"No, Caruna, not so, child! You mustn't harm him because he is Jimbo, a good, kind friend, like everyone else on this fine ship. So now make your reverence to Captain Adam, stop frowning at our good Jimbo and follow me."
The stately young giantess, finger beneath chin, made Adam a gracious curtsey, flashed dazzling smile at the startled Jimbo, caught up her ponderous burdens with astonishing ease and followed her 'Beautiful Lady Precious' from the cabin.
"Well, Cap'n Adam, sah," quoth Jimbo, rolling his eyes heavenwards, "all I says is—Lord pre-sarve me from dat brimstonious, black, she-debble, murdersome, female-wench,—Ah-men! And, sah, if yo' please de supper be sarve in haff-hour, berry specialious and wi' me and my two stewards in our bestest rig,—so shall I set out de gold plates and dishes in honour ob yo' Bootiful Lady, sah?"
"Very well!" said Adam, and went forth on deck quite unaware of the eyes that watched and the light feet stealing after him; so came he to the spacious gunroom where sat Ned with John Fenn and Martin Frant exchanging news with Joel. At Adam's sudden entrance they rose all four, but taking the nearest chair he motioned them to be seated, and sat looking on them and they upon each other and all now mute.
"Well," demanded Adam, "why are ye all suddenly dumb? And such gloomy, hangdog looks! Speak, somebody."
"Why, sir," answered Ned, fingering the empty pannikin on table before him, "these yere tidings o' Cap'n Troy has took us all aback."
"Ay, sir," said Martin, "'tis bit of a shock like and hard o' belief—not as I mightn't ha' done the very same in like case."
"And I!" quoth John Fenn, frowning down at his clenched hands. "Torture is mighty powerful persuader! And ... yet——"
"Ah!" sighed Adam, leaning back in his chair. "Now speak me your tidings, Joel."
"So I will, sir, though very unwilling, by cock! Not as I hold it agin any man for to turn his coat—wi' they devils a-waiting to torment and hurt his poor body. Hows'ever, sir, the truth on 't is, Cap'n Troy has turned Papisher—ah, and cursed Spaniard into the bargain!"
"Are you sure o' this?"
"As death, sir! I was there along o' Cap'n Smy and four or five others. Ay, there was us, and they black-hooded familiars all about us,—brought afore the judges, seven o' them they was, and all stark-faced shave-polls, and they ask a rare mort o' questions in Spanish and good English too, and at last puts it to him, ay or no, if he will turn Papist and save his soul of his own accord by embracing the true faith or have it saved for him by torment of fire." Here Joel paused to look round upon his audience and shake his head.
"Continue!" said Adam.
"Well, sir, Cap'n Absalom smiles on 'em all very gay and answers summat as I didn't nowise onderstand then, and no more I don't now."
"What was his answer, as near as you remember, his exact words?"
"Why, sir, he turns and looks up at a great picture as hung on the wall, a likeness o' the Virgin Mary 'twas, and says he, and these his very words, sir, says he: 'I, like a certain great gentleman o' France, am ever ready to bow and kneel to a lady,' says he, then takes off his hat and goes down on his knees afore this picture. Then these seven judges nods and some smiles and beckons him and presently away wi' them he goes,—and so it ended."
"But you saw him after?"
"Ay, I did, sir, often—through the narrer port-hole o' my cell, a-walking with the Governor and his lady and a rare lovely, handsome creeter she be—and all on 'em merry as grigs, by cock! For, d'ye see, the Governor's palace gardens be alongside this yere place as they calls Holy Office. So I see Cap'n Troy pretty often, him being such great friends wi' this same Governor, Don Esteban de Majo—and his fine lady."
"What of Captain Smy?"
