calmly: “Don’t talk nonsense, sir; we shall walk + together, if you will.” + </p> + <p> + At the entrance to the house of the general, the man to whom this visit + meant so much stopped and took a piece of paper from his pocket. “Your + honour, here is the name of the slayer of Erris Boyne. I give it to you + now to see, so you may not be astonished when you see her.” + </p> + <p> + The governor stared at the paper. “Boyne’s wife, eh?” he said in a strange + mood. “Boyne’s wife—what is she doing here?” + </p> + <p> + Calhoun told him briefly as he took the paper back, and added: “It was + accident that brought us all together here, your honour, but the hand of + God is in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she very ill?” + </p> + <p> + “She will not live, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom did she tell her story?” + </p> + <p> + “To Miss Sheila Llyn.” + </p> + <p> + The governor was nettled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, to Miss Llyn When did you see her?” + </p> + <p> + “Just before I came to you.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the woman look like—this Noreen Boyne?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know; I have not seen her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how came you by the paper with her signature?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Llyn gave it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Anger filled Lord Mallow’s mind. Sheila—why now the way would be + open to Calhoun to win—to marry her! It angered him, but he held + himself steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Miss Llyn?” + </p> + <p> + “She is here, I think. She came back when she left me at your door.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she left you at my door, did she?... But let me see the woman that’s + come so far to put the world right.” + </p> + <p> + A few moments later they stood in the bedroom of Noreen Boyne, they two + and Sheila Llyn, the nurse having been sent out. + </p> + <p> + Lord Mallow looked down on the haggard, dying woman with no emotion. Only + a sense of duty moved him. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you wished to say to me?” he asked the patient. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” came the response in a frayed tone. + </p> + <p> + “I am the governor of the island—Lord Mallow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I want to tell you that I killed Erris Boyne—with this hand I + killed him.” She raised her skinny hand up, and her eyes became glazed. + “He had used me vilely and I struck him down. He was a bad man.” + </p> + <p> + “You let an innocent man bear punishment, you struck at one who did you no + harm, and you spoiled his life for him. You can see that, can’t you?” + </p> + <p> + The woman’s eyes sought the face of Dyck Calhoun, and Calhoun said: “No, + you did not spoil my life, Noreen Boyne. You have made it. Not that I + should have chosen the way of making it, but there it is, as God’s in + heaven, I forgive you.” + </p> + <p> + Noreen’s face lost some of its gloom. “That makes it easier,” she said + brokenly. “I can’t atone by any word or act, but I’m sorry. I’ve kept you + from being happy, and you were born to be happy. Your father had hurt + mine, had turned him out of our house for debt, and I tried to pay it all + back. When they suspected you I held my peace. I was a coward; I could not + say you were innocent without telling the truth, and that I could not do + then. But now I’ll tell it—I think I’d have told it whether I was + dying or not, though. Yes, if I’d seen you here I’d have told it, I’m + sure. I’m not all bad.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila leaned over the bed. “Never mind about the past. You can help a man + back to the good opinion of the world now.” + </p> + <p> + “I hurt you too,” said Noreen with hopeless pain. “You were his friend.” + </p> + <p> + “I believed in him always—even when he did not deny the crime,” was + the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + “There’s no good going on with that,” said the governor sharply. “We must + take down her statement in writing, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “Look, she is sinking!” said Calhoun sharply. The woman’s head had dropped + forward, her chin was on her breast, and her hands became clenched. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor at once-bring in the nurse,” said Calhoun. “She’s dying.” + </p> + <p> + An instant later, the nurse entered with Sheila, and in a short time the + doctor came. + </p> + <p> + When later the doctor saw Lord Mallow alone he said: “She can’t live more + than two days.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s good for her in a way,” answered the governor, and in reply to the + doctor’s question why, he said: “Because she’d be in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “In prison—has she broken the law?” + </p> + <p> + “She is now under arrest, though she doesn’t know it. + </p> + <p> + “What was her crime, your honour?” + </p> + <p> + “She killed a man.” + </p> + <p> + “What man?” + </p> + <p> + “Him for whom Dyck Calhoun was sent to prison—Erris Boyne.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Calhoun was not guilty, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No. As soon as the woman is dead, I mean to announce the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Not till then, your honour?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till then.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s hard on Calhoun.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it? It’s years since he was tried and condemned. Two days cannot + matter now.