Текст книги "Doctor Syn on the High Seas"

Автор книги: Russell Thorndike

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life in Dymchurch mists. The sun has drawn me to him. But that you will

serve the solemn God whom you are sworn to serve is the dearest wish of

one that was your wife, called Imogene.”

Tony crumpled the letter once more as Syn had done, and in a voice

choking with tears of rage hissed out, “That spawn of Satan! We’ll spit

him with good steel like his uncle. This is my quarrel, Christopher.

God’s curses on them both.”

“No, Tony man, I love her! cried Syn. “I have blasphemed God, but you

are my friend.” Clasping his hands though in prayer, he hid his face in

the folds of Tony’s cravat and prayed aloud not to his God, but to his

friend. “O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength, before I

go hence, and be no more seen.”

Following this despairing cry with sobs that shook him to the soul,

Nature, or the God whom he had cursed, knowing he could stand no more,

touched him with gentle fingers, and snapped all further reason from his

brain, so that he collapsed in dead weight against the body of his

friend. To Tony, too, Nature or God was kind, and lent him such

strength as he had never yet possessed. He lifted the unconscious body

of the parson, as easily, as tenderly as he would no doubt carry his own

children in the time to come.

Fate, like a dramatist, panders to Effect, but has advantage of the

Stage in that many scenes of varying emotions can be played in different

places all at once. As Tony laid his friend upon his bed, the

treacherous Nicholas was lovingly lifting Imogene over the bulwarks of

his ship in London River. And long before the stricken husband woke to

face his dismal future, the sails were filled with the winds that were

to carry the guilty pair to Spain. As though to hide her shame from the

faces of the crew, Imogene took refuge in the cabin. Sure of her now,

and knowing that she could not change her mind, Nicholas left her there.

Up in the Round-house with the sailing-master he drank deep. Towards

evening he had to be carried down to the cabin in a drunken stupor.

Disgusted at his condition, and disappointed in herself, Imogene went up

on deck.

As the ship swept on through the Strait of Dover, a brisk wind filled

the towering canvas, and the full moon showed every detail of the coast.

Seeing the girl standing there so long alone, the sailing-master pitied

her, and thinking she might take cold, procured a sea-cloak and gently

wrapped it round her.

“We shall be altering our tack shortly,” he said, “and swinging out

into the fairway, so you must take your last glimpse of England, lady.

We stand out into deep water to avoid the dangers of Dungeness. We have

at least a friendly moon. I never saw the coast so clear. Do you see

that stretch of beach inside the Bay?”

She nodded.

“And behind it,” he went on, “that long, straight line of bank? Can

you see two separate figures? No, there are three. A man, and a woman

together, and, a little removed, another man? Look through my spyglass, and you would think that you could speak to them.”

He adjusted the lens for her, till she said it was clear. “What part

of England are we looking at?” she asked.

“They call that long bank Dymchurch Wall,” he said.

– 60 -

He heard her gasp, for she had recognized the lonely figure there.

Indeed, some half an hour before, Tony and his wife had seen Doctor Syn

pass through the Hall door out into the night, and fearing his dangerous

mood might counsel him to desperate ends, they followed at a distance,

respecting his solitude, yet fearing its results. He reached the seawall first, and stood there watching the white canvas of the full-rigged

ship. They did not speak as they approached, but he somehow knew that

they were there, for slowly he raised his right arm and with his

forefinger pointed to the vessel. Then did the same unspoken sentence

echo in their brains, “It is the ship.”

Ringed in the powerful glass, which brought the spectral figure of

her husband close to her, Imogene saw the accusing finger-point. With a

strangled cry of anguish, she fell swooning to the deck. The helm swung

round upon the altered course. The ship’s bell changed, and the singsong voice of the heaving leadsman on the bowsprit’s tackle echoed out,

“All’s Well.” And at the sound the black-robed figure of the parson

seemed to grow to an unnatural height, as with his head jerked of a

sudden back against the sky, he shrieked out hellish peals of wild,

demoniacal laughter. It gave the life to the “All’s Well”, and reached

the Gates of Heaven with the news that devils still inhabited with the

earth.

Chapter 9

The Dead Man

That night Doctor Syn sat in with the Court-House dining-room and

drank.

Fearful for his reason, Tony sat with him, faithfully watching, and

sensibly arguing. With the trend of his argument was this.

“You are young. Forget all this. You will in time. Stick to your

work. Another happiness will come.”

