The Light of Scarthey Part 49

"I would not run you and the men into unnecessary danger, that you may be sure of; but the fact is, Curwen, I'm in a devil of a fix all round. There's no use hiding it from you. And, all things considered, to land the lady and the cargo at the lighthouse itself, gives me as fair a chance of getting out of it as any plan I can think of. The cargo's not all my own and it's a valuable one, I daresay you have guessed as much; and it's not the kind we want revenue men to pry into. I could not unload elsewhere that I know of, without creating suspicion. As to storing it elsewhere, it's out of the question.

Scarthey's the place, though it's a d.a.m.ned risky one just now! But we've run many a risk together in our day, have we not?"

"Ay, sir; who's afraid?"

"Then there's the lady," lowering his voice; "she's Lady Landale, my friend's wife, the wife of the best friend ever man had. Ay, you remember him, I doubt not--the gentleman seaman of the _Porcupine_--I owe him more than I can ever repay, and he owes me something too.

That sort of thing binds men together; and see what I have done to him--carried off his wife!"

Curwen grunted, enigmatically, and disengaged a hand to scratch his chin.

"I must have speech with him. I must, it is enough to drive me mad to think what he may be thinking of me. What I purpose is this: we'll disguise the s.h.i.+p as far as we can (we have the time), paint her a new streak and alter those topsails, change the set of the bowsprit and strike out her name."

"That's unlucky," said the mate.

"Unlucky, is it? Well, she's not been so lucky this run that we need fear to change the luck. Then, Curwen, we'll slip in at night at a high tide, watching for our opportunity and a dark sky; we'll uns.h.i.+p the cargo, and then you shall take command of her and carry her off to the East Coast and wait there, till I am able to send you word or join you. It will only be a few hours danger for the men, after all."

Still keeping his seaman eye upon the compa.s.s, Curwen cleared his throat with a gruesome noise. Then in tones which seemed to issue with difficulty from some immense depth:

"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "that ain't a bargain."

"How now?" cried his captain, sharply.

"No, sir," rolling his head portentously; "that don't run to a bargain, that don't. The lads of the _Peregrine_ 'll stick to their skipper through thick and thin. I'll warrant them, every man Jack of them; and if there was one who grumbled, I'd have my knife in him before another caught the temper from him--I would, or my name's not Curwen. If ye bid us steer to h.e.l.l we'll do it for you, sir, and welcome. But for to go and leave you there--no, sir, it can't be done."

Captain Jack gave a little laugh that was as tender as a woman's tear.

Curwen rolled his head again and mumbled to himself:

"It can't be done."

Then Jack Smith clapped his hand on the sailor's shoulder.

"But it's got to be done!" he cried. "It is the only thing you can do to help me, Curwen. To have our _Peregrine_ out in the daylight on that coast would be stark madness--no disguise could avail her, and you can't change your ugly old phiz, can you? As for me, I must have a few days on sh.o.r.e, danger or no danger. Ah, Curwen," with a sudden, pa.s.sionate outbreak, "there are times when a man's life is the least of his thoughts!"

"Couldn't I stop with you, sir?"

"I would not trust the s.h.i.+p to another, and you would double the risk for me."

"I could double a blow for you too," cried the fellow, hoa.r.s.ely. "But if it's got to be--it must be. I'll do it, sir."

"I count on it," said the captain, briefly.

As the ring of his retreating steps died away upon his ear the mate shook his head in melancholy fas.h.i.+on:

"Women," he said, "is very well, I've nought to say against them in their way. And the sea's very well--as I ought to know. But women and the sea, it don't agree. They's jealous one of the other and a man gets torn between."

As Molly sat in her cabin, watching the darkening sky outside with dreaming eyes, she started on seeing Captain Jack approach, and instead of pa.s.sing her with cold salute, halt and look in.

"I would speak a word with you," he said.

"On deck, then," said Molly. She felt somehow as if under the broad heaven they were nearer each other than in that narrow room. The sea was rough, the wind had risen and still blew from the north, it was cold; but her blood ran too fast these days to heed it.

She drew one of the capes of her cloak over her head and staggering a little, for the schooner, sailing close to the wind, pitched and rolled to some purpose, she made for her usual station at the bulwarks.

"Well?" she asked.

He briefly told her his purpose of returning to Scarthey direct.

Her eye dilated; she grew pale.

"Is that not dangerous?"

He made a contemptuous gesture.

"But they must be watching for you on that coast. You have sunk the boat--killed those men. To return there--My G.o.d, what folly!"

"I must land my goods, Madam. You forget that I have more contraband on board than, smuggler as I am, even I bargained for."

"If it is for me?--I would rather fling myself into the waves this instant than that you should expose yourself to danger."

"Then I should fling myself after you, and that would be more dangerous still."

He smiled a little mockingly upon her as he spoke; but the words called a transient fire into her face.

"You would risk your life to save me?" she cried.

"To save Adrian's wife, Madam."

"_Bah!_"

He would have gone then, but she held him with her free hand. She was again white to the lips. But her eyes--how they burned!

He would have given all his worth to avoid what he felt was coming. A woman, at such a juncture may forbid speech, or deny her ear: a man, unless he would seem the first of Josephs or the last of c.o.xcombs, dare not even hint at his unwelcome suspicions.

"I will not have you go into this danger, I will not!" stammered Molly incoherently. The dusk was spreading, and her eyes seemed to grow larger and larger in the uncertain light.

"Lady Landale, you misunderstand. It is true that to see you safely restored to your husband's roof is an added reason for my return to Scarthey--but were you not on board, I should go all the same. I will tell you why, it is a secret, but you shall know it. I have treasures on board, vast treasures confided to me, and I must store them in safety till I can give them back to their rightful owners. This I can only do at Scarthey--for to cruise about with such a cargo indefinitely is as impossible as to land it elsewhere. And more than this, had I not that second reason, I have yet a third that urges me to Scarthey still."

"For Madeleine?" she whispered, and her teeth gleamed between her lips.

He remained silent and tried gently to disengage himself from her slender fingers, but the feeling of their frailness, the knowledge of her wound, made her feeble grasp as an iron vice to his manliness.

She came closer to him.

"Do you not remember then--what she has said to you? what she wrote to you in cold blood--the coward--in the very moment when you were staking your life for love of her? I remember, if you do not--'You have deceived me,' she wrote, and her hand never trembled, for the words ran as neatly and primly as ever they did in her convent copy books. 'You are not what you represented yourself to be--You have taken advantage of the inexperience of an ignorant girl, I have been deluded and deceived. I never wish to see you, to hear of you again.'"

"For Heaven's sake, Lady Landale----" cried the man fiercely.

Molly laughed--one of those laughs that have the ring of madness in them.