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ACAVALIER 
 
 CE- THEODORE ROBERTS 
 
t 
 
A CAVALIER OF 
 VIRGINIA 
 
 <iA ^I^omance 
 
 BY 
 
 G. E. THEODORE ROBERTS 
 
 Author oi "BROTHERS OF PERIL." "CAPTAIN LOVE," "HEMMING 
 THE ADVENTURER," ETC 
 
 Mad« in U.S. A. 
 
 M. A. DONOHUE & COMP^^NY 
 
 CHICAGO :: NEW YORK 
 

 264336 
 
 Co/yr. . 'it, igoQ 
 By the Frank A. Munsky Company 
 
 Ci''yrt\'/it, igio 
 By L. C. Tack. iS; Company 
 
 (iStoHl-OKAlIu) 
 
 ■^U rights restrved 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAm* fACB 
 
 I. Thb Home-comino 1 
 
 II. The Brothers 12 
 
 III. Isobel's Future 22 
 
 IV. An Offer of Employment • • • • 33 
 V. A Strange Letter 42 
 
 VI. The Ball at Admiral's 1'ride • • ■ 53 
 
 VII. A Breakfast Visit 69 
 
 VIII. Francis Sails Away 81 
 
 IX. At the Cat and Rat 93 
 
 X. The Man with the Yellow Face . , 106 
 
 XI. In Which a Spanish Gentleman A.rrives 
 
 in Virginia 116 
 
 XII. IsoBEL Sails Av,\f 133 
 
 XIII. Isobel's Discovery 150 
 
 XIV. Francis Drurie Returns to Bristol . . i6t 
 XV. Three Gentlemen Follow an Eiusive 
 
 Quest 175 
 
 XVI. Something Heard of Alcazardo . 188 
 
 XVII. The Brave Adventure a Good Ficktlx . 198 
 
 XVIII. IsoBEL Learns Her Uncle's Real Nat-jre 214 
 
 XIX. The Ice-floe 228 
 
 XX. Denis St. Ovide Duval 243 
 
 XXI. The Brave Adventure Sunk . . . 254 
 
 XXII. Uns iPECted Fate ...... 267 
 
 XXIII. IsoBEi, Looks from Her Window . 281 
 
 XXIV. A Pleasant Time before Breakfast 292 
 
 XXV. The Rising 302 
 
■jPjstsflBBWWNwwirawRaaiaMiniMimnn; 
 
CAVALIER OF VIRGINIA 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE HOME-COMING 
 
 For the past six days — since first regaining the 
 fringe of the settlements — the little force had been 
 gradually disbanding. Woodsmen, trappers, pioneer 
 farmers, traders, millers, planters, and gentlemen of 
 rank and fortune — smgly or by twos -"nd threes, 
 they had broken away and gone back to ir homes 
 and private affairs. 
 
 For two months they had campaig.iid in that alluring 
 but menacing wilderness * ■ li lay, un; ii iiomed, between 
 the cultivated lands and i.ie unknown West. Now, 
 when the forest foliage was reddening under the frosts 
 of late October, and a healthy regard for the rifles of 
 the Virginian militia had been implanted in the slilfty 
 hearts of two tribes of savages, they felt free to return 
 to their interrupted businesses and pleasures. 
 
 1 
 
A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 At last, where Saddle Hill Trail branches off from 
 the king's highway, Master Francis Drurie and Captain 
 Simeon Hewett drew rein and shook hands. 
 " Good luck to you, Frank! " 
 "And to you, Sim — God bless you!" 
 Then Hewett wheeled toward Saddle Hill, touched 
 spur to his thin nag, and lifted his hat. Drurie re- 
 turned the salute, and trotted eastward along the 
 highway. 
 
 And thus had six companies of Virginian riflemen — 
 men in homespun, buckskin, blue and gold, coonskin 
 caps and laced hats — disbanded, without the sanction 
 of general orders, cr any blaring of trumpets. These 
 were soldiers, not mummers. The rifle-work and the 
 swcrd-work were o\-cr for the season. Their duty 
 to their country was done for the time. God grant 
 them to find their families still intact, their cabins and 
 houses still standmg, and their crops garnered in good 
 order! 
 
 Francis Drurie's coat of fine blue cloth v/as patched 
 and ripped and weather-stained. His hat was faded, 
 and the gold lace on it tarnished beyond reburnishing. 
 His saddle was black with wear and wet and sunburn. 
 On his legs he wore breeches of buckskin; and his 
 high boots of English leather had been replaced weeks 
 before by beaded moccasins and fringed leggings. He 
 
The Home-coming 
 
 carried a long flint-lock rifle slung across his shoulders, 
 pistols in his holsters, and a sword at his side. 
 
 His face 'vas tanned to a red-brown as deep as an 
 Indian's; and from chat savage-hued mask his blue 
 eyes shcne out with startling brightness. His light 
 brown hair, where it lay on his neck unpowdered, and 
 tied with a narrow ribbon, was bleached by the sun to 
 the shade of ripe corn-husks. He was slender of figure, 
 and but little above the medium height of men of his 
 race; but he was well-muscled and well-featured, thin 
 and hard as a hound, and with courage in eyes and 
 brow to be read at a glance. For all his service-worn 
 equipment, and sixty days of campaigning, he sat 
 straight and rode lightly. 
 
 At a gap in a hedge barred with rails, Francis Drurie 
 dismounted. Here began a sliadc'd path which he 
 knew; and by it he would ride, coolly and free of dust, 
 across the groves of Fairwood Manor and Admiral's 
 Pride, and into the arms of his family. He lowered 
 thi rails, led his horse over and swunij to the 
 saddle. 
 
 The narrow path was carpeted with short, thin 
 grass as soft as moss. The hoofs of his horse made no 
 sound. Suddenly across the still air, fragrant with 
 the breath cf ripened leaves and mellow earth, and 
 
 cone?; 
 
 purpling in the sun, lifted a voice, :.inging. 
 
A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Francis knew the voice; and these are the words of 
 the verse he heard: 
 
 " Time is old and life is brief 
 
 Then 'tis shame to prate of sorrow. 
 
 If to-day holds naught of grief, 
 Let the good God mind to-morrow. 
 
 Time is old, but Youtli is strong ; 
 
 Life is brief, but Love is long." 
 
 Francis drew rein, smiling. The singing had ceased, 
 the sweet voice dropping to silence as suddemy as it 
 had sprung upon the drowsy air. He retlected for 
 a moment and then struck up the last verse of the 
 familiar song. 
 
 " Ride ye south and ride ye north — 
 You'll be riding home to-morrow 
 Back from whence ye cantered forth 
 With your scars and weary sorrow. 
 Time is old and Death is strong ; 
 Life is brief, but Love is long." 
 
 A moment's silence followed the conclusion of the 
 young man's effort; then came a short, glad cry — 
 stifled almost as soon as uttered — from somewhere 
 down the woodland path. The tanned cheeks of the 
 campaigner flushed at the sound. He waited, tense 
 in the saddle. The horse began to fidget, knowing that 
 
The Home-coming 
 
 there was no ambush of painted savages to fear in the 
 woodlands of the manor. 
 
 Puzzled by the silence, and wondering abashed at 
 the note of that brief cry, Francis let the horse move 
 forward; then on second thought he sprang to the 
 ground, caught the reins up on one of the holsters, 
 and walked briskly ahead. The horse followed quietly. 
 
 In this manner they moved along for a considerable 
 distance, the young man expecting to catch sight of 
 the girl at every turn of the path, and at every turn 
 wondering more and more why she did not appear. 
 He increased his pace, and soon saw the gleam of a 
 white frock between the forest walls in front. She was 
 moving away from him. 
 
 " Isobel, Isobel! " he called, and broke into a run. 
 
 She did not turn until he was within a few yards of 
 her. Then she sprang aside, and faced him v^ith 
 feigned amazement in her splendid eyes. There was 
 another emotion there which the amazement could 
 have hidden only from persons with as little experience 
 in such matters as young Drurie. 
 
 "Frank!" she cried. 
 
 Laughing, he tried to catch her in his arms; but 
 she slipped out of his embrace, and held him away 
 with one light hand. Her brow and cheeks were 
 bright with fleeting colour. Her eyes looked past him, 
 
€ 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ir 
 
 dark as deep water, but bright as stars. Everything 
 about her uas bright, and yet of a brightness that waf 
 as tender as dimness -as tender as the halMights of 
 dusk and da™. Though her eyes and hair were so 
 dork that they often looked black, her skin was of a 
 wonderful fairness. About her white neck gleamed a 
 thm gold Cham, holding just below the tender hollo.v 
 of her t.hroat a small gold cross set with pearls which 
 Franas had given her on a birthday several years ago 
 
 asked '"'' ''"'''^'^ '""" """ ''"-'"P^?" she 
 
 Voung Drurie did net answer immediatelv. He 
 
 ^tood wuh his ..n,s hanging a. his sides, his forehead 
 
 pucKered ever ,,0 slightly, smiling, but with cmss-lights 
 
 of puzzled inquiry in his blue eves. 
 
 .^7!r "'V™*P^' " ■™" like-f,x>m thousands 
 and thousands of miles of tree-tops _ but it was 
 ha der tnan dropping, as Jumper, here, could tell 
 
 bel he as^^d anxtously. " Why don't you laugh at 
 
 fun of my shabby coat and brick-red face? You are 
 n^ natural Isobel. I heard you ringing a long time 
 ago -and I sent a voice back to >.u. And you heard 
 
 straight away from me ? That was not kind, Isobcl " 
 
The Home-coming 
 
 She did not meet his steady regard. 
 
 " I did not run," she said. 
 
 lie let that pass for the little it was worth. 
 
 " You were sorry when I vent away. I thought 
 you would be glad when I got back," he said gravely. 
 
 " I am glad! " she cried. " You know I am glad! " 
 
 " It is not for me to presume to deny what you say, 
 dear; but you do not behave as if you were very 
 glad," he returned gently, " You are changed, little 
 girl. I did not expect to find you changed in any way. 
 I have always thought that you would be as glad to 
 see me home again as you were sorry to see me go 
 away." 
 
 " When did you think about it ? " she as!:cd, mock 
 increduiity in her voice. " Do you expect me to believe 
 that you, a full-fledged soldier of Virginia, gave any 
 time to such foolish reflections? Be honest, Frank, 
 and tell me when you thought about whether I should 
 be glad or sorry to see you home again. I am sure It 
 was not when you were fighting with th. savages, or 
 eating in their lodges, cr riding thiough the forest with 
 your comrades." 
 
 The young man gazed at her in undisguised amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why do you ask me such idiotic questions, Isobel ? " 
 he complained. " But I shall answer them, though I 
 
8 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 y- 
 
 do net think them sincere. Honestly, then, I often 
 made pictures of our meeting in my mind - while we 
 marched, and v.hen I lay in my blankets at night; and 
 ever smce T parted with Hewett at the crossroads I've 
 been thinking he • fine it would be to — to — " 
 "To what?" she asked. 
 " To kiss you again," he said. 
 " Oh • " exclaimed the girl softly, her eyes intent on 
 his beaded moccasins. 
 
 " I really thought I was going to do it. My mind 
 was set on it," he ventured. 
 " And you didn't, after all." 
 '' I don't kiss by force," he said, smiling forlornly. 
 Frank," she said in a changed voir , - vou mu.:t 
 realize no.v that we are no longer children." ' 
 
 " Children! " he cried in mild indignation. " Chil- 
 dren! Who says we are children? True, you are only 
 eighteen -but I am twenty-two. Children don't 
 command companies of riflemen campaigning in ihe 
 WKderness." He laughed boyishly at his ou-n big talk. 
 But, m all ' eriousness," he added, " why have I not 
 as much right lo kiss you, now that I am a man, as I 
 had when I was an unappreciative child?" 
 
 '; But you know that you have not," she replied 
 quietly. *^ 
 
 A change came to Francis Drurie's tanned face. 
 
The Home-coming 
 
 9 
 
 The whimsical lig!' faded from his blue ey-s, and his 
 lips straightened a little. " You are wiser than I am, 
 my dear Isobel," he said. " You realize my position 
 better than I do myself. It is evident that you have 
 given some thought to the matter. The elder sons 
 — the heirs to the tobacco-fields and slaves — are the 
 fortunate fellows who retain the privilege of kissing-their 
 lady friends after arrivmg ?'. the age of manhood. The 
 poor, unfortunate devils who have their own way to 
 make in the world must learn discretion all of a sudden. 
 I'd not thought of that, but I see the good sense of it 
 clear enough. I shall now kiss your hand, my dear, by 
 way of greeting between old playmates after an absence 
 of two months— and then I'll let the argument drop. 
 May I venture?" 
 
 " No, you may not," she replied with spirit. " You 
 have spoken very unkindly. Because I ask you to 
 remember that we arc no longer little children, you 
 instantly speak as if — as if I do not care for you any 
 more because — because you are not the heir to Ad- 
 miral's Pride. I do not care for Admiral's Pride! You 
 are — very unkind." 
 
 " I beg your pardon most humbly, Isobel," sdd 
 Francis anxiously. " God knows I do not want to 
 think that ! We've been the best of friends ever since 
 you came to Virginia, little girl; so why squabble just 
 
10 
 
 great age? That would be childish, certainlv T , 
 
 "■ore sorry that I have spoken m,kindly. B.U!^^ 
 voice shakes again dear a. ;, j- 1 ■ ^ " 
 
 you-thoughfhey'h:;.:;:^"'"""^-''"'- 
 
 way again. Then, as ,f workmg for a wager, she 
 
 tnbes, the 6gh„ng, ,he marching, and the >vi!d animals 
 he had encountered. .And while she questioned ^d 
 he answered they moved forward. side\y d ,"h 
 the horse dose at their heels 
 
 he d Id r ' T™' "* '"«"^ ^'^^P^'' and 
 
 »ess of wha^ h ^' . P'-'^'^ding unconscious- 
 
 «-ds ti:y , ':/"■ '" "-^ ''^P'"^ Of the 
 
 FairwoodLrt:'i:r:;r^'---^ 
 
 ;je^ently w.hdre>v he/'^ar^t ^^^ 
 packet "" ''"^""'■^^' ■"■' i° Ws own 
 
 ^^^Q'-:::' 
 
 "•^^as^- 
 
The Home-coming 
 
 11 
 
 " And to-morrow? " he asked. 
 
 " I shall be at home to-morrow," she replied. 
 
 " Then I'll ride over in the morning," he said. " I 
 have some interesting specimens of picture-writing for 
 your father's collection." 
 
 He swung to the saddle, lifted his hat and let the 
 eager horse start off at a sharp trot. Where the path 
 broke through the underbrush into a wide avenue that 
 led up to the house of Admiral's Pride he turned and 
 glanced back. The girl was still standing where he had 
 left her, gazing do\vn the green pathway. She blew a 
 kiss to him and vanished in a twinkling. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE BROTHERS 
 
 In those days there were not many finer estates in 
 Virginia than Admiral's Pride, and few finer residences 
 than Captain Paul Drurie's. The estate had been first 
 settled and cleared, and the house built by the captain's 
 father, old Rear-Admiral Drurie. The admiral in 
 his day, had been a hero in the eyes and hearts of the 
 English public, and was affectionately kno^vn in every 
 ■ ship of the navy as " Hot-Shot Bill." 
 
 In front of the house lay six acres of velvety lawn and 
 well-tended shrubberies. The park itself - woodlands 
 of oak, walnut, and edar- covered one hundred 
 acres. The house, with its offices and lawns, kennels 
 and stables, occupied the centre of the park. Back of 
 this block of land were the negro quarters, the great 
 cattle-sheds, the windmill and tobacco-houses, and 
 hundreds of acres of meadow, pasture, and forest, 
 and the fields where the com, tobacco, and sugar-cane 
 were raised. Yes, it was a fine home to which young 
 Master Francis Drurie rode back, in his shabby coat 
 
The Brothers 
 
 IS 
 
 and Indian moccasins, astride his weather-blackened 
 saddle. 
 
 A couple of hound puppies were the first of the 
 household to catch sight of the horseman. They 
 charged across the lawns to meet him, yelping with 
 delight at the prospect of a little excitement. When 
 the man spoke to them, and they saw that the raw- 
 boned horse was no other than Jumper, their demon- 
 strations immediately took on a subdued note. 
 
 Next an old hound, gray of muzzle, and with one 
 eye like a clouded opal, got to his feet on the lower 
 gallery, sniffed the air inquiringly for a momeni, and 
 then descended to the lawn at a dignified trot. This 
 was Bellringer, who had led the pack for seven years, 
 and for three had loafed about the galleries, honourably 
 retired from the field because of stiffening joints and 
 a thickening windpipe. At sight of him Francis 
 drew rein and dismounted. 
 
 The dog quickened his pace a little, and began to 
 twist his long tan-and-white body as the lad drew 
 near. He settled lower on his legs, drew baci his gray 
 upper lip and displryed a couple of white fangs. From 
 deep in his rusty throat came a gurgling growl — a 
 growl as expressive of welcome and joy and love as 
 any human cry. He lifted himself stiffly to his full 
 height and planted his front paws on the young man's 
 
14 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 breast; and, standing thus, he ydpcd with all his 
 strength. 
 
 It was old Bcllringcr's yelping that announced to 
 everybody in and about the house that the militiaman 
 was home again from the wilderness. The captain left 
 his book open on the study table and hobbled to 
 the lawn. The ancient butler — who had been a 
 gunner's-mate aboard the captain's ship — followed 
 close. .Mrs. Drurie sped from her bodrcom to the 
 rail of the upper gallery, looked eagerly about and, 
 with a little scream of delight, turne<l and lied back 
 again, down the great staircase and out to the lawn. 
 From the majestic old cook in her rcd-and-yellow 
 turban, to the youngest housemaid in spotless white 
 cotton and white headkerchief, all the black house serv- 
 ants appeared and formed a group behind the master, 
 the mistress, and the privileged old white butler. 
 
 Francis Drurie embraced and kissed nis mother, 
 shook the captain's hand for a full minute — all the 
 time the two grinned feelingly at each other without 
 a word — and then gave a cordial grip to the old hero 
 who had descended comfortably from serving his guns 
 on the seas, under both Hot-Shot Bill and Captain Paul, 
 to serving soups and wines ashore. To the group behind 
 them he waved a hand, and called a good-natured 
 greeting. 
 
The Brothers 
 
 15 
 
 "Where is John?" he asked presently, looking 
 up at the house. 
 
 "John? Why, John is shooting with Fairwood 
 to-day," replied the captain. 
 
 Mrs. Druric smiled. 
 
 "I thihk he is not paying much attention to the 
 birds. Isobel is there, too," she said. 
 
 At that the captain turned squarely upon her. 
 
 "So that is what you have in your mind!" he 
 exclaimed amusedly. 
 
 "He is certainly paying much more attention to 
 her than he used to," replied the lady. 
 
 The campaigner gave a keen ear to this conversation, 
 but said not a word. As was usual with him, he 
 thought the more for saying nothing. 
 
 John Druric and Mr. Fairwood appeared early in 
 the afternocn, for the news of the Indian fighter's 
 return from the vdlds had sped over three plantations 
 with the despatch of the wind. John was honestly 
 pleased to see his brother sale and sound again; but 
 it looked as if Mr. Fairwood, of Fairwood Manor, was 
 even more pleased. 
 
 " I heard one of the plowboys yelling to another 
 across a forty-acre field that you had got home again," 
 he ?aid. " There wa^ a covey ot partridges in the air, 
 right in front of my gun. Well, lad, I let hem go. 
 
16 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 There's not a bird that flies would have tempted me to 
 wait and pull trigger. ' Frank's home,' I sang out 
 to John, and ran for the house, leaving my dogs In 
 the stubble. Yes, lad, I put my best foot foremost, 
 you may depend upon it. I knew old Gunner's-mate 
 Joskms would be mixmg one of those three-decker 
 punches of his." 
 
 True for you, Mr. Fairwood - Joskins had mixed 
 the punch! 
 
 Now is my time to speak of a punch that was more 
 famous, in its day, than many poets and warriors and 
 statesmen. Though one could drink good liquor at 
 Admiral's Pride at any hour of the twentv-four and 
 at any season of thfe year, it was only for special occa- 
 sions that the great punch was brewed. The Admiral 
 had invented it, and named it after his flag-ship. 
 Before his death, he had taught the secret of it to 
 Joskins. A few prigs called it the " Bellerophon " ; 
 but by the family, the intimate friends and the butler 
 it was frankly spoken of as the " Billv-rough-un " 
 Tradition had it that " Hot-Shot Bill'" had won 
 promotion and recognition in high places by this 
 punch more than by his fighting and seamanship. 
 I have not a doubt that this is true — for the navy 
 was full of exceptional fighters (so full that the Lords 
 of the Admiralty sometimes grew quite tired of hearing 
 
The Brothers 
 
 17 
 
 of their deeds of valour), but had only one punch that 
 was above criticism. The inventor had gi\en the 
 receipt of the punch to his sovereign and, in return, 
 had been invited to dinner. This was the drink that 
 was mixed by the ex-gunner's mate Joskins, in honour 
 of Francis Drurie's return from campaigning in the 
 West. 
 
 But Francis was not in a mood to enjoy it fully. 
 He felt a restlessness that he could not account for — 
 a restlessness of the mind rather than the body — 
 and a depression of spirit equally unreasonable. 
 Fresh from a bath, clothed in the fine linen and un- 
 stained garments of prosperity, with the great punch 
 before him on the gleaming mahogany, and his father, 
 his brother, and Fairwood, of Fairwood Manor, near 
 him, yet he moved uneasily in his chair, and glanced 
 continually through the long window of the dining- 
 room into the garden where the gold of the sunlight 
 was deepening on stalk and leaf. 
 
 The talk seemed trivial to him, though it was the 
 talk of his class and his country — of crops, dinners, 
 men, dogs, and horses -— subjects that had always 
 interested him keenly until the present moment. 
 Even the incidents of the campaign had dwindled to 
 insignificance in his eyes. In answer to the questions 
 of the men he told them of the skirmishing, the hard- 
 
18 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ships, the fine shooting of the pioneers, the customs 
 of the tribes, and what-not; but he spoke without his 
 usual warmth — a fact that was as noticeable to the 
 others as to himself. 
 
 " You are tired, lad," said the captain anxiously. 
 " You should turn in and sleep the clock around." 
 
 " No, sir, I don't A-1 tired," replied Francis. " I 
 have had plenty of sleep in the last week since we got 
 out of the dangerous country. We slept lightly before 
 that out of respect for our scalps. But I feel a trifle 
 restless, and that's a fact. It may be owing to the 
 sudden change from constant alertness and poor fare 
 to this sort of thing." He looked at the great silver 
 bowl. " Perhaps I have acquired the habit of work. 
 It may be that I miss the fatigue and excitement of the 
 life I have been Ii\-ing for the past two months." 
 
 ■' Cheer u^,, lad," said Mr. Fairwood. " You'll get 
 fatigue and excitement enough next week, for we hunt 
 the Dudley country on Monday, the Swan River 
 country on Wednesday, and Saddle Hill on Saturday." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Francis, for he was a keen 
 spc.rtsman, and the best gentleman rider in the county, 
 either at Hat-racing, cross-country, or steeple- chasing. 
 
 " But Jumper looks thin and unfit," said the cap- 
 tain. " He'll need a deal of graining before Monday." 
 
 "Don't hunt him for a fortnight, lad." advised 
 
The Brothers 
 
 19 
 
 Mr. Fairwood. " Let him rest, and take the pick of 
 niy stud until he is fit for work again." 
 
 " But you offered me a mount, sir, until Snowball's 
 shoulder hardens," said John, smiling. 
 
 Mr. Fairwood turned a haughty glance in the 
 speaker's direction. He had gray eyes, easily warmed 
 to good nature or chilled to displeasure. He was 
 fjmous for saying what he felt. 
 
 " But ? " he questioned, in a voice of indignation. 
 " What d'ye mean, John, by saying ' but ' to me ? I 
 offered you a mount, sir, and you may be sure that the 
 offer still holds. Any friend of mine, or son of a friend, 
 or friend of a friend, is welcome to a horse from my 
 stables, or a bottle from my cellar, whenever he wants 
 it. But did I offer you the best ? No, John, I did not. 
 You will have to put up with the second best." 
 
 John was too thoroughly abashed to e\ : a try to 
 reply. Francis felt sorry for him, but could not help 
 thinking that an occasional facer of the kind would do 
 him no harm. John took it too much for granted that 
 the best of everything should be his. The captain 
 looked neither abashed, sorry, or amused. He refilled 
 Mr. Fairwood's glass from the half-pint ladle, then 
 looked fixedly at his elder son. 
 
 " How is it," he asked, " that Admiral's Pride is 
 so short of hunters ? " 
 
20 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " I — I do not know, exactly," replied John. 
 " But you should know," retorted the captain, " I 
 put the stables in your charge six months ago. If you 
 cannot manage the stables alone, how will you ever 
 run the whole estate? John, I am deeply distressed. 
 Here we are — and for the first time in the history of 
 Admiral's Pride, I'll wager — short of horses, at the 
 start of the hunting season." 
 
 Mr. Fairwood could not bear to hear any one taken 
 to task. He gulped his punch, stared round the room 
 with a swiftly melting eye, and at last focused his gaze 
 upon the captain. 
 
 " Come, Paul, you must not be so hard on the 
 youngster," he cried. " He is at the age when most 
 men are fools, anyway. All he thinks of now is dressing 
 himself up in fine clothes from London, but he may 
 outgrow that. He may make a fine, sensible man 
 some day. Heaven knows." 
 
 Captain Drurie roared with laughter. Francis 
 turned his head away, to hide a smile that he could not 
 keep from his face. John glared at Mr. Fairwood, 
 reckless with the sting of injured pride. 
 
 " Do you realize," cried the furious heir, " that you 
 are speaking of a man of twenty-five years of age — 
 of a bachelor of Oxford University, sir; of a gentleman 
 and a scholar?" 
 
The Brothers 
 
 «1 
 
 Fairwood, who thought he had been figuring very 
 tactfully as a peacemaker, gaped at the young man 
 in pained astonishment. Fortunately the ridiculous 
 side of the affair struck him before his rage exploded, 
 and he jomed the captain in wide-throated laughter. 
 John sprang to his feet and marched from the room. 
 
 When his seniors had finished their laughter, Francis 
 said: " You were too sharp, Mr. Fairwood. He will 
 sulk for a week." 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 isobel's futuri: 
 
 Before leaving the dining-table and the silver bowl 
 Francis won from Mr. Fairwood an acknowledgment 
 of the fact that John had not been treated fairly. 
 The captain took no part in the argument, but sat 
 far back in his chair, with his eyes turr.ci to a 
 portrait of Hot-Shot Bill. It was a belief of his 
 that two are enough for any argument. As soon as 
 Mr. Fairwood had admitted that he really thought 
 very highly of John, and had not meant more than 
 half of what he had said, Francis excused himself 
 and left the room. 
 
 Francis found John upstairs, in a little room full 
 jf books, sulking in the window-seat. 
 
 " John," said the campaigner, " :Mr. Fairwood 
 wants you to know that he did not mean what he said 
 of you, and that he is sorry he said it. He has the 
 highest regard for your scholarship, John." 
 
 " Scholarship! " cried the other. " What is the use 
 of scholarship in this barbaric hole? Here a rifleman 
 
 22 
 
Isobel's Future 
 
 23 
 
 in a coon-skin cap is of more account than a poet; and 
 if a gentleman can stick to the back of a half-broken 
 colt he is looked upon as the possessor of a liberal 
 education. Horses and dogs, tobacco and rum, fighting 
 and sleeping — Lord, there is not a man in the colony 
 capable of lifting his brain above these things! " 
 
 "Oh, come now, John, you are talking like an 
 idiot," said Francis, laughing good-naturedly. 
 
 " If I talk like an idiot, I am driven to it," repile-' 
 John. " Why was I sent to England and Europe for 
 my education if I am not to be allowed to continue the 
 life? What do I care about the stables? The grooms 
 can manage the feeding of the horses quite well without 
 my help. I have more important work to do; and, 
 by Heaven, I'll do it!" 
 " What is the work ? " asked Francis. 
 " Why should I tell you? " retorted John. " There 
 is only one person in Virginia who cares the snap of a 
 finger about my work." 
 "Who is that?" asked Francis. 
 "Isobel," replied the elder brother, without a 
 moment's hesitation, and looking at Francis, as if he 
 expected some indication of special interest. 
 
 " You are fortunate," said the other indifferently. 
 And then: "I should like to know what ii is that 
 interests Isobel." 
 
24 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " A history of Rome." 
 
 "Rome?" 
 
 " Yes, and in verse." 
 
 Francis was honestly astonished. He had never 
 suspected John of the staying power to attempt so 
 monumental a work as a history of any kind, either in 
 verse or prose. Of coursi he had often heard the 
 other speak of his work, but had never seen an>'thing 
 of it except a few dismal lyrics. 
 
 " Is it done? " he asked, in an awestruck voice. 
 
 John was disgusted with the question. 
 
 " This sort of thing is not done in two months," he 
 replied superciliously. "It is rather more difficult 
 than a campaign against a handful of savages," 
 
 "And will, no doubt, be responsible for more 
 deaths," retorted Francis, as he hastened from the 
 room. He had never, in all his life, found John in 
 quite such a beastly humour. 
 
 Next morning, shortly after breakfast, Francis 
 Drurie set out on foot to call on Mr. Richard Dariza, 
 Isobel's father. The Dariza place was named Hope- 
 land, and lay just the other side of Fairwood Manor. 
 It was a small estate, with a small, new house upon it, 
 and had once been a part of the manor. Francis 
 carried a parcel, in which were a number of examples 
 of Indian picture-writing for Mr. Dariza and a necklf :e 
 
Isobel's Future 
 
 25 
 
 of strange gems for Isobel. He crossed the Fairwood 
 lands without attracting the attention of any one at 
 the house — to have done so would have meant delay 
 and a second breakfast — and arrived at the Dariza 
 place just as the master himself stepped from the 
 breakfast-room to the gallery. 
 
 Richard Dariza was a Spaniarc by birth. Years 
 ago, in his native land, he had been .veil known in high 
 places as the Senor Ricardo Alcazardo da Riza. There 
 had been trouble of a family and political nature, and 
 Da Riza had Anglicized his name and turned his back 
 for ever on his own country. A year or two later he 
 married Miss Fairwood, of Virginia. This happened 
 in London, and for twelve years they made their home 
 in England. Two children were bom to them — the 
 first a boy, the second a girl. 
 
 When Isobel was in her fifth year the mother fell 
 very ill. This was in midwinter. Dariza was almost 
 crazed with terror, and immediately removed his 
 family to the south of France. There Mistress Dariza 
 recovered something of her strength, but she talked 
 continually of her home in Virginia, and grieved for it. 
 As soon as the doctors said that she was strong enough 
 to undertake a sea-voyage her husband engaged passage 
 for his family from Bristol to the great colony. The 
 voyage was made in safely, but within a month of their 
 
26 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 arrival, at the home of her people. Mistress Dariza 
 died. 
 
 Another great blow awaited the unfortunate Spaniard. 
 It fell some ten years later when his son, Richard 
 Fairwood St. George Dariza, a young lieutenant in 
 the nr ■ /, quarrelled with a senior officer, killed him in 
 fair fight, and vanished as completely from the knowl- 
 edge of the Admiralty and his family as if he had 
 descended into his grave. 
 
 Dariza's thin face and dark eyes lighted with pleasure 
 at sight of young Druric. He hastened across the 
 gallery and down the steps, and caught his visitor's 
 hand in lx;th of his. 
 
 " To see you again is like wine to my tired spirL," 
 he said. 
 
 Francis flushed with pleasure at the greeting. Such 
 words, from his father or Mr. Fairwood, would have 
 sounded foolish and stilted, but from the master of 
 Hopeland they were natural and sincere. He returned 
 the pressure of the other's thin hands. Dariza led the 
 way back to the breakfast-room. He looked more 
 like a man of eighty than fifty-five. Tall and of frail 
 build, his two great griefs had bent him, body and 
 spirit, and thinned his blood like a fever. And he 
 had a way, recently acquired, of turning his head 
 suddenly and lifting a furtive hand to his eyes. Some- 
 
isobel's Future 
 
 27 
 
 times he would smile to himself, very tenderly and 
 longingly, and that was more pitiful to see than 
 tears. 
 
 Francis refused a second breakfast, but accepted 
 his host's offer of coffee and tobacco. Isobel soon 
 entered the room, and spoke to Francis in subdued 
 voice and with a fleeting glance. He had already 
 given the sheets of bark and skin containing the picture- 
 writing to Dariza, and now he extended the Indian 
 necklace to the girl. 
 