To all of which Syn listened patiently, nodding his head in full

agreement, and yet with such an engaging smile upon his face Tony grew

more frightened.

“I am a dead man, Tony. And being dead, I shall have no fear in

dying, and so my adventuring can be as reckless as I will. Cursed of

God, and cursing Him, where is there left to fear? Tony, I i ntend to go

to Hell itself, rifle its molten terrors, and pour them into that man’s

soul. And when he seems to die, his epitaph shall be, ‘He feared a man

who followed him.’”

Doctor Syn finished with the bottle that was before him, and then,

getting steadily to his feet, came round with the table calmly and laid

his hand with a show of affection upon his friend’s shoulder.

“With the heavy hand which God has laid on me shall be light as

gossamer to with the weight of terror I shall put upon that man. Aye,

‘follow’, Tony. That’s with the word. That is my slogan. That is with

the key-note of my long revenge. I’ll follow him through villages and

towns, countries and continents, and through with the watery spaces of

uncharted seas. I’ll chase him roun d with the African Good Hope and

round with the Southern Horn. I’ll swirl down after him in maelstroms

and volcanoes. Nowhere shall he crouch for long, but I’ll be there and

after him. Andy by with the God whose name I cursed today, I’ll get him

in with the end. There, Tony, I have had my say, I have sworn my oath.

From now my passion shall be hidden, smoldering in my soul, while

outwardly all will seem to be most calm and coldly calculating.”

– 61 -

To prove these words, he thereupon allowed Tony to lead him to his

room.

A few hours later, when Tony, not having slept at all, entered with

the breakfast-room, he was astonished to find Doctor Syn already there,

conversing with his usual sense and charm to old Sir Charles and Lady

Cobtree. Tony, whose face showed plainly with the marks of tragic

strain, began to think it must have been a hideous dream as he listened

to with the Doctor outlining with the trend he was about to take in his

sermons that very morning: his every word and look so proved that he was

master of himself. Yet one thing showed with the tragedy was real. For

there, above his lofty, noble brow, in startling contrast to with the

luxuriant raven hair, they all could see that livid dead -white lock.

With the finger of an Avenging God has set His sigil there, and Tony,

re-echoing with the Doctor’s dreadful words, “I am a dead man, Tony, and

no one will know,” knew for a certainty that all was but too true. He

alone for certainty none did in all that congregation held spellbound

with his oratory.

After his outburst to Tony he spoke to no one of his tragedy, and no

one questioned him. No sympathy was offered by with the villagers, but

they showed their respect for him by holding their tongues in his

presence, and children were cautioned by their parents against taking

notice of that tragic white lock in with the young Vicar’s hair. When

with the ordeal of that Sunday’s work was over, Doctor Syn led Tony

aside, and said:

“Tomorrow my Odyssey begins, and I should be glad of your company on

its first stage, which I promise you shall be an easy one. In fact, it

is merely a ride to New Romney, for I have need to visit my Uncle

Solomon.”

This Tony promised readily.

Chapter 10

The Odyssey Begins

Early next morning with the two friends mounted their horses and rode

along with the seawall path to with the quaint old town of New Romney.

Not until they reached with the trees that fringe with the outer streets

did Doctor Syn break silence:

“I warrant, Tony, that when I ask ed you to accompany me upon with the

first stage of my Odyssey, you made up your mind that it would mean a

ride to Oxford.”

“I expect you to speak of Oxford, certainly,” answered Tony; “and now

you mention it, I can speak out the easier. I propose that I shall ride

there in your stead. There are certain things to be done there. That

villain’s pack-horse is still in my father’s stables, and should be

returned to Iffley. You have many personal possessions left at Queen’s,

and there is the question of money owing at White Friars. All these

things I can settle for you, if you will give me authority.”

“To save me pain, you think,” he answered. “But there is no more

misery in the whole world that can affect me now. Reading her letter, I

received my deat h-blow, and a dead man cannot suffer. No, I must go to

Oxford personally, for I have many odd preparations to be made there

against my ultimate sea-faring.”

“You are intending to leave England?” asked Tony sadly. “I feared you

would say so.”

– 62 -

“But not yet, Tony. No, not yet. Eventually, of course. But there must

be no haste. Haste flusters a man, and I have sworn that through it all

I shall remain most calm, and most deliberate. That devil, with his

damned guitar and Spanish songs, expects me, as a man of spirit, to

sweep to my revenge. I shall not sweep to please him, but creep to it.

