"I should need but Caruna. But——"
"So here then shall you live and sail with us for Santo Domingo."
"Ah, you ... you mean?"
"To rescue your Absalom or perish with him."
"Oh, Adam!" she murmured, and covered her face, yet spoke in passionate, breathless manner: "You were always kind ... generous and very gentle! But now you ... overwhelm me. Indeed you are the same dear Adam,—the years have made you only greater."
"Antonia," he sighed, venturing to touch her bowed head very gently, "you are so infinitely ... dear to me! And now God, in His mercy for me, has given you to my care again as He did aforetime. So are you my sacred charge until I ... bring you safe to ... your chosen man."
"My ... chosen ... man?" she repeated, whispering the words as if to herself, and Adam felt her tremble ... then she looked up at him and he fell back a step and began to tremble also....
But now came a rapping on the door and Smidge appeared, saying:
"Oh, Cap'n, if you please, the men be ready and—coo!" The boy snatched off his seaman's bonnet and came rigidly to attention.
"Smidge!" said a soft, sweet voice, and this stately lady rose, she actually reached out her arms as if to embrace him, whereat Smidge gaped, recoiled, and fled.
"To be sure," said Antonia, smiling a little ruefully, "he never saw me in petticoats. He is grown to fine boy, Adam."
"And shall grow to fine man, I hope. But now, Antonia, aft here to larboard is cabin most luxurious, with bath, ewers and basins of silver, a bed of silver and ebony, silk hangings, rugs and carpets—all meant for some noble Spanish lady, but fit for any queen, and so most apt for you. I have sometimes ... dreamed you there ... never thinking it could ever be realised ... yet this is why I have kept it private always. Come you now and take possession."
So thither he brought her, and she in an ecstasy because of the luxurious splendour and yet delicate beauty everywhere manifest.
"Oh!" sighed she. "Indeed 'twas some grand lady,—ah no, only a very woman could have made such dream come true ... these rich broideries ... this dainty china-ware ... this most lovely bed."
"And 'tis a very woman will sleep in it this very night."
"To-night? Oh—but, Adam!"
"Ay, to-night, Antonia! You shall nevermore be out o' call of me until ... Howbeit, this night you sleep here. I'll send for your Caruna at once, she should be with you ere sunset. Well now, at the next bell, in about half-an-hour is dinner, till then I'll leave you to grow used to your new home—for home it is and shall be."
"Stay, Adam—stay!" cried she, turning on him radiant-eyed. "Go, wait me in your cabin, I have something for you that I've kept ... treasured all these years—wait!" Away she sped, but was soon back again bringing him that at mere sight of which he uttered joyous exclamation and leapt afoot.
"Yes, your beloved father's sword, Adam! Twas the last thing I brought away from the poor Adventuress."
So Adam took the sword and with it her two hands also and, kissing them, felt their slender fingers all roughened with toil, so he kissed them again very reverently until was another rapping on the door, and at Adam's bidding, in came John Fenn to know when the expedition must start.
"At once, John. But first ... Antonia, here stands my good and valiant John Fenn, of whom I can tell much,—John, you behold my lady Perrow, Captain Troy's lady." John flushed, made his bow, said he was honoured, and turned to be gone, but Adam stayed him, saying:
"I want you to land a shore party to fetch aboard my lady's woman and ... pray give him the particulars, Antonia."
This she did with such gentle grace that sturdy John alternate bowed and flushed, then strode away in haste to do her bidding.
"And now," said Adam, sitting down with his father's sword across his knees, "tell me how we came to miss each other when the Adventuress was abandoned."
"Well," she answered, leaning back in her chair to view his lean, bronzed face and masterful bearing with quick and deepening interest, "I had seen you on deck just before that last terrible wave struck us, then you were gone ... they said you were swept overboard and lost. But this I wouldn't believe, so ran to your cabin, calling for you and 'stead of you, found only your beloved sword. And this made me know something frightful must have happened to you, because you would never have left that to go down with the ship. So I caught it up and ran to and fro calling for you until Absalom came and snatched me up and bore me to the boat, and I still crying for you. Then, what with grief, the wild confusion and terror of it all, I swooned away, and when I awoke—nothing to see but our tossing boat and foaming waves all about us. Then followed three terrible nights and days ... with my heart breaking for you, so that I could not bear to look on the hateful sea because I thought it had killed you ... and when it grew calmer I hated it the more,—though I remembered how you had said you wished to die in God's great waters. On the fourth day we were taken up by an English ship, the Lion, of Bristol, that carried us safe here to Jamaica, and here I have been ever since, thinking you surely dead, until just eleven months and ... four ... five days ago. At first I dared not believe it, but when I was sure——"
"Well?" he enquired, for she had faltered to a sudden stop.
"I ... oh I was ... glad...!" she murmured, bowing her head above the hands that were clasping each other so nervously. "Now tell me of yourself, Adam. How, 'stead of lying deep in ocean, you are greater man than I dreamed, and the famous captain I prophesied ... and how ever you came by this great, splendid ship ... and if you thought of me ... very often, and if so ... why,—oh why were you so long a-coming to Jamaica ... and me? Tell me ... everything!"
"Why, 'tis a long story," he answered, his gaze down-bent to the sword on his knees, "ay, and something painful to recall. You see I ... thought my heart was dead. I have written something of it down in my Journal, but——"
"May I read it ... sometime, Adam? Oh pray, pray suffer that I read it someday ... soon."
"Well ... yes," he answered, very dubiously, "though I have set down much that I could nowise utter ... so that perhaps it were better you should not——"
"Oh, but I must ... every precious word! Adam, I pray you, don't gainsay me ... oh, don't change your mind and deny me such small comfort—nay, indeed I shall not suffer it.... But now tell me as much as you may. What happened to you in the boat?"
"Agony!" he answered. "And death for many of us ... and all on Death's very threshold when we were picked up by a Spanish ship, carried to St. John's and there made slaves,—these be the enduring marks of my bitter servitude!" And he showed her his wrists.
"These scars?" she murmured.
"Shackle-marks!" he nodded.
"Oh, Adam...! Oh, my dear!" she gasped. "My poor, tormented Adam...." She was beside him on her knees, kissing those scars until the sword fell and lay unnoticed,—until, feeling him wince, she looked up in quick alarm.
"Ah, did I hurt thee, Adam? This bandage on your arm?"
"No no," he answered, stooping for the sword, "it is no more than small hurt I took this morning."
"Pray how?"
"In some ... petty disputation."
"More battles, Adam?"
"Lord no, child."
"Ah, then 'twas a duel. Who with? Tell me of it, my dear. Nay," she sighed, seeing him hesitate, "am I become so strange you will no more confide in me? Am I so altered and less to be trusted?"
"Nay indeed," he answered, "you can never seem strange to me, Antonia, or I to you—I hope. But truly there is so little to tell, save that my opponent was this same Black Bartlemy of whom one hears such wild tales."