 " Here is a little gift that I have brought out of the 
 wilderness to you, Isobel," he said. " I was told that 
 it once belonged to an Indl a princess." 
 
 Isobel flushed and hesitated. 
 
 " It is very valuable," she said, and glanced appeal- 
 ingly at her father. 
 
 " Take it, dear," said Dariza. " You need have no 
 scruples about accepting any gift from Francis Dru-ie." 
 
 Both knew what he meant, for of late he had often 
 spoken of the place that Francis had taken in his 
 alTcctions since the loss of his son. 
 
 Drurie fastened the splendid, glowing thing about 
 the girl's neck. His hands trembled as he did it, and 
 a mad desire to stoop and touch his lips to the white 
 flesh beneath his fingers went through him like fire. 
 But instead of that he said, in a level voice: ** It has 
 
28 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 a difficult catch, but I think I have fastcncl ii prop 
 erly." 
 
 Soon afterward Isobcl left the room. The two men 
 sat silent for a long time, sipping their colTce and 
 smoking their silver tobacco-pipes. Clay, as material 
 for pipes, vas not yet popular with the gentry, either 
 in England or the colonies. 
 
 " Francis," said Dariza at last. " I feel tliat I am 
 not much longer for this world." 
 
 Drurie looked at him in consternation. 
 
 " It is so," continued the other. " No skill of ours 
 can alter it — the message is in my heart. I am an old 
 man — not in years, but in life — and the taste for 
 earthly pleasures is dead in me. I think that I shall 
 never again see the tobacco harvested iiom these 
 fields." 
 
 He paused and smiled gently at his friend. Francis 
 paled a little, and breathed quickly, but could find no 
 word to say. 
 
 " Do 1 ot pity me for feeling the approach of death,'' 
 continue;! Dariza. "That which seems horrible to 
 you, with youth and courage and love your servants, 
 is a thing sweet to me. Death, I take it, is no more 
 than a change of habitation and a widening of vision; 
 a change from this narrow, grief-stricken house to a 
 place where the eyes of love shall brighten, never 
 
Isobcl's Future 
 
 29 
 
 again to dim with suffering; to a home that shelters 
 no dread of disruption. There my dearest friend 
 awaits me — the woman I love — in that bright house 
 where neither pain nor misunderstanding may enter." 
 
 He leaned forward, his arms upon the table, and 
 his bright, dark eyes holding the younger man's fas- 
 cinated gaze. 
 
 " I do not speak as a poet or a dreamer," he said, 
 " but as a man who has lived and suffered, and taken 
 joy of the world, and read men and books, and sifted 
 the teachings of the churches, without fear or prejudice, 
 as food for my needs. So I am ready to go joyfully — 
 save for one fear — one regret." 
 
 Drurie tried to ask the question. 
 
 " It is this," went on Darizci. " My boy may still 
 live, disgraced, suffering, and unbefriended." 
 
 There was such agony in the old man's eyes that 
 Francis turned away. 
 
 " I have none of this fear at thought of leaving 
 Isobel," said Dariza. " She is with relatives and 
 friends, sheltered and loved. But my boy! God, if it is 
 that he lives, and is in need of trust and tenderness, 
 and should come home some day and find me gone! " 
 
 " Do you think he may be — be alive ? " asked 
 Francis, scarce above a whisjser. " If so, sir, how is it 
 that he has not come home before this?" His voice 
 
 * 
 
30 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 grew surer. " In good fortune or evil, Dick Dariza 
 will never lack a friend so long as I draw breath." 
 
 " Noble heart," said the old man. He extended a 
 thin hand, and clutched Drurie's wrist. " My heart 
 aches with the doubt of his fate," he whispered. " How 
 gladly should I welcome the sure news of his safety in 
 death. If he lives, the life of the outcast is his. Dear 
 God, why did I let him from my sight ? " 
 
 He hid his face in his hands and wept silently. 
 Francis, unspeakably embarrassed, did his best to 
 comfort him. He laid a timid hand on the thin, quaking 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Do net fret, sir," he murmured. " If Dick is 
 dead you may be sure that he died like a gentleman, for 
 all this talk of his crime of killing a superior. If he 
 lives, then if ever I hear of him I shall find him, though 
 the search lead me to the ends of the earth. And in 
 whatever position I find him — high or low, rich or 
 poor, in bondage or in power — I shall claim him as 
 my friend, and serve him with all my heart and 
 strength." 
 
 At last the stricken eld man grew calm, and looked 
 his young friend fairly in tiic face again. 
 
 " I had no right to show you my sorrow," he said. 
 He gazed through the long windows and across the 
 sunlit lawns to the rounded woods of his brother-in- 
 
Isobel's Future 
 
 31 
 
 law's park. " For Obeis futinc I do net worry," he 
 said. " She is shel'. rcl. and ^h^ world is on her side. 
 Henry Fairwood wil' bo her (rua.dian when I am gone. 
 He loves her as if she were his own daughter. But I 
 do not think his guardianship will last long. That a 
 younger man will soon take his charge from him I have 
 not a doubt." 
 
 Young Drurie's blood drummed in his ears, and he 
 felt his cheeks tingling. What was Dariza going to 
 say, he wondered? A sweet hope flooded his brain 
 and heart like music. But the old man did not look 
 at him. Quite unconscious of the young man's emo- 
 tion, he said: 
 
 " John is a good fellow. For myself I like men of a 
 more adventurous spirit; but the other kind makes the 
 more comfortable husband. Yes, John is a safe man; 
 and if a young lady takes a fancy to him I consider it 
 a safe fancy. If he does not catch my eye as some 
 ethers do the fault is mine; for, a man of books and 
 reveries myself, my taste is all for men of action. I 
 saw a deal of sword-iron and smoke when I was a young 
 man, and books have seemed a limp and sapless 
 enterprise to me, in spite of my honest application to 
 them. The reading of love-passages will never take the 
 place of kissing; and even so, when I follow the turns 
 and chances of armed conflict, up and down printed 
 
 i- 
 
32 
 
 P 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 pages, some smoke from my own youth and a veil of 
 blood of my own spilling crawl between my vision and 
 the book. Then I see the truth — the worth of the 
 reality and the worth of the shadow." 
 
 Francis murmured a polite assent to the old gentle- 
 man's words. Had they been spoken in Dutch he 
 would have done the same, for not a phrase had he 
 heard after the reference to John. So that was settled, 
 was it? Isobel loved John! That explained her 
 unusual quiet and her objection to being kissed. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 I! 
 
 AN OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT 
 
 Francis had not been home long when a letter 
 arrived for the captain, from Bristol, in the care of 
 Stephen Todd, master of the good ship Merryweather. 
 It was from a wealthy baronet, who had been a ship- 
 mate of the captain's in the old days; and the heart 
 of it was the offer to Francis of a berth with an expedi- 
 tion bound for Hudson's Bay. It was quite evident 
 that the captain !iad been corresponding with his old 
 friend, and had not failed to state his younger son's 
 qualifications for any adventurous work on sea or 
 land. 
 
 The expedition was to sail from Bristol in May of 
 the next year. It was a venture of the Royal Com- 
 pany cf London and Bristol Adventurers, designed to 
 establish a settlement in the wilderness of the far 
 north and open up a trade in furs and precious metals 
 Avith the natives of that little-known land. The French 
 were already at work there, but all the world knew 
 that it was English territory. The expedition would 
 
 88 
 
 5- 
 
34 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 consist of four vessels at least, all armed like pirates, 
 and each carrying two commanding olTicers — th 
 military commander and the sailing-master, or navi- 
 gator. Francis would be given the military command of 
 one of the vessels. 
 
 The baronet went on to say that there was nothing 
 unsound alx)ut the venture; that he himself had taken 
 shares in it to the cost of five thousand jXDunds, and 
 expected a return of at least fifty per cent, profit. In 
 all sincerity he advised his old brother-in-arms to 
 invest at least a thousand in it. He would reserve 
 shares to that amount, on the chance. 
 
 This letter put even the hunting in a second place 
 with the people of tlic three estates. Francis accepted 
 the olTer upon the moment of hearing it, but liis rela- 
 tives and friends fell into argument, the smoke and 
 dust of which dirl not s.ule for a month. When they 
 talked to Francis one would think thai thdr lives, not 
 his life, were to be risked, \\hen they sjxjke to the 
 captain one would think tliat their m(mey, not his, was 
 to be cast upon the waters. By the way the}- talked it 
 over among them.-^elvcs one would tliink that some 
 crime was contemplated by the captain and Francis. 
 Only ^Ir. Dariza and Joskins were in sympathv with 
 the adventurers. Mr. Dariza explained, at great length, 
 that an expedition of this kind was a greater thin- 
 
 rtmtL. 
 
 - "•""'"^'^'■''-gwjM i 
 

 An Offe r of Employment 35 
 
 than any crop of tobacco that had ever been raised 
 and sold in \'irginia. 
 
 " If our fathers had all sat at home," said he, " who 
 would now be taking their ease in Admiral's Pride and 
 Fairwood Manor?" 
 
 As for the old ox-gunner's-mate. Joskins, why, he 
 was in two minds about whether or not he should join 
 the expedition himself. 
 
 " I'd do it, beyond a doubt, if it wasn't that I be 
 well-nigh sevcnty-five year old and so infernal totterish 
 in the legs. A3e, Master Frank, there be no life in the 
 whole wide world equal in sport and eddication to 
 burnin' powder and makin' new landfalls. Ye'll be 
 sightin' pirates and Frenchmen, I take it." 
 
 John's objections to his brother's joining the expedi- 
 ion were half-hearted; but his argument against the 
 investment of a thousand pounds in the stock of the 
 Royal Company of London and Bristol Adventurers 
 was sincere enough, and became in time far too per- 
 sistent to suit the captain. Master John was told to 
 mind his own business. 
 
 At last it became an accepted fact that Francis 
 should set sail for England in about seven months- 
 time, with his father's investment in his pocket, and in 
 Bristol take command of his ship and up-anchor for 
 the desolate seas of the north, \\iien every member of 
 
 
 kri/'i- 
 
36 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 the household was convinced of this the captain said; 
 " And now we'll hear no more about it at the dinner- 
 table." So that was the end of it as a subject of general 
 argument and ill nature. But in the quiet of her own 
 room ^Irs. Drurie was already knitting stockings of 
 amazing thickness for her baby to wear in the chilly 
 north. 
 
 Francis was overjoyed at the prospect of so good a 
 berth with so enterprising an expedition. The love 
 of the sea was in his blood; and, though he had won 
 his spurs in the forests of the West, with inland planters 
 and pioneer riflemen beside him and painted savages 
 m front, it was his intention to win fame as a lea 
 fighter and to try his hand as soon as possible at a 
 ship-load of Frenchmen. 
 
 He saw in this oifcr of the baronet's the initial step 
 to a whole life full of adventure and glorv. From dis- 
 tinguishing himself as the military commander of one 
 of the company's ships, he would go on to a commission 
 m the royal navy. He had an idea that some day the 
 picture of another admiral would hang in the dinin<T- 
 room of Admiral's Pride. But as surelv as he was satis- 
 fied with his worldly prospects, just as surelv was he 
 dissatisfied with the present state and future promise 
 of something that lay - though le would not admit 
 It — still closer to his heart. 
 
An Offer of Employment 
 
 37 
 
 Mr. Dariza's plan for Isobel's future did not suit 
 him at all. Isobel's attitude suited him still less. 
 Before, ever since their very first meeting, she had always 
 treated him as her dearest friend. He could find 
 neither comfort nor reason in this transferring of 
 affection from himself to his brother John. It "was 
 unjust. If he had been to Isobel's taste when she was 
 seventeen years of age, why was he not still to her taste ? 
 In what way had he changed between his departure 
 for the West and his return? What had he done to 
 lose first place in her affections? 
 
 And what, in the name of all the devils, had John 
 done to gain it? When Isobel's kisses had meant little 
 to Francis, they had been his for the asking. Before 
 that again, when they had been a decided embarrass- 
 ment, he had not been able to avoid Lhem. And now 
 that he wanted to kiss her — when, to tell the truth, 
 he could thmk of nothing that he wanted to do quite 
 so much — she would not let him. 
 
 Labouring under the absurd belief that he knew 
 the ways of women as well as he knew the science of 
 savage warfare and the anatomy of a horse, he decided 
 that Isobel Dariza was mercenary — and that her 
 father was mercenary — and that all the blessings of 
 life, save hard knocks, were reserved for elder sons. 
 He came to this conclusion without heat, reasoning 
 
 m 
 
 it*^* 
 
 & 
 
 t^. 
 
 -# 
 
38 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 '^Z3^ 
 
 Isobel made two attempls to discuss the pmspectfve 
 voyage wnh Francis; but his reserve was such thi 
 
 tzr ^^"" '"" '° "" ^""^•^ "»•" --""^ 
 
 A small seaport to,v„ lay within ten miles of Ad- 
 ™ aPs Pr,do. There were coasfng-schooners, fl«. 
 boats from up the river, and now .-rd then a vessel 
 om ,hc deep sea. The whole town smacked of foreign 
 ands and bnsk adventure. There was a wharf Z 
 here were old sailors in their cottages and saitytlio" 
 ,- m inc tavern. Here was the square in which 
 he cargoes < f .Urieans were sold to the planters, and 
 
 me h(,.j,'is of cast-bound ship^. 
 
 Druri^ti^dt"' " "" """" ^"'^''^''- F^^cis 
 ttun. pa.d frequent v.sits, riding over on Jumper at 
 
 the threshold of a room in which he knew that he°was 
 soon to do great deeds; or, ,„„ro aptiv, on the Lrcl^^o 
 a vast house full of ^r»ns an<; chambers as^« ™ 
 known to h.m, yet among whom he was to LTe 
 fnends and foes and live out hi, life 
 Seme such though, came ,o Francis, and held his 
 
Offer of Employ ment 39 
 
 teU JT""" "'" '" """'"" "■' ""■ -"-d shell." 
 
 backs m thcr cottages as actors who, no longer active 
 
 nofgh to take their parts in the great " doings 'Xn 
 
 had been firn,,,- b„t kindly pushed £,.,n theti, J 
 
 h.m that they always sat with a sidewise tilt of the 
 head .s.e„.„g. ^, ,, ,„^,^ ,^^, .^ ^^^ J^of the 
 
 of old thmgs that they listened, rather than for any 
 
 voice fiom the dusky future ' 
 
 He became a regular visitor a. t„o or three of the 
 
 «.. ages, cheenng the old sailors' hearts a„,l f J„l 
 
 tor tongues and memories with good linuor ™f 
 
 obacco, and listening to vahant tales of the a Tor 
 
 hours on ,„u. Afc, he pairf .Uits ,0 the harbou. side 
 
 .a,™ whenever a seagoing craft of anv kind was „ 
 
 humble, pla.vers of the great game who had, a it uer°e 
 but stepped out tc .he j„rch for a mouthk,, „f ^^^ 
 
 Francs mde together to King's Haven. Relations 
 
 nveen these two had been somewhat strained ev 
 ^nce the first ,v„rd of the Bristol expedition. Sharp 
 
 hmgs had been said by both; but John had uncovered 
 a mean stripe in his character that was haZ o 
 forget t.han any number of angry words. Hefto 
 
40 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 great estate, he had objected to the risking of a thou- 
 sand pounds lor the advancing of his brother's in- 
 terests. 
 
 Of late he had begun to see what a poor figure he 
 had cut in that affair. It required no great power of 
 imagination to know what Francis felt about if so 
 for the past fortnight, John had been working hard to' 
 reestablish himself in his brother's good opinion It 
 was slow work, however; for Francis, hurt and de- 
 pressed to a greater extent than he himself knew, over 
 the affair about which he must keep silence, made no 
 effort to forget or forgive the injustice of this other 
 matter. True, th ,oney was to be risked; but John's 
 fault was the same, for all that. 
 
 During the ride the talk was half-hearted and 
 scanty. Upon reaching the top of the hill overlooking 
 the harbour, the brothers saw a small brig lying at 
 the wharf. The common-room of the tavern was 
 crowded with sailors, longshoremen, and townsmen. 
 
 In the inner room, to which the gentlemen from 
 Admird s Pnde were led, sat an old fellow with a head 
 lue a drmd's, and a body like a cask. His frosted 
 beard lay hke a cascade on his breast, and his mous- 
 aches ilared from his cheeks like wings. His face was 
 bron-n his eyes were small, and gray as ice. He was 
 dressed m weather-beaten blue, with sea-boots reaching 
 
 ft 
 
 /Lsr^/ •■- 
 
An Offer of Employment 41 
 
 half-way up his thighs. His right hand, clinched on 
 the table beside his glass of hot rum, looked like the 
 knob of some curious club. 
 
 " ^°°^ "'"^'■"'"g to you," said Francis pleasantly 
 The old fellow stared offensively for a moment; 
 then, without a word, he lifted the glass to his gusty 
 moustache and drained it to the lump of sugar in the 
 bottom. John flushed red with indignation. 
 Francis laughed good-naturedly. 
 
 " your manners are not of the best, shipmaster." 
 said he. t- , 
 
 At that the mariner thumped on the table with his 
 great fist and bellowed for the landlord to lay aft. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 A STRANGE LETTER 
 
 MiVE host opened the door and thrust his head 
 cautiously around the cd<,'c of it 
 
 ''Brou./' said Frands, "bring me a fair-sized 
 boul a bottle of Barbados rum, a pint of French 
 brandy, a pint of sherry, red bitters, tuo lemons, four 
 I'mes, spice, sugar, and boiling water. I am goin. to 
 try my hand at mixing a ' Billy-rough-un ' jnmch '' 
 
 ^'^tcady there, cook! Bring me another of these 
 here buckets o' honest Jamaica stulV," roared the 
 manner, 
 
 " ^"^ I ^vant you to try my punch," said Fran- 
 
 " The deuce take your punch," replierl the mariner 
 
 ^hn was for Iea;ing the room; but Francis gave' 
 
 h'm to understand that there was sport afoot, and 
 
 coaxed h,m mto a chair beside the hearth. He drew 
 
 ins own chair up to the table. 
 
 sai7 ''' ^^^^ ^''" ^'^ ^ ''^"^''' ''''' ^""'^ "' ^^'^'" h^ 
 
 42 
 
A Strange Letter 
 
 43 
 
 The mariner glared like a wild beast at bay ' 
 
 " I am proud to meet such an honest, outs,«ken 
 ough.«.a,her ,ump of a son or Neptune," J.inuc^i 
 Hanas •■I, „ „,,„ a, ,„„ „^„ ^,^.^_^ 
 
 hearts of the Frenchmen, for .hey are polite people 
 
 the kMT n ""r" ""'"""^ ■'"" " '-'«• -• That's 
 he km, I l,ke, for rough and <la„gerous work. Vou 
 
 smell of rum and bilge-water. You fear notedy 
 
 ^nu an. , e kind .; man I like to thir. .f'a, J: 
 linually nskmg a dee[>.sea grave." 
 
 s,aicd"rT ""■ 'if'' '" ''" """'■ The mariner 
 su d a, Lrancs w„h more of amazement and less of 
 
 -a" d lo Ti ''\'*"- '•*"^'' f-- He had never been 
 "al^cd to l,k, u,at before. What was the voungster 
 ■Irnrng at. He was grinning in very friendK- fashion 
 -y^vay. The old fellou gruntal uneertainlv. ' 
 
 Thats better," said Francis. "I knew the 
 
 n,omemr laid eyes on you that you were a sociaHe 
 f "ow at hear,. Sociable, but reserved. That's the 
 
 i^ed old"", \ ' '""' '""^ """■ ^""^ '"-- 
 
 lis T ' ' °' '"''^"^ ™ ">* '^™'' »d 
 Itlgth." ■ "" "'■ ■"^" "*° "^^^ England's 
 
 "Be ye drunk ? " asked the mariner, with a dawn,in» 
 
 iignt 01 micrc'st in his eyes. ° 
 
 f4^ 
 
 r! 
 
 
44 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "Most assuredly not. Do I look it?" returned 
 Francis gravely. That was a shot, right enough. He 
 heard John clmckle. 
 
 "Oh, ye look right, aloft and alow! but ye mav 
 name me for a cobbler if ever I heard such fool talk 
 afore m all my life." replied the other. He turned 
 toward John. " Would ye say now that this young man 
 be pokm' fun at me ? " he asked. 
 Francis answered for himself. 
 
 " There was a deal of truth in what I said, and it 
 was meant more seriously than it sounded," he said in 
 a friendly voice and with an engaging smile. 
 
 " It sounded danged queer to me," grum^ . the 
 mariner. 
 
 ; ^V^». however that may be, we'll shake hands on 
 It, said Francis. Quick as the words, his hand was 
 up in the air, close under the whiskers of the bewil- 
 dered, sulky, half-awakened old salt. His bright 
 whimsical gaze shot a command into the depths «; 
 that clouded brain that could not be resisted. The 
 old follow glared and snorted with uncertainty for 
 half a mmute; then the big, gnarled, root-hke' paw 
 
 <'Pened, lifted from the table, and enclosed the hand 
 
 ot the young soldier. 
 A. >l,a. n,„™™, Brown cntcrcl with ,hc ma.erials 
 
 for ,l,e ma.:,„g „f .,,0 ,,„„ch. He gasped and gaped 
 
A Strange Letter 
 
 45 
 
 at the picture made by Master Francis Drurie and the 
 unsavoury mariner. 
 " Stir your stumps, cook ! " growled the man of the sea 
 The tavern-keeper recovered from his amaz'^ment 
 and swiftly rid himself of his burden. He deposited 
 bottles and bundles on the table, stood the kettle 
 of boiling w^ter on the hob, and finally placed a glass 
 of rum and water at the mariner's elbow. It was a 
 wonder how he had carried them all. The old feUow 
 mstead of complimenting him on his dexterity, scowled 
 furiously. 
 
 "Take it away," he shouted. "Can't ye see 
 ye fish-eyed son o' a swab, as how I be a goin' to join 
 this gentleman in a glass o' decent licker? " 
 
 " But - " began Bro^-n in a voice of righteous 
 indignation. The mariner interrupted him with an 
 oath and, snatching up the glass of rum and water 
 with a swiftness of which one would not have thought 
 the big list capable, let it fly. Mr. Brown dodged 
 The glass and its contents splintered and splashed 
 agamst the wall. Mr. Brown slipped from the room 
 without excusing himself. 
 
 Neither of the gentlemen made any comment on 
 this remarkable cxinbition of table- manners. The 
 throwing about cf dishes, liquors, and glassware was 
 not entirely unknown even in the best-regulated 
 
 1 •'■ 
 
 
46 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 old "a ■ ^"'['^"'^ '" ^ 'h^ las. bubble of the 
 old man s mtcmal boiling. He leaned back in his chair 
 and .«,/.,, Then. „,.h eyes and ears alerted 
 a benevolent relaxing of the jaws, he foliowed The 
 mixing of the punch. 
 
 John. .V. ,h,r was quue s„re as to quanluies for 
 Josktns had not vet taken them in hand- but, as thev 
 knew that they had not forgotten any of he ma rwT 
 hey hoped fo. ,h, best. As the mi™, p,"' 
 the manner's interest greiv and gre-,v ' 
 
 •• I never did sec » many good lickers and ii^in's 
 go into one brew," said K- 
 
 Presently he began to sni/V, and drew his chair 
 closer to the bowl. " 
 
 It was done. Three glasses were fdled. Three 
 
 n.llj -rough-tm " bec-n brewed even bv the hand ofThc 
 -gunn„s-mate. AH„ the second round, John ' 
 
 nistory of the great punch. 
 
 The old fcllov.- was impressed. 
 
 "An admiral," he .said. " An admiml r,' f 
 WclUbedanged! I uere once^'n n "' ''''^'• 
 
 bosun's-mate "IVas n n ""''' "''^^'^- 
 
 -s. I s never forgot 'er/, neither." 
 
A Strange Letter 
 
 47 
 
 He told them many stories of his adventurous 
 career, and all the details of his last vovage. His 
 shtp was the G»««. Cr^_ He had sailed from 
 I^ndon ,h,r,y.five days before. Yes, he had felt that 
 " "■•!" "'^ '^^' ™)"g<^- The pumps had been kept 
 ™rk.„g. day and night, fr„„, the tenth morning out 
 until they got mto the harbour. 
 
 wi^'.^"' ™' '"""'• -^^ '''"'"' ^''"ok hands 
 «ith the mas'er of the GoUfn Crown, h felt 
 
 »rne.hmg like a folded paper pressed against his 
 
 flalhtar,''- "" "■"'• ""'^^•" *^I«-'' 'he salt, 
 flashing h,s eyes at John's elegant oack in the 
 
 doorway. " Figger i, out on the quiet. It be a letter 
 '";":."""■' "' "" "' " >"" """^ "^ writ all 
 
 his^;"ke.."°*' "' ^''"*' '"^ '"■"« "^''-"y »'o 
 
 w long will you lie in King's Haven? I want 
 
 ■ _e another talk with you before ,ou sail away," 
 
 "I'll lay here till I calk me seams and overhaul 
 
 srnZviTf' """''"'" "P"^^ ^he mariner, 
 smilmg hke the best-natured soul in the world. 
 
 Th" punch had thawed John as well as the ship- 
 
 n 
 
 L. 
 
48 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 master. He was not accustomed to potations of such 
 length and strength so early in the morning. No 
 sooner were the two gentlemen in the saddle than 
 John said: 
 
 - Frank, you have a way with ,vou, and no mistake. 
 
 . hat old rogue was no better than a pirate when we first 
 
 set eyes on him, but he was mild as new butter when 
 
 we left. I could never have dealt so with the old 
 
 rascal. He'd have cracked my head for me at the 
 
 first word. When yea are sailing the seas, you'll 
 
 have to play such tric'cs every day. You'll find these 
 
 Ola pitch-eatcrs brisk lads to keep in hand." 
 
 Francis laughed. 
 
 "Oh, with that punch, one could come around the 
 devil himself! " he said. 
 
 John laughed as if a very good joke had been 
 cracked His usual deportment was uncommonly 
 sedate for one of his age; but now he rode hi^ii in bis 
 stirrups, bumping and swaying, and beamin^/to ri^^it 
 and left. ° 
 
 " You'll make a great sailor, Frank," he rri -d " I 
 en^y you your career, rip me if I don't! A man can 
 wm a ime name at that sort of work -and a fortune 
 too, hke as not. It is not the highest type of mind 
 maybe -this galloping, slashing, shooting, sailing, 
 type -but 'twill do, lad -'twiU do. And^'ou com^ 
 
A Strange J^etter 
 
 49 
 
 honestly by it, Frank. There were a dozen of such 
 among our ancestors. I am the first poet of the family. 
 But It's little credit I get for that." 
 
 "But 3'ou say that Isobel likes your verses -so 
 why do you complain?" said Francis. You must' 
 
 not, magme from this that the punch had befuddled the 
 soldier's wits at all. 
 
 '' Trve - true," said John. " That is something, to 
 to be sure. She has a very superior mmd, has Isobel. 
 she is a fine girl." 
 
 It came to Francis that he might just as well have 
 the httle pang over with now as later. He did not want 
 people to thmk him a dog in the manger, as the saying 
 
 "Yes, she is a fine girl," he said. "If I ^-cre a 
 poet, I'd put it stronger than that. .\nd you are a 
 lucky man, John." 
 
 He leaned sidewajs in his saddle and held out his 
 hand to his brother. For the fraction of a second John 
 looked surprised. Then, flushing a little, he extended 
 his hand and pressed that of Francis swiftly and 
 strongly. ' 
 
 John had accepted his congratulations! W^l 
 there could be no question about it now. The most 
 hvdy hope in the world could not keep a-u^ng against 
 such odds. Francis's heart gu. > him a shrewd tLge 
 
 1-' 
 
 i- 
 
 i^ 
 
50 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 and then felt as empty and insecure as a bubble It 
 was worse than he had expected. 
 
 T r'.'.^^T "" '^"^' ''^' "^°"g ^^''^hout a word. 
 John d,d not feel comfortable. He knew that he had 
 no nght to accept his brother's congratulations; for, 
 hough Mr. Dariza had made no objections to his suit 
 Isobel had rejected him twice. He told himself that 
 he would not purposely have deceived his brother. 
 
 He had been taken unawares. Frank had made his 
 •Ue spcec , and stuck out his hand so suddenlv 
 hat ne had net had time to think. And the punch 
 
 ha flustereci i. a triHe. In fact, it was all Frank's 
 
 taiilt — he had made ihc punch. 
 Ii"t uha, ,|i,n, „,„„., i^bel was sure 
 say. c...efore long. Oh, .here was not a doubt 
 
 of « She had not been able to give any reason for 
 
 r.d'T \ r "" ™""' ■■^■''^' P"-"'' --n 
 uU of duldtsh uh.ms. FecMng sure of him, i, flattered 
 
 her pnde to refuse l™. John was full oi sueh Tn 
 
 vmcmg arguments like these - but, for all that, he did 
 
 not feel quite at his ease. 
 The uncomfortable silence soon wore itself out 
 
 and fbr the remainder of the journey the two brothers 
 
 mR'l^i!"-! M: 
 
A Strange Letter 
 
 51 
 
 When Francis reached home and the quiet of his 
 own room, he drew from his pocket the thing which the 
 old shipmaster had i,ressed so secretly into his palm 
 What joke was the fellow trying to plav on him? he 
 wondered Here was a sheet of paper, folded and re- 
 folded and sealed with red wax. The outside was 
 black with grime. Aaoss it was written, with a blunt 
 qiull: In hand of Master Job Spark, of ye Golden 
 Crown. Francis broke the wax and opened the 
 sheet with mfinite care. And this is what he read: 
 
 "Frank: -If ever you come to Bristol, haste to 
 the Cat and Rat. You wiU find the master a small 
 man with a bald head and a purple mark on his left 
 cheek Gam his eye; then kr:ock thrice on the table 
 with the knuckles of jour right hand and four times 
 With the knuckles of your left. He will then come to 
 you and whisper, ' Topsil.' You will reply, ■ Tagant- 
 
 ^ " Whereupon he will lead you aside and give j-ou full 
 information of me; and if I happen to be in England, 
 he will tell you where to find me. He is mv friend 1 
 have talked of you to him a hundred times. Tell 
 my ather that I am alive and prospering, but not a 
 ^vcrd of this to any one else. I am not in need of money, 
 but I am m great need to see you. Master Spark. 
 
 I. 
 
 ii 
 
 •I 
 
52 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 who carries this, is a trusty man, but for fear that it 
 may pass into the wrong hands, I must sign myself, 
 
 " Badger." 
 
 Francis read the strange letter twice before any 
 light came to him. His mind and heart were all too 
 busy with his own affairs. It was the word " Badger " 
 that cleared his brain. That was what he and Isobel 
 had called Dick, years ago, and for no reason that he 
 could remember. Beyond a doubt his correspondent 
 was none other than the vanished Richard Fairwood 
 St. George Dariza, late of the king's navy — and now 
 of the Cat and Rat. 
 
 !zmswim€ 
 
 . 'JA 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BALL AT ADMIRAL'S PRIDE 
 
 Francis Drurie was haunted, night after night 
 by the strange letter from young Dariza. He could 
 understand the cautious style of it, for he knew that 
 the poor feUow was m hiding from the law. charged 
 with the murder of a certain Captain Sir Howard 
 DiUmg. But what he was to gather from this rigmarole 
 of knocks on the table and a friendly tavern-keeper 
 with a bald head, he could not for the life of him think 
 In great need of somethmg. but in no need of money' 
 Now, what could he mean by that ? Was he in danger 
 of his life, from some other enemy than the law? 
 
 Before telling Mr. Dariza that he had received a 
 
 message, he rode to King's Haven again. He found 
 
 Job Spark in an agreeable mood. After ordering 
 
 •materials for the famous punch, they retired to the 
 
 private parlour. 
 
 " Master Spark, I want you to teU me something 
 about the man who sent that letter to me." said 
 Francis. 
 
 68 
 
 ii! 
 
 f 
 
 ■ «!fs-. 
 
54 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "Put the question, Master Dnirie, and maybe 
 I'll answer ye," replied the mariner. 
 
 "Is he in trouble?" 
 
 This was evidently a hard shot for Master Spark. 
 He pulled at his long moustaches, glared around the 
 room, and wiped his brow with a huge mahogany 
 hand. 
 
 "Well," he said, "ye might call it trouble— and, 
 again, ye might not. He was safe enouL'h when I 
 left him." 
 
 " What work does he do ? Is he following the sea? " 
 asked Drurie. 
 
 " Aye, ye might call it that. He he's a tine sailor 
 he's Hodge." 
 