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not. Last night the woman said to me: ‘I’m glad I’m going to + die.’” Then he added: “Calhoun will be more popular than ever now.” + </p> + <p> + The governor winced. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. THEN WHAT HAPPENED + </h2> + <p> + An hour after Noreen Boyne had been laid in her grave, there was a special + issue of the principal paper telling all the true facts of the death of + Erris Boyne. Thus the people of Jamaica came to know that Dyck Calhoun was + innocent of the crime of killing Erris Boyne, and he was made the object + of splashing admiration, and was almost mobbed by admirers in the street. + It all vexed Lord Mallow; but he steeled himself to urbanity, and he + played his part well. He was clever enough to see it would pay him to be + outwardly gracious to Calhoun. So it was he made a speech in the capital + on the return of the general commanding and the troops from subduing the + Maroons, in which he said: “No one in all the King’s dominions had showed + greater patriotism and military skill than their friend Mr. Dyck Calhoun, + who had been harshly treated by a mistaken Government.” + </p> + <p> + A few hours later, in the sweet garden of the house where Sheila and her + mother lodged, Calhoun came upon the girl whose gentle dignity and beauty + seemed to glow. + </p> + <p> + At first all she said to him was, “Welcome, old friend,” and at last she + said, “Now you can come to the United States, Dyck, and make a new life + there.” + </p> + <p> + Presently he said: “I ought to go where you wish me to go, for you came to + me here when I was rejected of men. I owe you whatever I am that’s worth + while, if anything I am is worth while. Your faith kept me alive in my + darkest days—even when I thought I had wronged you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will come to Virginia with me—as my husband, Dyck?” She + blushed and laughed. “You see I have to propose to you, for you’ve never + asked me to marry you. I’m throwing myself at your head, sir, you + observe!” + </p> + <p> + He gave an honest smile of adoration. “I came to-day to ask you to be my + wife—for that reason only. I could not do it till the governor had + declared my innocence. The earth is sweeter to-day than it has been since + time began.” + </p> + <p> + He held out his arms, and an instant later the flowers she carried were + crushed to her breast, with her lips given to his. + </p> + <p> + A little later she drew from her pocket a letter. “You must read that,” + she said. “It is from the great Alexander Hamilton—yes, he will be + great, he will play a wondrous part in the life of my new country. Read it + Dyck.” + </p> + <p> + After he had read it, he said: “He was born a British subject here in + these islands, and he goes to help Americans live according to British + principles. With all my sane fellow-countrymen I am glad the Americans + succeeded. Do you go to your Virginia, and I will come as soon as I have + put my affairs in order.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not go without you—no, I will not go,” she persisted. + </p> + <p> + “Then we shall be married at once,” he declared. And so it was, and all + the island was en fete, and when Sheila came to Dyck’s plantation the very + earth seemed to rejoice. The slaves went wild with joy, and ate and drank + their fill, and from every field there came the song: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hold up yo hands, + Hold up yo hands, + Bress de Lord for de milk and honey! + De big bees is a singin’, + My heart is held up and de bells is a ringin’; + Hold up yo hands, + Hold up yo hands!” + </pre> + <p> + And sweetly solitary the two lived their lives, till one day, three months + later, there came to the plantation the governor and his suite. + </p> + <p> + When they had dismounted, Lord Mallow said: “I bring you the pay of the + British Government for something of what you have suffered, sir, and what + will give your lady pleasure too, I hope. I come with a baronetcy given by + the King. News of it came to me only this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Calhoun smiled. “Your honour, I can take no title, receive no honour. I + have ended my life under the British flag. I go to live under the Stars + and Stripes.” + </p> + <p> + The governor was astounded. “Your lady, sir, do you forget your lady?” + </p> + <p> + But Sheila answered: “The life of the new world has honours which have + naught to do with titles.” + </p> + <p> + “I sail for Virginia by the first ship that goes,” said Calhoun. “It is + good here, but I shall go to a place where things are better, and where I + shall have work to do. I must decline the baronetcy, your honour. I go to + a land where the field of life is larger, where Britain shall remake + herself.” + </p> + <p> + “It will take some time,” said the governor tartly. “They’ll be long + apart.” + </p> + <p> + “But they will come together at last—for the world’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence for a moment, and through it came the joy-chant from the + fields: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hold up yo hands, + Hold up yo hands, + Bress de Lord for de milk and honey.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + Beginning of a lifetime of experience, comedy, and tragedy + Wit is always at the elbow of want + Without the money brains seldom win alone +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of No Defense, Complete, by Gilbert Parker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NO DEFENSE, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 6295-h.htm or 6295-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/9/6295/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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