"Troy say ye—Absalom Troy? This for him!" And Smy spat venomously. "He is anathema! He is abomination accursed! Apostate ... coward ... false to his woman and his God ... 'scaping the torture now but to flame in Hell and know its torments hereafter! Where is he? Set me down, I can hobble so far, set me down and I'll bring ye to the forsworn craven, set me down!"
So Joel set him down, a figure of misery limping so painfully that, at sign from Adam, he was taken up, and very tenderly, in Jimbo's mighty arms.
"Ay, ay!" shrilled Smy, with dreadful, piping laugh. "I'm scarce the man I was! Forrard, Jimbo, and take thy bearings from me."
They crossed dim, wide gardens to a shadowy courtyard where a fountain played and beyond this, beheld a great house whence a path of radiance cut athwart the night from a wide doorway. Halting his company Adam peered up at this noble house where no one moved and from which came no sound.
"Forrard!" piped Smy. "'Tis the Governor's house, 'tis the noble Don's palace,—forrard!"
"Nay—hearken!" said Adam, for his quick ear had caught a sound at last,—the wailing accents of a woman, a man's soothing murmur.
"Stand by, all!" said Adam to his silent company; then, drawing sword and with Antonia beside him, he stepped into this flood of warm radiance and through wide doorway into a richly furnished very spacious ante-chamber,—to see a swooning man upon a couch whereby knelt a darkly-beautiful woman, and, before these, Absalom Troy, a naked rapier glittering in ready hand as he turned....
"Adam!" cried he, in sudden, joyous amaze. "Oh, my Old Adam! Is it thyself indeed? Now God love thee, shipmate, I thought thee bloody pirate and this the end, or souse me for a gurnet! But since thou art here thou'lt have men hard by,—so here's very miracle o' salvation! For lookee, yonder lieth Don Esteban the Governor of Hispaniola and the islands, a very proper, right noble gentleman, Adam, wounded to death. I've but now borne him out o' the fight,—and there—his lady Donna Joanna.... To-night the city was attacked by pirates, led, they say, by that black rogue—Bartlemy, intent on plunder, murder, Adam, and ravishment. So hail thy men, and let us do what we may to save the city and these, my dear friends. How? Why d'ye look on me so?"
Instead of answering, Adam glanced at Antonia who, unrecognized as yet, was gazing—not at her husband, but upon the lady Joanna, her dark, rich beauty.
"Adam, old messmate, why d'ye hesitate? While we stand here, Bartlemy wins the city, women and children being slaughtered! Oh, man, why d'ye hang i' the wind? You that is my blood-brother!"
"Yes," said Adam, at last, "because of this, I am here to rescue Smy from fiery death and bring you safe back to your ... home, Absalom."
"Then by God," cried he, wildly, "you lose your labour, for I'll never desert these that befriended me! Here stay I to their defence ... ay till the city go up in flame and we perish with it! I'll die fighting or ever they shall drag Joanna to shame and brutality."
"Do you love her so much, Absalom?"
The words were softly uttered, but, at sound of this soft voice, Absalom started so violently that his sword clattered to the floor.
"Antonia!" he gasped.
"The lady is indeed very beautiful!" murmured Antonia. "Do you love her with all your heart—truly and indeed, Absalom?"
Now, looking haggardly into his wife's gentle face, Absalom answered, whispering:
"Yes ... yes, before God, I do ... nor can I help it ... now or ever!"
"Then stay you to her defence ... and I pray God keep you ... both." And so Antonia turned and went out into the darkness, leaving Absalom staring after her like a man in agony.
"Adam," he groaned. "Oh, my Old Adam, what ... what must I do?"
"Return to ... your duty."
"Duty?" cried Absalom. "What o' my duty here? How may I leave ... these to perish? Ravishment and murder? How may I in God's name?"
Now looking on this dying man, this beautiful, fear-shaken woman, Adam bowed his head, saying:
"Truly, Absalom, only God knoweth. I can but pray, as did Antonia, God keep you—both!"
CHAPTER XLV
HOW ABSALOM BROUGHT THEM TO CAVE OF REFUGE
"How now, Adam, what's kept ye?" cried Sir Benjamin in hot impatience. "Here we be, two hundred and fifty choice lads, ardent souls and very eager, and—a marvellous rich city."
"An evil city!" piped Smy in his dreadful voice. "'Tis city of abomination! A wicked and merciless people that torments and burns the godly ... Smite them, smite them in the name o' the Lord, for this is the hour of His vengeance,—smite and spare not!"
"'Sblood!" bellowed Sir Benjamin, flourishing sword. "That will we, Smy, never doubt it! So whither now, Adam? Do we march for the castle first, or——"
"The ship!" said Adam.
"Eh? The ship? Adam, d'ye mean——"
"The ship!" he repeated. "We have done all I came to do."
"But think, Adam, ha—damme think! The city lieth open to us, a vast booty, loot and a pretty pillage for the taking."
"Ay, though not by us, Sir Benjamin. Our booty is Smy and yon hapless prisoners, so am I content. We are for the ship! Dreadnoughts to your ranks and march!"
"March?" shrieked Smy. "March, d'ye say? Will ye sail off and leave the Lord's work undone? Will ye dare turn aside from working out the vengeance of God?"
"Nay, if such vengeance belong to God, Smy, to God I leave it.... Forrard to the ship,—march!"
Sir Benjamin stamped and swore, the men growled but obeyed, while Smy, struggling feebly in Jimbo's great arms, cried shame, and called down curses upon Adam, who nowise heeded, but knew a great content, for into his clasp came the joy and comfort of Antonia's vital hand.
Slowly they marched, a hoarse-muttering company unwilling to leave thus empty-handed when so much treasure might have been theirs. Yet, because of their small, grim commander, march they did until he checked them suddenly with uplifted sword as, faint though plain to hear above the distant battle-roar came that (to him) most terrible of all sounds—a woman's agonized screaming.
"Come!" cried he, and turning, began to run, followed eagerly by his now joyous men. Back came they to the palace where red flame curled and flickered, and into that spacious ante-chamber, to see—the Governor Don Esteban terribly dead, Absalom, backed into a corner, defending himself against many assailants. Donna Joanna struggling half-naked in Tressady's merciless arms, and Black Bartlemy, sword in hand, watching her writhing loveliness with avid eyes.
"Bartlemy! Dastard and murderer!"
"Penfeather,—cursed buccaneer!"
Then while the palace flamed about them and all men paused to watch, they leapt at each other and fought—with no grace of posture, no airy delicacies of play, but like fierce haters intent on each other's destruction. Thrust, parry and counter-thrust, agile shifts of body and quick foot-work until suddenly Adam seemed to trip,—Bartlemy's long blade drove at him ... wavered, fell ... and looking down at the steel that had transfixed him, Black Bartlemy choked ... laughed and, as Adam wrenched free his blade, stumbled blindly to his knees, sank to his face and lay motionless.
But now was sudden outcry, with rattle of musketry from the darkness without, a wild clamour of shouting.... Spanish soldiery and armed citizens seemed all about them in fierce onslaught, men who fought with merciless desperation, heedless of wounds and death, as men will fight in defence of home.
So was din and uproar of close and furious combat, a wild confusion of struggling bodies and random blows.... Fire and smoke and ceaseless effort.
"Antonia! Oh, Antonia!"
"Here, my Adam!"
They were out beneath the stars at last, breathing deep of the night air, lit by a ruddy glow that showed Antonia beside him and all about them men of his shattered company. But at his word they fell into rank, fifteen only he counted, but among these Ned, Joel, with Tregenza, Appleby, Ash and Cobb.