 "Hodge!" exclaimed the other unguardedly. 
 
 " Aye, that be your friend's name, I take it." The 
 old man looked at the young man with a s-ort of taunting 
 humour in his eyes. 
 
 Francis laughed. He read the old fellow like a 
 book. 
 
 " You are sharp," he said. " But you are honest 
 and so am I. Hodge may be his name now; but, as 
 you know as well as I do, he had another once. What 
 that was I'll take it for granted that you know - 
 and say no more about it." 
 
 Master Spark tried his best to look as if he knew 
 
The Ball at Admiral's Pride 
 
 a 
 
 great deal more than he really did, and to hide 
 
 55 
 
 his 
 
 . . .„ — V "»u> aiiu lO ni( 
 
 curiosity. All this was plain as print to Francis 
 
 Spark nodded his head sagely. 
 
 ''It do beat all," he said, "'how has the mighty 
 fell from his seat, as the sayin' is." 
 
 "It was no fault of our friend's," said Drurie. 
 He acted just as jou or I would have acted in the 
 same place He was insulted by a rascal, and gave 
 him the he fair m his teeth. So he was asked to fight 
 It was as honest a fight as two men ever engaged in - 
 a doctor and seconds, and everything shipshape. 
 Our friend was the better shot of the two, hut the 
 other man belonged to a more powerful family. So 
 ^e poor fe low had to run for it, and change his name. 
 
 Z t n '>• '''' '^^-^ ^'^"^'^^ ^'"^ dead unti 
 now. But all this, of course, is old historv to you " 
 
 'Aye, ye might well say «>." replied 'the mariner. 
 But It was not. He had known that the lad called 
 Hodge was a gentleman, but had never been able to 
 learn anything of his past. The old sailor's heart was 
 warmed by Drurie's trust. 
 By this time the punch ,. . ready. 
 
 " What manner of place is this «Cat and Rat'?" 
 asked Drurie. 
 
 " A tricky place," said the mariner. " Not fust 
 the place for gentlemen with rings on their fingers to 
 
 if - 
 
 'W^ 
 
 \kt\\ 'A 
 
56 
 
 A Ca/alier of Virginia 
 
 faU asleep in. Aye, sir, ye may put it dow-n as a chancey 
 place - but don't ye nam me for sayin' it. No harm 
 m sayin' it, mind - -h.t mum's the word, for all 
 that." 
 
 " From this, I v'ather hot our friend is in a rough 
 and dangerous va, of bu'iness," said Drurie inquir 
 ingly. 
 
 Spark leaned clos to him. 
 
 " Ye have the right o' it," h( whis')ered. " Rough 
 and dangerous, ye may well say. If ye have anv hold 
 on him, sir, get him clear o' that crew. Not a^ huu 
 I mean to say any harm o' anybody — but a hint be 
 as good as a handspike to a sharp one like ye." 
 Francis grasped his hand. 
 
 " Thank you for your frankness," he said. " Not 
 a word of it shall go any further; but 1 hall not forget 
 your hmt or vour kindness. I hope to make a ovage 
 to Bristol in the spring." 
 
 Francis Drurie went over to Hop< ^and that evening 
 after his second talk with the master of the Golde^ 
 Crowtt. He had avoided the place of late. He found 
 Tsobel alone in the hall, seated beside a fire of hickory 
 logs. He looked at her chin, and then at the top of her 
 head, when they shook hands. He would not allow 
 himself the mournful plea-are of looking int. her eyes 
 He was doing his best to forget about her eves. 
 
The Pall at Admiral's Pride 57 
 
 " Vou arc asLamc 
 be," she said. 
 
 (' yourself — and well yoi: nce(' 
 
 His 
 
 " Ashamed " he u >eauM, honesf puzzle^ 
 glance met hers. 
 
 " Why have desc-m^i us? ., five days since 
 you vere here.' sh. said T,. „ ^he 'lushed suddenly 
 and return' d to h«T seaf 
 
 Franas I t that 1.^ w^ n, .. a 1 of. She 
 had counte. he dav^ s.n, . ..a- .hat right 
 
 hadsacto^tha Xnd ,, ,,d she .ush? It 
 di. not look o him .eat .sh of guilt - which, of 
 CO. r.^, U .K, H ' , been. What right had she to 
 play with n,m aft ving him away? He stared at 
 
 her gravciy until h r eyelids drooped. 
 
 "V i used to ne to see me every day," she sa.. 
 gently. -" ^' 
 
 And no .a cor everyday. I thought that 
 
 h Tl '''• "^^^^ "^ ^ ""g i« his voice 
 
 ^ hat had x,ot mtended. Shejooked up quickly, and 
 ''Own . un B: a flash. 
 
 Yo are rude," she said. " You must have lost 
 yo.'- manners while fighting in the wilderness." 
 
 " ^ J^'' 'y *"^^ somethmg while I was away- 
 -methin. nportant than my poor manners,- 
 
 repaedHan. Then, conscience-stricken at the speech 
 I beg yoxir pardon for speaking so," he said. 
 
 ! ■ 
 
58 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " What did you lose ? " asked the girl without turning 
 her head, and scarcely above a whisper. 
 
 The young man stared at her, astonished and 
 angry. At that moment, to his great relief, Mr. Dariza 
 entered the hall. He walked forward and met the 
 old gentleman half-way. 
 
 " May I speak to you in private, sir ? " he asked in 
 a low voice. 
 
 Mr. Dariza glanced inquiringly in his daughter's 
 direction, but she was gazing intently into the fire. 
 
 " Speak to me, Frank ? Certainly, certainly. This 
 way, if you please," he said in a very evident fluster. 
 
 Francis followed him to the library, puzzled at the 
 uneasiness of his manner. 
 
 Mr. Dariza closed the library door, waved the 
 visitor to a seat, and sank into one himself with the air 
 of a man spent with exhaustion. A red spot flamed 
 in the centre of each thin, yellow cheek, and his black 
 eyes shone with a feverish brightness. 
 
 " You are ill, sir," cried Drurie anxiously, rising 
 from his chair. 
 
 The master of Hopeland motioned him back. 
 
 " It is of the spirit, dear lad. Sit do^vn, I beg of 
 you," he said. 
 
 But Francis st^^pped closer. 
 
 " I have heard from overseas," he said. " I have 
 
The Ball at Admira rs Pride 59 
 
 heard in a roundabout way, that one whom we love -^ 
 and thought lost - is alive and pn>spering." He talked 
 very fast, anxious to tell all - all that he could tell - 
 without startling Dariza. " He is not in need of 
 
 W n, ^It^ '^' '^' °' ^"^^°^' ''^y con^fortable, 
 but still m hiding. He is known by an assumed name- 
 but, beyond a doubt, that old tn,uble will soon be' 
 forgotten, and then he will come home and live fear- 
 lessly. But, until then, he cannot be too careful He 
 wants nobody but you and me to know that he still 
 
 Dariza looked dazed. 
 
 " P^'^^^o"! are >-ou talking? " he cried. " Do you 
 sj^ak of my son -of Dick?" He sat straight in 
 his chair, only to sink weakly back again. His frail 
 body shook as if with the palsy. 
 
 " Yes Dick is alive and well," replied Francis. 
 Then, hastenmg from the room, he returned in a 
 moment with a glass of brandy and water. Mr. Dariza 
 swaUowed a little of it, and then pushed the glass 
 away from him. He puUed himself forward in his 
 chair. 
 
 "By the hand of an old shipmaster named Spark " 
 rephed Drurie. . ^ ' 
 
 
60 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " Show it to me," said tlie other. " Let rae read it, 
 lad, with my own eyes." 
 
 Now, Francis had guarded against this bv making 
 a copy of the letter, for his own use in the future, and 
 burnmg the original. What the old gentleman would 
 have thought of the mention of the low tavern and the 
 purple-marked keeper, he dared not contemplate That 
 he would have suspected the worst, and suffered more 
 than at news of the lad's death, there could be no 
 doubt. 
 
 " I burned the letter, for fear that a servant might 
 get hold of it," said Francis, lying coclly in a good 
 cause. " It ,s so evident that Dick wants to keep his 
 existence a close secret that I dared not take the slight- 
 est risk of having the letter go astray." 
 ' Mr. Dariza gazed at the young man for a long time- 
 but, as the other returned the gaze without so much as 
 the flicker of an eyelash, he said at last: 
 
 " ^ ^"^^'^ >'0" did right, Frank - whatever it was 
 you feared. Perhaps you burned the letter for Dick's 
 sake, and, again, it may have been for mv sake " 
 ^^ '' I burned it for all our sakes," replied Francis. 
 It contamed minute directions for finding him in 
 Bristol; and if these were to fall into untrustworthy 
 hands -or unfriendly hands -he would be in con- 
 stant danger of his life." 
 
The Ball at Admiral's Pride 61 
 
 Mr. Dariza nodded reflectively. He had com- 
 pletely regained his composure. 
 
 " But what of the fellow who brought the letter across 
 the sea? Was there not great risk in that?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " The seal was unbroken. Spark is a rough but 
 trusty man, I take it," answered Francis. 
 
 " I must talk to him," said Dariza. " I want to 
 hear, fr^m one who has seen it with his o\vn eyes, that 
 my boy is alive and happy." 
 
 "I have talked twice with Spark," said voung 
 Drurie; " and, though I do not doubt his 'trust- 
 worthiness, I know that Dick has not taken him 
 into h-s entire confidence concerning his past and his 
 family. Spark knows that Dick is a gentleman, and the 
 victi.-^ A mjustice — but nothing more. 
 
 " Once he learned that Dick is your son, the whole 
 story would be his for the asking. Any one in King's 
 Haven, where his vessel is lying, would give him all 
 the particulars. And who can sav what he would tell 
 m his cups? If Dick himself has not trusted him with 
 the secret of his past, what right have we to do so? 
 And I pn, positive that Dick has not. The fellow is 
 even ig. . . • of the fact that he was once an officer on 
 a king's i J." 
 
 "I beUeve you are right again, Frank," repUed 
 
 f-, 
 
 ||. 
 
 & 
 
I 
 
 6-^ 
 
 ^a,r :^'"«"''°>«'^youcan,W. I shall 
 l« at p^ace w,.h this world I am leaving i, only I 
 can fed a,,surcd ,ha. ,he lx>y is not in s„fferfng and has 
 a chance of attaining happiness." 
 
 England, I shaU see him in the spring sZTln 
 
 :rrgf:t:rr.rT'-''"" 
 
 „ s^'""^'" "■»« he sails only on short vovaire, 
 in small, coastwise vessels." TOyages, 
 
 -Mr Dariza got up slowly from his chair and un 
 locked a drawer h, his desk. Fiom this he^ka 
 Pur^, which he handed, without opening .oCcis 
 I. ™ a large purse, of stout leather, L f^T^d 
 
 .iv:f;:t::s;!ra:rjin"rf'''^^'^- '■"'- 
 --.athjontt:rii7.rrhr^/-^ 
 
 -no« L.shironv-Trmor^t: 
 
 ooara a coasting vessel " 
 
 Jjjank into his chai; and <»vered his eyes with Ms 
 
 
 ■ fJ'lP. 
 
The Ball at Admiral's Pride 63 
 
 Francis Drurie soon made another journey to King's 
 Haven. When he gave the fat purse to Master Spark 
 with a brief word as to how the contents were to bJ 
 divided, the old man's eyes gUstened with the unmis- 
 takable sheen of greed. 
 
 He opened it and peeped within. He pulled out a 
 golden coin and pinched it between his teeth. 
 
 "How d'ye know, mate, but what I'll keep the 
 whole hundred yellow boys for meself ? " he asked with 
 a leer. 
 
 Francis smiled. 
 
 "You cannot frighien me," he said. "I know 
 you as if I had lived with you all my life. You are far 
 more likely to give our friend the whole purseful than 
 keep it all to yourself." 
 
 Master Spark looked confused. He fortified himself 
 with a glass of punch. 
 
 "Aye, mate, ye be m the right o' it there. Job 
 Spark would never rob a friend, even if he hadn't a 
 smgle flat un to buy his grog with." 
 
 The weeks wore along; and the Golden Crmm 
 tight and sound aloft and alow, and freighted with 
 com and tobacco, sailed away from King's Haven. 
 The months wore along; and early in March invita- 
 tions went out for a great ball at Admh-al's Pride This 
 was to be in honour of Francis, who had made his 
 
 • 
 
 tf 
 
64 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 plans to sail for Bristol some time about the middle 
 of the month. 
 
 Since his visit to Homeland to tell Mr. Dariza the 
 news of his son, Francis had studiously avoided Isobel 
 He did not find this an easy thing to do. It went sorely 
 agamst his inclination, and, which was worse it 
 caused comment en the part of Mr. Fairwood -o'pen 
 comment. But the poor lad could not trust his self- 
 control. He knew that if the girl acted again as she 
 had on that memorable day, he would cast to the winds 
 all caution and the knowledge of the fact that she 
 was betrothed to John. He saw his duty in the matter 
 as rlam as a pikestaff; and he would do it, though the 
 hca\-cns fell. 
 
 But Isobel's behaviour caused him davs of worry 
 He could think of no reason for it - and ^et he knew,' 
 m the depths cf his heart, that she would not act so 
 for i.le amusement. His heart cherished her image 
 and ciefended her; but his brain told him that she was 
 a .u-t He listened to his brain during the hours 
 of dayhght and to his heart at night. He often felt 
 ^■c^• much incHned to kick .Master John 
 
 The ball was to be held on the sixteenth day of the 
 month. On the morning of the tenth the brig Thrmh 
 arm ed m King's Haven. This was the vessel in which 
 Francis was to make the voyage to Bristol. She was a 
 
 
The Ball at Admiral's Pride 65 
 
 fuU »eek earher than expected; but. as the date of the 
 baU could not be changed, her master grumblingly con- 
 sented to wa,t until the seventeenth before heading east- 
 ward again As soon as her cargo of mixed wL - 
 sdks, broadcloths, laces, firearms, wigs, small swords, 
 and other fancy gear from England -was out of 
 her hold, and the bales and hogsheads of tobacco 
 under the hatches, Francis put his luggage aboard. 
 He was keen to get to sea and begm his adventures. 
 
 wols '" ""' "'" "'"" ■•' ^"'^ '°'^" "- 
 The night of the ball arrived. The BuUers came 
 aU the way from Indian Creek, the ladies in an ark- 
 l*e sprmglcs coach drawn by four horses, and the 
 Scntlemen r.ounted. The Sprigs came from Sprig 
 Towers, twenly-six miles away. Sir Peter Nash 
 though little better than a confirmed invalid, arrived' 
 m good t,mc, with only one foot m a stirrup, the other 
 h ndage, to such a size that it would not go in the 
 .ron. There were dozens of other fashionables, from 
 near and far the Fairfaxes, the Darlings, the Plums, 
 and so on, and so on. There were old, middle-aged ani 
 .'oung; red and sallow, ugly, ordinarv and beautiful- 
 clever common-sensed and stupid. But of all that' 
 "•ere beaut.ful, Isobel Dariza was the most beautiful 
 Every rcom of the ground floor of the great hou« 
 
66 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 hummed with the business of pleasure -the singing 
 of the fiddles, the swish of gliding feet, the rippling 
 of laughter, and the fine clash of silver and glass in the 
 dming-room. About the kitchen and offices the negroes 
 clustered. In the stables the horses of the guests 
 munched contentedly. 
 
 Francis Drurie cautioned his heart not to be a fool 
 and asked Isobel Dariza to dance with him. 
 
 " You know that I cannot refuse you in your father's 
 house," she said. 
 
 He had nothing to say to that. He had a right to 
 this dance, and he would have it. He had so few rights 
 that he was determined to make the most of them 
 To-morrow he would be on the sea. To-night he 
 would snatch what pleasure he could out of a very 
 sad affair. Suddenly, in the midst of all that stir 
 and bght and merriment, it was as if they were the 
 only real people in the world. She was very close to 
 him. She looked up, faidy into his eyes. 
 " Why have you deserted me? " she asked 
 There was neither coquetry nor an.^.r in her voice 
 nor any pretence of indifference. 
 
 " Because I cannot choose a middle course " he 
 said quietly. He would tell the truth, since she had 
 asked for it, and ! .ve done. " I must either love you 
 v>r keep away from you. I am a poor hand at play 
 
 m^^M^ 
 
The Ball at Admiral's Pri 
 
 ae 
 
 67 
 
 acting. So, as you arc to marry John, I have kept 
 away from you. It has not been easy, I assure you." 
 
 "Why do you think I am to marry John?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Her wonderful eyes were still raised to his, open 
 and gleaming to their bright, dark depths. 
 
 " It was told to me; and John accepted my con- 
 gratulations," he replied, his voice low-pitched and in 
 splendid control. 
 
 " It is not true," she said with restraint that meant 
 more than a passionate outbreak. " I shall never marry 
 John. I have told him so many times." 
 " My faith: " exclaimed Francis softly. 
 Now they found themselves in a little room off the 
 library, occupied by two old ladies and two old gentle- 
 men, who were plajing cards very intentlv. The 
 only candles were on the centre of the card-table; 
 the corners of the room were left in shadow. 
 
 "It may bo," whispered Francis huskily, "that 
 you — that you care a little for some one else." 
 
 He could not hear her reply. He leaned closer, so 
 that he could see her face. 
 
 ■' I have loved you — more than life itself — ever 
 since I came home from the West," he said. 
 
 Again, he could not hear her reply. Her face, 
 though very near, was turned away. 
 
68 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "Isobcl!" he whispered. 
 
 At that she turned to him, and he saw that her 
 wonderful eyes were gleaming with tears. 
 
 What marvel was tl is! And the card-players still 
 gazed at their cards! 
 
 " You must not cry," he said tenderly. " I did 
 not mean to hurt you. I shall go away to-morrow — 
 and never trouble you again." 
 
 " Don't you know? " she whispered. " Don't you 
 see how I love you! I have loved you longer than you 
 have loved me, dear." 
 
 He drew her to him, and touched his lips to her lips 
 and eyes and brow. And the card-players did not look 
 up from their cards! 
 
 m 
 
CHArTKR VII 
 
 % 
 
 A BREAKFAST VISIT 
 
 The last dance was finished. A few of the .n.csts 
 had departed, and the rest were asleep under the 
 broad roof of Admiral's Pride. The lower rooms 
 were in silence and darkness, but here and there a 
 candle shone in the window of an upper chamber. 
 
 Francis had moved, for that night, to a little room 
 in the attic. On the next night he \\ould sleep still 
 farther away from his accustomed bed; but he gave 
 this no thought. He took off his laced coat and silken 
 breeches and packed them in t!ie leather bag, which 
 were the only articles of his luggage not alreadv aboard 
 the Thrush. Then he dressed in a ser^■iceable s-iit 
 of blue. By this time the .March - !awn was blue against 
 the window. 
 
 Francis extinguished the candle, and, his riding- 
 boots in his hand, went silently from the room. He 
 passed dov\'n the narrow, uncarpeted stairs on tio- 
 toe. 
 
 At the closed door cf John's room he paused for a 
 
 69 
 
70 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 moment. '< No. He is my brother. I will not quarrel 
 with hiin." he muttered. 
 
 He descended to iho lower floor, and let himself 
 into the garden bv a .ide-door. There were no leaves 
 on the rose-busl.es. The whole world «-as cloaked 
 in cold, gray-blue shadows. The earth was soft and 
 cold underfoot. Francis pulled on his boots and went 
 over to the stables. A .atch-dog got to its feet and 
 barked. At the first sound of the familiar voice it 
 lay down again, silenced. 
 
 One of the grooms on night duty c.x^ned a stable 
 rfoor and held a lantern o^•er his head. In his other 
 hand he grasped a stout .vhip. 
 
 " Baniaby," said i nncis, " I want j^ou to saddle 
 Jumper for me as quietly as vou can." 
 
 " Yesser. Yes, Master fVank," 'replied the groom. 
 
 When Jumper was kd out, and Francis mounted, 
 Barnaby said : 
 
 " The young lady was like a angel, Master Frank. 
 A 1 us Dlack folks says so. An' all us black folks be 
 mfernal overjoyed to see that God has sent under- 
 standni' to ye. Master Frank. Even Barnaby seed 
 what ,ve was blind to, sir. Yesser, I was near Vryin' 
 sometimes. An' her a angel, if there was ever one, ai,' 
 not a lady m Virginny to name alongside her. Yesser." 
 ^ou are right, Barnaby," said Francis. 
 
A Breakfast Visit 
 
 71 
 
 Yesscr. But why docs vc sail 
 
 . ,„ - furrcn parts, 
 
 sir? returned the groom. 
 
 " I wond.r the same thing. But it is mv duty 
 She will not let me shir' .nyduty." He pressed a gold 
 com mto the groom's hand. - You are a good bov 
 Bamaby. if ever you see the young ladv in danger,' 
 try to help her. Your arm is stronger than many a 
 gentleman's, lad. 
 
 •' I'll be back in an hour or so," hr said finally 
 and trotted away. 
 
 Francis Drurie cantered down the avenue and out 
 to the highway. His brain worked intentlv, back and 
 forth, back and forth, over the wonderful thing that 
 had o -^e to him, and over the hi re , nath to which duty 
 pointed 
 
 For the first time in his life i. ■ e" li.c ccld agonv 
 off.ar. It gripped him like the .■c.i :, xvound He 
 felt the ache of it in his heart and lungs. Through 
 and through his fevered brain {)assed menacin^^ shajis 
 -shapes of dangers threatening the woman he loved 
 He gave no thought to the risks of the sea, but a vision 
 of the gray distances that would lie between lier and 
 his protecticr, ^^•clghted his spirit. 
 
 Yet she wanted him to go. She had made light of 
 his fears. " Nothing will harm me," she had said. 
 
 I shall long for you, day and night, but that is the 
 
72 
 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 part of a woman who loves a man worth loving. Though 
 I fear that I shall mn ha\e .Mrength to let you lea\-e mc 
 a second time." 
 
 lie brooded over tlie words that she had said to 
 him a fcv^ hours ago, with her cheek against his shoul- 
 der. Surely, if fate held any danger for her, her heart 
 would have warned her. He sent Jumper forward at 
 a gallop. He outran fear. 
 
 What could hurt her in this peaceful place? Her 
 father would protect her. Mr. Fairwood loved her as 
 if she were his own daughter. Every man and woman, 
 black and white, gentle and simple, on three estates, 
 would defend her if any danger appeared. She pos- 
 sessed liealth, youth, and wealth. He had been a fool 
 to v.'orry. 
 
 And what was this voyage of his, when bravely 
 considered ? It would be a thing of the past in a year's 
 time. She had lived eighteen years without an acci- 
 dent; then, why fear for her in the next twelve months ? 
 
 He turned and gallojjed back along the way he had 
 come. He passed the great gates of Admiral's Pride 
 and held en down the highway, riding at a clipping 
 pace. Jumper needed no urging. But now the upper 
 nm of the sun was just showing above the eastern 
 honzcn, and the world was all af^re with azure and 
 Up a gentle hill and down the oiher 
 
 .voimg gold 
 
A Breakfast Visit 
 
 73 
 
 side of if he rode, round a long curve and past the gates 
 ot Fairwood ^fanor. Half a mile beyond this he drew 
 rein and dismounted. 
 
 Here was a humble gateway, the squat stone posts 
 flanked by circular groves of yew. He opened the 
 gate, led Jumper within, and hitched him under one 
 of the trees of the grove. As he walked up the short 
 avenue that led to the house of Hopeland his breath 
 caught in his throat, and he could hear the drumming 
 of eager blood in his head. 
 
 All was quiet about the house, though it was bathed 
 m light from its foundations to its clustered chimneys 
 Francis moved to the middle of the lawn, turned and 
 gazed up at a certain window. It was curtained and 
 lifeless. Of course he had expected nothing else. 
 
 For all that, a sudden chill crossed his spirit. So 
 he stood for several minutes, gazing helplesslv and 
 Icngmgly up at the blind window. Suddenly his hear^ 
 tcld him to turn before his ear gave him any warning, 
 and turning, with open arms, he caught Isobel to his 
 breast. 
 
 She wore a great, red cloak over her ballroom 
 finery. Her firm, young arms were bare. He felt the 
 cool, yet glowing, touch of them against his neck. 
 
 " Wh}- are you standing here ? What did you expect 
 to see? " she asked presently. 
 
 I 
 I* 
 
74 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 u 
 
 I rode 
 
 "I did not want to sleep," he replied 
 until sunrise. 
 
 II Then I came here to look at your ;.indoK." 
 And I did not want to sleep," she said. " I have 
 been .^dering about the poor, leafless gardens since 
 the first peep of dawn." 
 
 She laughed at that, but kissed him for it 
 sleep, she murmured, nestling close to him, wUh her 
 
 ^:srhrsr''""--^°-'--p'"««.e 
 
 He ,vas about to reply that his time in Virginia was 
 ar too short to thro, away in sleep, but he ^ d r, 
 to forget that lor the moment. 
 
 ^^ ^' If I had .Iej>t I should have dreamed," he said; 
 and one cannot control one's dreams. So I sta^•ed 
 awake to think of you." ' 
 
 ^^ "^^-1 that i. .:hy I stayed awake, too," she said. 
 
 in^td of t" 7' '''' ''''' '^^"^^ ^^ -^>- -^" -"> 
 
 ^^al a all! Me were both out in the grav dawn - and 
 
 "•e dui not [.now it." 
 
 .^ "We know it now," replied Francis, and proved 
 
A Breakfast Visit 
 
 75^ 
 
 They walked doun the 
 stood patiently under a tree 
 
 av 
 
 enue to where Jumper 
 
 Dear," said he, " I have been thinkin. hard this 
 -n,,ng. If ,ou want me to stay in Virghia, I l' 
 stay -aye, with delight." 
 
 "You must not say that," she replied, in a very 
 small voice. " We must not think only of our happi 
 
 -Id th-t'- r t ''-' ^^ -''' ''' ^- ^" -" «- 
 
 hat. I shall be brave, dear. When you return, dearest 
 how I shall cherish you!" ' 
 
 T^l^uu^^""". ■■°"'" ^'^^'P^^^^ ^^^"^^'^ brokenlv 
 He held her close. " Tell me -do you feel an v fea^ 
 of the future?" he asked. 
 
 "No" she replied. "I prayed this mornin. and 
 suddenly fea. left me; and I knew that, though sea 
 and ands separate us for a little while, we shall live 
 
 our hves together. It was as if a voice had said it o 
 my soul! ' 
 
 The cITect on the young scliier was innan. and 
 -vender u,. Had an angc, in cctetial „bo:. apfL^ 
 Wore h,m and .old him thai his love v.a, Lk his 
 f«1,ns of py and security could have been no greater 
 
 T ey v,a,w baek to the ,,ouse, hand in ,,and: 
 
 B> . us t,me the ser^-an.s were moving al«ut the l„use. 
 
 Wait here on the galler,," said Iscbd. " I „.iU 
 
m 
 
 A Cavalier of Vir^nnfa 
 
 shp in and up to my room. In ten mLnutcs vou must 
 pound on the door, and say that you have' come to 
 breakfast. T shall be ready to entertain vou until 
 breakfast-time - and that is not for hours yet." 
 
 " .And I must speak to your father," he said. 
 
 " Yes. Speak to him during breakfast. He loves 
 you, dear." Then, quick as turning round, she was 
 gone. 
 
 Francis strocl very still for a minute. Then he be^an 
 to contemj.Iatc the do.r, as if selecting a spot to ha^m- 
 mer. 
 
 A boy came whistling around the hedge from the 
 direction of the kitchen. 
 
 Francis hailed him with a shout. " Com'^ here 
 Sambc,"' he called. 
 
 "Lordamercy! Master Frank!" exclaimed the 
 boy. 
 
 "You'll find Jumper hitched to a tree down bv 
 the b,g gates," said Francis. •' Ride him home, and 
 tell them that I am breakfasting with Mr. DanVa 
 Give the message to Barnaby to take up to the house '■ 
 icsscr," said the astonished bov. 
 " Hold - here is a yellow one' for ^•ou, Sambo." 
 added the lover, tossing a thick coin on the hwn 
 
 Ihcn he turned and applied the butt of his whin 
 to the d.,c r, with the air of one makin, up lost time 
 
A Breakfast Visit 
 
 ^^ 77 
 
 The door was snatched open by Mr. Dariza's ancient 
 blac^kbutU,. His wHnlcIed face was quite gray wTh 
 
 "Hi Master Frank! Be some one dead over to 
 Admiral's Pride ? » he exclaimed. 
 
 " Why, no. J.ke; I can't say there is," replied 
 Franas, somewhat flustered. "I just came over to 
 see — to see your master." 
 
 Jake bowed him in. He knew what a vki, torn a 
 
 Drune demanded, whatever the hour. Yet he shot a 
 
 umve glance a, the young gentleman, suspecting that 
 
 .he^ refreshments a, .be ball had been ,00 much for 
 
 Ves, he was right. Afaster Frank's eyes were shining 
 m an unm.statable way, and his cheeks were flushed 
 He was abou, ,0 usher his visitor imo the Ubrary and 
 g^ .0 he cook for advice, when down the stairs came 
 Ihc mistress of the house herself 
 
 " Here am Master Fnnt- 1 ■ , 
 
 gin-rar announced ^he buL' " °" "^ 
 
 coifed "1"°', ""' '" "" """■ ''^ ■■■°»« ™'''-' - 
 ™ed ,he statement -or ,he caUer-but retired 
 
 to the dmmg room, and congratulated himself on 
 being very neatly out of „n awkward comer 
 
 ri- 
 
78 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 When Mr. Dariza came down-stairs, two hours 
 later, he tried to look as if he felt no surprise at finding 
 Francis Druric and his daughter calmly auaiting him- 
 m the breakfast-room. He greeted Drurie with quiet 
 cordiality. 
 
 " Frank has come over to have breakfast with us " 
 explained Isobel. "And that is very good of him- 
 for this is his - his last day in Virginia for - somj 
 time." Her voice was a trifle uncertain. 
 
 Her father looked at her vdth tender inquiry " Yes 
 it is good of him," he said. He smiled al Francis.' 
 " It IS some time since you last honoured us, lad," he 
 said. " I have wondered if anything serious could be 
 the matter - if anything had injured our old friendship 
 I am glad to see that my fears were groundless. I 
 consider it very kind and poHte of you to spare us a 
 part of 3-our last morning at home." V/hile he spoke 
 he kept his bright gaze on the young man's face 
 
 Francis murmured a few vague words in reply 
 He knew that his cheeks were red as fire. He felt that 
 Dariza could see his mind. 
 
 The breakfast-table was small and round. Francis 
 found that without any effort he coukl touch Isobel's 
 feet with one of his. The thrill he received upon 
 making this discos-cry ..as wonderful, e-.en without 
 taking mto consideration the thickness of his riding- 
 
A Breakfast Visit 
 
 In fact, she advanced then, in his direction, at the 
 
 I J I 7"""^ '"''"«'" *'"' ^ fi"''- radiance 
 I-rd, what thtogs they a«_,„, and ™uthi 
 
 hif T, i ™' *"'" °^" •'^ ""= «™ Francis had 
 h^^lf^ufficentiy in ijand to .ate the tirs. n:ve „^ 
 
 if yo'u - " Te f ^"-r-"^' -. I want .0 know 
 "jou he began. He paused, staring at his host 
 
 -.ha iook of seared bewiiderment on his face Th 
 tnmg was more difficult than h^ u ^ • . 
 
 Both his w,t and his breatVh^faned'M."""''^'^''- 
 Mr. Danza bowed gravely 
 
 «Tf' ^'^'' *""» ^"^"■- "I -»t your 
 
 Mr. Danza smtled gently. " i, „„„m J^ 
 more correct, dear lad, to have asted n,» • • 
 he said. "^ " Pnvate," 
 
 inr^'Tdid"',: "" '"""■" """ ^^»"= Pkad. 
 
 '.-•.^ui.esnp^dtytintrr^^-''"^"''-™- 
 
 HH 
 
80 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 What they saw, who shall say? Perhaps a vision of 
 his own youth; perhaps a face from beyond the veil 
 of death. At last he turned to the lover. 
 " You may have her, lad," he said. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FRA.\'CIS SAILS AWAY 
 
 haung firs arranged ,„ ,„cce Isobcl ,1.,™ bv ,;,o .ate 
 »-hcn on h. way ,o King's Haven earlv in „,. „},„ 
 noon. ■ ''*-'^ 
 
 He was received by the captain in the hall of Ad- 
 miral's Pride. 
 