"Ah, sir, it do irk a man's soul and turn his very innards for to see him now, him as was so hale and hearty, now a ruination, his poor body all seamed and twisted by the cruel torment,—so thin and feeble he can scarce go alone! Ah, but his spirit so fiery as ever, and tongue so fierce agin all Papishers, and most 'specially agin Cap'n Absalom! By cock, such names and such curses on him."
"What names?"
"'Traitor' was one, sir, 'craven-coward' and 'damned renegado', with others as I now disremember,—but, Lord,—'twas enough to shake a man's heart and smite his very soul for to hear him. This was why I dassent and couldn't tell aught of it to his sweet lady,—now could I, sir?"
"No, Joel, no! And let none ever hear of it save us four. This is an order!" So saying Adam rose and mounting to the poop remained thus aloof, pacing in solitary thought until came Jimbo, sumptuously arrayed, bidding him to supper.
"And, sah, I have made everything berry splendorious for yo' bootiful Ladyship,—de gold plate, sah, and fresh flowers on de table."
"Good!" said Adam and went down to the great cabin.
And yet, despite this splendour of gold and crystal, savoury viands and rich wines, this, their first meal together, proved a sorry business, for Antonia seemed lost in a troublous abstraction, eating little and seldom speaking, until Adam, with a gesture, had dismissed Jimbo and his two negro assistants; then she pushed her plate aside and leaning chin on hand propounded this question:
"Adam, what is true bravery?"
"Conquest of fear!" he answered, thoughtfully. "And bravery is different and quite apart from courage which, being naturally fearless, is a gift of God."
"How is it different, Adam?"
"Because the merely brave man, being greatly fearful, puts on a mask of bravery to the world and, by force of will, shames himself to such a desperate and fearful valour as may equal that of the truly courageous."
"And which of these, think you, is—Absalom?"
"He is naturally fearless."
"You—believe this, Adam?"
"I know it, Antonia."
"Oh but—how can you?" she demanded, in broken, gasping whisper. "I say ... how can you ... when you know ... that to save his body from pain he ... has lost his soul? Yes ... renounced his Faith ... his God! A renegade and coward ... a traitor to Heaven."
"Hush, Antonia, in mercy's name!" exclaimed Adam, whispering also. "How can you judge him so harshly? How dare you be so sure of this?"
"Because when you went down to the others, I stole after you ... I listened! I heard Joel speak the hateful truth and ... thought I should die of shame and grief! Now all that I feel is—shame! Oh, if Smy could be so brave, so resolute and faithful to endure so much, why could not ... Absalom? 'Tis because one is a true man—but the other—no more than garish sham and make-believe. So now, because Absalom, fearing torture, has forsworn his Faith and God, I will as surely renounce my——"
"Oh, pray hush, Antonia, and hear reason! For if a man have no particular faith how can he possibly be untrue to it? I tell you he cannot, and therefore must needs think it merest folly to suffer pain for one creed when all such do seem to him of small account. Also a man may believe in and worship God no matter what his creed."
"Ah, but," she gasped, "but if he abjure and forswear in fear of bodily pain ... he is craven coward and basely unworthy! And think, Adam, think of the noble army of martyrs, men, and women too,—were these indeed holy martyrs or only—misguided fools? And Smy was man bold to endure, well, why could not ... this that was—my man?"
"Because, as I say, he is of no fixed belief or deep convictions, Antonia. Yet he is no craven, as well we know, and of nature warm-hearted and lovable."
"Oh!" cried she, wildly. "Why must you plead for him—you of all men?"
"Because," answered Adam, bowing his head, "in his dire situation I ... might have done ... even as he."
"Now shame on you, Adam!" she exclaimed. "To so defame yourself, and with lie so manifest and foolish! Friendship should have its limits. And you have never feared chance of pain or death ... and life for me is none so precious that I cherish it overmuch. So when death comes I, like you, shall be ready. As for ... Absalom now? Well, he has saved himself but lost—all else!" So saying, she turned and, with no Goodnight, left Adam to pace the deck, a man very pensive and grievously troubled.