"And now that you have"—Jeremy tried to make his voice cold and impersonal—"I'll have to say good-by to you, and you can go back to the village." He wanted, desperately, to take her with him, to keep her close beside him. Her sudden appearance was almost too much for him to grasp, too good to be true, but there was more to be considered than his own wishes. Janine was only a giri, the road ahead was dangerous, long and arduous, and it was impossible to imagine that she possessed the strength or endurance to survive the journey. For her sake, not for his own, he must either persuade her or force her to return to the Maroons.
The girl stood very close to him, her long red hair cascading down her neck and shoulders. "Don't be stupid," she said. "I have no intention of going back to the Maroons any more than you have. I'm going with you."
"You're doing no such thing. I'm going down to Port Royal —^unless I'm intercepted by Maroons or Crown troops or bitten by some crawling thing in this infernal jungle. I intend to see the Duchess of Glasgow in the hope that she'll intervene with the authorities on my behalf and secure a pardon for me. Port Royal is going to be an extraordinarily dangerous place for me. It would be equally hazardous for you, as you assisted in the escape of a convicted criminal."
"I'm going with you, Jeremy, and nothing you say to the contrary will send me back to the village."
"Don't you understand, you dull-witted female?" He curbed an impulse to slap sense into her. "You might lose your life in Port Royal! I can risk my own neck, but I'm damned if I can risk yours!"
"If I choose to accompany you, the risk is my own." She looked up at him defiantly, unshaken by either his arguments or his rage.
Never had a woman so infuriated him. "I'd take you back to the village myself. I'd carry you if necessary," he said, incautiously raising his voice, "but I'd never get away again. And I'm not going to take the chance of running into one of the sentries. So do as I ask—and go back. After I've cleared my name I "
"We're wasting time," she interrupted, and when she smiled a dimple showed on her right cheek. "Please, Jeremy—can't we start now? It's a long journey to Port Royal, and I wouldn't imagine you'd want to lose any more night travel time than you can help."
Jeremy raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "All right," he growled. "If you're coming with me, you'll have to adjust your pace to mine. And just remember, I've warned you of the dangers. So be it on your own head."
He turned abruptly and started off through the jungle. Janine meekly fell in behind him, and there was no further conversation as they trudged warily across masses of weeds and rotting vegetation, exposed roots and creepers, fallen trees and hidden pools of scum-filled water.
For hour after wearying hour the pair from a more civilized world groped their way through the tropical forest, slid and stumbled down hills, and finally reached the Liguanea Plain, where travel was easier but where they might be seen more quickly by either the Crown brigade or the Maroons. Jeremy stopped and peered at maps in the dim light for several minutes, then edged toward the west. Instead of continuing in the lead, he now walked beside Janine, though he neither looked at her nor spoke to her. But he was constantly aware of her, and when she began to show unmistakable signs of fatigue he muttered a curse—and slowed his pace.
He knew that his annoyance was caused by more than her presence and his responsibility for her safety. He felt guilty, too, and that increased his anger; he had to admit that he was looking forward to the prospect of seeing Esther Mary Penny-well again. There was unfinished business between them, a relationship to be settled. But Janine's presence would, at the very least, complicate his association with Esther Mary. However, there were more immediate problems confronting him, and he made a resolute effort to put both girls and the state of his feelings toward them out of his mind.
The plain gave way at last to an area dotted with palm trees and towering shoots of cactus, so he stopped again, examined his maps as best he could in the dark, and at last decided they had come sufficiently far west. Thereafter he moved in a direction he believed was due south.
By dawn they had covered more miles than Jeremy had dared hope, but he knew that if they did not stop to rest soon Janine would be unable to continue. She was trying bravely to keep up with him, and despite his anger at her he felt a strong surge of tenderness and pity. Whenever he glanced at her obliquely, her expression showed meek penitence, and it was just as well that he did not see her turn her head away occasionally and smile to herself.
In the distance there was a rapid, echoing burst of musket fire; the battle of the preceding evening had again been joined. Jeremy murmured an apology to the girl, then increased his pace as he pushed deeper into the garden of palms and cactus. Patrols of infantry or cavalry might be abroad but probably would not stumble on them here.
Directly to the right now rose a small promontory known as Leonard's Hill, and Jeremy followed Arnold's map of the region with care. He cut sharply back toward the plain and skirted around a patch of particularly ugly cactus. Though Janine was having trouble in keeping up with him, he left her to make her way behind him as best she could while he concentrated on the details of the trail. Turning south again, he found a narrow lane between two tall rows of cactus and, calling a warning to Janine, he proceeded cautiously, never taking his eyes from the long, jagged needles that reached for him on both sides.
If he stumbled, if Janine tripped, it would mean critical injury, perhaps death, for the needles were anywhere from ten inches to three feet long, and thousands of them pressed in on the couple. After silently counting fifty paces, Jeremy turned to the right again, and to his infinite joy discovered that he had not erred. Directly ahead was a little brook flowing down from Leonard's Hill, while four or five palm trees rose from a carpet of deep green grass. Here, literally, was a little oasis in a sea of cactus.
The young gunsmith waited until Janine joined him, then both threw themselves to the ground, too exhausted to speak for several minutes. At last they felt their strength returning, and after drinking deeply from the clear waters of the brook they opened the parcel of food and began to eat jerked beef and roasted wheat. Janine appeared so morose, so dispirited that Jeremy suffered a twinge of conscience and, hoping to humor her, pointed to a large kettledrum half hidden beneath a mound of dried grass and broken palm fronds.
"We can amuse ourselves with a bit of music when we've finished breakfast," he said lightly.
The girl glanced at the drum. "This must be one of the Maroons' hidden message stations," she replied, then felt the need to add something more. "You were very clever to find it from your maps."
Unsure whether she was being sarcastic, Jeremy changed the subject. "How do you feel after so long a walk?"
Now it was the girl's turn to read unspoken implications into his words. "I'm ready to start again whenever you wish," she said tartly. "We can't reach Port Royal too soon for my taste."
"Had the choice been mine, I would have undertaken to find a more pleasant and amenable traveling companion. Nevertheless, we're together, and as long as I have the unwanted responsibility of your presence, I shall have to make the decisions. No one could be more anxious to reach the town than I am. And although we might be surprised here by some of the Maroons, we need rest. What's more, it's too hot to travel now—and the danger of our being seen on the plain is greater. So we'll stay right here until nightfall." He picked up another strip of beef and popped it into his mouth. "So I'm afraid you'll have to curb your impatience."
"As you wish," Janine replied with feigned indifference. "I'm in no position to disagree with you, am I?"