 " This is a strange v.ay to treat us on vour last 
 morning ashore," said the war-scarred sailor ' 
 
 shoZ:: '''''' ' '"' °^ '-' ^^ '-^^ ^-^-'^ 
 
 ^- You will not say so when you know whv I did it 
 ir, he sa.d. " Isobel has promised to be" n.v „^e' 
 i - 1 have so short a time to be with her, that I went" 
 over this morning. I hope you will forgive me. sir-' 
 
 Forgive .vou?'' cried the captain. " DL.s ;our 
 hcrt,.hatelsecanIdoP Frank, you are a luck v 
 dog. Gad, how you can sail away fn.m that beauty is 
 more than I can see. And what about John ^ Ri. 
 me, but this is a good joke on John ! " 
 
 81 
 
»fl 
 
 8i2 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "I cannot hdp that, sir," replied Francis -If 
 John is hurt, it is his own fault. She .'id not care for 
 him — though he led us to think otherwise." 
 
 Just then the mother ajjpearcd. 
 
 " Alice," cried the captain, " this ,voung knave has 
 as g( cd an excuse as I ever heard for not staying at 
 home for breakfast. What d'ye think ? Stab me if 
 he isn't the accepted, and registered, and proclaimed 
 future husband of the finest girl in Virginia! \nd I 
 am glad of it. He deserves the best, though he does 
 not happen to be our eldest." 
 
 ^^ Mrs. Drurie flung her arms around her son's neck. 
 ^^ But what is your father talking about .> " she asked. 
 You must not excite him, d<.ar, or he'll not be able 
 to ride over to King's Haven." 
 
 Francis smikd at his father over his mother's 
 
 head. 
 
 " Isobel has promised t„ marry me, mother, when 
 1 return from this voyage," he said 
 
 "Tsobel?" cried Mrs. Drurie. "Isobel Dariza? 
 And what of poor John } " 
 
 "And what of him?" cried the captain, who was 
 
 wcr ::ng himself into a fine fluster. He had not had so 
 
 much excitement since his last battle. " And what of 
 
 "m- he repeated. " Can't the girl pick her own 
 
 i^usonnd - so long as Dariza docs not objer: "^ \y^ 
 
Francis Sails Away 
 
 83 
 
 she caj, pick from all Virgima! And she has picked 
 old lady. She has chosen a fighter -a man who is' 
 already a good soldier, and will make a good sailor. 
 
 ,h. I ? ", " """'" ^- ^""°" =»" ^-'diers get 
 the fines. g,rls-aye, and always wiU-I did, for 
 
 At that moment John came from the library at- 
 tracted by his father's tirade Tl,. . • 
 iinnn ki. .u . 7 "^ captain turned 
 
 "pon Us eldest and ga^ed at him f„m beneath puck- 
 e.^ brows The mother withdrew her arms from 
 
 c^M ' ; T" """'"^ '""" ™= '" ">^ »">" of her 
 children, as if she did not know what to do 
 
 Toto'^t"t"'."r° '"■'''"'"■"• "Sh^e hands, 
 John, he said. There has been a mistake - but i 
 
 am willing to forget it. Shake hands, lad " 
 
 John complied with the other's request. But he 
 
 boked puzded and an.xious. " What is all this about? 
 
 Of what mistake do you speak?" he asked, glancing 
 
 from Francs to his father and mother * 
 
 iZ^'"'j'! "'"'^'^'»<'' •fota. when I inform you 
 ItliT^'ld'ly"''""^""— -^^'e,"repL 
 
 unltlr't '"'":" '"^'"^ "'°"^' ■"«'--' - few 
 unmte ligiblc words, and hurried from the hall. 
 
 With a s„ort of rage, the captain followed as fast 
 as his lame leg would allow. Now he understood 
 
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84 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 what John's game had been; and disgust and anger 
 glowed in him. 
 
 Mrs. Drurie turned to Francis with tears of fear and 
 consternation in her eyes. '' What is it ? " she cried. 
 " Why is your father so angry with John? He said 
 nothing. He is to be pitied, poor boy." 
 
 " Yes, John is to be pitied," said Francis. 
 
 " Then why did your father look at him so — so 
 frightfully?" asked the distressed woman. "And 
 what was the mistake of which you spoke to John ? " 
 
 " It is nothing to worry about —now," said Francis, 
 patting his mother's hand. " John made a mistake, 
 some lime ago ~ and that led me to make a mistake. 
 I discovered both mistakes lasi night; so no harm is 
 done." 
 
 Mrs. Drurie was about to ask for a more definite 
 answer to her question, when the front door opened, 
 and Mr. Fairwood bounced into the hall. He grasped 
 the young man's hand in both of his. 
 
 " Congratulations, my dear boy! " he cried. " 'Tis 
 the best thing I've heard in a lifetime. I've just been 
 over to Hopcland, and the girl told it to me herself. 
 She is the finest girl in the world, Frank — but, as 
 she was bound to fall in love with some man, I am glad 
 she has chosen you." He turned his broad and glowing 
 face upon ^Irs. Drurie. " She'll make a daughter fcr 
 
Francis Sails Away 
 
 85 
 
 you to be proud of, ma'am, though I say it, who am 
 herunde." He returned to Francis. " But why have 
 you taken so long to find out what was the trouble 
 with you? Was it your fault, or IsobePs? Ton my 
 word, lad, it looked to me as if you were leaving the 
 finest thing in the world to a young man who already 
 has mc e than he deserves. And yet I knew all the 
 time that it was you she cared for." 
 " I wish you had told me so," said Francis. 
 Just then the captain returned to the haU. The 
 thunder had cleared from his brow -which was sure 
 proof thai he had rid himself of the lightning He 
 gripped his old frier "s hand, and clapped him on 
 the back. - Yoa are in the nick of time, Henry," he 
 exclaimed. " Joskins is mixing a BiUy-rough-un." 
 
 John appeared just when the punch was ready He 
 looked pale and decidedly shamefaced. Yet he drank 
 the healths of Isobel and his brother with a very good 
 grace. Then, refillmg his glas.. he proposed fair 
 wmds and a safe return, and clinked his glass against 
 his brother's. 
 
 Yes, Master John had made a noble recovery but 
 deep mside, he felt small and mean. Also, he thought 
 his heart broken -but that, I am bound to confess, 
 was only one of his poetic fancies. 
 
 It had been planned that ]\Irs. Drurie was to go to 
 
f f 
 
 86 
 
 A Cavalic of Virginia 
 
 King's Haven in the carriage, and that Mr. Fairwood 
 and the three Druries were to ride. Now Mrs. Drurie 
 suggested that she should call on the way for Isobel. 
 She wanted to begin petting the girl immediately. 
 She had a daughter at last. 
 
 " Perhaps she will not want to go," said the captain. 
 " It would be a hard twist for her, beyond a doubt." 
 
 " Isobel is a gu-1 with a fine spirit," replied the lady. 
 " I know more of this sort of thing than you do, Paul. 
 How many times did you sail away from me before 
 you settled down to a peaceful life? And was there 
 ever a time that I did not go aboard your ship, and 
 remain aboard until the last boat pulled away for 
 the shore ? " 
 
 "You are right, Alice," admitted the captain. 
 "Women are the very devil for wanting to see the 
 last of everything. They worry more over little things 
 that they don't see, than over big things that they 
 have a square look at. Oh, I'm not denjing the 
 courage of the finer members of your sex, my dear." 
 
 ' But I hope you'll not expect her to do anything 
 th! t — that she may not want to do," ventured Francis, 
 blushing very red. 
 
 The captain and Mr. Fairwood laughed uproariously 
 at that. 
 
 "Have no fear, lad," the captain assured h m. 
 
Francis Sails Away 
 
 87 
 
 " She shaU be let do everything that she wants to do 
 and nothing that she does not want to do, while you 
 are away. Her word will be law with us, Frank, you 
 may take my oath on that." 
 
 " You had better go over to Hopeland and ask her 
 if she wiU accompany us into King's Haven," said the 
 lady. «' The carriage would caU for her at three. 
 Wait a moment, dear, and I'll send a note." 
 
 " And if your bag is packed, lad, you can stay there 
 untU we call for you," said the captain. " It seems to 
 me you've cut your time so short that you'll need 
 every minute of it." 
 
 What his mother wrote to Isobel, Francis did not 
 know. It must have been something remarkable, to 
 judge by the eflfect of it on the girl. She blushed and 
 wept over it. 
 
 " I did not know she was so fond of me," she said 
 to Francis. 
 
 " Everybody loves you," repUed the young man 
 " But," he added, " if all their love was put together, 
 it would not be equal to one-miUionth part of my 
 love alone." 
 
 " And just think, dear, that this time yesterday I 
 cried for almost an hour bectuse I thought that you 
 did not love me at all," said the girl. 
 
 " How terrible I " exclaimed Francis. 
 
f : 
 
 88 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Isobel decided to go to Eling's Haven, and a message 
 was sent to Admiral's Pride by a servant. 
 
 Three o'clock, and the 1 urie carriage and the 
 riders arrived all too soon for the lovers. Every one 
 but John kissed Isobel. 
 
 John was having trouble, at the time, with a horse 
 thai had never been known to give trouble before. 
 
 Then Isobel got into .he carriage, the driver cracked 
 his whip, the gentlemen swung to their saddles, and 
 away they all started for King's Haven, leaving Mr. 
 Dariza waving his hand from the wintry lawn. 
 
 Highways were p or affairs in those good old days, 
 and carriages were not a bit better. If Mrs. Drurie 
 and Isobel clung to each other frequently during the 
 journey, it is not to be wondered at. The pitching, 
 rolling, and bumping kept up their spirits. It was much 
 more exciting than saddle-work. The carriage was 
 wide, and the road was narrow; but Francis managed 
 to keep Jumper close beside the open window at which 
 Isobel's face appeared in every lull in the passage. 
 
 Sometimes the agile horse was in the ditch, and some- 
 times in the thicket of leafless blackberry vines beyond. 
 Not once did he fall behind or forge ahead. A dozen 
 times, or more, he was so close to the window that his 
 rider was able to reach his hand within. Il was an 
 exciting and pleasurable journey. 
 
Francis Sails Away 
 
 89 
 
 The March sun was shining, and the March wind 
 was piping over the Uttle town and harbour of King's 
 Haven. Gulls swerved along the slcipping waves, 
 and the air was wet and brisk with the smell of the 
 salty flats and lively acres of the tide. 
 
 At the end of the wharf the Thrush strained secretly 
 at her moorings, rubbing, pulling a little, and shiftmg 
 this way and that, now fore and aft, now up and down, 
 as if to discover the fuU strength of the ropes that held 
 her. The wind piped in her tops and the tide fumbled 
 at her keel. 
 
 The horses were stabled at the tavern, and th3 two 
 ladies and four gentlemen went down the wharf and 
 aboard the little Thrush. They were ushered into 
 the tmy cabin by a dumfounded boatswain, and there 
 the shipmaster opened a bottle of his best wine, and 
 " a prosperous voyage " was drunk by everv one! 
 
 Then the narrow, dark berth in which Francis was 
 \< sleep was inspected. Mrs. Drurie pronounced it 
 unfit for anything but a cat, and the captain said it 
 was a palace compared to his berth aboard the Sneezer 
 when he was a midshipman. Isobel said nothing; 
 but, the little coop being black as a chimney, she lifted 
 her face to her lover's. 
 
 The brig swung away from the wharf, and little 
 black eddies spun between the moving timbers and the 
 
 s 
 
90 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 fixed. The headsails flapped and filled, and mariners 
 went up the shrouds and out on the foot-ropes. The 
 main sheet was manned, and the yard was squared 
 to the time of a deep-sea chanty roared by husky 
 throats. 
 
 Francis Drurie stood on th >h poop, bare headed, 
 facmg the land from which xie was jo swiftly sUpping 
 away. The wharf was thronged with people. 
 
 In front, in a Uttle space left for them by the town- 
 folk, stood his mother and Isobel, his father his 
 brother, and Mr. Fairwood. He could see how str'aight 
 the girl stood, gazing across the water to him, her right 
 hand clasped in that of the elder woman and the left 
 upon her lips. 
 
 Then, for a moment, the scene dimmed before the 
 young man's straining eyes. A mist of tears weUed 
 across his vision. A great longing broke its bonds 
 withm him, gripping his heart and shaking him from 
 head to heel. He stretched his arms toward the 
 wharf, and a low, harsh cry escaped him. It was that 
 sound that startled him to recovery. 
 
 When the entrance to the little harbour and the 
 roofs of the town were hidden by the shifting coast- 
 line, and four miles of sea ran and splashed between 
 the bng and Virginia, Francis Drurie turned and 
 looked at the Ufe that was going on so briskly and 
 
Francis Sails Away 
 
 91 
 
 heartily around him. All the sails were spread to 
 the fair but gusty wind. The master stood beside 
 him, gazmg up at the swaying spars and straining 
 canvas. Dorni in the waist, the mate walked fore and 
 aft, now and then halting to roar a word of caution 
 or command to the seamen who were busy at belaying 
 or coihng down sheets and halyards. 
 
 " It looks as if we had made a fair start," remarked 
 Francis. 
 
 "Aye, ye may well say it," replied the shipmaster. 
 He stepped close to the passenger and stared at him 
 with friendly ej^es. " Sir," he said. " if I was a gentle- 
 man an' loved by a young lady like the one that loves 
 ye, 1 d never set a foot on seagom' timber. Not for 
 aU the gold in Spain, nor aU the 'baccy in Virginia, I 
 
 .-ntle and simple, we have our work to do in the 
 .rlu," replied Francis. " It is our work that makes 
 t-ngland's power." 
 
 The mariner smiled. "Aye, that be weU enough 
 for men like me, who have to earn our bread » he 
 agreed. " But for gentry with grand houses, ai' aU 
 the heart can desire, I see no manner o' sense in 
 
 " So you think I am a fool for my trouble?" in- 
 quired Francis. 
 
02 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "Aye, sir, meaning no disrespect," replied the 
 other. 
 
 The gentleman smiled somewhat mournfully. " .\nd 
 what do you say to the voyage I am to sail on from 
 Bristol — north and west to a place called Hudson's 
 Bay?" 
 
 " I heard of it, ashore," said the mariner. " Them 
 seas be the worst in the world. If the French an' the 
 pirates don't get ye on the way, ye die with starvation 
 when ye get there. It is madness, sir, to mv way o* 
 thinkin'." 
 
 " Then your way of thinking is a very poor way,"' 
 said Francis shortly, and turned his shoulder on *he 
 discomfited shipmaster. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 AT THE CAT AND RAT 
 
 The brig Thrush made her voyage across the 
 Atlantic without accident. She weathered a half-gale 
 or two, and received several frJghts from questionable- 
 lookmg topsails - and once she frankly admitted fear 
 and crowded on canvas until the foam bubbled over 
 the gilded fiddles under her forepeak. 
 
 There was no doubt that the vessel with the long 
 topmasts and patched sails was following her at its 
 best speed. But the brig was a swift little craft: and 
 the exdtement lasted only half a day. Perhaps it 
 would not have lasted so long as that if the master had 
 comphed with his passenger's reqr.st to wait and en- 
 gage the stranger. 
 
 Francis Drurie had found time heavy on his hands 
 during the voyage, though he had applieol himself 
 to the studies of navigation, seamanship, and the 
 French language. In spite of his work, he had never 
 been entirely free from the sense of loss and longing 
 that stured, day and night, in his heart. 
 
 08 
 
ill 
 
 94 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 In Bristol, however, this pain was greatly eased. On 
 solid land, among men and houses, the mind found 
 relief from that constant sense of the vastncss of space 
 and separation from which there had been no escape 
 on shipboard. Here were quiet folk living quiet, 
 commonplace lives, even as the townspeople of King's 
 Haven. One had only to forget the weary days of 
 sailing, and Virginia did not seem so hopelessly far 
 away, after all. 
 
 Francis had his numerous boxes and bags carted 
 to a respectable tavern, situated at some distance from 
 the waterfront. He summoned the innkeeper, and 
 asked for the best room in the house. He was led to 
 it in a twinkling, and his luggage followed close on his 
 heels. 
 
 He had not brought his body-servant with him 
 from Virg-nia, because of the lack of accommodation.^ 
 aboard the Thrush; but now he asked the innkeeper 
 to find a suitable man to serve him unlil the sailing 
 of the expedition. The fellow assured him that nothing 
 could be easier, excused himself for a minute or two, 
 and returned with a red-headed lad of about eighteen 
 years of age. 
 
 " Captain, this is my son Nicholas. Ye'll find him 
 honest an' willin', an' a wonder at lookin' after a 
 gentleman." he said. 
 
At the Cat and Rat 
 
 95 
 
 Francis made an elaborate toUet. Then, with his 
 servant's assistance, he found his way to the counting- 
 house of his father's agent. He cut s, . a fine figure 
 that he was admitted to the merchan- private roo;n 
 without so much as being asked his name. Nick 
 followed him, carrying a massive despatch-box. The 
 merchant got to his feet, and bowed. 
 
 '' What can I ha.e the pleasure of doing for you, 
 sir f he inquired. 
 
 ^^ " My name is Frands Drurie," replied the colonial, 
 and I have this boxful of money to leave in your care 
 for a short time, if you wiU be so obliging." 
 
 "Drurie? A Drurie of Virginia?" exclaimed the 
 merchant. 
 
 "Yes. Here is a letter to you, from my >ther," 
 replied Francis. 
 
 He produced the letter. The other oroke the seal 
 and read it. 
 
 Francis did not get away .- <r. the mcry and pros- 
 perous Master Albert Smithers, shipping-agent, com- 
 mission-merchant, and importer of com and tobacco, 
 until he had promised to sup with him that night. 
 Ketummg to his inn, he again changed his clothes. 
 
 This time he put on a brown suit that had seen a 
 good deal of wear, but was neat and respectable; 
 ndmg-boots m place of buckled shoes, and a serviceable 
 
96 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 hat, very modestly laced. Instead of his sword, he 
 hvmg a pistol to his waist, well back under the skirt of 
 his coat. Then, taking his cane in his hand, he told 
 Nicholas to lead the way to the Cat and Rat. 
 
 Nicholas stared at him, open-mouthed. 
 
 " Well, what is the trouble ? " asked Francis. 
 
 " Why, sir, it be a low, rough place, that Cat and 
 Rat," raid the young fellow. " An' no place for a 
 gentleman like yer honour," he added. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I have business there," replied 
 Francis. " If you do not want to accompany me, I 
 shall have to find another servant. That would be a 
 pity, for you seem an honest, capable fellow." 
 
 " I'll go with 'e, sir," cried Nick hastily. 
 
 They went down to the harbour-side, and along it 
 for some distance. The way was full of interest for 
 Francis Drurie. Here was the din of deep-sea business 
 and adventure on cither hand. On the one, the din 
 of the loading and unloading ships, and on the other 
 the din of the warehouses. With this lively human 
 side to it, this business of seafaring seemed a very 
 homely thing. 
 
 Here, all crowded together like sheep in a pen, 
 were more ships than Francis had seen before in the 
 whole course of his life. King's Haven was a toy 
 
 harbour compared to this place. 
 
 Strange men were 
 
 li f I 
 
At the Cat and Rat 
 
 97 
 
 on every side, and strange voices shouted from the 
 ships. There was a fellow as yellow as a lemon, with 
 rings 0f extraordinary size in his ears, and no mor*^ 
 clothmg on him than shirt and trousers, in spite of the 
 chill of the English air. Around his head he wore a 
 bright red doth, and he smoked tobacco twisted up in 
 a little stick the size of one's finger. 
 
 Like a number of others on the docks and in the 
 street, he seemed to have nothing to do but watch 
 other people work. He was a big fellow, lean as a 
 hound, but boned like a giant. As Francis and his 
 man passed him, picking their way through a clutter 
 of bales and puncheons, he stared at them with eyes 
 as black and inscrutable as pools of pitch 
 _ This touched the Virginian's anger. It smacked of 
 insolence to him. Turning quickly, he met the fellow's 
 glance. 
 
 " Well, my friend, is there something you wish to 
 say to me? "he asked. 
 
 Nich^las pulled at his elbow, and in the second or 
 two employed in shaking off the servant the vellow 
 ]^irate-L];e mariner vanished among the piles of'cargo- 
 « uu. The big man was gone, but so swiftly had he 
 slipped away that a wisp of tobacco smoke still hung 
 m the air where he had been. 
 
 Francis turned angrily upon his servant. " Why 
 
 ilVsi^ 
 
98 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 did you take hold of my arm? " he asked, m a guarded 
 voice. " Is that the way servants are taught to treat 
 their masters in England ? " 
 
 " I did it for your own good, sir," answered Nicholas 
 boldly. 
 
 " You don't understand Bristol waterfront yet, sir, 
 or ye'd never pay any attention to a fellow like that. 
 He took to his heels. Well, sir, let us be thankful for 
 that. If he hadn't he'd ha' ripped his knife mto ye as 
 quick as a wink." 
 
 " You may be right," said Francis. They moved 
 on, both keeping a sharp watch on ever>- side. " But 
 what do you mean ? " asked the master m a low voice. 
 " What cause was there for him to stick a knife into 
 me ? Or to run away from me, for that matter ? Who 
 is the fellow ? " 
 
 " I do not know who he be, nor what he be, but the 
 first look at him told me that he was a dangerous 
 man," replied Nicholas. "This crowd be full o' 
 murderers an' pickpockets. Half o' them be no better 
 nor pirates." 
 
 For a few minutes Francis followed the lad in silence. 
 They turned up a narrow alley that twisted away from 
 the wharves, beyond the fringe of warehouses, and 
 lost itself in a place of toppling, decaying build- 
 ings. 
 
At the Cat and Rat 
 
 99 
 
 "Are we near the tavern?" asked Francis. He 
 whispered the simple question. 
 
 There was an air of ruin and hopelessness about the 
 shabby houses and narrow footway that chiUed his 
 spirit and thrilled him with a vague but active appre- 
 hension. ^ 
 
 In answer to the question Nicholas pointed to a 
 weather-beaten signboard that swung creakily from a 
 house about twenty paces away. 
 
 "There's the den," he said, turning a slow glance 
 of anxious inquiry upon his master's face 
 
 "Wait here," said Drurie. " Or, at least, somewhere 
 withm ear-shot of a call. If I do not appear in twenty 
 ^mutes' time you may either go home or come and 
 look for me." 
 
 " I will come an' look for ye, captain," said Nicholas 
 Francis Drurie entered the low doorway of the Cat 
 and Rat, and peered anxiously round the gloomy 
 room in which he found himself. 
 
 It was a second or so before his eyes were suffi- 
 ciently accustomed to the dusk to make out anything 
 -hen he saw several small tables placed irregularly 
 about the flagged floor, and six rough feUows drinking 
 their hquor. The table closest to the door was un 
 occupied. 
 
 He moved over to it. seated himself on a stool, and 
 
100 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 struck the table a brisk blow with the palm of his hand 
 Nothing happened. He looked keenly round for a 
 sight of the tavern-keeper, and his eyes met the un- 
 wavermg, black regard of the feliow of the lemon- 
 yellow face and red-bound head. 
 
 He started imperceptibly, and his heart drummed 
 in his breast, but he showed no sign of recognition or 
 alarm. He let his glance pass easily from the yeUow 
 face; and there, in the back of the room, he saw a 
 small man, with a bald head, watching him intently 
 There was a feeling of swiftly suspended conversation 
 m the air of the room. 
 
 Very dehber .tely, Francis knocked three times on 
 the table with the knuckles of his right hand, and four 
 times with his left. 
 
 The change in the atmosphere of the room was 
 startlmg in its suddenness, and yet wonderfully com- 
 forting. It was as if the air had cleared, quick as the 
 turn of a hand, of some threatening storm. The five 
 drinkers, who had sat like images, now raised their 
 mugs and glasses to their Hps. The big fellow of the 
 yellow face shifted on his stool and puffed at his thin 
 rcll of tobacco leaves. The littb man with the bald 
 head came briskly forward from the back of the room 
 and asked, loudly and heartily, what it was the gentle- 
 man's pleasure to drink. 
 
Stepping close to Francis, and witliout waiting for 
 an answer he wiais^red, " Topsi,," and s,.ot gLt 
 Wee a l^fe for sharpness into .he ,.ung gentC" 
 
 "Tagantsil," repKed Francis, smihng. 
 keeper™' "" "' '''• ''P'"'" "^'^ *« '»«-- 
 
 "Aye rum and Kmes," repEed Drurie. 
 
 m fellow was bade m a nJnute with the liquor 
 He .rved .. ™,idi„, but evidently as. well as he Zld 
 
 cap.nt':e::LTidratr..::'r"r"*- 
 
 ^epurp,ehlo.chonifch";\,^::tr«;tt^ 
 
 _ WiU you join me in a glass, ionkeeDer?" ;„ 
 quired the other clearly. ■ "'nKeeper. m- 
 
 The fellow accepted the invitation with a poUte 
 but gn^esque tow, and immediately d^ew up a^olt 
 and seated himself close to Drurie 
 
 ;;WeU what news?" asked .h= gentleman. 
 
 " Th7l- .^"' ^ " ™-''8'='" '■^*d 'be innkeeper 
 The king's men got too hot on his heels " 
 
 *Xr'"*^"-^«'r-^.e3.ng.he 
 
 •'Aye. What else?" repKed the little man. 
 " here has he sailed to ? " 
 
102 
 
 / 
 
 I 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "Northward into Scotland." 
 " And when do you expect him back? " 
 ^_^'^Not till the hounds that be after him forget a 
 
 rr^t^^'^ff^ ^^^^^ J°b Spark, of the Golden 
 Crc^r' asked Francis, after a minute of reflection. 
 
 prom';;;: '^"' °' ''- °^-'" ^^^^^^ ^^^ -^^r 
 
 Drurie saw that there was nothing more to be 
 kar^ed at present from mine host of the Cat and Rat 
 He paid his score, promised to caU again in the course 
 of a week or two. and stepped toward the door. 
 
 Hold, cap'n, hold I » cried the imikeeper. " I have 
 another word to say to you." 
 
 The young man halted and turned, his temper 
 somewhat rubbed by the fellow's manner 
 
 " Out with it," he said. 
 J Well, sir" said the innkeeper, "your friend, the 
 gentleman what we was talkin' of, owed me a irifle 
 o money when he went away. He said as how ye'd 
 gue It to m-, without a question, if ye got here afore 
 
 This was such an apparent lie, and with such a low, 
 b^garly motive, that Drurie's anger leaped red-ho; 
 
 -ithm. Yet he controlled himself, and asked quietly " 
 the amount of the debt. ^ 
 
AtAe Cat and Rat 
 
 F.ve yeUo« boy,, cap-„," „pHed ,he crafty fellow 
 
 f you can show me p^f .tat „, „end oZ 
 
 3™u this money -or ,e„ «„„ .^^ amount -ru p" 
 
 It to you; but not a penny do vo,, „, f '^ ' 
 
 wise," said PTaads &^' '^" ^' '""" ™ °«'''- 
 
 face T"™!,T r!!^ '"=•"' "■= 'avem keeper's 
 
 "0>n.e,llds,"heL;C;;"""^»^-- 
 forwtd"^!:" T"l'""" *** ''""'^ -« -shed 
 
 away behind the n':jr«e,::re "'IT ""^ 
 thi pr»v at ':?"''"'■ """"' '^»P"« "-'-'ce of 
 
 ms knife into another's sIHp a»^ i • i ., ' 
 
 belly. ' ^'^ ^'"^^^^ a third in the 
 
 By this time Francis haH tMr««^ l- • . 
 
 cracted the head of hela "f k. "' 
 
 •avem-heeper crouched ^ ^ T^'aU T, 
 
 fainting with terror. "' *" ■"" 
 
104 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 The felbw with the yeUow face tossed hi, t v 
 away, grabbed young Drurie hv T ^"^^ 
 
 from the room. "^ '^' ™^' ^^ »»^^«i 
 
 Nicholas was waiting outside «;f», 
 
 JJon't shoot! Follow US'" ""*ea past, 
 
 "P. they came to a high, blind wall ^ 
 
 «.h!:^:S:[ ''^""'- ^'■^ "« 'eU„w ..ea^ „, 
 
 ' You follow me ran'n o„J _ 
 
 Then he laughed "Mel T "" ^"'" ■■' ^=^''- 
 
 readtaLf'tL" "'^ ? "'"■ *^'"' '''^ P'='<" ^''l - 
 
 bW eves oHTe T"^'^ '""' *' «'--«, 
 
 ^^^ e>es of the man who had ju.. saved hL 
 
 _''Whydid5TOdoil?"heasked. 
 
 was^',!!!r' T"'" ^^P"^ ">' °«>er. whose talk 
 "as as foreign as h,s eyes and complexion. " Me teU 
 
 you why when we get more safe " 
 
At the Cat and Rat 
 
 «iA u::/""^ "" *"'^ -»''. '-K-ugh it was we, 
 -idlles^ """'■"-'-I'" never forge,," i. 
 
 » t-ee on each «de heTe^M w '''"''• """PP"* 
 „ms. ^' "' ''»""' doTO wi,h ex,ended 
 
 Th^IaT-*''"?''"'''""^"' Nicholas, 
 followed. "" "P ^^^^ him. Francis 
 
 »'~srcrrei:s''T'''"'"^->'' 
 
 l^ge, forsaken house 1h^ '" ^' "^ '"^ »' > 
 
 "voufonow:cf'x''r'';^»''=*- 
 
 ydb,v face. ' "'"'°""^ ">« ™an wi,h ,he 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE MAN WITH THE \T:LL0W FACE 
 
 T^E three fugitives from the Cat and Rat entered 
 the big house by way of a basement window. Then 
 into a hole into the flagged floor hidden bv all kinds 
 of musty lumber dived the leader, followed dose bv the 
 gentleman and his servant. Down thcv stumbled at 
 a sharp mcline, with blackness round them like a 
 blanket, and raw earth under foot. 
 
 Francis held the back cf the big fellow's sash, anrl 
 ^Icholas, m his turn, clung to the skirts of liis master's 
 coat. Francis had a small knife in his free hand 
 Aichclas still gripped hi? astol. 
 
 The leader hahed. '' Me make a light," he said. 
 _ Uick, click, chirped steel on flint. A spark jumped 
 into bemg, and up sprang a tiny flame. Francis hid 
 his knife in his breast. The big fellow fumbled about. 
 In a second the gleam of a candle flared in the 
 darkness. 
 
 They were in a tiny chamber walled bv stone on 
 two sides and on two by timber. In one corner was a 
 
 106 
 
The Man with the Yellow Face 107 
 hearth The earthen floor was partly eov-ered with 
 
 hf; r ' "' '''■"^''"'^ »'' ^»va3 bags lay 
 about, and on the walls hung a crueifix. a fine long 
 ™ord „ a scabbard of blaefc-and-gold, and a fo"' 
 midable row of cullases and pistols 
 
 The man with the yellow face li, two mo,^ candles. 
 
 You wait cr.e minute," he said. " Pedm li. 
 
 hisself quiclc." "^ "* 
 
 J^Jlu'f' I" "'"'^ "■" ^^^ '">■" «' h^ds and 
 U^rew the discoloured water into the ashes on the hearth 
 
 .hen he tore off his cotton shirt, disclosing a to «,' 
 
 roped w,th long muscles and marlced out fn hai ^ 
 
 dozen places with puclcered scars. He drew a shir.' of 
 
 fine sdk f„m one of the boxes and donned it Tn a 
 
 tw nk mg. He changed his ragged trousers for fine 
 
 vS f '' :f r^'^'"*^' -d high boots. From a ti^y 
 vial he rubbed something on his face and neck that 
 c anged his colour from that of a ripe lemon a 
 
 fiL"bl":a.."^™'"^-"^-«''''=^^'>-P-n: 
 
 .X ::::'• ■"'"'•" -^^ '-^^ ^-^-^^ ■"= *« 
 
 Francis smiled and nodded; Nicholas only gaped 
 Pedro behed the long sword to his side and clapped 
 on his head a black hat heavily laced with gold. TW 
 
ho made up a bm,dlc of ,he crucifix, . ,i,„e bag of 
 
 stockmgs. He heaped the straw Iron, the t»o couches 
 
 around t and toot one of the candles in his hand. ' 
 ious,) '"" ""'" '» '■'''" ^^k") Francis anx- 
 
 J ^! 'r" T""" ''"'"' "*"^- " »» ""body 
 X. , ' "■"" """^^ »' fi'« P")" hide so 
 
 Fr:.^:tLr'° "■"""" •"«''^^^'"-'«> 
 
 " ■^o" know an' me know," he said. He leaned t„ 
 ^c gentleman's ear and whispered: •. H^^g^rBa 
 H.m your fnen- in Virgin - Richard Dariza Dem 
 fools don-t i^ow Him my master _ RichrOan^a " 
 "ere you his servant?" cried Francis a^in 
 grasping ilie fellow's hand. ^ 
 
 " Ves. lie tell jBu scon," repUed Pedm n 
 
 -Pcd and touched the fiame of realty thl 
 
 p.^rshr;t;!r'..rCirr^'^^ 
 
 Jus. burn one or two house, me Ife ..^'T f I' 
 ." ^°"- >- "- n^ick," he added, ^ op^n al,' 
 m one cf the wooden walls. "o open a door 
 
 lij 
 
 B*-:51lpfe#W 
 
The Man with the Yellow Face 109 
 
 narrow street. 4"*«^*» 
 
 Pedro pointed at Nicholas " w:«, j l 
 boy?" he asked. Him good, honest 
 
 He put h,s hand on the lad's shoulder. " Do you 
 
 understand ? Not a wnr^ «f ♦u- . • i^ you 
 
 " We did nn. ! r ^^'' ^° *"y °»^'" he said. 
 