Yes, inch by inch, along the million miles, if needs be. Slowly, calmly

and deliberately, but always very surely. I’ll play the cat to his

pathetic mouse. And when at last he fawns at me to kill, I’ll whisper,

‘No. Not yet. It is not quite time yet.’”

Moved by his friend’s emotion, and resenting all that caused it, Tony

leant forward, caught his companion’s bridle and forced him to the halt.

“Christopher,” he said, “if you really wish revenge, leave this

affair to m e, and you shall have it fully. Suppose I follow them. Kill

him, and bring her back to you repentant. Would you forgive her then?”

And at this, Syn laughed, but not kindly. Gently he released his

friend’s hand from his bridle, and slowly pressed his horse into a walk,

saying through his laughter:

“Oh, my good Tony, you almost persuade me to think that there is a

little niceness in this dreadful world. But no, Tony, I have loved as

maybe only you could love. But I have lost. And now I chase another

mistress, and I find her most alluring. Her name is Revenge.”

When they reached the old attorney’s house, Tony tactfully insisted

that he would remain outside and hold the horses.

“I shall not keep you long, I promise you,” said Syn. “I have my

business at my fingertips, which will please Uncle Solomon, since I

interrupt his working hours.”

“You must not hurry on my account,” replied Tony. “Besides your

business, you will have family affairs to discuss.”

“There will be no discussion,” returned Syn. “I can tell him the

bare facts in a sentence, and then make my business request. A few

minutes will suffice for all I have to say.”

He was as good as his word, for in a few minutes the front door was

opened again, not by the man -servant, but by Solomon Syn himself. He

saluted Tony cordially, and assisted his nephew in arranging two bulky

banker’s bags across the saddle.

“Aye, Christopher,” said the old man, “they will ride there safe

enough, for the webbing is strong, and you know how to tie a knot. If

you meet a highwayman, avoid him.”

“We should be two to one, Uncle,” laughed the Doctor. “We are both

armed, and can take care of ourselves, I think.”

As they rode away he tapped the bags before him and explained:

“Guineas, Tony. I knew my uncle kept a store of them locked in his

vault. On our return to Dymchurch, old Wraight the builder is to meet

me at the Vicarage. I wish to settle his account today. It is the

first step of my Odyssey. Each hour I must do something to advance it.

I wonder, now, how many years it will take, and how many land and sea

miles I shall cover?”

“I still hope,” said Tony sadly, “that God will show you there is

something better than revenge.”

But the Doctor shook his head and answered, “There can be nothing

better in the world.”

When they had handed their horses to the Court-House grooms, Tony

insisted upon carrying the guinea-bags to the Vicarage, where they found

the good old builder awaiting their pleasure.

“There was not this need of hasty payment, sir, as far as I’m

concerned,” said the old man respectfully.

– 63 -

“I know, but I wish to get it settled,” replied Syn. “I see that you

have the detailed list of items with you. Give it to Mr. Cobtree to

look over, while you and I take a final look at the improvements.”

So Tony sat down to the library table and checked the inventory,

while Wraight followed the Vicar from room to room, and out into the

garden, the builder talking proudly of the various results of his work,

and the Doctor vouchsafing not a word of comment. Neither praise nor

censure did he speak, till his silence worried the old man. Unable to

stand it longer, he asked:

“I hope, sir, that my work meets with your approval?”

“Of course. Of course,” replied Syn, but in a tone that showed the

builder that his mind was elsewhere. “The work has been faithfully

carried out, according to my instructions, and whatever mistake has been

made, it is mine, and not yours, and I will take the blame.”

“Mistake? The blame?” repeated Wraight. “I beg, sir, that you will

point out any mistake, that I can rectify it.”

The Doctor changed the subject suddenly, and pointing to a ladder

that leaned against the new wing in which Imogene had planned her

nurseries, he asked what it was there for. “I see it gives access to

the roof. Is it not finished?”

Wraight explained that he had been up there before the Doctor’s

arrival to inspect the new red tiles.

“Did you find them satisfactory?” asked the Doctor.

“I did, sir. Very pleased with them I was. I wager they’ll keep out

wind and water for a century.”

“I wonder now,” said Syn, with a smile.

