"Not he, Captain, never Joel! He and I have lain prisoned together waiting the torture, striving to comfort and hearten each other to endure. Ay, we are friends united by prayerful adversity, and what such friend telleth me, under pledge o' secrecy, is inviolate—if only for his sake. Joel Bym is no loose-tongued chatterer,—nor I. But now, sir, I make bold to warn you—should you attack this strong city for mere rescue of your friends, you adventure much o' jeopardy to little good."
"How so?"
"For that poor Captain Smy is no more than shattered wreck of a man sighing for the easement o' death, whiles Captain Troy sighs as deeply—for a lady! Ay, and she the Governor's wife, Donna Juana, though Captain Troy calls her Joanna,—and an extreme beautiful creature she is."
Thus Mr. Perks chatted brightly and Adam listened gloomily until they came to the busy quays and harbour where, greater than any other ship, rode the stately Santissima Trinidad, brave in her new paint and gilding.
"A noble vessel, Captain Adam!" quoth the little surgeon. "A splendid craft! I am honoured to serve in such and under you. When shall I come aboard?"
"At your convenience within the next month. Meanwhile pray take this money for your present expenses and on account, nay—take it, sir, all of it. And so farewell."
Then Adam went down to his waiting boat and was rowed towards the galleon, scanning her from waterline to lofty topmasts with sailorly eye,—yet with all his thoughts on Antonia.
And she it was who came to greet him with such look in her eyes and smile on her ruddy lips that, yearning amain to clasp and kiss her, he greeted her the more formally, scarce looking on her lest he betray the passion that shook him; and she, chilled by this, presently left him. So came he into his cabin, and having nothing better to occupy him just then, opened his Journal and began to read it (which he had never troubled to do ere now) and found in it such mention of Antonia, with full though unconscious betrayal of his hopeless love—words penned in haste of the moment, that he decided she must never see it.
Now by some odd chance it was of this she spoke that same evening after supper.
They were pacing the deck, side by side, beneath a sky ablaze with stars, with a cool breath from the sea tempering the heat of this tropic night.
"Adam, when am I to read your Journal?"
"Never!" he answered, impulsively.
"But," said she, with a catch in her breath, "but you ... promised."
"Did I, Antonia? But 'tis very ill-writ ... badly expressed ... jotted at random.... Howbeit, I have changed my mind."
"You have indeed!" she sighed. "'Tis greatly changed, and is changing towards me more and more of late."
"Nay, surely——"
"Yea, surely!" she retorted, "you grow so cold and strange to me I begin to wonder why you were so insistent I must live on your ship, for now that I am here, you do all possible to avoid me."
"I have much business."
"And make more—to keep yourself remote from me."
"Antonia, this is but your imagining."
"Adam, this is veriest truth. You do all you may to avoid me, and I ... grieve for it."
"Then you grieve very easily."
"Ay, belike I do!" she murmured, with unwonted humility. "For it nigh breaks my poor heart to prove such change in thee that I accounted so very faithful and changeless. Have I anyway offended or angered thee?"
"Lord, no! No, indeed."
"Then I must needs think fame and prosperity have turned thee into singular cold, hard man."
"Ay, perchance they have, Antonia."
"Even—with me, Adam."
"Ay, especially ... with you."
"And prithee why 'especially'? Tell me this! Ah, will you not? Have you any answer?"
"No!"
"Then let us sit yonder and I will tell you." She led him where Jimbo had set chairs for them and a table with refreshments, and here seated, she leaned to peer at him in the starry dusk.
"Oh, Adam," she murmured, "dear fool! You make yourself seem cold and strange to me because ... here in this strange world so far from our England ... you love me now as you did then."
"More!" said he. "God help me,—far more! In England I was little more than boy, here to-night I am a man and one who ... needs ... God's help." Now, at this, she leaned nearer as if she would have kissed his bowed head, yet did not, only she asked, and very tenderly:
"And so ... because you are Adam, you are ... afraid of Adam?"
"Yes," he answered. "I fear myself greatly ... for that I am ... only a man and so ... passionately human and alive! But, Antonia, I do so love you ... I had rather die than bring any least shame on you or ... the sacred memory of my father."
Here she leaned nearer yet and touched her lips to his silvery hair.
"Dear Adam," she whispered. "Brave, clean-souled man, 'tis so that I, too, love thee, and knew it all too late ... and this is my abiding grief."
"Oh, Antonia!" he gasped. "Oh, my dear...."
"Fear no more, beloved man," she sighed, "for though I yearn and long for you, yet my love, like thine, is of such sort, so true and deep, that I also would far liefer die than lead thee to dishonour. So trust me, Adam, and thine own dear, strong self, as I do, and shall be no more need of fear betwixt us or idle make-believe. We go on perilous venture where death may wait us, so, whiles we live, let us be dear friends and companions as of old. Think not of me as your friend's wife, or woman to love, but only as your own faithful Anthony to love in all innocence." Then she rose, and he doing the like, she leaned and kissed him upon the brow and so left him,—and in his heart a deep joy that yet was now pain indeed.
But in the days ensuing, Adam found such carefree happiness as he had never known, and such indeed as was to bless him never again.
For in these days, whose memory was to be his abiding comfort and consolation, he learned how to laugh and find strange, new joy in everything around him; and though he was busy as ever, Antonia was often beside him, helping him with his business letters, checking items of incoming stores, or casting up accounts. Daily also she would sit with Smidge and Moa at their lessons, setting them sums that were never too difficult, helping them with their spelling, and praising their reading,—so that they were soon utterly devoted to her.
Thus passed these days of joyous peace while the Santissima Trinidad made ready for sea and prepared for battle.
CHAPTER XLI
CHIEFLY CONCERNING ADAM AND ANTONIA
A round head peeped in at softly-opened door, two brown eyes stared and vanished, yet Adam had seen, and spoke instantly:
"Smidge!"
"Sir?" The boy reappeared, saluted smartly and stood at attention.
"This is the second time you've peeped at me this morning."
"Yessir."
"Why, pray?"
"First time—whistling, sir. Second time—singing."
"Boy, explain yourself."
"First time, sir, I'm a-passing of your cabin when I hears somebody a-whistling so loud and merry as makes me for to wonder who, so I peeps in, Cap'n, and I scarce believes my eyes, sir."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it was—you, sir!"
"Eh? Me? What d'ye mean?"
"A-whistling, sir, so glad and merry—you!"
"Oh? Well—yes, perhaps I was."
"And the second time—singing, sir. I peeps again and, Cap'n Adam—'tis you again, only a-singing this time!"
"Was I, Smidge?"
"Ay, sir, that you was,—leastways you was a-trying very hard. Which I never heard you sing afore, sir, no, nor yet whistle neither. And then—last night, sir!"
"What o' last night?"
"Laughing, sir—you! Ay, laughed and laughed you did."
"Astonishing!" murmured Adam.