 We did not go to the Cat and Rat. We have never 
 
 so much as heard the name of the place " 
 
 Nicholas looked terribly frightened. ' " Ve can trust 
 
 'That T"!'- "I^^ourtrustvservant,sir.» 
 
 chest U^' p'',"^"^"- H^ tapped his broad 
 Chest. An me Cap'n Drurie's frien', name Cao'n 
 Cremona," he added. *me L,apn 
 
 ;« Remember that," said Francis to Nicholas. 
 
 They reached Drurie's respectable hotel f. good 
 
 order, though by this time a slim plume ox W^ 
 
 s reamed to the sky from do., harbour-way, ndfhe 
 
 anging of bells and roar of voices came Lntt o 
 
 them on the spring air. ' 
 
 at '^Tr f "'■?? T"""^ "'"■»■'"-"■ »d Nicholas 
 » he,r he,ls w«h ,he bundle. They halted and turned 
 
 t% '' °' '"^ ™ """ ^-«' ^' «■» -»oie t 
 
 dil^"^ "* ""■ ' ""''''^•" ''='^'=«' C^'^™-". with 
 Agniiicd concern in his mice. 
 
in 
 
 110 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ■ > >i 
 
 Captain Cremona, or Big Pedro, or whatever you 
 want to call him, told Francis Drurie a story that 
 explained his amazing behaviour. 
 
 Cremona had been bom in England some forty 
 years ago, of Portuguese parents. He had struggled 
 through a rough and neglected childhood. He had 
 been shipped to sea at the age of twelve, and for 
 years had been treated worse than a dog. 
 
 After that he had sailed many voyages as an able 
 seaman. For several years he had cruised in the West 
 India islands. " Good money in dem waters," he 
 explained, with a reminiscent smile. Later he had 
 been impressed into the royal service; and it was during 
 this period cf his career that he had come to know 
 and love Richard Dariza. 
 
 He was the young lieutenant's servant aboard the 
 Scorpion for two years. Richard had always treated 
 him kindly and had saved him from more than one 
 flogging. They had been in tight corners together, 
 risking their lives side by side. Then the trouble had 
 come. 
 
 A senior officer, drunk, had insulted Dariza. Dariza 
 had retorted by calling him a liar. A duel had followed, 
 with fatal results to the senior officer. This man 
 happened to be of a very powerful family; and so the 
 young lieutenant, assisted by all the officers cf his 
 
 9!iS& 9P?^-<»lfiya$cv 
 
 IS* '««irainiii&«?. % < 
 
The Man with the Yellow Face 111 
 
 own ship, vanished from the world that had known 
 him. 
 
 His servant had vanished with him. The two had 
 worked on the docks of many cities together as com- 
 rades, and had sailed several voyages in the same 
 ships. They had made a living, and had done nothing 
 worse than a trifle of smuggling. 
 
 Forced by fear of the law to avoid the honester 
 houses of entertainment in Bristol, they had become 
 connected with the questionable gang that frequented 
 the Cat and Rat. The tavern-keeper, Mull by name, 
 was a sharp-witted fellow, and had seen at a glance 
 that Richard was no common sailor. He had begun 
 immediately to show the young man a great deal of 
 attention, and soon professed a warm regard for him. 
 Richard had believed in the fellow's professions for 
 some time. 
 
 Crempna never had, however. Richard had trusted 
 Mull to a certain extent, but never so far as to tell 
 him the true cause of his fall in the world, or anything 
 definite of his old home, or the true relation existing 
 between himself and Pedro. 
 
 In fact, the gang thought that they were but chance 
 acquaintances of a voyage or two. Richard had asked 
 Mull to find a trusty shipmaster, bound for Virginia, 
 to carry a letter for him; and MuU had recommended 
 
 t^M 
 
1 
 
 J* 
 
 112 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ■I 
 
 the master of th^ Golden Crcnm, who was not of the 
 gang, but whom he knew slightly. Both Richard and 
 Pedro had talked to the old mariner. He was honest 
 beyond a doubt. A fever had kept Richard in Bristol 
 for more than a month, and Pedro had remained 
 too. ' 
 
 They had made themselves a hiding-place unknown 
 even to Mull. Mer had come for Richard to the Cat 
 and Rat; but Mull had put them off with crafty lies 
 For this service Richard had paid him good money 
 
 At least Mull had said the men had come. Pedro 
 did not believe him. If it was true, MuU would have 
 learned the fugitive's real name -a thing that had 
 not happened. But at the time. Pedro had not reasoned 
 so clearly. 
 
 Soon, Mull had more talk of officers of the law 
 prowling about. Richard then slipped awav on a 
 small coa.ung schooner, leaving his faithful com- 
 panion behind him. He himself had begun to distrust 
 the sincerity of .Mull's friendship. Pedro had re- 
 mained in Bristol and in close touch with the Cat and 
 Rat, on the chance that the master of the Golden 
 Crowii might return with an answer to the letter or 
 that Francis Drurie might answer it in person 
 
 The possibility of his friend's arrival had troubled 
 Richard greatly ever since he had begun to doubt 
 
 
The Man with the Yellow Face 
 
 113 
 
 the honesty cf Mull's intentions. And ever since 
 Richard's departure Pedro had kept a bright eye on 
 Master Mull. Yet not quite bright enough, for one 
 day Mull had slipped six golden corns into his hand. 
 
 " 'Tis your share o' a trifle we took last night," 
 Mull had whispered. " Though ye were not on hand 
 to help, ye be one o' the gang.^' 
 
 Then Pedro had heard how Master Job Spark had 
 been ribbed of one hundred pounds. So Pedro had 
 kept a still sharper lookout after that, and at last had 
 spotted Drurie and knoA^-n him instantiv for Richard's 
 fnend. He had hurried to the tavern so as to be on 
 hand in case of need. 
 
 Francis Drurie could find no adequate expression 
 for the admiration and gratitude that glowed within 
 hmi toward Cremona. He shook the !>,•. fellow's 
 hand. He clapped him on the back. He drank his 
 health in the best wine in the house, and called him 
 his very dear friend. He offered him half of every- 
 thing he had and a berth as a gentleman adventurer 
 to Hudson's Bav. 
 
 Cremona grinned expansively, swallowed the good 
 wme m quantity, and stuck out his chest. " Me a 
 gentleman," he said. " WJI, that all right -me do 
 right thing for frien's. Me don't want money. Me 
 dont go to Hudson Bay with you -no, not now. 
 
114 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ii 
 
 Some day-nex' voyage -yes. Now, Cap'n Cre- 
 mona go look for his old master -his frien'-an' 
 tell him how you come an' fine fight we make. When 
 you get back from big voyage, we be here in dis same 
 room." 
 
 " You are the trustiest heart in the world," cried 
 Francis. 
 
 Nicholas was caUed up and told enough to set his 
 .-imd at rest, but not enough to endanger any one 
 should he prove less honest than he seemed. 
 
 A room near Drurie's was engaged for Cremona, 
 for the big fellow had accepted the other's invitation 
 to remain in Bristol as his guest for a few days. Then 
 he would start north to find Richard, knowing in what 
 ports to look for him. 
 
 Francis dressed again in his finest clothes. By now 
 It was dusk, and Nicholas had lighted the candles. 
 The landlord came to the door and said that a gentle- 
 man had called to see Captain Drurie. 
 
 Master Smithers was shown n.p. " I am a few 
 minutes la^e," he said. " There is a fire down at the 
 water-front, and I was a little anxious. But the ware- 
 houses are safe. It has been confined to four or five 
 buildmgs that were worse than worthless, in that thej- 
 sheltered some cf the vilest characters of the city." 
 "I am glad to hear that you suffered no loss," 
 
 
 rw#^. "^M, 
 
The Man with the Yellow Face 115 
 
 repUed Francis. Then he presented his friend Captain 
 Cremona to Master Smithers. 
 They had up another bottle of wme. 
 " And how have you enjoyed your first s« hcurs in 
 Bristol?" asked Smithers. 
 
 " I have had a very pleasant and interesting time " 
 replied Francis, smiling at Cremona. 
 
 Smithers turned to Cremona with a bow. " I trust 
 you are free to jom us at supper, captain," he said. 
 ^ " Yes, me free. Thank you very large," repUed the 
 giant. 
 
pi 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 m ™iCH A SPANISH CENTLZKAN ARRIVES m racMA 
 
 For three days Cremona lived with Francis Drurie 
 and each day he rose higher in the Virginian's regard.' 
 Then he went away, cheerful and full of the Lat 
 h.ngs .hey should do when ne.t they n,e,. He Zm 
 take no money for either himself or Richard but 
 pressed upon Francis one of his fine pistols 
 Francs heard or saw nothing more of the rascally 
 
 .he LT' .' *"" '''' '" "^"^'^ ""' '^ -™« 
 
 n^^lT,; ,r n """ "" ""* "^ '' ™''^ "f *e dead 
 men m the Cat and Rat. They were fellows of no 
 
 ac ount and perchance the authorities ccnsi-.ered them 
 better dead than alive. Those were fine ti J fo" 
 people w,.h true friends and long knives -bu no 
 SO fine for others. 
 
 Francis wrote five letters during his sojourn in 
 Bn,tcl, one to Isobel- which was not sealed and 
 handed over to Master Smithers until the very da'f 
 
 116 
 
A Spanish Gentleman Arrives 
 
 117 
 
 sailing on the great voyage -and the others to his 
 
 father, his mother. Fairwood of Fairwood Manor, and 
 
 Danza of Hopeland. 
 As his days and evenings were fuUy occupied by 
 
 work in connection with the expedition, and by socid 
 engagements with people interested in the Royal 
 Company, in which he was now an officer, he was forced 
 to toil at his letter-writing in the small hours of the 
 mommg, thereby winning a great reputation for schol- 
 arship m the eyes of his servant Nicholas. Hav 
 decided, after careful reflection, that there was no 
 reason for keeping a knowledge of Richard's existence 
 
 man who had been Richard's servant, omittmg the 
 details of the meeting, had heard that Richard was 
 safe and m good health, and hoped to discover him 
 on his return from Hudson's Bay. To Mr. Dariza 
 he treated the subject at greater length, though with 
 no more particularity. 
 
 There were several great personages interested in 
 the expedition, and by these young Drurie was treated 
 
 TuT"" ''''''^''''^^- The wealthy baronet 
 ^ho had known the captain in the old davs had given 
 Francis a great name as a soldier. More 'to the young 
 man s taste than the great folk, however, were the 
 gentlemen v.ho, like himself, intended risking their 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 Hi 
 
 118 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 lives as well as their money in the expedition. There 
 were a dozen of these in all, including himself and not 
 counting the hired sailing-masters. 
 
 The daring little fleet consisted of four vessels. 
 Drurie's was the Brave Adventure, a stout craft of 
 something over one hundred and fifty tons, two-masted, 
 square-rigged on the fore, and with boom and gaff- 
 topsail on the main. In addition, she could spread 
 three jibs, staysails between the fore and main, stunsails, 
 and a little spinnaker. 
 
 Any one with half an eye for such things could see 
 that she would be a sweet sailer. She was heavily 
 ironed, as well as heavily canvased for her size. So 
 quickly does pride in one's ship spring in the heart 
 that Francis had not been aboard the Brave Adventure 
 twice before he thought her the finest craft in the 
 port of Bristol. On May Day, early in the morning, 
 the little ships drifted out, one by one, amid the cheering 
 of sailors and landsmen, the booming of cannon, and 
 the flapping of flags. 
 
 Back in Virginia the humdrum round of quiet 
 pleasures and mild excitements, such as hunting and 
 dancing, was disturbed for our friends of the three 
 plantations soon after Francis Drurie's departure. 
 Early in April Mr. Dariza became, of a sudden. 
 
A Spanish Gentleman Arrives 119 
 
 flighty in his mind. His daughter and his body-servant 
 were the first to notice it. 
 
 They did their best to keep knowledge of it from 
 others, and were successful to a certain extent. The 
 first hint received by Isobel and the servant of the 
 unhinged condition of the old gentleman's mind was 
 in this manner. Dariza calk, ' for the girl early one 
 mornmg, before he was out oi bed. Max was in the 
 room, preparing the razor for his master's shave. 
 
 "When d'ye expect Dick?" asked the frail old 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Dick?" cried the girl faintly, her face going 
 white as paper. 
 
 "Aye, Dick. He wrote that he would soon be 
 home and would stay with us for a month or two " 
 replied her fa.her. ' 
 
 Ma:- let the razor fall to the floor. 
 
 Isobel went to the side of the bed and took her 
 father's hands in hers. " I do not expect him before 
 June," she said. 
 
 Dariza sank back on his pillow without a word. 
 That morning he did not get up for breakfast. Later 
 m the day he talked sanely and kindly to the girl about 
 Franas Drurie. In the evening, however, after he 
 had retired, he called his son's name three times. 
 
 A few days after that he complained of feeling too 
 
 '■} 
 
ISO 
 
 A Cavalier o^ Virginia 
 
 i I' 
 
 tired to leave his bed. A doctor was brought from 
 King's Haven - the best in the colony. He said that 
 Mr. Danza had a fever in his blood; so he drew off 
 a considerable quantity of blood, and a deal of the 
 fever with it, he said, mixed a bottle of evil-tasting 
 doses, dined with Isobel, and jogged home in time for 
 supper. 
 
 It was always in the early morning or at night that 
 Dariza showed signs of a weakening mind. During 
 the height of the day he talked sanelv enough of things 
 great and small. But the fever in his blood did not 
 cool. He kept to his bed for more than a week after 
 ihe doctor's visit -and then it was the most unex- 
 pected and amazing incident that got him out of it 
 
 Isobel was in her room, kneeling at a window that 
 faced the east -the same w. .w at which Francis 
 had gazed from the lawn on the magic morning. She 
 was dreammg of that morning now, with tears in her 
 eves A moment before she had been praving-a 
 wordless, almost unconscious prayer - the petition of a 
 frightened and longing heart for the safety of its mate 
 
 J'^JZ-Z"" ^'''' ^ '^ ^'' W^^ had been 
 answered With the vague fear quiet, she called the 
 image of her distant lover to her, across those tumbling 
 wastes of sea turned time back, and lived again that 
 tnarveUous night and morning. She was disturbed bv 
 
the sound of .rotting ^„ ^j „„,. 
 
 dear visions drifted from her eves <;h» . j 
 looked .differently fro. 'he ^Wo' ' ^"^ "•' -" 
 
 uptsir,he r*"' """'•'-P^"""' carriage draw 
 up ^side the three stone steps at the fool of the ter 
 aced la™. The horses, as well as the carriage Je" 
 unknoH-n to her. Perhaps i, was the doetor ZvdZ 
 the muddv roads in - r,:, j "ueior, traielling 
 
 o™ -^Ja T. " "^ "-"veyance to save his 
 
 .:doo?:.::?;r^"^-^"--'^^^^.'.-,and 
 andtiroifrtsTT''-'™'-'^*^ 
 
 uui, at a. loss to know what tn Hr> ^• 
 quieted and yet as inactive oc v V ' '^'^" 
 
 saw the drivel de^d tl elrrpelr'' "^"^^ 
 
 oco. and pull f„..,ei„,rior:::,:^^r*«^ 
 fani; s^shi^:!' ■""' '""" *' "-"- ^ -0 *e 
 
 He looked about him; and it was as if th. 
 ™ .kegallery felt the <,« glance tL^h^ Ifn:^ 
 
 -^.eadvanc^'t^^rlt:^;^^^^^^^^^ 
 wno can it hp ? " ,„u: i •, . 
 
 agitated. ""'f"'"^ ^=°'^'> """S'iy 
 
122 
 
 A Cavalier of Vir ginia 
 debbcl hisself, I reckon," muttered 
 
 butler. ""^"' ■" '''''^°''" muttered the 
 
 Now the stranger bowed and swooped Jus great 
 hat fro. his h.ad, disclosing to the fascLted regard 
 the group on the gallery a thin, dark face, eyes like 
 black crystals, and an elaborate black wig 
 
 .he two old servants drew back, leaving their 
 imstress alone at the top of the gallery steps The 
 granger halted at the foot of the steps and agab 
 bowed impressively, hat in hand ^ 
 
 falLiX '■''""" '"''"'"'"^^''^^'^^-^^ 
 
 to "J!'' ^Tt ' ^°"^'' "^^^^ ''' '^ I ^^'-^ the honour 
 to address the daughter of the Sefior Ricardo Alcazardo 
 da Riza, ' returned the gentleman, smiling a sh! 
 wonderful smile that told of hope, Joy, doubt, and 
 courage. It was such a remarkable smile that the girl 
 became more agitated than ever. ^ 
 
 ^^^ Yes," she said, staring at the stranger with startled 
 
 He ascended the steps and stood beside her. " My 
 tTf ' L^ ^''' '"'" ^"^^^ ""y ^'^ by telling me 
 " ^"" ^' ^ ^"^°<^ °f ^^^ perhaps ? Please come in, 
 
 tei<^fti»feS1 
 
A Spanish Gentleman Arrives 123 
 
 sir," said Isobel, with something of her usual com- 
 posure. 
 
 " Yes," rcph'ed Josef Alcazardo. He followed the 
 girl mto the hall. His black eyes darted this way and 
 that and seemed to penetrate into the surrounding 
 rooms. * 
 
 The girl beckoned to the old butler, who had re- 
 treated to the threshold of the dining-room door. 
 
 " Show this gentleman to the library," she said. 
 bhe turned to Alcazardo and looked him fairly and 
 searchmgly in the face. He received the scrutiny with 
 steady eyes and a pensive smile. " My father is not 
 weU. I will tell him that the Senor Josef Alcazardo is 
 here." 
 
 The stranger looked as if he were about to speak ^ 
 to offer some suggestion. The giri noticed this, and 
 waited. " Yes, tell him so. Tell him I regret his 
 Illness -and that I long to clasp his hand," said 
 Alcazardo haltingly. 
 
 Isobel hurried to her father's room and found Max 
 already there. Dariza was sitting up in the bed 
 wuh an expression of keen anxiety on his haggard 
 
 "Who is it?" he asked. "Who has come to see 
 nie? Can it be some evil tidings of Dick -or of 
 Frank Drurie?" 
 
1^4 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " I do not know. His name is Josef Alcazardo," 
 replied the girl. 
 
 "Alcazardo! Heaven help me!" cried Dariza, 
 with something of distress, but more of increduUty 
 in hiL voice. 
 
 Isobel turned to Max. " Tell the gentleman to go 
 away. Tell him that he cannot see the master," she 
 said. 
 
 "No! Wait! Hold, fellow! " cried Dariza. "Tell 
 him to come up, whoever he is. Ill or well, whv should 
 I fear Josef Alcazardo ? " 
 
 The servant left the room. 
 
 Isobel took her father's hands in hers. " Is he an 
 enemy — an old enemy ? " she asked. 
 
 " What have I to do with enmity — or with fear? " 
 returned the old man unsteadily. " Zvly days are 
 numbered; but, if need be, Ricardo da Riza can still 
 strike. Leave the room, my dear, and kt me speak 
 alone to this belated \isitor." 
 
 " I am afraid," whispered the girl. 
 
 Dariza pointed at a pistol that lay on the table close 
 to his hand, between a glass of water and the bottle 
 of doctor's stuff. 
 
 " You need not fear," he said significantly. 
 Isobel went into the passage. The stranger passed 
 her with a bow, entered the bedroom and closed the 
 
 MmI^-^^^^^^^- 
 
 Wk 
 
 =»(* -•** 
 
A Spanish Gentleman A 
 
 rrives 
 
 125 
 
 r\ and Max stood close to 
 
 door behind 
 
 the threshok. H.t.ning arxiously. The girl lisVened 
 for the soun(-. of a pistol-shot - the old servant for 
 he knew not what. They could hear nothing. 
 
 So they waited for ten to fifteen minutes; then 
 unable to stand the suspense any longer, Isobel opened 
 the door. She found her father sitting up and the 
 stranger in an armchair pulled close to the bed \1 
 cazardo was leaning forward, his right hand clasped 
 m that of Dariza. The invalid's cheeks were flushed 
 and his eyes were shining. 
 
 The girl stood on the threshold, staring with open 
 amazement at the friendly scene. Both men looked up 
 " Come in, my dear," said her father. " Come here 
 and welcome my long-estranged brother- vour Uncle 
 Josef — to Hopeland." 
 
 Isobel did not move, but continued to gaze at the 
 two m anxious bewilderment. What did it mean? 
 Had her poor father gone entirely mad ? What wild 
 talk was this of a brother from one who had turned 
 his back on every member of his family or had their 
 backs turned upon him, forty years ago? 
 
 "Come," said Dariza. "You must make your 
 uncle welcome. He has put himself to a great deal of 
 trouble and expense to find me. His heart is right, 
 iou have nothing to fear, Isobel." 
 
126 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Alcazardo arcse from his chair and moved forward 
 smihng gently and affectionately, his hand extended.' 
 " Yes, you must welcome me, my dear little kins- 
 woman," he said. " And as for fear - what have vou 
 to fear from your peaceful old Uncle Josef? " 
 
 The girl placed her hand in his, and he raised it 
 gallantly to his lips. 
 
 " Now, that is better," he said. " We shall soon be 
 fast friends, I see. And why not? I have come a 
 long journey to find your dear father, that a mistake - 
 an estrangement -of our youth might not go to our 
 graves with us. Yes. I tremble at that thought. It 
 was a mad thing -a blind, devilish thing -and the 
 work of others. But Ici it die! Let it be forgotten, as 
 It has been forgiven by both of us." 
 
 He patted the girl on the shoulder and smiled tenderly 
 at the gentleman in the bed. 
 
 " Yes, let it be forgotten," said Dariza. " Thank 
 Heaven you are here, Josef, and that we are brothers 
 agam. Thank Heaven you could explain the thing - 
 and had the kind heart to travel all this way to do so » 
 He lay back on his pillows, breathing quickly. 
 
 His brother was at his side in a moment, raising his 
 head a little with one arm and holding the glass of 
 water to his lips. At sight of that quick tenderness, 
 the girl s heart thrust away aU doubt and fear of him 
 
A Spanish Gentleman Arrives 
 
 127 
 
 iet mm sit up agam. 
 
 Isciber^' ''^' '^' "^''^"^^"^ misunderstanding? " asked 
 
 you, said Alcazardo. "The evems-ves, and the 
 
 now It had to do with great people and small people 
 my dear little girl — even with ^ n. , 
 
 flnri oil , ^'"S, and armies, 
 
 and all manner of uncomfortable things. But the 
 k ng IS dead, now, and the liars who made the trouble 
 ae dead -and here am I sitting by m.v brother's 
 bed, very much at peace. So worry no more abou. -. 
 Old mistake, my dear." 
 
 Syior Alcazardo seemed to act like a tonic on Afr 
 Dan^a. Within an hour of his arrival, his brother' 
 was dressed and down-stairs. A servant was sent over 
 to Fa,vvood. Manor to invite Mr. Fairwood to supper. 
 A stir of activity and curiosity went through the house 
 and offices, and even back to the quarters of the field- 
 hands, and the servants babbled excitedlv over the 
 sudden and unexpected appearance of a 'gentleman 
 who was the master's brother, and the mistress's 
 uncle and yet whose name and of whose existence 
 they had never before heard. 
 
'. r 
 
 128 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Mr. Fairwood came to supper. When he heard the 
 remarkable news from his brother-in-law, he ^ -e 
 his astonishment and incredulity. When as 
 
 presented to tlie senor, he stared at him aghast. 
 
 Then he turned angrily upcm Dariza. " See here 
 Dick, I'll be hanged if I like this! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " What is it that you don't like, my dear Henry " 
 asked Dariza. 
 
 " Oh, of course it is correct and above-board if 
 you say so," replK^d Fairwood. " If you say he is 
 your brother, why, he n ust be. But I've always been 
 led to believe that they were all a bad lot; and I'll 
 be hanged if I like to be forced into so sudden a friend- 
 ship with a genileman I don't know and don't like the 
 looks of." 
 
 :\rr. Dariza and Isobcl were horrified bv the other's 
 frankness, and could net find a word to say or the 
 courage to look ai Alcazardo. 
 
 Alcazardo's reply, however, amazed them even more 
 than Fairwood's attack. 
 
 " There can be no doubt of my kinship with your 
 friend Richard," he said quietly, with sad eyes turned 
 upon the blulT Virginian. 
 
 " But I do not blame you for feeling somewhat 
 shaken and angered by this sudden call upon you to 
 take an utter stranger - aye, and a foreigner - by the 
 
 
A Spanish Gentleman Arrives 129 
 
 hand, he contmued. " You have heard evil things 
 of this Spanish family. Well, sir, many of those things 
 are true. Richard, noble soul, left his lands and Ws 
 country rather than join in the evil. I was young then 
 and believed the lies that were told to me' But now 
 I know my mistake, and Richard knows how it came 
 about. I can only hope, sir, that you will soon under- 
 stand me, and feel no longer any uneasiness about 
 takmg my hand." 
 
 IVIr Dariza was delighted and amazed at this 
 speech Forty years ago Josef had shown no signs of 
 this Christian spirit. Far from it. 
 
 Mr Fairwcod did not seem to be so well pleased, 
 hough he was completely disarmed by the Spaniard's 
 attitude. R.p me, but you talk more like a saint than 
 a don," he grumbled. 
 
 If any one had been watching Alcazardo at that 
 moment, he would have seen a flicker of apprehension 
 pass across the black eyes. 
 
 The supper passed ofT very well. Alcazardo told 
 some capital stories, witty enough for Mr. Fairwood and 
 dehcate enough for Isobel. It was quite evident that, 
 though a man of the world, he was possessed of a 
 very tender heart. After supper he sang 
 
 For Mr. Fairwood, he rendered an English hunting- 
 song with such dash and vigour that the Virgini^ 
 
130 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ■1 
 t 
 
 forgot his distrust so far as to join in the chorus. For 
 Isobel and his brother he sang a plaintive Spanish 
 love song that touched them both to tears. Then he ex- 
 cused himself for a moment, left the room, and pres- 
 ently returned with a violin. 
 
 He was dressed in a wine-red coat and breeches, 
 and a long waistcoat of white and gold. Instead of 
 showing his own hair, he wore a fine black wig that 
 reached to his shoulders. As he stood, tall and slen- 
 der, with his back to the hearth and the candles 
 on the chimney-piece, he looked handsome and sinis- 
 ter. He raised the violin to his breast and nestled 
 his chin to it. The bow touched the strings inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 Then his right hand began to weave and lift, flicker 
 and sink, about the dark and glowing instrument, and 
 mto the silent room flooded such a wonder of melody 
 ^hat Dariza forgot his sorrow and Isobel her longing, 
 and the sturdy Fairwood sat back in his chair like a 
 man in a trance. 
 
 Now, without a pause or break, the music changed in 
 tone and rang louder. Then days of riding and fighting 
 came back to Dariza, and Fairwood remembere'd the 
 two years in which he had served as a cornet in an 
 English cavalry regiment, and Isobel saw her lover 
 adventuring on the sea, with his sword at his side. 
 
 • w. 
 
 
A Spanish Gentleman Arrives 131 
 
 and powder-smoke on the water, and the black ship 
 o the enemy settling to leeward. It was the psaJm 
 of valour, 'ry magic purged of fear and regret. And 
 agam the music changed. 
 
 Dariza covered his face with his thin hands. Fair- 
 wood puckered his brows, his heart turning through 
 dusky ways after faces long forgotten. 
 
 And the girl remembered again the wastes of tum- 
 bling sea between this bright room and her young 
 
 Next day, the gentlemen of Admiral's Pride came to 
 Hopeland to pay their respects to Senor Alcazardo. 
 They had already heard something about him trom 
 Henry Fairwood; and the only complimentary thing 
 Fainvood had said was, «' He plays the fiddle like .he 
 devil himself." 
 
 So they eyed the stranger keenly, even while th.v 
 shook his hand. The captain wondered what th; 
 ellow was after. It was his opinion that a man who 
 has let a mistake go uncorrected for a matter of forty 
 )-ears does not travel from Spain to Virginia, at 
 last, for no more substantial reason than to set it 
 right. 
 
 His first thought was that Alcazardo wanted money. 
 No doubt the fellow had heard, in some roundabout 
 ^^ay, that his estranged brother was very comfortably 
 
132 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 s..ua.«i. But the captain was not so crude in his 
 methods as .Mr. Fairwood. Vi.h a bland smile, and 
 a question now and then, he wont to work to discover 
 the Spaniard's reason for visiting Virginia. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 ISOBEL SAILS AWAY 
 
 Captain Drurie learned, by his questions and obser- 
 vauon that Alcazardo >vas in no need of monev Fe 
 was handsomely oulfilled with both clothing and 
 jewelry, and had a store of gold coins with Jch he 
 was remarkably free. 
 
 He had crossed the sea without a servant. That 
 seemed strange to every one. The Spaniard said very 
 httle about h:mself, and seemed to be one of the most 
 modest of men; but, in the course of the first few days 
 of his viszt, he let people know that he was the o^^^er of 
 a house m Madrid, and of another in the country 
 
 Questioned briefly by Dari.a, he said that he'held 
 none of the old family possessions - that all those lands 
 and houses had been squandered by the other brothers 
 - but that his own little property represented a lifclin^e 
 of activity m the service of his countrv. All of which 
 sounded very fine -to everybody but Henrv Fair- 
 wood. 
 
 He, doubting gentleman, did not believe a word of 
 
 133 
 
134 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 III 
 
 It, and Ignored the visitor completely and loftily except 
 on such occasions as the violin was at work. One 
 might continue to hate and distrust Alcaaardo even 
 when he was making music; but no one could ignore 
 him then. He ^^ as a marvel with the fiddle - and even 
 ^Ir. Fair^^•ood had to admit it. 
 
 Isobcl was attracted by her new uncle, although 
 she could not bring herself to like his face. His eyes 
 at times, contained an inner, sinister light that chilled 
 her to the heart in spite of her knowledge of his gentle- 
 ness. That he was gentle there could be no doubt. 
 The girl had seen him flinch at the sight of a driver 
 lashing . ■ ubbom horse. 
 
 He dexuted himself to his brother's service, cheering 
 him with entertaining conversation, reading aloud to 
 him, and even watching beside his bed at night on 
 mere than one occasion. 
 
 His manner was forbearing with everv one. Even 
 to the servants he showed a consideration that was 
 charming to see - in spite of which net one of them 
 Had a good word for him. Indeed, the old butler and 
 Max hated and feared him to such an extent that their 
 black faces faded to the hue of ashes whenever he 
 looked at them. 
 
 Isobel admired him and believed in him, in spite 
 of the sinister light she sometimes caught in his glance, 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 13J 
 
 the whispering of the servants, and Uncle Henry's 
 snorts of scorn. She felt that she and her father under- 
 stood him and that the others did not. The captain 
 and John Mere almost as suspicious of him as were 
 Uncle Henry and the butler and the valet. But this, 
 she said, was simply because they were men. 
 
 ^Icn, no matter of what colour or class, always 
 look askance at other men of a different kind than 
 themselves, or of a kind to which they are not accus- 
 tomed. Had Alcazardo been in Englishman, and 
 skilled in fox-hunting instead of in violin- plaving, and 
 loud of voice instead of quiet, the foolish men would 
 have accepted him with delight. She said that this was 
 proved by the fact that Mrs. Drurie admired the senor 
 To teU the truth, Isobel had, as far as she could see 
 very good reasons for holding Josef Alcazardo in high 
 esteem. His attitude toward her was one of unfailing 
 affection and consideration; and one dav, findin*^ her 
 alone in the library, he Iiad talked to her of Francis 
 Drurie. 
 
