He had enjoyed listening to Tassie, the wise woman who gave her clients what they wanted whether it was something to cure their warts and sties or wedding bells.
Could it really be that Jago Kellaway wanted to be my husband!
It was a disturbing thought, but if I was honest I must say that it was one which excited me. Yet what did I really know of him? What did I know of anyone here?
"Silva," I whispered into the gloom. "Are you there, Silva?" I listened. The curtains moved lightly in the breeze but there was no sound but the distant murmur of the sea.
The next day I went to find Slack.
He was in the courtyard feeding a sea gull which stood on the cobbles and was eating fish from a saucer.
"Her can't fly, Miss Ellen," Slack told me. "Found her on the cliffs I did. Her wings be all clogged with oil. Cowering on that ridge she were and I reckon had had no food for days. 'Twasn't only that—the others was pecking at her. Birds be terrible cruel one to the other. If one be maimed or different-like, they peck it to death. People be like that sometimes. They don't always like them as are different."
He spoke without sadness, merely as though he were stating a simple fact, although I knew he was likening himself to a bird who was "different." He accepted what life had given him. He was content to be different and never forgot that God had given him the Power, as he called it.
"What a good thing you found it," I said.
"Her's frightened yet. But her's calmer when I speak to her. When I picked her up first her tried to flutter and fight me but when I spoke to her and told her it was only Old Slack, who knew what to do and make her well again, her was quiet. See, I'm getting the oil off her wings. But I don't want her flying yet. I want to feed her... slow-like at first. Mustn't gobble up too much yet. There now, my pretty, Slack 'ull look after 'ee, you see."
"What happened to the pigeon with the injured leg?"
"Bold as brass now. He have forgot he were ever hurt."
"And suitably grateful to Slack, I hope."
"I wouldn't want that, Miss Ellen. Tis thanks enough to see him there, pecking at his maize, sitting on my hand, head cocked on one side as though to say: 'Hello, Slacky. I'm myself again.'"
"Slack," I said, "I've come to ask you something. Will you come out in a boat with me. I shall do the rowing. I just want you to sit with me. I've promised Mr. Jago that I won't take a boat out alone... yet."
He was pleased to be asked. His great pleasure in life was looking after people, and the fact that I trusted him enough to ask him to go with me delighted him.
I rowed round the Island.
"You be proper good with the oars, Miss Ellen," he said. "And you soon get to know where the rocks are. 'Tis safe enough if you don't go too far out to sea though there'd be little danger on a sea like this one. But you do know how quick a breeze can arise. The sea can be smooth like a sheet of silk; then in fifteen minutes she can get all angry and ruffled up. That's what 'ee've got to watch for if 'ee be going to the mainland. Rowing round the Island be easy enough. There be many little bays where you could land if need be."
"Do you hear of many people drowning?"
I was watching him intently and I saw the shutter come down over his eyes.
"There have been," he said.
"There was my half sister Silva," I suggested.
He was silent.
I went on: "You knew her, of course, Slack."
"Yes, I did know her."
"Just think. She was my sister and I never knew her. I was three years old when I left here and I believe she must have been about twelve then... perhaps thirteen. I should love to know about her. Tell me what you know."
"She were fond of birds," he said.
"Ah." So there had been a sort of bond between them. I had guessed that.
"Did she often come to the dovecotes and help you feed them?"
He smiled and nodded. "Yes, her did. And they knew her too. They'd perch on her shoulder. She were terrible fond of birds and little things. Kind and gentle she were to them."
"So you and she were great friends. I'm glad of that."
He looked suddenly happy and I knew he was seeing pictures of Silva there with the pigeons or perhaps cradling some hurt animal in her arms while she discussed with him what should best be done.
"Did she talk to you much, Slack?"
"Oh yes, Miss Ellen. She'd always talk about the birds."
"And about herself? Did she tell you whether she was happy or not?"
"She'd talk and talk... like I wasn't there and then she'd look up and smile and say, 'I do run on, don't I, Slacky? That's because you're such a good listener I forget you're there.' "
"And was she very unhappy?"
He looked frightened and nodded. "Yes, her used to cry and that was terrible ... I never saw anybody cry like Miss Silva did. It was laughing and crying all at once and she'd say she hated the castle and Mr. Jago and all of them."
"Why did she take the boat out that night? Do you know, Slack?"
"It were wild and stormy."
"I know. But why?"
I saw his lips press together. I believe he does know something, I thought.
"And she was drowned they say?"
He nodded, his lips still tight. "The boat were washed up," he said as though with a sudden inspiration.
'Did she go out in that boat because she was unhappy, because she was tired of living at the castle? Was she running away from something? You know, don't you, Slack?"
He nodded. "You might say she were running away."
"But to go away in a heavy sea ..."
"There was a storm that night she left the castle," he said. "I remember the thunder and lightning. They do say that be God's anger. Do you think they'm right, Miss Ellen?"
"No," I said. "If she went out on a night like that she must have deliberately tried to kill herself. No boat could survive in a sea like that, could it?"
"You can never be sure, Miss Ellen, what can happen to boats on the sea."
"But this was washed up some days later... without her."
"Aye," he confirmed, "without her. I pray she be happy in the new life. 'Tis all we can do."
"Some of the servants say she haunts the Island, Slack."
"Aye, 'tis so."
"Do you believe that?"
"I do think she be still with us."
"So you believe that the ghosts of people who were unhappy in this life or met violent ends still live on."
"I'm not clever enough to say, Miss Ellen."
His pale face was impassive; the shutters were down over his eyes. I was convinced that he knew more about my half sister than he had betrayed and that I had not yet won enough of his confidence for him to tell me.
Perhaps in time he would. In the meanwhile I was obsessed by my curiosity.
The Ellen Is Lost
I had now become a good oarswoman and was as capable of handling a boat as Gwennol or Jenifry, both of whom had not referred again to Michael Hydrock and seemed to be trying to convince me that their outbursts on the subject had never taken place.
Jago was busy on the Island. He personally supervised the farms and arranged the Island's business transactions, which meant that he was constantly going back and forth to the mainland. He usually managed to spend some time of the day with me and liked nothing better than for us to ride round the Island together, when he would introduce me to the farmers and shopkeepers, the innkeeper, the parson of the little church, the doctor and all those who made up the life of the Island. We were growing closer and almost against my will I was being drawn into that magnetic aura which seemed to surround him, so that I was beginning to feel that I needed a strong dose of his society every day.