Thus alone, Adam summoned the boy Smidge, saying and cheerily enough:
"Now, my old seadog, go bid Master Frant muster and arm a shore-going party, six men shall suffice. Then warn Jimbo to make preparation for a week's hard march inland."
"But, oh, Cap'n, sir, will you march to-day and your arm scarce healed?"
"'Tis well enough."
"Well then, Cap'n, won't you let me size it up in a sling for you, cosy like?"
"Nay, I'm no cripple! Come, help me on with my coat—easy now! So!"
"If you please, Cap'n Adam, sir, you'll suffer I march wi' you, I hope?"
"Ay, shipmate, according to promise."
"And may I bring this here Moa along of us, sir,—to keep him out o' mischeefs while I'm away?"
"To be sure, Smidge. Now off with ye, I'm busy."
So away they sped and down sat Adam to write up his Journal and despite the throbbing of his wound.
He had written busily for some time, and this a brief description of his meeting with Black Bartlemy, when he heard the door open behind him and thinking this was Smidge, spoke without looking round:
"Are the men armed and ready?"
A deep sigh answered him, and glancing over his shoulder, he sat rigid and speechless. Slowly he turned, then was afoot but, striving for utterance, could do no more than gaze wide-eyed because of the heart-swelling joy that thralled him and half blinded him with sudden, burning tears.
"Oh, Adam! Have you no welcome ... no single word for me ... after all ... the years?"
The same dear voice so softly sweet yet touched with a deeper note of sadness, like the wistful eyes tear-bright with such look of yearning tenderness that he bowed his head, and when at last he spoke all he said was:
"Antonia! My ... dear!" Then he was before her, kneeling to clasp and kiss the hands that clung to his and seemed to tremble beneath his lips.
"Now, I thank God!" he murmured. "For here is the hour I've lived for ... dreamed of through all these weary years!" So saying, he rose and drew her to a chair and stood looking at her and she at him until, flushing beneath his gaze, she turned to survey this great cabin.
"You are ... very splendid here," she faltered. "They say you are a famous captain ... wonderfully fortunate.... And you are grown ... taller, broader ... also you are great, as I foretold ... so long ago..."
"Four years, Antonia, and all this time I have ... carried your dear memory ... in my heart. And to-day you are ... in my care again and ... even more beautiful."
"Yet I feel old ... very old!" she whispered tearfully. "Grief hath aged me ... my sweet baby died ... of the cruel heat ... and my husband is lost. Oh Adam...!"
"Lost?" he repeated. "You mean——"
"Dead or living ... only God knoweth. A great tempest destroyed our crops.... Then Absalom gambled desperately and lost.... So, with the last of his money he and Smy fitted out a ship and sailed for Bartlemy's Island. But they were wrecked, and captured by the Spaniards, they and all that were left of their crew, only Master Perks and Joel Bym escaped and brought the news. So am I twice bereaved, and in my loneliness and trouble, come to ... you...."
"And I very humbly thank God that He hath sent you ... to my care again!" exclaimed Adam, fervently and, not daring to say more or even look at her just then, began to pace up and down the spacious cabin while she, because of his breathless sincerity and deep tenderness, watched him through slow-gathering tears. Then, to check her weakness, she spoke in lighter vein:
"I have heard much of you this last year and more, Adam, for of late scarce a ship has come in but with some news of your doings, tales of your fierce battles that I could well believe, and of your pitiless cruelties which I would not and do not believe! For I know you could never be merciless, Adam,—ah no, never you!"
"Merciless?" he repeated, suddenly arrested; and now taking himself by the chin he pondered this as he had never done. "Merciless!" said he a second time.
"Yes, Adam," she answered, watching him with a glory in her eyes because his gaze was averted. "They say you fight savagely and drown men without pity, which I know for wicked lies and——"
"No, 'tis truth, Antonia."
"But ... Oh, Adam," she gasped. "You couldn't kill and drown men ... helpless men!"
"Ay, but I could, Antonia, indeed I have. God forgive me! When I thought you dead, this seemed but act of justice on your possible murderers. Yes, I have sunk every pirate ship we met. I have destroyed, giving no quarter to any ... and because of you."
"Oh, but how," she cried, rising to her feet, "how of me and why ... why?"
"Believing you dead, Antonia, I deemed myself the Lord's instrument of vengeance, to bring death on your murderers and the slayers of other such hapless innocents.... I have imagined you dead so often ... and in so many dreadful ways, in especial ... one! So, for your sake, or my sick dread for you, I killed of these pirates, these blasters of innocence, all that I might, lest some of these had perchance wrought like shame on you.... Well, what is done is done, and I stand by it now and hereafter. But no more o' this,—pray sit down and tell me more of yourself. I'm hungry for news,—nay, first of Absalom, where was he captured, where lies he now?"
"At Santo Domingo, in prison of the Inquisition."
"So," murmured Adam, "a rogue spoke truth!"
"'Tis a great, rich city they say, Adam, and very strong."
"Ay, I know it. How long since was Absalom taken?"
"Scarce a month, though 'tis over a year since he sailed."
"Over—a year!" repeated Adam, pinching his chin again, "Though he promised you, nay vowed to give up the sea and devote himself——"
"He is of—of roving nature, Adam, and would have been content to bide with me but that our crops, first the cane then tobacco, failed ... our slaves deserted and so ... came ruin."
"Do you mean—absolute ruin?"
"Yes."
"Then how, being alone, how do you live?"
"By my needle ... sewing, and I do well enough ... people are very kind." Up again started Adam and went pacing to and fro until Antonia began to laugh at him, though rather tearfully. "Oh, Adam, how well I remember that way you have of ... pinching at your poor chin ... when anyways vexed or troubled! Nay, my dear, come you now, sit down and leave your poor chin alone. Sit here beside me and listen while I tell you." Mutely he obeyed and now, for the first time, noticed how very plain and simple was her attire and how worn and frayed her shoes that, even as he viewed them, she hid beneath her gown.
"Well, first you must know our plantation lay on the other side of Jamaica, this is why the news of your coming took so long to reach me, for there I live in a ... dear little house somewhat like an English cottage though not so pretty, of course,—but all that remains of our property. So there I live alone with my Caruna, who is all that remains of our many slaves, and is devoted to me, and with our needlework we contrive very well, and fruit in Jamaica costs so very little. So don't frown, Adam, or pinch your chin at me or worry and vex you for me."
"Ay, but I must!" he answered, almost fiercely. "I must and shall—until you are safe aboard my ship and 'neath my own eye."
"Oh but, Adam, I ... I couldn't."
"Woman!" he exclaimed. "Girl, lass, child,—dear brother Anthony, I'll not permit you shall bide alone in any cottage,—ha, and with all manner of blackamoors, mulattos, Indians and the like two-legged dangers roving about."
"But I'm not alone. And besides——"
"Howbeit, I'll not endure it, no—not after four long years of such dread for you and direful anxieties. I'll send some of the crew to fetch away such gear as you desire, though I can rig and furnish you very handsomely here aboard the Santissima Trinidad. Also you shall be lodged like a queen, and may bring three or four waiting-women if you will."