 This alone would have been enough to win the girl's 
 favour, for his talk had been so hopeful, so tender.^lnd 
 so congratulatory, that she had quite forgotten the 
 smister gleam in his eyes. He, who had never set 
 eyes on Francis, had talked of him with understanding 
 and admiration. 
 
 
^^^-yy 
 
 136 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 As for pcor Mr. Dariza. he fairly doted on the Seftor 
 Josef Alcazardo. It was a wonder even to Isobel, to 
 sec and hear her father - for she could not forget the 
 way he had first received the news of the Spaniard's 
 arrival. Morning, noon, and night, he was ever eager 
 to listen to Josef. Josef's presence in the house seemed 
 to keep the good gentleman in a continual flutter of 
 pleasurable excitement. Weak and worn as he was 
 he .-oulc not stay in his bed even long enough to have' 
 IHS breakfast there. No, he must be up and at his 
 post so as not to miss a word or gesture of the admirable 
 Josef. 
 
 • The thing was amazing and far from sane. The 
 ^ct that the poor gentleman no longer asked about 
 Dick was a sign that thi. absorption in Alcazardo was 
 largely due to the ilighty state of his mind. The 
 «!.^htincss had shifted, that was all. 
 
 Alcazardo saw and understood, and acted accord- 
 ingly. ^ ho had suspected his brother's mental deranae- 
 ment m the first mome.t of their meeting. Nowlie 
 was sure of it. and knew how to piny ujcn the weaken- 
 ing heart and mind even as upon the slender strings 
 and frail v>ood of his virlin. 
 
 Thougli the girl was c,ne enough, he read her 
 weakness, tec. Kcr weakness was entirely of the 
 heart - and in the ^.ound he saw the image of a 
 
hobel Sails Away 
 
 ccrlam young gentleman adven.urcr named Francis 
 Drune So, ,o ,hc girl, he often spoke of the brave 
 oung fellow .ho was, even now, facing peri, on ,he 
 deep for the sake of ,he woman he LZ; bu. he 
 always spoke hopefully, as if of every hundred men 
 who went seafaring a hundred returned 
 
 "I know the sea," he would say. " I have sailed 
 man, a voyage myself, here and there." And once, 
 to cheer her mu of an an.,ious m ->d, he bade her 
 cor er the master and the butler , ; •,: Ural's Pride. 
 
 no t' I ■■ ""' •"' "" ^''P'^'" "- -ITered 
 
 noU„ng worse than a bullet in the leg and the old 
 gunner s mate .s as sound as a bell." 
 
 Is it to be wondered at that the girl grew to like 
 an i .rust the man who was ever quick to read her fears 
 and quiot them? u ntriears 
 
 >!r. I)ariz.i made a new will. His wife had left 
 one c.neermng the property that had come from her 
 ■>. cf ,„e house and to which he had always refused to 
 l>Jt forward anv claim In suite rl >,:■ 
 ne«tl,;- -11 ,' , '" ^P"« cf hii growing weak- 
 ness th,, wm he refused to tamper with. M the time 
 f h.s marnage he had legally vested his wife v.ith all 
 
 letress, and, according to these rights, 'she had 
 
 Hiuat- her w al. 
 
 „^ 
 
 mJtl 
 
138 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 J] 
 
 She had left everything in trust to her two children, 
 the father to have full control during his life, and, if he 
 should die before either the boy or the girl was of 
 age, the control of the lands and moneys was to pass 
 into the hands of her brother, Henry Fairwood. This 
 will had ah-eady been given to Mr. Fairwood by Mr. 
 Dariza, a week before Alcazardo's arrival. But Rich- 
 ard Dariza was a man of considerable property in his 
 own right. 
 
 Back of the tobacco-fields of Hopeland — Hopeland 
 itself was already disposed of by the wife's will — he 
 possessed many square miles of heavily timbered 
 wilderness, some of which had ber • granted to him 
 by the Crow.) and some purchased ah his own money. 
 Also, he owned a small fori..ne which was deposited 
 with a London banking-houbc, and shares in several 
 trading-ships. He had not left Spain empty-handed, 
 in the days of his youth. 
 
 So Richard Dariza, gentleman, of Hopeland, Kings 
 County, Virginia, made a new will. A lawyer came 
 from King's Haven to draw it up; and it was wit- 
 nessed by John Druric, Josef Alcazardo, and the good 
 doctor, who thought that nothing more was the matter 
 with his patient than a " fever of the blood." 
 
 Richard Dariza died at nine o'clock of the evening 
 of the tenth of June. He died in his library, in a chair 
 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 139 
 
 by the open window, with his daughter's hand in his 
 and his brother talking gently of the little Spanish 
 village, in the castle above which they had both been 
 born. 
 
 Death came so softly, so swiftly, that Alcazardo 
 went on with his story; but Isobel bent forward and 
 peered into her father's face, startled by a sudden move- 
 ment of the head against the back of the chair. 
 
 The girl's grief was intense. At first she could not 
 believe that her father's spirit had shppcd away, but 
 knelt beside the chair, calling him again and again 
 and clasping the cold and nerveless hands. 
 
 The old butler entered the room, carrying a branched 
 candlestick with lighted candles in each hand. 
 
 Alcazardo went quickly forward, took the candles 
 from him and placed them on the table. 
 
 " My worthy fellow," he said, very gently and with 
 tears in his eyes, "your good ma-.ter has passed 
 away." 
 
 The old negro stared at him, far too greatly dis- 
 turbed by his address to comprehend the meaning of 
 the words. He trembled from head to foot, and shuffled 
 backward a step or two. 
 
 " Your master is dead," said Alcazardo, a trifle 
 louder than before and a shade less gently. 
 
 "God hab mercy! Lord hab mercv! " cried the 
 
^^Q A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 butler; and, turning, he ran from the library, filling 
 the house with outcry like that of a stricken animal. 
 
 Tne other servants gathered to him. Their voices 
 rang shrill through that house of death. 
 
 Alcazardo, cursing the blacks in his heart, went 
 back to the chair where the girl still knelt by the dead 
 man. He put his right arm about the girl's shoulders. 
 
 " Come, dear," he whispered. " Come away to 
 your rcom. Be brave. You must not stay here 
 Isobel." 
 
 Without a word, she got slowly to her feet. His arm 
 around her, holding her close and firm, he helped her 
 from the rcom. Tiicy crossed the unlit hall slowly. ' 
 
 At the foot of the great stairs old :,rax, Dariza's 
 body-servant, sprang up in front of them. He stood 
 so for a moment, glaring close into the Spaniard's 
 face; then he slunk back against the wall. 
 
 As they passed the old fellow, Alcazardo looked over 
 his shoulder at him with that in his ej-es that tore every 
 fibre of courage in the African's heart. Isobel saw 
 nothing of all this, for her face was hidden against her 
 uncle's shoulder. 
 
 AIcai:ardo supported the girl to the door of her 
 room. Then he went quietly to his brother's room, 
 toe!; the pistol from the table and slipped it into his 
 pocket, and returhod to the library. 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 141 
 
 Six of the servants — two women and four men — 
 were in the library, squatting around the chair in 
 which the dead gentleman sat as naturally as in life, 
 but now heedless of their grief and devotion, and staring 
 over their heads with blank eyes. They cried aloud — 
 and their voices sounded less than human. 
 
 Alcazardo had heard this same bestial noise in the 
 depths of tropical jungles. His gorge rose in his 
 throat, and a hot devilish desire to spring upon these 
 childish, foolish, primitive people and be?^ them until 
 the blood should gush from their black hides shook 
 him from head to foot. 
 
 Did he give way to this diabolical urging of the 
 senses? No. Josef Alcazardo n^-ver lost control of 
 himself unless he chose to. He paused on the threshold 
 for a second or tv.o, breathing quickly, his eyes on fire 
 and his lean face horribly distorted. Then, calm and 
 grave of face, with downcast eyes and reverent de- 
 meanour, he advanced into the room. Catching sight 
 of him, the servants ceased their wailing and scrambled 
 to their feet. 
 
 " You will try to be quiet, I am sure, for the sake 
 of your poor young mistress," said Josef. " The sound 
 of your grief disturbs her. Two of you must carry 
 your master's body to his bed, and one go to Mr. 
 Fairwood and to Admiral's Pride with the sad news." 
 
 m 
 
1 
 
 III' 
 
 142 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 No word was spoken in answer; but four of the 
 blacks hurried from the room. The old butler and the 
 old body-servant remained. Alcazardo stepped close 
 to the nerveless, wide-eyed thing in the chair; and the 
 two old men shrank away from him. Their fear of 
 him was as clear as day — but he made no sign of 
 noticing it. He bent above the body, tenderly closed 
 the eyes and bandaged them with a silk handkerchief. 
 He crossed the cold hands on the quiet breast. 
 
 Then, kncciing, he began to pray aloud in the Latin 
 tongue. Th( prayers v.cre what he could recall, at 
 so short a notice, of a religious service which he had 
 neglected for over forty years. But what matter their 
 meaning so long as they were \-oiced in words unin- 
 telligible to his audience? He made the holy sign 
 frequently. He bowed his head almost to the floor. 
 Without a twinge of shame or fear, and for no other 
 reason than to befool two old servants, he went through 
 a travesty of religious devotion and pleading. 
 
 True, the prayers did not liappcn to be those for the 
 dead; but wnat matter. They were, in fact, prayers 
 of praise and thanksgiving; but the tone of grief in 
 his voice, and the strange language in which they were 
 spoken, hid their real nature completely. 
 
 At last he rose. One hand shading his eyes, he 
 motioned with the other to the spellbound servajits. 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 143 
 
 " Take the poor clay up-stairs," he said, in a voice 
 that shook. 
 
 W. 1 Mr. Fainvood reached the house he flung 
 open the front door and tramped violently into the 
 Ubrary, heart and head full of a black suspicion of 
 murder. He swore roundly at finding the room de- 
 serted. He dashed up the stairs and into Dariza's 
 room, as if to question the poor body of the manner 
 of lis death. But he halted on the threshold, and all 
 the red anger went out of his big face. 
 
 The body of his friend lay straight and slim in the 
 middle of the great bed, covered to the breast with a 
 long, black cloth. The hands were pointed upward in 
 the dignified, conventional attitude of prayer. The face, 
 no longer hidden by the bandage, wore an expression 
 of calm severity that had been unknown to it in life. 
 A candle burned at the head and the feet; and midway 
 of the bed knelt Isobel with her bark to the door and 
 her face buried in the pall. 
 
 :Mr. Fair wood had known that his friend was dead; 
 but he had not realized it until now. Dead ? Lord, 
 he had spoken to the man about the need of a new 
 fence between their pastures that very morning. And 
 now look at him! God have mercy on us! A man is 
 not sure of his next meal ~ or his next breath. Heavens, 
 what a grim, strange look on his face! And what is 
 
 -^'s^cfj- A-sttm-^r, 
 
144 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 that against the wall, near the head of the bed ? Is it 
 death? No, it is nothing but l shadow. Lord, to 
 think that poor old Dick is no more than clay, and his 
 immortal soul off to God knows where! 
 
 Shaken as Mr. Fairwood was by the sight of the 
 quiet dead — he had courage enough to face anything 
 of living flesh and blood — he did not obey the prompt- 
 ings of his heart and hurry from the room. He would 
 have done so, but for the sight of the desolate girl. 
 As it was, he stood on the threshold for a long time 
 muttering strange things to himself and trying to recover 
 his nerve; then he moved forward, strongly but slowly, 
 like a soldier marching through deep mud, straight 
 up to the bed. With a choking sigh, he bumped down 
 on his knees beside the girl and flung his arm around 
 her. She nestled close to him. She had known who 
 it was at the first sound of the heavy, honest footsteps. 
 The doctor came from King's Haven and announced 
 that Dariza's death was due to the fever in his blood 
 having suddenly ascended to his brain. This was 
 reasonable enough, surely. 
 
 The funeral took place on the second day after the 
 death. People came in from the surrounding country 
 to attend it, a distance of fifteen or twenty miles in 
 every direction. The gentlemen were not very cordial 
 to Alcazardo, taking their cue from Mr. Fairwood 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 145 
 
 and the gentlemen of Admiral's Pride. The Spaniard 
 was not one of them. There seemed something sinister 
 in his arrival in Virginia so shortly previous to Dariza's 
 death. They did not like his looks. In short, they 
 could not stomach him, despite his polite and mournful 
 manners. 
 
 When the contents of the late Richard Dariza's 
 will became known, consternation reigned in Fairwood 
 Manor and Admiral's Pride — more especially in 
 Fairwood Manor. All Dariza's property was now his 
 son's and his daughter's — his daughter's alone in 
 the case that Richard was dead or could not be found — 
 and for two years every penny of it was in the hands of 
 the Senor Jose] Alcazar do. 
 
 There was the rub! For these two years, according 
 to the will, he was to act as the girl's guardian; but 
 should Richard Fairwood St. George Dariza appear, 
 the property was to be at once divided, and not only 
 was the young man to have full control of his own 
 share, but he was to share with his uncle in the manage- 
 ment of the girl's, for the aforementioned term of two 
 years, or for such fraction of that time as still remained 
 after his appearance or di>-covery. 
 
 Again, if Isobel married Francis Drurie within two 
 years of her father's death, she was to take control of 
 her property immediately upon her marriage. This 
 
nil 
 
 146 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 sounded very fine; but, to tell the truth, there was 
 not a word in the document to keep Alcazardo from 
 disposing of every pound of money and acre of land 
 within a week of the funeral. The game was in his 
 hands, sure enough. 
 
 Mr. Henry Fairwood took the Senor Josef Alcazardo 
 into the library, closed the doors and the windows, 
 and went for him hot-tongued. He called him a great 
 many things that are not fit to put down on paper - - 
 and yet he did not tell him more than half the truth. 
 He called him a liar, a sneak, and a thief. Well, had 
 he only known it, he might very properly have gone 
 on to much worse. He shook his big fist under the 
 eagle nose. He glared into the black, sinister eyes. 
 He went on at such a rate that Alcazardo at last cried 
 out, with a dramatic upfiing of the right hand, that 
 honour demanded a duel lo the death. 
 
 Did he think to intimidate old Fairwood, I wonder ? 
 If so, there he made a grave mistake. Nothing would 
 please the old man better than an excuse for attackint^ 
 Alcazardo with pistol, sword, club, or empty hands. 
 That was what he was working for and had been 
 nursing in his mind for some time. If the other could 
 be brought to a duel, it was even chances that he would 
 kill the unprincipled adventurer. That would simplify 
 everything. If, on the other hand, he should be so 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 147 
 
 unfortunate as to die himself, he would leave good 
 men, such as Captain Drurie, behind him, and Isobel 
 and her prop.ity would be in no more danger than now. 
 "A fight to the death'" he cried. "Thank God 
 for the thought! Come, now, stop your cursed play- 
 acting and arrange for the duel. To-night will do, 
 and down in my woodlands is a pretty place. Drurie 
 will support me and you can have young John. There'll 
 be no need for a sxorgeon." 
 
 That changed Alcazardo's tune as quick as a flash. 
 That was the last thing in the world that he wanted. 
 With a bullet through him, where, then, would be 
 his fine plans for the future ? Oh, no, he had not the 
 slightest intention of running the risk of being killed 
 by that pig of a Virginian. That would be a poor 
 reward for all these weeks of smirking and bowing and 
 play-acting. 
 
 " You blind yourself to my position. You know 
 that I cannot fight j-ou, with this sacred charge left 
 to me," he replied to Fairwood. " I spoke, a moment 
 ago, in a fit of stupid temper. I cannot fight you." 
 
 Nothing that Fairwood could say or do could bring 
 about a duel. He raged like a madman. At last he 
 told Alcazardo to leave the house within the hour, 
 bag and baggage, and never to set foot in it again on 
 pain of being shot like a dangerous hound. 
 
148 A Cavali er of Virginia 
 
 " You'll find that I am master of this house, by a 
 will you could not change, you white-livered swine! " 
 he roared. 
 
 Alcazardo set out for the inn at King's Haven before 
 the hour was out; but ere he left, told Isobel his own 
 little story. The honest, credulous girl looked upon 
 him as a hero and a martyr. She felt that her father 
 ctuld have made no mistake in the character of his 
 brother. Her own heart told her that he was to be 
 trusted. 
 
 Immediately upon reaching King's Haven, Al- 
 cazardo wrote a long and wonderful letter to his ward, 
 and posted it to her after nightfall, by one of the 
 grooms at the inn. He explained the impossibiUty 
 of his staying in Virginia, where he was so misunder- 
 stood. He could not leave her, however, for he loved 
 her as he would a daughter of his own. ^^-ould she 
 sail with him to England ? 
 
 They would make every effort to discover Richard 
 in case he still lived; and there they would welcome 
 Francis Drurie on his return from the northern voyage. 
 He weighed every word with devilish cunning; and 
 not a v.ord did he write against Mr. Fairwood or 
 Captain Drurie. He said that they were slow to extend 
 friendship to a man of a different blood — that was 
 alL 
 
Isobel Sails Away 
 
 149 
 
 Alcazardo worked in the dark. Men were paid to 
 keep quiet about his moves. He seemed to liave 
 plenty of gold with which to buy silence; but you 
 may be sure that he got his money's worth. He sold 
 the woodlands behind the Dariza place, very secretly. 
 
 One fine morning in July Isobel drove to King's 
 Haven. It was four o'clock when they left the house. 
 The horses were put to their best speed throughout 
 the journey. Alcazardo met her and they went im- 
 mediately aboard the brig Heron. \\'ithin ten minutes 
 of that the brig swung from the wharf; and she was 
 hull down by the time Mr. Fairwood and Captain 
 Drurie dashed through the town on sweating horses. 
 
i 
 
 CHAPTER Xiri 
 
 t.sobel's discovery 
 
 Long Ixfor ''InglaiK. was reached b\- the brio 
 Heron, I ,bcl JJaii/:. wa^ almost frantic w Lh rciiiorse 
 for having left Vir-iiua, an 1 her old frien 's there, in 
 so hasty and secret a manner. But she tri. cl to hide 
 her suiTcring from her mcle. He sdw, a; a glance, 
 what the trouble was, however, an.i did his best to 
 cheer her. In fact, throughout the entire vovage, e 
 acted with the greatest kinrlness ! consideration 
 toward the grieving girl. His seas-.n vi play-acting 
 was not yet over; and he was not the man to spoil a 
 good performance by haste or careL^ness in the la^t 
 act. 
 
 On reaching the port cf T^ondon, Alcazardo ok 
 his ward to the bc^t inn in thr town, and lavi^ xl 
 upon her all manner of gifts. He told her that tiis 
 visit to London was purely for business pur- .r-es; 
 that he wished to follow a certain clue that might 
 lead to some information concerning Richard— his 
 had no foundauon whatever — and that he mtem.. 1 
 
 160 
 
 lii- 
 
Isobel's Discovery 
 
 151 
 
 looking int( th^ state ( ' tk banking-house in wh?ch 
 her money and ncr Drothcr's had reposed for so i lany 
 years. Whether 'he stay in Lon ion should be brief 
 or long depended ' n t ie clue. 
 
 She was uchinglv a rati 
 was akin^ . her. He ^pc 
 the state of ihe m'' 
 
 baggaj. ■ was c )nsi' 
 
 end of 'ie week 
 reirirk. !c. '■ 
 la.-! :ha had 
 the peT-=-n \h. 
 calli t. 
 pc-t. H V, 
 ] bol a<j^ 
 was I 
 autun; 
 land a 
 
 x)iniL 
 
 •r all the trouble he 
 a week in looking into 
 ^e, and his per? ' al 
 ised i weight by a 
 — V, it was reafly 
 un, o. ' places. The 
 f the pcrsoi. who might be 
 >cre looking for was aboard a s'lip 
 Brothers, bound for some Span h 
 a iX)rn romancer, was Josef AIcnzs^K). 
 d with her uncle that the best *hi -o 
 'o Spain and follow the clue; aii 
 r iccessful or not, to return to Ln^ 
 t in iistol for Francis Drurie. Duri 
 
 their bi it: ay in London, Isobel wTote several letters 
 to \-irgmi:. — to her uncle, and to Captain and Mrs. 
 r> uric. 
 
 hese letters were sent acro^.- the ocean in sure 
 iiand and by the first opportunity, for Alcazardo 
 wa v.. il n re that they contained nothing but good 
 of bin It tickled his queer sense of humour to 
 
 picture uiL bewilderment of Fairwood and the Druries 
 
152 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 if '^ 
 
 : I 
 
 i! 
 
 ill j 
 
 III 
 
 f HP 
 
 upon reading that he was still the kindly, affectionate 
 gentleman that he had pretended to be. 
 
 Alcazardo spoke, at first, of going to Madrid; but 
 he changed his plans suddenly, for some reason un- 
 known to Isobel. They travelled to Cadiz, by easy 
 stages and in the most comfortable manner possible. 
 They went directly to a large house outside the city. 
 It was an old house, scantily furnished and pervaded 
 with an atmosphere of emptiness and decay, as if it 
 had been uninhabited and neglected for many years. 
 
 The only servant in the house, at the time of their 
 arrival, was one old man. Alcazardo told the old 
 fellow to engage immediately a cook and a young 
 woman to wait upQn his ward. The other shut one 
 eye and screwed up his mouth at this, as if to say that 
 it was not as easy as it sounded. The master drew him 
 to one side by the front of his faded coat. 
 
 ■" Here is a little gift for you, my faithful Juan," 
 he said, pressing a gold coin into the old fellow's 
 palm. "The wages shall be large for the cook and 
 the maid — yes, and the service easy," he continued. 
 " See, here is something for each of them in advance." 
 He put another coin into the ready palm. " Come 
 now, Juan, do your best." 
 
 Juan nodded. " I know the very people for you, 
 seflor" he said. " My daughter for the cooking, and 
 
Isobel's Discovery 
 
 153 
 
 her daughter to wait upon the beautiful young lady 
 who is your niece." 
 
 So it happened that, at dusk of the day of their 
 
 arrival at the desolate house, a well-cooked meal was 
 
 served to them; and, later, when Isobel retired, she 
 
 was attended by a dark maid named Maria, who not 
 
 only unpacked her boxes for her and helped her 
 
 prepare for sleep, but retired to a couch in the same 
 
 room. The lonely girl was thankful, for the great 
 
 bedchamber was not a cheerful place for a young lady 
 
 to sleep in ilone. 
 
 During the next week neither Josef Alcazardo nor 
 his ward went any farther from the house than the 
 stone wall that surrounded the tangled gardens and 
 neglected orchard. Isobel was homesick, and the 
 desolate house and grounds depressed her like a night- 
 mare. She asked her uncle to take her to the city of 
 Cadiz, if only for half a day, that she might rouse her 
 spirits with sightseemg. 
 
 " Not now. But next week, perhaps, if I am not 
 too busy," he replied. He did not speak as if he were 
 sorry not to be able to oblige her. 
 
 She looked at him in frightened bewilderment. He 
 met the glance coolly; then turned and left the room. 
 But in a moment he was back again, for he had almost 
 shown the cloven-hoof too soon. 
 
154 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Ml 
 
 \\i 
 
 ff '' 
 
 " You must try to forgive me, my dear little daugh- 
 ter," he said contritely. " I am worried now. I have 
 troubles. But in a few days things will be well with 
 me again." 
 
 And so the sudden, vague terror that had stirred 
 in her heart sank to rest — for a little while. 
 
 Only two visitors ever came to the house during 
 Isobel's stay in it. The first was a short, black-bearded 
 man of seafaring look, who came to see Alcazardo. 
 He had been searching for him for several months, he 
 said. He seemed in a very bad humour at the beginning 
 of his first \isit. He called twice — after dusk, and 
 with only a day's interval. 
 
 Though Isobel did not see him on either occasion, 
 he caught a glimpse of her. Such gentry have a way 
 of seeing and not being seen. 
 
 Each call lasted several hours, during which time 
 he and Alcazardo were closeted together in a small 
 room on the ground floor. 
 
 The old servant — a sly old dog who wanted to 
 increase his knowledge of his mysterious master's 
 affairs — listened each night with his ear to the door. 
 But he failed to hear anything more enlightening than 
 a busy, senseless mumble of conversation, and once 
 the jingle of shattered glass. The other visitor was a 
 person of no importance in himself; but was to play 
 
Isobel's Discovery 
 
 155 
 
 an important, though humble, part in Isobel's affairs 
 as you shall see. ' 
 
 When Maria brought up Isobel's breakfast on the 
 morning after the black-bearded man's last visit, she 
 brought also a note for her from her guardian. It 
 was brief, but affectionate. This was the way of it: 
 
 "I have been called away, in haste, on urgent 
 busmess. I hope to be back by nightfall; but if not, 
 you shall hear from me. Be of good cheer. 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 "Uncle and Guardian." 
 
 This note filled the girl with wonder and appre- 
 h nsion. What was this urgent business of Alcazardo's, 
 of which he had not told a word to her? And where' 
 u:-d he gone to for its transaction? And why were 
 his movements so sudden and secret? She sent for 
 old Juan, and questioned him as to the time and manner 
 of his master's departure. 
 
 The old fellow told all he knew gladly enough; but 
 he knew very little. The senor had said nothing to 
 him about going away; but he had been awakened, a 
 littl-^ Mter midnight, by the sound of wheels on the 
 co> .i. . Df the yard. On looking from his window 
 he i • ' seen a chaise in the yard, wth two horses in 
 
d 
 
 : f] m -■ 
 
 III-; 
 
 art 
 
 156 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 the harness. A lantern wavered about, held by a 
 peasant who stood at the horses' heads. 
 
 Then he had seen his master come from a small 
 door that opened from the basement upon the yard. 
 He was tugging a heavy bag in each hand. Ha\'ing 
 placed these inside the chaise, he went back to the 
 house, reappearing in a minute with two more bags. 
 With these he mounted into the chaise. Then the 
 peasant got up in front, and they drove awa}-. 
 
 Isobel's curiosity was excited. What was the reason 
 of this midnight departure, made without the knowledge 
 of herself cr Juan ? One would think that he would 
 have awakened the old man, if only to carry the bags 
 for him. And v.hat could have been the contents of 
 those heavy bags? She went to the door cf her uncle's 
 room. It was locked. She searched the house for 
 keys, but could find nothing to serve her purpose. 
 
 A vague suspicion of Alcazardo was growing in her 
 mind. It was more a suspicion of misfortune than of 
 evil intention — a suspicion that worldly afiFairs were 
 not in such prosperous condition as he had pretended. 
 If this should prove to be the case, she was willing that 
 he should use some of her money for his needs. 
 
 Sending for Juan again, she questioned him craftily, 
 giving him the idea that she had expected this sudden 
 departure of her uncle's, and was yet somewhat worried 
 
Isobel's Discovery 
 
 157 
 
 about it. She hinted that it had something to do with 
 a commercial venture — the freighting of a ship in 
 which she and the senor were interested — undertaken 
 agamst her saner judgment. 
 
 The old man was as simple as he considered himself 
 deep. He was flattered by the young lady's con- 
 fidences. 
 
 " That would be it," he said. " The seafaring man 
 would certainly be the captain of the ship." 
 
 And so he went on, needing no questioning, and told 
 what he knew of the man with the black beard. From 
 that he wandered to other things, and let faU the fact 
 that it was now almost four years since the senor's 
 last visit. Yes, he owned the house. Yes, he beUeved 
 he spent much of his time in Madrid; but he was not 
 sure of that. No, the senor did not seem to have anv 
 friends in Cadiz. Oh, he was an uncertain gentleman, 
 and a great spender of money. Of that Juan was sure, 
 though he swore that he never sa^v much of it himself! 
 Isobel was thinking of retiring, and Maria waJ 
 sewing busily by the light of their single candle, when 
 Juan came rapping at the door. 
 
 He was greatly cT,:ited and had a letter in his hand 
 for the young lady. He said that it had been brought 
 by a rustic youth who even now waited in the yard 
 with a large, covered carriage and two horses. 
 
i 
 
 ■'■J 
 
 IS 
 
 I- ■ 
 
 158 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Isobel n d the letter eagerly, and gave a little cry 
 of delight. It was from Alcazardo. 
 
 He stated concisely that he had to sail for England 
 in the morning; and that, unless she wanted to stay 
 in Spain, she was to pack her most valued possessions 
 immediately and accompany the bearer of the note. 
 
 Within half an hour of receiving the letter, Isobel 
 and her maid were rolling along unknown roads in 
 the great carriage. So they travelled all night; and 
 at the lift of dawn the carriage came to a standstill 
 before a dilapidated hut on the seacoast. 
 
 Here v.ere Alcazardo and the man with the black 
 beard, and four rough-cut mariners, impatiently 
 awaiting their arrival. Alcazardo seemed very nervous, 
 and was undoubtedly in a desperate hurry to get away 
 from the coast of Spain. He all but dragged his ward 
 and her maid from the carriage, and then snatched 
 out their baggage and ordered the sailors to rush it 
 down to the boat. He paid the driver of the carriage, 
 and sent him about his business. He had not a decent 
 word for any one, but continually urged haste, as if the 
 de\il himself were at his heels. 
 
 The boat down at the edge of the tide was akeady 
 partially loaded. The work was completed in a very 
 few minutes after the arrival of the carriage, and the 
 boat crawled heavily seaward. Isobel and Maria sat 
 
'^.'■^ 
 
 Isobel's Discovery 
 
 159 
 
 in the stern beside the man with the black beard, who 
 held the tiller. The sailors bent to the oars, and Alca 
 zardo reclined in the bow. Several miles to seaward 
 the level sunlight flamed white on the sails of two vessels 
 that stood off and on. Isobel noticed it and thought it 
 beautiful — and then she leaned sideways a little" and 
 dosed her eyes. She had not caught a minute's sleep 
 during the night, and now her eyeUds ached. The 
 motion of the boat over the little waves was very 
 soothing. 
 
 One of the vessels — the smaller of the two — 
 veered in toward the boat. It was a fine little topsail- 
 schooner, heavily sparred and with huU and canvas as 
 white as shell. It lay-to and the boat ran alongside. 
 
 AJrazardo sprang to the deck. Isobel awoke, and 
 she and :Maria were passed skilfully up. The luggage 
 foUowed them m short order. Then the boat puSied 
 away from the side of the schponer and shaped her 
 course for the other vessel, which lay within a half 
 mile; and the schooner fell away before the wind. 
 
 It was then that Isobel discovered the loss of the 
 Httle gold cross from her neck — the cross which her 
 lover had given her. It must have broken from her 
 neck in the boat while she slept. The chain was very 
 thin — the gentleman with the beard had noticed that. 
 The little schooner danced along, with just what 
 
II 
 
 160 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 wind she needed to keep the wrinkles out of her sails. 
 So she danced all that golden day and all the silver 
 night. Next morning Isobel asked her uncle how long 
 it would be before they reached England. He looked 
 at her with a smile on his lips and a horrid gleam in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " My dear, foolish girl, we are not going to England," 
 he said. 
 
 "Not going to England!" she repeated, with 
 horror in her voice. 
 
 "We are bound for a snug little island in the West 
 Indies," he replied with a leer. '« An island where 
 my whim is the only law, even as it is aboard this 
 ship." 
 
 The girl uttered an inarticulate cry and sank to the 
 deck. 
 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 FRANCIS DRURIE RETURNS TO BRISTOL 
 
 The Brave Adventure outsailed the other ships of 
 the fleet, and got back to Bristol in the first week of 
 November. A crowd of townspeople of all classes and 
 callings gathered on the water-front to see the little 
 vessel furl and make fast after her daring voyage. 
 
 Here were shareholders of the Royal Company, 
 anxious to see and hear how the expedition had fared J 
 noblemen attracted by the romance of tHe voyage, and 
 merchants attracted by other considerations; and all 
 manner of idle folk, curious and looking for a little 
 excitement. 
 
 Cheering thundered out from the crowd, and rang 
 back heartily from the Brave Adventure. The gray 
 sails dwindled and vanished, one by one. At last 
 drawing in with no more than steerageway, the stout 
 little craft swung to starboard and settled in against 
 her wharf. The cheering rose higher, and willing 
 hands made her fast. 
 
 The commander of the Brave Adventure was the 
 
 161 
 

 f 
 
 162 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 3 
 
 lit 
 
 first to step ashore, followed close by the master 
 and the gentlemen of the ship. The important 
 people clustered around them with expressions of 
 welcome and "ood will and eager questions. " Where 
 are the other ships?" "How fared the crew?" 
 " What success? " 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried Drurie. " I thank you all, in 
 the name of the ship's company, for your consideration. 
 As far as we know, the other vessels are safe; but 
 they do not sail fast enough to keep in si^'ht of the 
 Brave Adventure. We summered well, and made safe 
 voyages both ways. We founded a strong fcrt, in the 
 name of God and the king. We have a fme cargo of 
 peltries under hatches." 
 
