Margaret Tudor Part 18

Strong hands grasped me as I rose again and I battled fiercely; for I thought the Indian had me in his hold, and I chose rather, to die. But my weak strength was overcome, and I was lifted--aye, thank G.o.d!--lifted into the English boat, and Master Collins wiped the water from my face.

I saw them drag the dame in also, and then I closed my eyes. I did not faint,--never in all my life had I been so very much alive; but the sunlight and the blue sky were too bright for me.

I cannot tell much of what followed. There were a few more shots, and one of the English sailors dropped his oar and held up a bleeding hand.

I sought my kerchief to bind it up for him, but I could not find it. And then, I looked up and saw the _Carolina_ close beside us. A ringing cheer went up to heaven, and kind hands raised me to the deck. The sunburnt face of Captain Brayne bent over me, and there were tears in his honest eyes.

CHAPTER XXII.

There were other women on the s.h.i.+p, and one of them came forward and led me away to her cabin and aided me to rid myself of my drenched garments, lending me others in their stead. I learned from her that the _Carolina_ had come direct from Barbadoes, bearing freight and some very few pa.s.sengers,--the noise of our treatment at the Spaniards' hands deterring many who would else have ventured to throw in their lot with the young colony. Captain Brayne bore also the duplicate of the orders of the Spanish Council--which had been forwarded from England to Barbadoes; and he had been instructed by their Lords.h.i.+ps the Proprietors, to stop at San Augustin and demand the prisoners.

All this my new friend told me during her kindly ministrations. She asked, also, many questions concerning my escape and the treatment I had received during our long captivity; but I was too exhausted to answer these at length, and begged that I might be left awhile to rest. She went away then, to get me a soothing potion from the s.h.i.+p's surgeon; and I made haste to unwrap the little packet that had lain hidden in my bosom, in which was the written story of my prison life. As I smoothed out the damp pages I thought of how I would place it in my dear love's hand and leave him to read all that my tongue could never say to him!

I slept for some hours and woke refreshed. Then came a message from the captain, asking if I would see him. I was eager to be out, for many reasons, the chief being my desire to see him from whom I had been so long parted; it was his face I sought first among the many familiar ones that crowded round me. Besides Captain Brayne I recognized other officers of the _Carolina_ as the same with whom I had sailed from the Downs nearly two years ago. All my fellow prisoners--save one--greeted me joyfully and kindly. But that one missing face--where was it?

It was on my tongue to ask for Mr. Rivers; then, of a sudden, it came over me _how_ we had parted. So! and he still believed me--that thing which I had shown myself. He had nursed his doubts for two whole days and nights, and now he would not even come forward to touch my hand and wish me joy of my escape. It seemed to me I caught glances of pity pa.s.sing between one and another of the lookers-on. Did they wait to see how Margaret Tudor would bear her lover's apathy? A jilted maid!

There was a mist before my eyes; but I smiled and said little gracious words of thanks to each and all of them, and wished in my heart that I was dead. Oh, my love! whatever doubts you may have had of me were paid back that cruel moment in full measure. I recalled some of the hard speeches I had heard from the embittered Spanish woman, and I thought within myself, All men are made after the same pattern!

Captain Brayne and Master Collins and good old Captain Baulk of the _Three Brothers_ had been in earnest conversation for some moments; and now the _Carolina's_ commander came to me and took me gently by the hand, leading me aside.

"Mistress Margaret," he said, "there is one aboard this s.h.i.+p to whom your coming may mean life instead of death. He is very ill,--so ill that we despaired of him till now,--and one name is ever on his lips. Are you too weak and unstrung, my dear young lady, to go with me to his sick bed?"

That was how the truth came to me. I cannot write of what I felt.

"Take me to him," I said.

He lay in his berth; his large eyes were alight with fever, and he was talking ceaselessly, now in broken whispers, now with a proud defiance in his husky tones.

"G.o.d knows what the devils did to him," murmured Henry Brayne. "He was once a proper figure of a man; but starvation and ill usage have worn him to a shadow!"

Aye, but a shadow with a gnawing sorrow at its heart.

"You may taunt me, Senor de Melinza," whispered the broken voice, "you may taunt me with my helplessness. I may not break these bonds, it is true; but neither can you sever those that bind to me the love of a true-hearted English maid.... That is a foul lie, Don Pedro, and I cast it back into your teeth!... Strike a helpless prisoner? Do so, and you add but another black deed to the long score that stands against the name of Spaniard. Some day the reckoning will come, senor--I dare stake my soul on that!... I'll not believe it; no! not upon your oath, Don Pedro!... Margaret, Margaret! Tell him he lies, dear lady!... In G.o.d's name, speak, sweetheart!" And though I knelt beside him, and called his name again and again, he was deaf to my voice and put me by with feeble hands, crying ever: "Margaret! Margaret!" till I thought my heart would break.

Oh! the terror of this new jailer--dread Disease--that held him in its grip while Death lurked grimly in the background! For no wiles or blandishments of mine could move them or loose their hold upon the life most dear to me. When there was but man to deal with, my faith failed me and I ceased praying; now it was my punishment that only G.o.d's mercy could set my dear love free,--and it might be his pleasure to loose him in another world and leave me still on earth to mourn his loss.

As, hour after hour, I listened to his ravings, a deeper understanding of the horrors of his long captivity began to grow upon me. I could scarce forbear crying out when I thought how I had touched the hand of that vile Spaniard, and listened, smiling, when he spoke of love to me.

How terrible a thing is hatred! Heaven pardon me, but I think there is somewhat of it in my heart. Yet, now that the fever is abating, and my beloved is coming back to me from the very brink of the grave, I do pray that I may forgive mine enemy, even as G.o.d in His clemency has pardoned me!

He knows me at last. It was some hours ago. I was bending over him, and a light of recognition dawned in his eyes.

"Margaret! _Margaret!_ is it _you_? I dreamed just now----that----that you were untrue to me!"

"Did you so, dear love?" I answered. "Forget it then, and rest; for now the fever and the dreams are past."

He smiled at me and fell asleep like a little child.

In the long hours that I have watched beside him I have written these last pages of my story; and some time, when he is awake and strong enough to bear the truth, I will put them all into his hand and leave him here alone. And I think, when he has read them through to the end, he will discern--between the lines--more of my heart than I have words to tell.