"Black Bartlemy," repeated Adam, "you were singing of him awhile ago, I think."
"'Tis like enough, messmate. I sing often without knowing. This was song I made after a voyage with him and his mate Tressady, and what I wrote, I saw. Belike I shall write other verses of him some day."
"This was of dead men, Absalom, five of them, and all a-swing."
"And they were hove aloft together, Adam, and—Englishmen all, not a cursed Spaniard among 'em."
"And you—watched this done?"
"I did, Adam, and dumb as any oyster lest I should make a sixth. And 'tis to sink, burn and destroy Bartlemy's accursed ship and make an end of him that Smy and I are pledged and sworn."
"Verily and indeed!" sighed Captain Smy. "It is my constant prayer that I may be so blest to let out his evil soul by incision of steel beneath his fifth rib, or—watch him hang, for 'tis very son of Belial."
"And yet," said Adam, "you sailed with him, Absalom!"
"Perforce, messmate. I'd been cast away on a lonely island where his ship chanced to put in for water."
"What like is this Black Bartlemy?"
"A smiling, fiendly gentleman, Adam, all niminy-piminy affectations, and, save for lace ruffles, all sable black from trucks to keelson. Yet none the less an apt rapier man and vastly proud of his skill,—a notable swordsman, eh, Smy?"
"Verily, brother. I watched him kill the famous Italian Vincenzio at St. Kitts, in masterly fashion,—a feint, a parry, two beats and—through Vincenzio's eye,—extreme neat and dexterous."
"Some day, Adam, you may see Bartlemy for yourself and find chance to take his measure, eh?"
"I should embrace the opportunity," said Adam, rising. "And now I'll go see about my few worldly possessions."
"Ay, ay, messmate, and tell Ben we shall want horses for to-night, after supper."
CHAPTER III
TELLS HOW ADAM RODE TO HIS VENGEANCE AND THE MANNER OF IT
The moon was well up and very bright when they reached the top of a hill; and here Adam reins in his horse to point where, plain to see in this pale light, rose the chimneys and gables of a comfortable farm-house.
"So ho!" exclaimed Absalom. "A sizeable place. There'll be servants aplenty, womenfolk to scream and make alarm, dammem!"
"Yet this shall not let or stay the hand o' Justice," quoth Captain Smy.
"No whit, old lad, or burn me! So, Adam, to avoid such female clamours, your best course should be to lure nunky forth and do his business out o' doors—if ye be still o' the same mind, ha?"
Answered Adam, between shut teeth:
"When so I close my eyes I needs must see ... that murderous rope ... jerking ... swaying.... Follow me!"
Down the hill he led them, and by a winding lane that brought them to a place of trees and in this shadow they dismounted and tethered their horses.
"You ha' the swords, Adam?"
"Yes."
"Dogs, now?" enquired Absalom, taking out his pistols to glance at their flints and primings. "Any dogs, messmate?"
"In the rickyard at the back; however, they know me. Come!"
So through a night very close and still, they began to approach this house, all three, and very silent.
"Aha!" whispered Absalom, as they drew near. "Yon window, lad, its lattice wide open to thy purpose! Easy all now."
Being come to this open window, Adam looked into a small, arras-hung chamber where, at littered writing-table, a man sat poring over one of the many papers before him, a rosy, full-bodied personage who, starting to soft, unexpected sound, glanced up to behold a small, grim figure with pale, set face beneath close-fitting seaman's bonnet and two naked swords beneath one arm.
"Uncle," said Adam, approaching this staring man on slow, soundless feet, "they hanged my father ... yesterday morning!"
"Adam? Eh—it is nephew Adam, I think? Adam, be welcome ... eh ... but ... what is it? What would ye, boy? How are you here ... so ... so suddenly ... so unexpected. Ha! what is it, Adam ... what——?"
"Death, sir! They killed your brother and my father ... yesterday ... in the morning ... and the sun so glad and bright."
"Why this ... this I know, my poor Adam. Alas, 'tis so I've heard and——"
"Alas, uncle, 'tis so you contrived."
"I, boy? My own brother? No, no! Who says so lies! Ay, 'tis lie, 'tis most foul and wicked lie!"
"'Tis known and grievous fact, sir. Indeed 'tis truth so sure that I am here to do justice on you. Choose now one of these swords,—and make no least outcry or alarm lest I strike you dead,—choose, I say!"
"No! No! Oh God forgive thee, nephew, such basely cruel, such wicked accusation ... I am innocent! I vow ... I swear it before——" He gasped and cowered as through the casement one after another, came Absalom and Captain Smy.
"Oh, sirs ... sirs," he quavered, "what ... oh what would ye?"
"Justice!" answered Absalom.
"The Great Tribunal!" nodded Smy.
"So, Uncle," said Adam, "take now one of these swords to kill me if you can, or—die like a gentleman."
"No, no! Have mercy on me, Adam. Show pity——"
"Sir, I watched a ... twitching rope that had neither. So, Uncle—fight."
"Nay, spare me.... Oh, for God's sake, spare me.... I did but my duty to the King.... Oh, pity me!"
The wretched creature was down upon his knees, a pallid, sweating, grovelling shape of terror with arms outflung in frantic entreaty—arms that were seized by powerful hands quick to strangle all outcry, and thus to gag and pinion him in tall elbow chair.
"Bell-rope!" snarled Captain Smy; the which and instantly Absalom cut asunder, wherewith the half-swooning wretch was speedily trussed and bound to the heavy chair.
"Better so!" quoth Smy, as he tested the cunning, seaman's knots he had tied. "Better we leave him to the Lord his mercy. The Lord shall decide if such rogue murderer live or die!" So saying, he took a candle from its sconce and set fire to the many papers on the table and then to the arras on the walls that went up in instant flame; which done, he grasped Adam by the arm and led him towards the window.
"Nay, but," gasped Adam, holding back, "to die—such death?"
"Even so!" nodded Smy. "The purging, fiery torment here and the flames of Hell hereafter—except the Lord will otherwise. Come now!"
Reaching the open air, Adam paused to snatch off his seaman's bonnet and breathe deep, glancing back wide-eyed upon that place of fiery torment.
"Come," said Absalom, clapping him on shoulder, "cover that white head o' thine and let's sheer off and——"
"My ... white head..." repeated Adam, and gasped, and began to run....
Back through that open casement, back into a hell of smoke and crackling flame; choking and half blind, he cut asunder the bonds of this swooning man, to drag him towards the window through eddying smoke and the fierce leap of red fires. Blinded and failing, he struggled on ... reached the window at last and sank there groaning.... Then strong arms were lifting him.
"No!" he gasped, struggling. "Him ... first!"
So, in his turn, Adam was hauled forth of that terror of smoke and mounting flame and lay awhile on cool, dewy grass to breathe deep of the sweet night air; then a powerful arm raised him and a voice spoke above him.