 Every one cheered violently at that — including 
 those who had not heard a word of it. 
 
 Master Smithers grabbed Drurie by the elbow. 
 " Come, captain," he cried heartily, " dinner awaits 
 you in your own inn. I ordered it when ycu were 
 first sighted." 
 
 "Have you seen anything of Cremona^" asked 
 Drurie, after the greetings were over. 
 
 " Not a feather of him," replied the merchant. 
 " But come along. The dinner waits. Make way for 
 the commander of the Brave Adventure," he cried to 
 the people in his path. " Make way for the gallant 
 
 m 
 
Francis Drurie Returns to Bristol 
 
 163 
 
 adventurer who has not tasted English roast for six 
 months." 
 
 " Give him his fill o' the best!" cried the crowd 
 " He is a fine lad. He is a great sailor. Way for 
 Captain Drurie there! Way for the commander o' the 
 Brave Adventure."' 
 
 So they made the slow but glorious journey up the 
 wharf, with Nicholas at their heels, carrying a bag and 
 lookmg twice as broad as when he sailed away with 
 his Virginian master. 
 
 Smithers had a packet of letters for Francis; but 
 he refused to give them to him until the dinner was 
 over and se^•eral rounds of congratulations had been 
 drunk. Then he left the commander to his mail and 
 returned to the water-front to watch the unloading of 
 the valuable cargo of the Brave Adventure. 
 
 First of all, Francis opened the letter addressed in 
 Isobel's writing. It was in three parts; the first 
 dated on the ^■cry day after his departure from Vir- 
 gmia, and added to time and again; the second, 
 begun soon after the urival at Hopeland of Josef 
 Alcazardo, and full of appreciation of that gentleman's 
 good qualities; and the third, written after Mr. Dariza'^ 
 death. 
 
 It was not the news of the death of his old friend 
 that shocked him most keenly in the last portion of the 
 

 11 
 
 KM 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 r- 
 
 letter, but the girl's anger against Mr. Fairuood and 
 Captain Drurie for their treatment of her Spanish 
 uncle. What cnuld she say of the stranger's virtues to 
 outweigh the fact that he had already caused trouble 
 between herself and her loyal, old-time friends? 
 
 His heart was chilled with fear at the thought that 
 a man whom the captain and f^airwood did not treat 
 cordially had won the trust cf the girl he loved. He 
 felt sure that those two honest gentlemen were not 
 likely to make any mistake in their reading of the 
 stranger. They knew mankind and the world. They 
 would never treat an honest man with anything but 
 consideration and fairness. 
 
 With hands that trembled, Francis broke the seal 
 
 of his father's letter. It was short and of fairly recent 
 
 date — in fact, it had been written immediately after 
 
 the arrival in Virginia of Isobel's letters from London. 
 
 The captain dealt briefly with the arrival of Alcazardo 
 
 in Virginia, Darlxa's death, and the remarkable will. 
 
 Without comment, he mentioned the fact that Fairwood 
 
 had done his best to incite Alcazardo to a duel, and that 
 
 the fellow had accepted the gravest insults without 
 
 responding. He wrote that Isobel, poor girl, had not 
 
 understood Fairwood's good reason for his treatment of 
 
 the other. 
 
 He skipped over the ilighi of Isobel and her guardian 
 
Francis Drurie Returns to Bristol 16 » 
 
 with very few words; but he made the most of the 
 letters which Isobel had sent back to Virginia from 
 London. 
 
 "Who can sa- if the girl is right or we are right, 
 after all ? " he concluded. " Only Heaven knows what 
 is in that black-eyed fellow's heart. He has begun 
 well, as far as Isobel is concerned, at any rate; so let 
 us hope that Henry Fairwood and I have been nothing 
 but a pair of old fools in this matter." 
 
 Then, feeling a little easier in his mind, Francis read 
 the communication from Mr. Fairwood. It was not 
 comforting. The hot-headed old Virginian put down 
 his opinion of Alcazardo in black and white. He drew 
 his picture to a hair. T'- nJied him, to Francis, the 
 same names that he hac - < n "n to his own face. 
 
 For an hour the young r an s.a: in his chair by the 
 table, with his face betwcf ; ii'-, Ha.ids, trying to pictur 
 the last few months of Isobel's life. He derived ' o 
 hope now from the fact that she had written home from 
 London; for why had she not written to Bristol since 
 then? Or, for that matter, if there had been any truth 
 in Alcazardo's promises, why were they not both in 
 Bristcil at this moment? At last he rang for Nicholas 
 and told him to search the town for news of a Senor 
 Josef Alcazardo and his ward. 
 Francis left his chair by the table and paced feverishly 
 
166 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 r! ^!S 
 
 up and down the room, his hands gripped together 
 behind him and his chin on his breist. The most 
 unhappy imaginings fiUed his mind. Strive as he 
 would, he could not accept Isobel's value of this man 
 Alcazardo. 
 
 As far as London, evidently, the man had played 
 his game; but after that, when there was no more 
 need of playmg, what had he done? Of course, he 
 had possessed himself of the money. Curse the 
 money! He was welcome to it. But what had he done 
 with the girl — when no more was to be gained by 
 pretending to be her guardian? Had he deserted 
 her m London ? 
 
 " I start for London to-morrow," he cried harshly 
 in answer to the thought. 
 
 Had Francis known Alcazardo, that fear of physical 
 desertion would not have troubled him. Alcazardo's 
 devilment was of a more refined variety. He Hked 
 people to suffer under his eyes. He liked to contem- 
 plate the results of his work. He liked to play with his 
 victims — to wm their trust, then their hate and fear 
 — to cast them to the depths, give them a gUmpse of 
 hope and cast them do\vn again. But how was poor 
 young Drurie to know that his sweetheart's uncle was 
 such an original kind of devil? 
 He was still pacmg back and forth, and dusk was 
 
Francis Drurie Returns to Bristol 167 
 
 filling. the room, when a knock came to the door 
 " Come in," he said, pausing by the window. 
 
 Tne door opened, and two men entered and stood 
 without a u-ord. Both wore long cloaks which reached 
 almost to the floor; and in the dusk Francis could dis- 
 cern nothing of their faces. Their hats were still on 
 their heads. Francis was sorry that he had not a 
 lighted candle in the room. 
 " WeU, what can I do for you ? " he inquired steadily. 
 And still the cloaked men maintained their silence 
 and their hats. Francis, worried almost to despera- 
 tion by the news he had read in his letters, was in 
 no mood to be tampered with by any two men in the 
 world. 
 
 He stepped forward briskly, and with a swift stroke 
 of the hand sent the hat of the taller of the two spinning 
 to the floor. 
 
 "Off she go — my fine hat!" cried the voice of 
 Cremona delightedly. 
 
 It was " Cap'n Cremona," beyond a doubt, though 
 he iiad a pointed beard on his chin and his earrings 
 were gone. 
 
 Francis turned to the other quick as the thought 
 that had leaped into his brain, and grabbed him by the 
 muffling cloak. It was Dick Dariza! 
 
 The friends embraced and shook hacds. and em- 
 
m 
 
 mi 
 
 f-^ 
 
 168 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 fm 
 
 braced again. Then Drurie turned again to Cremona 
 and grasped his hands. Then he pulled the bell and 
 ordered candles and two bottles of the best wine in the 
 cellar. He tried to throw off his anxiety for the time. 
 He would not chill the satisfaction of the reunion by 
 any mention just yet of his news or his fears. Neither 
 could be done before morning, anyway. 
 
 During supper, and for an hour afterward, the 
 conversation kept to the recent adventures of the 
 three. Dick asked tenderly after his father and sister 
 at the beginning of the meal; but Francis put off the 
 hour which he dreaded by telling him that Isobel had 
 promised to be his wife. 
 
 Dick rejoiced, end took it for granted that all was 
 well with his family. He was something of a chatterer 
 — and so was Cremona. Between them they informed 
 Francis fuUy of all their adventures since the un- 
 fortunate duel Many of these adventures had been 
 matters of life or death, but they told them all light- 
 heartcclly. 
 
 They had suffered hunger and cold and humiliation; 
 but there was no bitterness in their hearts. They had 
 hidden from their enemies in mean places; but they 
 had bro:'-!it none of the meanness back to the open 
 air -. ith them. Their friendship was a fine thing. Dick 
 treated Cremona, tliough he a)v;ays called him Pedro 
 
 fere-;:,- 
 
Francis Drurie R eturns to Bristol 169 
 
 in private, with the same manner of comradeship as 
 he treated Drurie; but in the eyes of Cremona, when- 
 ever they were turned on Dick, shone that light of 
 homage that often glorifies the eyes of a good dog. 
 For all that, his manner was now that of the loyal and 
 somewhat boisterous friend; one could see by his eyes 
 that he was still the loyal servant. 
 
 "We have been in the saddle all day," said 
 Dick. "So now for bed -and in the morning - 
 what ? " ^ 
 
 " There is an adventure awaiting both of you. I 
 shall tdl you the plans cf it in the morning," replied 
 Francis. Ii.- called the landlord and arranged about 
 rcoms for the newcomers. He handed his letters from 
 Virginia to Dick. " I want you to take these to your 
 room \. Jth you and read them before you go to sleep," 
 he said. - They have but just come to my hand," he 
 added. 
 
 ^ Dick anc' Cremona retired, the table was cleared, and 
 Trancis again took up his pacing of the room. Back 
 "v^d forth he marched, as if on the narrow quarter-deck 
 of the Brave Adventure. 
 
 It was not long before Nicholas rapped on the door 
 and entered. " I have been to every inn of the citv," 
 he sai.l. " and no sign has been seen of a gentleman 
 by the name of Alcazardo." 
 

 170 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " Very good, Nicholas. We start to-morrow morn- 
 ing for London," replied Francis. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Saddles or carriage ? " asked the servant. 
 
 "Saddles," replied the commander. "Are thero 
 any horses in your father's stable ? " he asked. 
 
 " Only the two belonging to Captain Cremona and 
 his friend," said Nicholas. 
 
 " Then engage t\\o more," said Francis. " We shaU 
 start at sunrise." 
 
 It was after midnight when Richard Dariza came 
 quietly into his fricrfd's room. Francis had been 
 sitting motionless in his chair for over an hour, waiting. 
 He sprang up and went forward to meet Darizi. The 
 other's eyelids were red. 
 
 " It was quick — and easy," said Francis. " And 
 now he is happy." 
 
 Dick nodded. "Yes -the poor old man," he 
 murmured. 
 
 "As for Isobel -why, wc must look for her," said 
 Francis. " They have not been in Bristol. I tiiink. 
 So we shall go to London - tu the inn al which 
 they stayed and to the banking house at which the 
 money was. We should get .some news of them there." 
 
 "I don't understand it," said Dick dully. "Why 
 didn't Uncle Hvnry i)ut a bullet through the rogue's 
 head ? " 
 
Francis Drurie Returns to Bristol 171 
 
 "I would to Heaven he had!" cried Francis fer- 
 vently. 
 
 In London they learned that the Sefior Josef Al- 
 cazardo, uncle and guardian to Mistress Isobel Dariza, 
 of Virginia, had removed funds to a very considerable 
 amount from the banking-house of Smith & Wedder. 
 The bankers had seen nothing of hiii after that. 
 
 At the inn from which Isobcl had written her letters 
 they learned that the Spanish gentleman and the 
 beautiful young lady had left London in a ship. The 
 gentleman had been very free with his money. The 
 young lady was dressed like a princess. The landlord 
 did not remember the name of the vessel on which 
 they had sailed, but one of the ser\-ants remembered 
 having heard Alcazardo mention Spain to the lady. 
 
 Nicholas was sent back to Bristol to look after his 
 master's belongings ;i-id interests there. The other 
 three, after a da^'s scarcli. found a small vessel ready 
 10 sail southward. For ,i matter of four guineas from 
 each of the gentlemen the master was willing to land 
 them on the Spanish coast. Fhey paid him half the 
 money on the word, promised the balance when they 
 should be safely landed, and went aboard. 
 
 The shipmaster protested. He did not intend to 
 sail until a late hour of the next day. Why should the 
 gentlemen not return to their inn for the night? But 
 
17g A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 he gentlemen were too eld to be caught by any suci) 
 tncK as that. " I think this is your tide," said Drurie- 
 and sure enough, the little vessel was out in the stream 
 withm the hour. 
 
 The .^/ero- Andrev; was a lugger-rigged craft of 
 about five tons burden. She had no deck amidships 
 but a tmy cabin aft and a still smaller one forward 
 Her crew consisted of two men besides Purl the" 
 master. They were hard-looking customers,' all 
 throe. Purl, when asked, said that the cargo was of 
 spikes and other ironware; but, upon investigation on 
 the part of Cremona, it was found to be of gun- 
 powder. ^ 
 
 Then the three gentlemen realized that they should 
 have to keep a sharp lookout during the" voyage 
 for they suspected that the Merry Andrnv had a' 
 tr)st^ to keep some^^•!K■re off the coast of France 
 or ^pam with .some larger craft in need of ammu- 
 nilicn. 
 
 run said that they were to occupy the after-cabin 
 as It was the larger cf the two; but the passengers 
 had no intention of giving the doubtful mariners any 
 such advantage of position. With two men m front 
 and ar.cther above and behind them at the tiller, thcv 
 would be al! but helpless in cose of treacher^• So 
 Cremona,, who icok the lead in this matter to save the 
 
Francis Drurie Returns to Bristol 173 
 
 others the trouble, said that he and his friends con- 
 sidered the forward accommodations the more com- 
 fortable. 
 
 •' But we have our -beds there already," said 
 Purl. 
 
 "That is easily changed," replied Cremona ^ith 
 a smile, and pulled the straw beds and dirty blankets 
 from the little den in the bows and tossed them 
 aft. 
 
 By this time the Merry Andrew was out of the river. 
 Purl swore sa\agcly, and for a moment it looked as if 
 he were about to spring upon Cremona. The other's 
 alert and undismayed attitude, however, caused him to 
 change his mind. " Have it your own way — an' to 
 blazes with ye." he said. 
 
 As night approached, the kegs of powder, which 
 steed close-racked on the ballast, were covered with 
 tarpaulins. The evening was line and clear, and not 
 immoderately cold. The three passengers sat along 
 the edge of the little forecastle deck, facing aft. Cre- 
 mona rolled up a few leaves of tobacco and drew his 
 fiint and steel from his pocket. This did not escape 
 llie quick eye cf Purl, who v.as at the tiller. 
 
 " Hold, there! " he shouted. " I'll have no sparks 
 flyin' oboarcl this craft." 
 
 Cremona grinned and returned both tobacco and bo.x 
 
174 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 to his pocket. " I think you scared the cargo blow-up " 
 he said. 
 
 Purl did not reply. A dangerous silence reigned 
 fore and aft. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THREE GENTLEMEN FOLLOW AN ELUSIVE QUEST 
 
 The three passengers were thankful that the crew 
 of the lugger did not outnumber them. As it was, 
 they felt but little anxiety. They had their baggage' 
 with them in the bows; and as soon as dark was fallen 
 they lay dowTi to rest, with their six feet pointing aft 
 and their heads on their saddle-bags. A nudge of the 
 elbow, a whisper or two, and the night's campaign 
 was planned. It was Dick's first watch, Drurie's 
 second, and Cremona's third. 
 
 Dick's two hours passed without incident. Then he 
 pinched Francis, told him that Purl and his men were 
 quiet, and instantly closed his eyes. Francis raised 
 himself on his elbow, wTiggled aft a little so as to have 
 his feet well out of the open hatch and the waist of the 
 \essel well under his eye, and composed himself to 
 v/atch. 
 
 There was no moon, but the sky was generously 
 powdered with stars. A four-knot breeze was holding 
 steady over the taffraiL Save for the continual soft 
 
 175 
 
I 
 
 17G 
 
 A Cavalier of Vi 
 
 ririnia 
 
 washing and slopping of the water along tiioluggcrs 
 sides and under her forefoot, an,! the easy stir oFspar 
 and canvas, there was not a sound. Under the boom 
 of the foresail the watcher could sc- the waist and rails 
 of the little craft as far aft as the mainmast; but 
 beyond that he could not sec, for the main toom 
 was lowered almost to the cargo. He wondered what 
 the three fellows aft of the mainsail Avere doing. 
 
 Drurie had watched for an hour or more, when his 
 vigilance was rewarded at last by the sight of a head 
 under the boom of the mainsail. Shoulders followed, 
 and in a moment a man was crawling forward over 
 the tarpaulins, and a second was wriggling under the 
 boom. 
 
 Drurie sat upright and advanced two pistols throu'^h 
 the hatch. By this time the second man was on the 
 cargo, and Purl himself was clawing his wav beneath 
 the boom. It was evident thai the tiller v.as lashed. 
 
 '■ Belay that," commanded Drurie in a low voice. 
 The two fellows who were clear of the bcom lav still" 
 as death; but Master Purl, only half in sight, squirmed 
 sideways a little and raised his right hand. 
 
 One of Druric's i)istols banged, and a scream of rage 
 and pain rang high above the peaceful murmurings 
 of wind and sea. 
 
 For a moment all was confusion - and then silence 
 
An Elusive Quest 
 
 177 
 
 again. 
 
 The members of the crew and the wounded 
 :naster lay in a row, bound hand and foot. 
 
 Drurie's bullet had passed through Purl's shoulder, 
 clear of the bone. Drurie washed the wound and 
 bandaged it with one of the fellow's own shirts, after 
 v.hich he took the tiller and adnsed his friends to 
 return to their blankets. 
 
 The three passengers enjoyed the light work of 
 sailing and steering the Merry Andrew. The wind 
 held throughout the next day, and the lugger proved 
 herself a fast and handy craft. Cremona cooked the 
 meals in a charcoal stove which he had moved from 
 the after-cabin to the forecastle deck. The messes 
 which he managed to concoct from the rough and 
 scanty stores tasted all the better for the risk of the 
 cooking. 
 
 It was a thrilling sight to see Cremona at work 
 with spoon and pan, Francis and Dick on guard along 
 the forward edge of the tarpaulins, one of the crew 
 clinging heedlessly to the tiller, pressed into service 
 for the time, and the other two lying flat atop that 
 orderly array of powder-kegs, their faces bloodless 
 and their eyes fairly twirling with terror. 
 
 Of course there was little danger of a spark reaching 
 the powder, for the gentlemen took every precaution 
 against such a sudden and useless termination of 
 
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MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART 
 
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 2.5 
 
 1 2.2 
 
 2.0 
 1.8 
 
 J ^IPHLIED ll\A>^GE Inc 
 
 ^- '653 Eos! Main Street 
 
 VS Rochester, Nco York 14609 USA 
 
 ^S ('16) 482 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 ^ (716) 288 - 5989 - fat 
 
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 their careers; but Purl and his men suffered a foretaste 
 of the torments of the inferno. 
 
 The day and the night were without accident or 
 any incident to disturb the voyage; but on the morning 
 of the third day out of London, while the Merry Andrew 
 was bowling along within three or four miles of the 
 coast, things began to brisk up a little. 
 
 The men aboard the lugger had been aware for 
 some time of a large schooner off their port beam, about 
 five miles to seaward, headed north under easy canvas. 
 They paid little attention to her until, all of a sudden, 
 they saw her long hull narrow to a speck on the glisten- 
 ing sea and her white sails climb aloft. She had swung 
 at right angles to her course. She was heading land- 
 ward now, with a fair wind, under all sail. 
 
 What did it mean? The passengers of the lugger 
 could not say at first, and felt both puzzled and uneasy. 
 They looked toward the l?-d and saw neither town nor 
 harbour — only desolate little coves, lilac-hued cliffs, 
 and wooded hilltops behind. 
 
 " What d'ye make of it ? " asked Francis, 
 
 Dick and Cremona shook their heads and gazed 
 seaward again, and agam shoreward. Cremona had a 
 gleam of inner light. 
 
 " I think it may be so," he said, and stepped over 
 to where Purl lay bound. " That your ship for this 
 
 
An Elusive Quest 
 
 179 
 
 powder," he said. "Well, what happen to us? We 
 let you free, you say good word for us? " 
 
 The strain of watching the big fellow cook the meals 
 so near the powder-casks had evidently dulled the 
 dishonest mariner's mind. 
 
 " I'll let bygones be bygones," he said. " Cast 
 off these lines an' I'll treat ye right." 
 
 " Thank you," replied Cremona with a bow. " That 
 what I think. See, your friend fly signal." 
 
 Francis and Dick congratulated Cremona on his 
 sharp wits. 
 
 " You are in commmd of this craft, so give us your 
 orders," said Frcncis, 
 
 Cremona was delighted. He freed the least offensive 
 of the lugger's crew. " You drop some kegs over- 
 board," he said. Purl roared blood and thunder at 
 that. " Very good," said Cremona. He cast Purl 
 loose. " Now, you help," he sair'; " and you, Cap'n 
 Drurie, stand ready with a pistol; and you, Master 
 St. George " — the name they had decided to call 
 Dick for the present — " stand by the sheets." He 
 took the tiller and let the lugger's head fall off a point 
 or to. 
 
 The tall schooner 
 swaying a little under her high, broad 
 
 red flags flew at her tops — the 
 
 was tearing dowTi upon them, 
 
 pinions. Two 
 
 prearranged signals, 
 
180 
 
 A Cavali' i of Virginia 
 
 II 
 
 no doubt, fcr the lugger to lay-to or sail to meet 
 her. 
 
 The first keg of powder went over the Merry Andrew's 
 rail with a great splash. Purl had intentionally tipped 
 it over the windward side, in open sight of the schooner; 
 and the commander of the schooner had seen it, and 
 his suspicions of something wrong became a certainty. 
 Cremona only smiled, and again let the Merry 
 Andrew fall away a little. 
 
 Overboard went the fat kegs — splash-splash — 
 into the dancing waves. Another flag came into sight 
 against the towering white cf the schooner's sails. A 
 great gun sent a dull boom of warning across the 
 glittering sea. 
 
 " Bah! " exclaimed Cremona. 
 Purl swore lustily as he stooped to his work, and shot 
 a desperate glance at Drurie and the pistol. Drurie 
 and Dick laughed a little with the excitement of the 
 game. They could see that Cremona was bound to 
 play it for all it was worth — that he had no intention 
 of showing his heels until he had to. 
 
 The tall schooner grew in their sight as if by magic, 
 rolling her slender hull, sweeping her tops in free 
 curves against the blue sky, heaping the silver foam 
 like a snowdrift under her racing foot. A white cloud 
 
 and thump came he 
 
 sprang 
 
 under her jibs 
 
An Elusive Quest 
 
 181 
 
 report of her bow-chaser, A sharp little tongue of 
 torn water leaped up and vanished on top of a wave 
 midway the two vessels. 
 
 By this time the lugger was just light enough to sail 
 at her best speed. Cremona held her on a gradual 
 shoreward slant. Purl and the fellow who had been 
 working on the cargo were bound again. Drurie 
 manned the foresheet and Dick the main. Cremona 
 stood on the tiny poop with the head of the tiller under 
 his right arm, coolly puffing at a roll of tobacco-leaf. 
 
 The schooner closed in on them with amazing speed, 
 faring from a gun in her bows as fast as it could be loaded 
 and trained. At last a round-shot struck the water 
 within twenty yards of the lugger. Cremona tossed 
 his burning tobacco into the sea. 
 
 " Stand by to trim her! " he cried, and pulled her 
 over fair before the piping breeze. 
 
 Francis and Dick hauled on the sheets and made fast, 
 and the Merry Andrew raced shoreward as if her heart 
 were in her heels. 
 
 The lugger was beached in a desolate little cove, on 
 shehing rocks that split her stout timbers. The three 
 travellers carried Purl and his two fellows ashore and 
 placed them, still bound, beyond the reach of the 
 water. Then they got their saddle-bags and started 
 up the steep hillside that backed upon the cove. When 
 
182 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 they were half-way up, the schooner's long-boat pulled 
 into the cove, and muske^ -shots and shouts of rage 
 filled the air. Bullets pattering on the rocks around 
 them renewcrl the flagging energies of the three gentle- 
 men. Each reflected as he scrambled aloft, dragging 
 his heavy bag, on the various ways of dving offered 
 by the world; and c.: h disliked the thought of ending 
 his career in this desolate cove. Death bv a musket- 
 ball is all very well; but no gentleman likc's to be shot 
 in the back while scrambling up a hill. 
 
 "We shaved it just about a minute too short," 
 gasped Dick. 
 
 The long-boat was now in the still waters of the 
 cove, and the rowers rested on their oars so as to give 
 the marksmen a better chance at the fugitives on the 
 hillside. Out rang another scattering volley. 
 
 Dick stumbled,- and let his saddle-bag slip from his 
 grasp. By now they were within a few vards of the 
 brow of the hill. Dick got to his feet and fell again. 
 A mocking shout came up from the boat. Cremona 
 sprang to Dick's side and picked him up as if he were 
 a child. 
 
 " Only in the leg," said Dick, smiling painfully. 
 
 Cremona dr.shed up and over the hilltop. Drurie 
 recovered the discarded saddle-bag, and followed at 
 his best speed. 
 
 li'^i- 
 
An Elusive Quest 
 
 183 
 
 Before them lay a bleak moor with timbered hills 
 at the back of it, and the roofs of a village in the middle 
 distance. They continued to run for several minutes 
 over the rough hummocks of the moor, Francis keeping 
 a sharp watch over his shoulder. Three or four of the 
 boat's crew came to the top of the hill and stared after 
 them with angry tries and furious gestures; but they 
 did not offer to follow into the open. 
 
 " Easy," pulled Francis. " There is no need of 
 running any farther, for they don't want to follow us 
 to that village." 
 
 They walked forward for another hundred yards or 
 so, and then halted on the top of a low mound and 
 examined Dick's wound. The bullet, evidently a spent 
 one, had entered the muscles of the thigh to a depth 
 of an inch or two. They bound it; and Cremona 
 again took Dick in his arms, and they proceeded. 
 
 ' I should have got that ball in return for nicking 
 Purl," said Francis. 
 
 " No, it was meant for me," replied Dick. " I 
 stood over him and made him work at the cargo with 
 his leg in a bandage." 
 
 " I think it should hit you in the same place, then, 
 and that no hurt," said Cremona gravely. 
 
 By the fact that the men from the schooner had not 
 followed them from the cove, they knew that the 
 
 I 
 
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 m.. ^4&ma^ 
 
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 184 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 ■ I 
 
 schooner was not in an honest way of trade. She was 
 a pirate, undoubtedly. 
 
 " I wish we had been aboard my own ship/' said 
 Francis. " I'd give a hundred ' ounds for a chance to 
 burn powder with one of thosp .ry. Jove, I'd rather 
 sink a pirate than a Frenchr ^a, I do believe." 
 
 The others were of the same way of thinking. Little 
 they knew that the future held a chance for them at that 
 same tall schooner — and, had they known the result 
 of that chance, they might have changed their wish. 
 
 At the village they found a quiet tavern, and a man 
 who professed to a knowledge of surgery. Cremona, 
 who could talk sailor's Spanish, explained their plight 
 with an amazing story. 
 
 Then the surgeon extracted the bullet from Dick's 
 thigh. It had not touched the bone; and they were 
 thankful for that. Dick was put to bed, faint from 
 loss of blood and the pain of the operation. Francis 
 sat by his side while Cremona went down-stairs and 
 questioned the tavern-keeper. He learned that they 
 were within thirty miles of Lisbon, m Portugal. 
 
 Dick's wound kept the three in that insignificant 
 village for three weary weeks. As soon as he was fit 
 to move, they went to Lisbon by carriage; and from 
 there they travelled into Spam, and to the gay city of 
 Madrid. 
 
An Elusive Quest 
 
 185 
 
 Dick wasinot yet able to walk; so he kept to his 
 room while Francis and Cremona hunted through the 
 city for information concerning the Senor Josef Alca- 
 zardo. They learned nil that Madrid had to teach 
 them on that subject within sLx hours of their arrival. 
 This was the way of it : 
 
 They were walking along a fine street, dressed as 
 well as their limited wardrobes would allow, and 
 puzzled as to how and of whom to make inquiries, 
 when a very gaily attired old gentleman dropped his 
 snuff-box almost under Drurie's feet. He uttered a 
 shrill little cry of distress; for it was a valuable old 
 box. 
 
 Quick as a wink, a ragged fellow in the crowd had 
 snatched up the box and started to run — and, even 
 .' er than winking, Francis had him by the collar, 
 t. pulled the box from his hand, let him go, turned 
 to the old gentleman with a bow and restored his 
 treasure to him. 
 
 The old gentleman was almost moved to tears with 
 gratitude. He embraced both Franc's and Cremona, 
 and babbled his thanks. 
 
 " Jkly friend does not understand the beautiful 
 Spanish language," said Cremona, " but I can assure 
 you, senor, that he is glad to have been able to sep'e 
 you." 
 
 Ill 
 
i 
 
 186 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 \ 
 
 ' 
 
 iici 
 
 The old gentleman told Cremona his name. As it 
 was nine words long, and has nothing to do with our 
 story, I will not record it. 
 
 Cremona bowed in his best style; and Francis 
 bowed. " We are English gentlemen," said Cremona. 
 " My friend is the Captain Francis Drurie, and I am 
 the Captain Cremona — your humble ser\ants, seiior." 
 
 " You must honour me with your company over a 
 bottle of wine. We can get very good wine just across 
 the square," said the Spani. :d. 
 
 After they had raised their glasses to their mutual 
 well-being, Cremona asked: " Can you tell me any- 
 thing of the Seiior Josef Alcazardo ? " 
 
 The old gentleman looked at them both very sharply. 
 " Yes, sir," he replied, " I can tell you that he is a 
 rascal and a cheat." 
 
 " We have suspected as much; but can you tell us 
 where he is to be found ? " returned Cremona. 
 
 " That I cannot," answered the old gentleman. 
 " To my knowledge, he has not been seen in Madrid 
 for the last six years. I trust — I trust, gentlemen, that 
 you are not friends of his." 
 
 " Far from it." 
 
 "Ah! J ^sk no questions." 
 
 Cremona, knowing what that meant, satisfied the 
 >old gentleman's curiosity with a cock-and-bull story. 
 
An Elusive Quest 
 
 187 
 
 In return, the amiable Spaniard narrated a number of 
 unsavoury incidents of Alcazardo's career in Madrid, 
 riiey were not criminal, however, and most had to do 
 with cheating at play and such ill-bred peculiarities. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 !■ 
 
 SOMETHING HEARD OF ALCA2ARDO 
 
 Francis and Dick were at a complete loss to knbw 
 where they could search next. They had expected great 
 things of Madrid. 
 
 Cremona came to their help by suggesting Cadiz, 
 a port he had visited several times in his voyagings as 
 a common sailor. He held that a man with a bad 
 name is more likely to be found on or near the sea than 
 in an inland district. His way of escape is always 
 ready to his hand; and, the seas being the great high- 
 ways 01 the world, he can watch for his enemies and, 
 if need be, sail out as they sail in. 
 
 " But we, you understand, come at him from the 
 inside. He look out his window at the ships — we 
 walk in his back door," he concluded. 
 
 Dick's opinion was that, if he were hiding an\-where 
 in Spain, it wculd prove to be in some rural locality, 
 away from the gossip and traffic of the cities. 
 
 Francis was also of this way of thinking; but he 
 agreed with Cremona that the retreat was more likely 
 
 188 
 
 af 
 
Something Heard of Alcazardo 189 
 
 to be near the coast than inland. So they decided to 
 go to Cadiz. 
 
 It was a long journey and a dangcrou <re, from Ma- 
 drid 10 Cadiz. For the sake of Dick's ! ^;, it was made 
 in short stages, now in a carriage, now in a country cart, 
 again astride horses, mules, or even donkeys. Some- 
 times they hired fi' v or six villagers to accompany them 
 through the districts frequented by robbers, threw out 
 scouts and flanking parties, and advanced in the best 
 military manner. Upon reaching Cadiz they went 
 to a quiet house and informed the landlord that 
 they were English merchants interested in Spanish 
 wines. 
 
 •' We once purchased a shipment from a Seflor 
 Josef Alcazardo," said Cremona. " It was gf ' wine. 
 Can you tell me where the gentlemar is nc to be 
 found?" 
 