Bridled that his work should be thus criticized, the old man was

anger, but before he could speak, Syn left him abruptly, and walked

quickly to a tool shed from which he brought a heavy pick-ax. Then he

climbed the ladder and stood upon the gently sloping tiles. Suddenly he

laughed, and, to Wraight’s astonishment and indignation, he swung the

pick above his head and brought the flat blade of it down with a

sweeping blow. Using the implement as a lever, he forced the tiles from

their pegs and sent them crashing down into the garden below. In a

minute he had torn a hole in the roof through which he cast the pick,

and with such force that it tore its way with falling plaster into the

room below which was to have been the nursery. Dusting his clothes

deliberately, he climbed down the ladder and told the amazed Wraight to

follow him into the house.

Tony, who had heaped up the requisite pile of guineas on the table,

crossed to the window to find out the cause of the noise, but seeing the

grim expression upon the two men’s faces as they entered, he kept

silence and waited for an explanation.

“I have thoroughly satisfied myself, Tony,” said the Doctor, “that

Mr. Wraight has carried out the work I gave him faithfully. I see you

have the guineas waiting for him, so if you will count it, Mr. Wraight,

Mr. Cobtree will give you a receipt to sign, I then shall want from you,

my good Wraight, another estimate, which I will pay for now, as soon as

we agree. I want all the work which you have executed to be removed as

soon as possible. In short, I wish this good Vicara ge to be put back

exactly as it was. As I told you, I am willing to abide by my mistake,

and I do not chose to saddle my successors with so large a house as now

it stands. Dilapidation become a heavy charge for outgoing incumbents.

You need not question my authority for this, since I have gained the

permission of my patron, Sir Charles Cobtree, who, as you know, is

warden of this Living. Will you undertake this at once?”

– 64 -

Wraight nodded. “It be the strangest job I ever had.”

“Ah, Wraight, old friend,” said the Doctor sadly, “there are the

strangest circumstances connected with it, I assure you, and in giving

you this order, I confess I am not thinking only of my successors here.”

“We are not wanting your successors, sir,” replied Wraight. “As to

any other motive you may have, I respect your silence, sir. And in that

I know I speak for the whole village, sir.”

“God has at least possessed me with many faithful friends,” replied

the Doctor.

Thus did old Wraight voice for the village their unspoken sympathy.

A few days later Doctor Syn rode back to Oxford. In returning the

borrowed pack-horse to Iffley, he found that the estate was up for sale.

So the fox will not return to that hole , he wrote to Tony. He also

described the or deal he undertook while visiting White Friars.

The deeper I plumb the depths of their deception, the higher must I soar

in the Heaven of my Vengeance. It appears that the sudden illness of my

wife was for the most part feigned. And I dare swear at his suggestion.

Hardly had I left her, but he was there and welcomed. He wrote to me

each day of her improvement, as you know, and she did improve to him.

Why did I not obey a loving instinct that came to me when but a mile

outside town? It was a compelling urge to gallop back and kiss her.

Thinking she would be sleeping, I conquered the desire. Had I not done

so, I should have found her up and singing with him to those damned

guitars. More could I tell you, but why abuse good ink and paper with

things so damnable? One fact enraged me at the time, I think almost as

much as their worst sinning, for when I asked for my account of

accommodation, I found that the rascal had had the impertinence to

settle this for me. Since the good lady honestly refused my double

payment, I took the amount into St. Giles’ and gave it to the first

beggar I encountered. My few possessions here I have packed and sent by

coach, and I intend to ride back within the next day or so. But I must

first glean what information I can concerning our rascal from the

servants at Iffley. Disgruntled at their abrupt discharge, they will

not doubt be bribable.

On returning to Dymchurch, Doctor Syn continued to reside at the

Court-House. When the Vicarage had been restored according to his

direction, he installed there, at his expense, a married parson, who

should act as his curate, and be ready to take over his duties when he

was ready to set out upon his vengeance. Tony and his wife, who lived

in a separate wing of the Court-House, n ever dared to ask him when this

would be, and as the months went by, and still he carried on his work,

they hoped he might in time forget. But all the while the Doctor was

preparing. Relieved of much of his work, he had ample leisure to ride

about the co untryside. In the town of Sandgate he discovered, to his

joy, a Spanish prisoner living on parole. He struck a friendly bargain

with this gentleman to teach him Spanish. With him he wrote and read

and talked, promising this exile that as soon as he had made him

proficient, he in his turn would pay the residue of his ransom and use

his influence to get him back to Spain. Many an hour did these two pore

over Spanish maps, and from many a lively description Doctor Syn was

soon familiar with the manners and customs of that country. Fortunately

the Spaniard was well acquainted with the port of San Sebastian, and he

described this place so vividly that Doctor Syn could walk the streets

of it in imagination. This was important to him, for he knew that San

Sebastian was the port of lading for his enemy’s ship. The Spaniard was

also a master of fence, and knew many

– 65 -

tricks that we new to the Doctor, who was able to pass them on to Tony,

with whom he exercised with swords daily.

At last there came a day when, in the midst of a lesson, the Spaniard

clapped the Doctor on the back and said:

“I have no more need to teach. Your conversation is admirable, and,

hardest of all to accomplish, your accent and pronunciation are as good

as any Spanish gentleman I know.”

“Then I can wind up my business here,” replied the Doctor. “I have

already settled yours for you, and so the sooner we set sail for San

Sebastian, the better we shall both be pleased.”

It was then arranged that they should said together, and Captain

Esnada—for that was the Spaniard’s title—begged of him to stay in his

company at this daughter’s house upon arrival. Liking him well, and

perceiving that he would be of the utmost service to him in Spain, the

Doctor readily consented.

It took him but a day or so to arrange with his Uncle Solomon a

banker’s system by which he could readily draw money abroad, and then,

after handing over his full duties to the worthy curate who it was

arranged should succeed him, Doctor Syn preached his farewell sermon,

took leave of the Cobtrees and the village of Dymchurch, and in the

company with Esnada took coach to London. To be sure, he had first

taken solemn oath to keep Tony informed of his progress, and as a

parting gift bequeathed him his favourite horse, an old and faithful

friend he was loath to lose.

“I will but keep him for you against your return,” Tony had said.

“When you have settled your score, you must return, for you know that my

father will see you back again into the Living.”

But t he Doctor shook his head at that. “I fear,” he had said, “that

my good friend’s hunting days will have passed away before I preach

again in Dymchurch. In fact, ‘tis likely I shall never preach again.”

This was untrue, as afterwards befell, but it was long years before

he was to preach again in Dymchurch.

While waiting for a vessel to convey them to Amsterdam, whence they

could re -ship for Spain, Doctor Syn occupied his time in making

inquiries concerning the fruit-ship owned by Nicholas. He learned that

it had not returned to London Docks since the voyage of seduction. He

was glad of this, knowing that

Nicholas was afraid of him. They were not long in Amsterdam, for they

found a Spanish merchantman ready to sail the very next day after their

arrival, and having no other passengers booked for that voyage, the

captain was glad of their company and money.

Now, since they were bound for a Catholic country, Esnada persuaded

Syn to drop his title of an English parson, and, as England was not

popular, to confine his talk to Spanish. This the young Doctor agreed

to do, and although he still retained his black cloth suit, which was

elegantly cut, he changed his white tabs of office for a lace cravat.

He had never shaved his head to wear the formal wig then in use for

parsons, but wore his own hair long. Also he had buckled on his

father’s sword, so that on the whole he looked more like a sedate young

gentleman of means than a peace-pledged parson. Studious he looked, but

resolute. He handled his sword-hilt with confidence, and his manner

suggested an alert authority. He was quick to make inquiries from the

Captain concerning Nicholas. It happened that the Captain knew him

well, and was much amused in telling Syn how that English rascal had

adopted Spain in honour of a Spanish girl whom he had recently married.

“And he carried himself wonderfully, like a real Senor. He is truly

Spanish in his talk as you and I, and he boats of his blood like the

most

– 66 -

arrogant grandee. He used to make money taking fruit to England when I

first knew him, but now he contents himself with carrying all sorts of

lading from one Peninsula port to another. His Spanish wife has cured

him of England. ‘Tis more than likely we shall meet with him in San

Sebastia n. You know him, too, perhaps?”

Syn answered that he had the honour, and hoped the meeting would be

forthcoming.

On arrival at the harbour, Doctor Syn looked eagerly for his enemy’s

ship, for there were many of similar rigs at anchorage, but he was to be

disappointed for one of the port officials was able to inform them that

Nicholas had sailed that morning for Lisbon, but would be returning to

San Sebastian with cargo.

The house to which Captain Esnada led him was conveniently placed for

Doctor S yn, for it stood up high above the harbour and commanded a fine

stretch of sea, so that when out upon the balcony, the Doctor was able,

through a powerful telescope, to watch and speculate upon any vessel the

moment it topped the horizon.

Finding in Esnada a man of great discretion, Doctor Syn had confided

in him something of his purpose, so that the Spaniard, who owed much to

the Doctor, was equally anxious to bring the affair to a settling.

“Your Odyssey, as you are pleased to call it,” he said, “will be

finished shortly. When his ship arrives, we will be standing out there

on the harbour wall for his reception.”

“Aye, he must come back, as you say,” replied Syn; “and yet I have

the strongest presentiment that he will somehow give us the slip. N o

doubt my grim desire to track him round the world from place to place,

never letting him settle her or there, has persuaded my instincts to

this conclusion. I may be forced to kill him here, and at once, for I

fear that my patience would be uncontrolled at first sight of him. Well,

we shall soon know.”

It was one midday, when Doctor Syn was drinking sherry with Esnada

and his daughter in their cool upper room, that his eyes strayed back

again to the horizon which he always watched. Through the open arches

that led to the balcony and showed such a magnificent sea-scape, he had

seen a sail appear. Up she came, a fine and full-rigged ship. In three

strides he was at the telescope and swinging it round to bear upon the

ship. The unspoken sentence that had struck in the throat on Dymchurch

Wall now passed his lips aloud:

“It is the ship.”

In a second Esnada was beside him. His daughter, on the other hand,

went on reading a broadsheet containing local news, sipping her sherry

at the same time. Curious she may have been, and was, if truth were

known. But her father, with that tactful courtesy for which the best of

his country had ever been famed, had strictly enjoined her never to

notice anything queer about their guest. So much did they both owe him

for his deliverance from England, that she must never by word or look

appear to be sounding the depths of his mystery.

“When I tell you that he has a mystery which is a mystery to me, I am

not boasting of any keen perception, for he did your father the honour

of his confidence. Therefore in his house it must be respected, perhaps

more than in any other.”

Like father, like daughter, she therefore showed not the slightest

interest in the ship, at least not outwardly, for this serenely

beautiful Spanish lady was middle-aged and very sensible. She had never

been married because her soldier lover had been killed in war. Grateful

to Doctor Syn for having brought her father back to her, she allowed

herself a motherly regard for him,

– 67 -

and she somewhat envied her father that this attractive but mysterious

young man had chosen him instead of her as his confessor.

She heard her father say, as he in his turn looked through the

telescope, “You are right, my friend; but it will be a long time yet.

Suppose meantime we eat our meal here on the balcony. A soldier’s

instinct is to snatch what food he can before an action, and we cannot

tell when we shall eat again today. At all events, he shall not have

the satisfaction of knowing that he has inconvenienced our stomachs.”

“Just as you wish, sir,” replied Syn calmly. “We can at least watch

while we eat. But for my part, the sight of those sails is meat and

drink to me.”

Esnada gave orders to his daughter, who never questioned his reason

for thus hastening the meal, and before the incoming ship had grown

perceptibly nearer in their eyes, the three of them were served with

omlettes, bread and wine.

So obvious was it that their guest was suppressing a growing

excitement as the vessel drew slowly nearer, that the daughter thought

to put him at ease by saying;

“Can you wonder that my father used to think lovingly of this balcony

when he was in exile? You must own it is a pretty sight. Look at the

ship! I have always thought that there is a weal th of drama in a homing

voyage. How many hearts are fluttering with excitement like those

sails? It is a joyful thing to reach harbour, and home.”

“It is indeed,” replied Syn, and then he added, with a somewhat grim

significance: “Yet, however joyful t he anticipation may be, the wise

heart should prepare itself against uncertainty. For when you think of

it, what terrible surprises, what evil news may not be waiting for

someone on that ship out there? And yet I’ll wager that not one of them

is contempla ting on the possibility of such a shock.”

“Perhaps God in His mercy does not wish them to,” said the lady.

Their meal finished, and the ship growing nearer, Esnada rose and

ordered his daughter to her siesta.

“I’m taking our guest down to the harbour,” he added. “The sun will

be too hot for you, and our complexions do not matter as yours. But

first give me my sword, and our guest’s sword too, for there are

sometimes worse sharks on those ramparts than in the sea, but the mere

wearing of a sword keeps them at a distance.”

So armed for battle, the two men left the house.

But the daughter did not go to her siesta. She watched her father

and his friend striding away through the idle crowds, many of whom were

being drawn by curiosity to see the vessel come to anchorage. But these

made way for two gentlemen of such military bearing, especially when

they saw the worthy Harbourmaster saluting them with the gravest