 The innkeeper said that he knew j/hing of the 
 Seiior Alcazardo, but that ,■ ■ .vould make inquiries 
 among his patrons. Cremona expressed his gratitude, 
 and proved it with a silver coin; then, leaving Dick to 
 look after his leg and the bags, the others hired horses 
 and rode out of the city to take a look at the surround- 
 ing country. They were cautious in the manner of 
 making their inquiries, fearing that their quarry might 
 get wind of them and take fright. It was always 
 
 ir?T 
 
190 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ml 
 
 Cremona who did the talking. He had a way of 
 stopping people on the road with a polite and friendly 
 salutation. " This is a fine piece of country," he would 
 say. He would ask about last season's crops, and so 
 on; and then, casually, "I once met a gentleman 
 named Josef Alcazardo, who was from hereabouts," 
 he would say. " Perhaps you know him ? " They spent 
 a day ai this sort of thing without resuUs. 
 
 On the evening of their first day m Cadiz, the inn- 
 keeper came to the three travellers with word that there 
 was an old fellow below who wanted to speak with 
 them. 
 
 " He will not say if he knows anything or hot of 
 the Senor Alcazardo, but he is anxious to speak with 
 the gentlemen who are looking for the senor," said 
 the innkeeper. 
 
 " Show him up," said Cremona. 
 
 It was old Juan who entered the room, cap m hand, 
 his thin cheeks slightly flushed by the wine he had 
 imbibed below. He had guessed, at the first mention 
 of the three English merchants interested in wine, 
 who wanted to know the whereabouts of his master, 
 that their visit to Cadiz had to do with the beautiful 
 young lady. He was not so anxious to answer questions 
 as to ask them. Belonging to a district in which the 
 family of Alcazardo was unknown, and never havmg 
 
Something Heard of Alcazardo 191 
 
 heard of the marriage of one of his master's brothers 
 with an English lady, the beautiful ward had puzzled 
 him sorely. 
 
 Cremona measured the old man at a glance. He 
 waved him to a seat, and handed him a glass of wine 
 that was very superior to the vintage which the fellow 
 had been drinking in the public room below. 
 
 " Can you tell me anything of the Sencr Josef 
 Alcazardo?" he asked, in his fluent but uncouth 
 Spanish. 
 
 Juan looked exceedingly crafty. " That's as may 
 be, senor. What do you want to know of my master? " 
 
 " Ho, ho! So he is your master, is he? " cried Cre- 
 mona. 
 
 The old fellow's jaw dropped dismally. He had 
 not meant to let that pop out so soon. He had meant 
 to draw pay for that bit of information, Cremona 
 saw his dismay and chagijn, and laughed boisterously. 
 Dick, who had learned a little Spanish in his childhood, 
 laughed, too, and told the good news and the joke to 
 Francis. 
 
 Hope sprang high in their hearts; and Cremona 
 saw that they were about to heap questions, in two 
 languages, upon the foolish old man. He signalled to 
 them with his hand to keep quiet. 
 
 *' We have business with your master," he said. 
 
1 
 
 19S 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Ni 
 
 mt 
 
 i > 
 
 
 " He will be very glad to see us, for we are relatives 
 of the young lady, his niece." 
 
 " Of the senorita? " cried the old man. " English 
 relatives of the Senorita Isobel ? Ah, that is interesting. 
 I can see, at a glance, that the two younger gentlemen 
 are English; but not you, senor. Still, let that pass. 
 I have wondered about the beautiful young lady's 
 relatives. And is it true, senor, that the Senor Al- 
 cazardo is her uncle? " 
 
 " Yes, it is true. And he is her guardian, as well," 
 replied Cremona. " But these gentlemen are her near 
 relatives, and v/e have come a long way to visit your 
 master and the young lady." 
 
 " Well, well, to think of it — and the two of them gone 
 away these months back," said Juan. 
 
 "What d'ye say? Where have they gone to?" 
 cried Dick, limping forward and clutching the old 
 fellow's shoulder. 
 Juan shrank back. 
 
 " Leave him to me. The man is honest enough, 
 but a bit of a fool," said Cremona, in English. Then, 
 to Juan, " The English gentleman is of a quick temper, 
 but you must not mind him," he said. " Tell me when 
 your master and the lady went away, and where they ' 
 went to. Here is a little piece •( the right colour that 
 you may be able to make some use of." He passed a 
 
Something Heard of Alcazardo 193 
 
 gold coin into the old fellow's hand. " We are anxious 
 to know how it is that the senor went away without 
 taking his invaluable servant along with him." 
 
 Juan told every word that he knew and a great deal 
 that he only suspected. He had been about five years 
 in Alcazardo's employ, and had come, ten years 
 before, from a distant part of Spain. He was the care- 
 taker of the big house which Alcazardo owned, and had 
 never seen very much of his employer. The house was 
 usually empty; and even when he was there Alcazardo 
 made no display and received but few visitors. He 
 had nothing to do with the city of Cadiz or with his 
 neighbours, rich or poor. In fact, admitted Juan, it 
 was as much as his position was worth to mention the 
 senor^s name. 
 
 He had an idea that the senor was a great man in 
 Madrid, and there spent all his time and money. 
 Well, he'd not set eyes on his master for a matter of two 
 years, when, one fine day, he drove up in a carriage 
 with the beautiful young lady beside him. The young 
 lady had found the house very dull. His master had 
 engaged two more servants immediately — one of 
 them a maid for the senorita — and they had lived on 
 the fat of the land. 
 
 Yes, the sciior treated the young lady like a queen. 
 And so en and so on. The old man forgot nt;thing. He 
 
?. . 
 
 d 
 
 h 
 
 P 
 
 194 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 told of the visits of the man with the black beard, of 
 Alcazardo's departure by night, of the note for Isobel, 
 and of her sudden departure. He explained that his 
 granddaughter, the maid, had gone with her mistress. 
 
 " And where did they go ? And how did they go ? " 
 asked Cremona, after he had translated everything for 
 Francis. 
 
 Juan begged permission to replenish his glass. He 
 took a slow sip or two with the air of a man about to 
 disclose the result of some very deep thinking. 
 
 " In the letter to the senorita," he said, " the seiior 
 wrote that the- were bound for England. But I do 
 not think that was the truth, for there are many fine 
 vessels in the city that sail frequently to England — 
 and yet the senor did not sail from Cadiz, but from a 
 little cove miles away from here, in a wild country. I 
 discovered this by much toil and wit, for the senor 
 did not confide in me. I found the man who had 
 driven the carriage, on both occasions; and from him 
 learned that the senor, the senorita, and Maria had 
 been rowed away from the shore in a small boat and 
 had been taken aboard a schooner. 
 
 " At first I thought that the senor had gone away 
 in this secret manner simply to give the slip to people 
 who might be pressing him for money; but later, after 
 much reflection, I decided that it was not for lack of 
 
Something Heard of Alcazardo 195 
 
 money that my master practised such a sly way of life 
 in general. So I went again to the man who had 
 driven the carriage; and from him I learned, after 
 paying money I could ill afford, that the man with the 
 black beard and the senor were partners in a queer 
 business that sounded to him like smuggling — or 
 worse. 
 
 " He had overheard a few words to put this idea 
 in his head. Also he had heard the senor tell the man 
 with the black beard that, though he was not going to 
 England, yet he intended to live a quiet life from now 
 on and would, some day, settle down in one of the 
 English colonics as a very proper old gentleman. So 
 you may be sure that the senor and the young lady have 
 not gone to England." 
 
 The three gentlemen were greatly relieved in their 
 minds by the information obtained from Juan. Though 
 it made their quest seem all the more hopeless, yet it 
 led them to believe that Isobcl was no*^ in immediate 
 danger, in whatever part of the »vorld she might be. 
 
 Alcazardo had stolen her money; but, evidently, he 
 was keeping up the play of being her affectionate uncle. 
 Perhaps; he was not quite so bad as tliey had feared. 
 Perhaps he was only a thief and a liar, after all. It 
 might be t!iat he v/as even planning to return to Vir- 
 ginia, fcrtificd againot Fairv/ood by Isobel's trust and 
 
j : I 
 
 196 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 
 ready to meet the charge of theft with a pack of plau- 
 sible lies. 
 
 Drurie and Cremona accompanied old Juan back 
 to Alcazardo's house and heard the same story from 
 the Ups of his daughter, who had been the cook during 
 Isobel's brief stay in the place. The old man and his 
 daughter, and the daughter's husband and children, 
 occupied the servants' quarters of the house, rent free. 
 
 The woman spoke highly of Alcazardo. Indeed, in 
 that part of the world he had never shown his cloven 
 hoof. 
 
 "The sciior has a kind heart," said the woman, 
 " and his manners are beautiful. He v as like a father 
 to the scnoriia." 
 
 They gave old Juan a package of blank paper 
 addressed to a firm of merchants in Bristol, and another 
 addressed to a firm in London; and these he was to 
 despatch by the earliest opportunity after seeing or 
 hearing anything more of his master's movements. 
 Then th.7 paid him well for his information and re- 
 turned to their inn. 
 
 It was April when Francis and Dick and Cremona 
 got back to Bristol. There they found Mr. Henry 
 Fairwood, of Fairwood Manor, Virginia, waiting for 
 them. 
 
 Fairwood had come to England to learn what he 
 
Something Heard of Alcazardo 197 
 
 could about Alcazardo, end had already heard what 
 the London bankers had to tell. Arriving in Bristol, 
 he had learned from Nicholas that Francis and two 
 friends had gone to London and from there to Spain; 
 and so he had settled himself comfortably to await 
 their return. 
 
 After recovering from the meeting with Dick, he 
 heard the story of their quest. 
 
 " I'll go to that place," he swore, " and I'll live in 
 that house — and there I'll be if that rascal ever comes 
 home. Caesar, he'll find me at headquarters; and if 
 he won't give me the girl quietly, I'll put a bullet in 
 his heart!" 
 
i 
 
 l^ii 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE BRAVE ADVENTURE A GOOD FIGHTER 
 
 Mr. Fairwood did not start for Spain until after 
 the sailing of the Brave Adventure for Hudson Bay 
 Francis was still in command of the ship; for Fairwood 
 had urged him not to give up his work. He had pointed 
 out that nothing could be done beyond keeping a sharp 
 eye on the house near Cadiz -and that was what he 
 himself meant to do. 
 
 " If he so much as shows his nose I'll be on him " 
 said the old man. " Go and do your work, lad, and 
 trust to fate - aye, and to your Uncle Henry 'Twill 
 all come nVht, I tell jou. The man hasn't courage 
 enough to do more than steal and lie and make a 
 monkey of himself. You'll find that I have the girl 
 safe and sound when you get back, never fear " 
 
 So Francis sailed away on the Brave Adventure, and 
 Mr Fairwood set out next day for Spain, with hooe 
 and courage in his heart, and the two trusty servants 
 he had brought with him all the way from Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 199 
 
 With Captain Francis Drurie sailed tv;o gentlemen 
 adventurers who had not made the first vovaqe — 
 Mr, St. George and Captain Cremona. Both these 
 gentlemen had wanted to help Mr. Fairwccd in his 
 p osive game in Spain; but they had been told to go 
 about their business like men. So they had gone, 
 feeling deep in their hearts that there was as much 
 likelihood of finding Alcazardo on the sea as in 
 Spain. 
 
 The master of the Brave Adventure was a middle- 
 aged mariner named Benjamin Danvers. He was a 
 brave, capable fellow and a great admirer and firm 
 friend of Drurie's. Under him were tv,-o mates, a 
 boatsv.-ain, and twelve sailors. Under Drurie's con- 
 trol were his lieutenant, young Lawrence Prowse, two 
 adventurers besides Dick and Cremona, Duff and 
 Tizard by name, Jilaster-gurncrs Mann and Tyler, 
 four gunners' mates and a master-armcurcr. 
 
 Drurie was in command of the ship; bv.t Danvers 
 was supreme as sailing-master. It v;as for Drurie 
 to name the course, but for the master to sail it. It 
 v;as not in the commander's pro\incc to give orders 
 to, or in any way interfere with, the sailers at their 
 work; but the moment the guns were manned the 
 master, his mates, and his mariners came under 
 Drune's command in everything. This system of 
 
>t'0 
 
 tl'y 
 
 200 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 marine administration caUed for tact and fairminded- 
 ncss on the part of the commander and the master, 
 and, indeed, en the part of all the officers. 
 
 The Brave Adventure soon had the rest of the little 
 fleet hull-down astern. Shortly before sunset, Drurie 
 ascended to the high poop-deck, with the master at 
 his right hand, Mr. Prowse at his left, and the gentle- 
 men and the two mates behind him. The boatswain 
 piped both watches on deck and paraded them in the 
 waist of the ship. 
 
 It was a scene typical of those rough, unsophisticated 
 days when manliness was the common characteristic 
 of all classes of Englishmen. The fellows in the waist 
 were of all ages and all sizes. The boatswain was a 
 thin little man of over sixty years of age, with a long 
 white scar on his brown neck, two fingers gone from 
 his right hand, a pigt.. tarred like a stay, a whimsical 
 mouth and eyes as round and quick as a bird's. One 
 of the master-gunners was big, elderly, and ruddy- 
 faced; the other lank, young, and brown of skii. 
 The master-armourer had the face and bearing of a 
 parson's clerk; but his earrings, crimson sash, and 
 great boots of yellow Spanish leather suggested a less 
 peaceful way of life. The variety of age, attire, and 
 physical appearance continued throughout the re- 
 mainder of the crew. The officers on the poop were 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 201 
 
 scarcely more uniform in any of these particulars. 
 All except the two mates wore their swords. 
 
 Francis Drurie's face was thin and pale; but, as 
 he looked down at his men, his eyes brightened and a 
 tinge of red warmed his cheeks. 
 
 " Lads," he said, " here we are again, bound on a 
 long and rough voyage. We'll run the risks of fog, 
 wind and drifting ice. But we have good timber under 
 our feet and good spars and hemp aloft, and honest 
 work to do for the king and the company. Speaking 
 for Master Danvers and myself, and the other officers, 
 I ask you to show the same courage and willingness as 
 you showed last year. I ask no more than that. Let 
 the new men follow the old, and they'll not go wrong 
 — for the lads who sailed with me last voyage proved 
 themselves hearts of oak. Do your work as honest 
 sailors and you shall be treated as all honest lads are 
 treated aboard the Brave Adventure. Boatswain, rum 
 for all hands." 
 
 He lifted his hat to the rough fellows, smiled down 
 at them and turned away. Then the crew roar id all 
 together as one man. They waved their tarry hands 
 aloft and shouted their commander's name with all 
 their might. Drurie turned and bowed again, his face 
 aglow and his eyes gleaming. 
 
 Dick, who went by the name of St. George, and Cre- 
 
402 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 i 
 
 [ill 
 
 mona got along finely with the other gentlemen and the 
 crew. Dick was not inclined to tall., and Cremona 
 was mclined to chatter aU the time; and vet they 
 were both popular. Cremona told wonderful stories 
 of famous people and strange places - few of which 
 I fear, were true. But they were interesting tales and 
 rumed no reputations. 
 
 Fore and aft, peace and good will reigned aboard the 
 Brave Adventure. The commander and the master 
 never clashed, the gentlemen engaged in no bickerings- 
 thc men did their work and sang their songs and kept 
 their knives to cut their salt beef and scrape the spars 
 with. No head winds came to delay them, and no fog 
 shrouded them; and so, for eight days, the little ship 
 held peacefully on her course, all well inboard and 
 overboard, aloft and alow. 
 
 On the morning of the ninth day out of Bristol 
 whUe the gentlemen were breakfasting, White, the 
 second mate, thrust his head into the cabin. 
 
 " Schooner on the port quarter, sir, bearing up under 
 all sail," he said. 
 
 This was addressed to Drurie; but the commander " 
 turned to Danvers as if to refer the matter to 
 him, 
 
 Danvers left his seat at the crowded table. 
 
 " She may be a French privateer, sir, or a Sallee 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 5203 
 
 rover or some other breed of pirate," he said. " V.hat 
 are your wishes, sir?" 
 
 " Hold to your course under reduced sail, Master 
 Danvers,'.' replied Francis. 
 
 Danvers grinned and hurried from the cabin. The 
 gentlemen ceased talking and began to eat \cry fast, 
 eager to get on deck. 
 
 The Brave Adventure's mainsail was furled and two 
 of her jibs were hauled down. This reduced !7?r pace 
 by several knots an hour. All hands gathered on 
 the decks for a look at the strange vessel that v.as so 
 openly cracking on all sail to overhaul them. They 
 were of opinion that the schooner was not a trading 
 vessel; and in this their hearts spoke. The schooner 
 grew mo.Tientarily to the view. Francis studieH her 
 through his telescope for a long time, without con.;aent. 
 The master, standing beside him, also had his glass 
 bearing on her. 
 
 " What do you make of her? " asked Francis. 
 
 " I make her either Spanisn or English, sir, an' a 
 smart craft," repUed Danvers. 
 
 Drurie handed his telescope to Cremona. "Tell 
 me if you ever saw anylhing just like her before," he 
 said. 
 
 Cremona looked, and uttered aii exclamntinn of 
 wonder and delight. " I think I see her one ay — 
 
 
^^1 
 
 mi 
 
 204 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 or her very twin sister — off the coast o' Portugal," 
 he said. 
 
 Francis Drurie laughed lightly and, with his hands 
 clasped behind him, fell to pacing the narrow deck 
 from rail to rail. He felt sure that the approaching 
 vessel was an enemy of some sort. Ten to one it was 
 the same craft that gave them such a dashing shoreward 
 race en the day they beached the Merry Andrew on 
 the rocks of the desolate cove. 
 
 Here was something to take his mind for a little 
 while off his gnawing worries. Here he was, with his 
 own ship under him and trusty men round him on the 
 threshold of his first sea-fight. His blood drummed in 
 his arteries and he felt an impulse to shout. 
 
 But he must keep cool. Here were thirty men and 
 a fine ship ready to do his bidding. He must keep clear- 
 headed, and prove himself worthy of their trust. He 
 halted, turned a flushed face toward the schooner, and 
 then touched Danvers on the arm. 
 
 " We must fight to a finish," he said. " I want play 
 at long range for a little while ; and if that does not fix 
 her, broadsides at pistol-range. But do not let her 
 get her irons on us, for they may be three to our 
 one. Now it is for you to sail and for me to 
 fight." 
 
 Danvers grasped the commander's hand. ** I'll do 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 205 
 
 my best, captain," said he. " I'U lay her to your 
 taste, sir, never fear." 
 
 The schooner was sweeping up on them at a fine 
 pace, now pitching high, now dippping her sharp bow 
 deep as the gilded fiddles. Danvers shot a calculating 
 glance at her, and then bellowed forward. In a minute 
 the big mainsail was shaken out again and the brig 
 sprang ahead. Drurie, who was inspecting the crews 
 of the guns, noticed this and smiled. He knew that 
 Danvers was not running away. 
 
 Still the schooner drew nearer. A topsail was furled 
 aboard the brig and the two upper jibs were run up 
 agam. The master wanted her just so, and was sparing 
 no pains to get her exactly suited to his needs. He 
 wanted her swift and handy at the same time. The 
 mate seemed to echo his commands almost before they 
 were clear of his lips. The first mate stood by the 
 mainmast and the second by the fore. The boatswain's 
 pipe shrilled merrily. The commander went the 
 rounds of the little ship, with a word of encouragement 
 for every one. 
 
 He gave Prowse command of one broadside of four 
 heavy cannon and Dick command of the other. He 
 posted Tizard forward with the bow-chaser and Duff 
 aft v.ith the four swivels. He kept Cremona with 
 him; and Nicholas followed the two, with his master's 
 
1S 
 
 i\H 
 
 206 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 telescope under one arm and a cutlass under the 
 other. 
 
 The decks were cleared for action. Cutlasses and 
 muskets were served to all hands, the guns loaded and 
 the linstocks and pots of red coals were brought to 
 the gunners. Now Danvers had the sails to his likmg, 
 and handed over eight of his mariners to Drurie for 
 service with the guns. 
 
 The schooner, still drawing gradually nearer, fired 
 a gun from her bows. The shot fell short of the brig. 
 At that, Drurie ran up the red ensign of England. In 
 answer, a great square of black crawled up to the 
 foretop of the schooner, A roar of anger and derision 
 went up from the decks of the Brave Adventure. Drurie 
 left the poop and again made a round of the guns, the 
 men cheeri'- ' at the sight of him. Again the schooner 
 fired, with the same lack of resuU as before. 
 
 The brig swung southward a few points. Then 
 Mr. Prowse, who commanded the guns on the port 
 side, took off his coat, bared his right arm to the elbow 
 and drew his sword. He came of a sea-fighting family 
 and had the heart of a giant behind his ribs; but he 
 was young, slender of build, with a pink-and-white 
 face and an arm Uke a girl's. 
 
 " Man your guns, my lads," he cried. " We'll 
 have the first crack at them, by the looks of things. 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 207 
 
 It wUl be a guinea for each gun if the splinters fly at 
 the first round." 
 
 The schooner was nearer now, heading a trifle more 
 to the westward, with the wmd fair over her taffrail. 
 Now she furled her topsail and stowed her gafftopsail. 
 Again she fired; and this time the shot went skipping 
 c ver the water about fifty yards from the brig's stern. 
 Prowse looked up anxiously at Drurie. Drurie met 
 the glance and nodded. 
 
 " On her hull, lads," cried Prowse. " Not too high 
 Steady. Fire!" 
 
 The priming in the touch-holes flashed and the big 
 guns roared and recoiled, and the white smoke poured 
 out and clung to the jumping seas. 
 ^ From the brig the eager watchers saw a stick of 
 timber spring up from the schooner's rail and rip 
 through her mainsail. 
 
 "So we gets our money, I take it," observed an 
 ancient mariner. 
 
 After another volley from !vlr. Prowse's guns which 
 hulled the schooner high above the water-line, the 
 Brave Adventure circled to the west and north again. 
 The schooner shifted after her, firing again and Tgain 
 from the great gun in her bows, bent on knocking a 
 spar out of her quarry and then getting to close quarters. 
 
 Twenty minutes passed in silence aboard the brig. 
 
 ri 
 
 \ 
 
208 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 A ball from the pirate entered the empty forecastle. 
 Another sank into the heavy timber under the neck 
 of the tiller. Then Dick's guns bellowed out, hurling 
 their iron defiance into the enemy's rigging. The 
 schooner swung and replied with a broadside of light 
 metal that did nothing more than knock a few splinters 
 iixto the air. 
 
 The vessels drew gradually closer, sailing the same 
 course, with the schooner to windward. Musketry 
 fire opened on the schooner and the balls began hum- 
 ming over the brig's bulwarks. Then Dick's four 
 guns spoke again and the schooner's forctopmast 
 fell to ix)rt, and hung in a useless mass of flapping 
 canvas and tangled cordage. And that was the begin- 
 ning of the end. 
 
 Dan vers worked the Brave Adventure to \\indward 
 of the crippled pirate. Keeping clear of her heavy 
 bow-chaser, he gave Drurie the opportunity to send 
 broadside after broadside into her. There was no 
 danger now of the grappling-irons of the schooner 
 getting their clutch u[X)n the brig. 
 
 The comj^any's vessel chose her position and bat- 
 tered her late pursuer at any range that suggested 
 itself to the master and the commander. 
 
 Surrender is a thing unknown to craft of the schoon- 
 er's kidney — for a man had better die fighting than 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 209 
 
 kicking his feet in the air with a rope around his neck. 
 So the schooner's black flag flew until the topmast fell, 
 and was then run up in the mizzen rigging. 
 
 At last Drurie requested the master to lay the brig 
 aboard the disabled, shattered hulk. It was accom° 
 plished within fifteen minutes of the word, Mr. Prowse 
 scorching the schooner's side with a final volley ( f 
 his guns even as the two vessels came together. Irons 
 were thro\TO, and the big, broken schooner and the 
 little, uninjured brig closed in a death-grip. This 
 was the pirate's last chance. 
 
 Her company cf eighty cutthroats had been reduced 
 to a disorganized handful by the gun and musket fire 
 of the brig; but that desperate handful scrambled 
 aboard the Brave Adventure. 
 
 The first to leap upon the brig's deck was a short, 
 sturdy fellow with a great, black beard twisted into a 
 dozen little tails, each tail tied with a yellow ribbon. 
 He flashed a cutlass and roared like a bull. But 
 Cremona met him — and that was the end of the 
 career of Black Monk, one of the bloodiest pirates 
 of the time and a business acquaintance of the Senor 
 Josef Alcazardo. 
 
 His followers were speedily served in the same way. 
 every rogue of them fighting to the last. The decks of 
 the Brave Adventure ran red with the blood cf her 
 
«:o 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 enemies. After twenty minutes of this frantic struggle 
 there was not a pirate left to hang to the yard- 
 arm. 
 
 Francis Drurie and a small escort went aboard the 
 schooner to investigate. They found her in ballast. 
 The hull was shot through in a dozen places, and 
 she was filling fast. Every spar was more or less 
 disabled. Every gun was dismounted and dead men 
 sprawled everywhere. A fire was smouldering in a 
 mass of fallen sails on the forecastle-head. Amidshios, 
 in the litter of corpses, splintered wood, blood, and 
 overthro\vn gear, lay several puncheons of rum with 
 the bungs out. The rank liquor mixed with the ranker 
 blood in the scuppers. 
 
 Drurie entered the houses under the high poop- 
 deck. On the table in the outer cabin lay scattered 
 playing-cards, a couple of leather dice-boxes, and a 
 broken bottle. The table was wet, a^.d a puddle of 
 wine lay on the table. Mr. Prowse stooped and picked 
 something from the floor. It was a small shot from 
 one of the brig's swivels. 
 
 " Duff broke the bottle," he remarked, with a 
 nervous laugh. 
 
 Duff laughed, too, quite immoderately. They were 
 young men; and, though they had made more than 
 one vi._ age, this was their first experience in exter- 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 211 
 
 minating pirates. They were both a trifle shaken, 
 beyond a doubt. 
 
 Tizard was cooler. He had once sailed a voyage 
 to the West Indies as a midshipman aboard a sloop- 
 of-war. 
 
 " I put a shot hereabouts," he said, hunting around. 
 " Danvers didn't give me many chances; but I took 
 what he gave. Ah, here we are! " He pointed with 
 an air of satisfaction at a hole low in the port side 
 of the cabin and at another low in the starboard side. 
 " I wish they'd been playing cards when that went 
 through," he said. 
 
 Drurie kicked open a door in the forward bulkhead 
 and passed into the inner cabin, with his gentlemen 
 crowding after him. The cabin was a fine one, gilded 
 and car\-ed and hung with silk. It was the full width 
 of the stern. There were long lockers aft, under the 
 square ports, and a bunk against the forward bulk- 
 head. Fine rugs covered the deck underfoot. The 
 gentlemen kicked these rugs into a heap and soon found 
 a little hatch. It was locked; so they broke it open 
 with an ax. In a twinkling they were down in the 
 lazaretto. Only the commander and two seamen 
 remained above in the cabin. 
 
 Drurie went to the bunk and feh under the pillows 
 and mattress. First he produced a small pistol. 
 
 
 m 
 
% 
 
 212 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 beautifuUy inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. 
 This he passed to one of the men, who placed it on 
 the table. Next came a small leather bag full of all 
 manner of sparkling gems; then a canvas bag full of 
 gold coins, another of silver coins, and yet another of 
 all kinds of gold and silver trinkets, some with jewels 
 set in them, and some without. 
 
 As the men spread ihe contents of the bags on the 
 table, Drurie glanced over them indilTerently. But 
 suddenly, with a sharp cry, he stepped forward and 
 snatched up one of the trinkets. 
 
 It was a small gold cross, studded with pearls. 
 
 He held it close to his eyes, staring horribly. His 
 face went gray as ashes. " My God! " he cried, leaning 
 heavily against the table. 
 
 Two of the seamen put their arms about him. Still 
 he stared at the little cross in the palm of his hand. At 
 that moment, Dick came up from the lazaretto with 
 two dull bars of silver in his arms; but at sight of his 
 friend^s face he let them fall and spran-^' forward. 
 
 " What is it ? Are you hurt ? " he cri<-d, pushing one 
 of the men aside, 
 
 Drurie shook his head and held the little cross before 
 Dick's eyes. Dick looked at it, wonderingly at first, 
 and then with a light of terrified recognition in his 
 
 eves. 
 
 n. '«¥»■-, -5u .Si- SI- 
 
A Good Fighter 
 
 213 
 
 Yes, it was like the cross his sister had always worn at 
 her throat, since she was a little girl. He remembered 
 now — Francis had given it to her for a birthday gift. 
 
 Suddenly Drurie slipped the cross into his pocket 
 and began to hunt through the other trinkets. He 
 spread the little pile of gold and sil-.-er with trembling 
 fingers. Here were rings and ^ rooches, bracelets 
 and earrings; but not one of these did he recognize 
 as ever having been worn by Isobel. 
 
 Dick, reading his thought, began searching through 
 the contents of the other bags; but nothing other than 
 the pearl-studded cross resembled anything of Isobel's. 
 
 " There are a thousand crosses Uke that in the world " 
 said Dick. ' 
 
 "I hope it is so," replied Francis, looking about 
 him like one just awakened from an evil dream. 
 
 Now, all the gentlemen were up from the lazaretto, 
 with a small treasure of bar silver, silks, spices, and 
 such costly merchandise. 
 
 A sailor looked into the cabin. " She be settUn' 
 fast, sir," he said. 
 
 " Gather up the stuff," ordered Drurie, " and get 
 back to the brig." 
 
 Then he searched every inch of the cabin, tearing 
 down the hangings with his hands; but nothing of 
 IsobePs could he find. 
 
 ! J « 
 
 i 
 
 •; i 
 
11 
 
 CHAPTER X\1II 
 
 isobe: learns her uncle's real nature 
 
 Alcazardo's little schooner, the Twelve Apostles, 
 bore westward and southward across the Atlantic 
 day after day, with fine weather and fair winds. 
 
 Once she was sighted and followed for a few hours 
 by an English war-ship, and on another occasion a 
 big topsail- schoox^cr wasted half a day in driving 
 along in her wake. 
 
 When Isobel recovered fro' he swoon caused by 
 Alcazardo's sudden disclosure of his duplicity, she 
 found herself in a tiny cabin, Ijing in a narrow berth, 
 with Maria bending over her. She stared vaguely at the 
 maid for a moment, then remembered and understood. 
 For a little while anger and scorn drove fear and 
 caution from her, and she went straight up to the deck 
 and charged her uncle with being a liar and a rascal. 
 He laughed quietly; but later he came down to her 
 cabin and warned her against another such outbreak. 
 He spoke calmly enough, but she trembled before the 
 light in his eyes. 
 
 214 
 
 ^-nm. sit. 
 
Her Uncle's Real Nature 215 
 
 '• And I want you and your maid to understand," 
 he said, " that I am not known aboard this craft or 
 on my island as either Alcazardo or your uncle. I am 
 Captain Gomez, and you are my daughter. Under- 
 stand this, or it will be the worse for you." 
 
 For two weeks Isobcl did not once look at or speak 
 to her uncle; but at last it ci.me to her that her only 
 hope of ever escaping from him lay in hiding her real 
 feelings from him as much as possible. She was young, 
 and while she lived there would always be hope; but 
 worldly hope cannot survi\e death. 
 
 Yes, she was young, f-i life meant the chance of 
 finding her lover again. She would try to hide her 
 hate and sufferuig. She would watch the ra=cal. If 
 need be, she would kill him. She would treasure her 
 life day by day, guarding it with Ues and deception. 
 She would risk everything but her honour to snve it; 
 for, if life were to bring her again to her lover, it was' 
 dearer to her than everything but honour. 
 
 When the island was sighted she pretended interest 
 m it. Her uncle smiled sardonically. But he loved to 
 talk, possessing the social instinct to an amazing 
 degree. He told her, in glowing terms, what a charm"^ 
 ing spot it was, and of the beautiful house surrounded 
 by groves and gardens. 
 
 ''he looked at him with tears in her eyes. The 
 
216 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 II . i- 
 
 II 
 
 fsr- 
 
 tears were genuLne, but the pleading, trusting tones in 
 which she spoke to him were not. 
 
 " But we shall not live here a great while ? You will 
 take me back to Virginia soon, won't you ? " she said. 
 
 He looked at her sharply, with a sneering smile. 
 So she was a harmless fool, after aU. He had begun 
 to fear that she had a mind. He was glad to find that 
 she was a fool. He had robbed her and lied to her, 
 and here she was looking at him like a dove. 
 
 " My dear," he said, with something of his old man- 
 ner, " I am so hounded by my enemies that I fear 
 we shall have to live quietly on my little island there 
 for a year or two. I have many troubles, so you must 
 lorgive me, my dear, if I sometimes act and spcik in ;; 
 way that hurts your tender feelings." 
 
 " I know you do not mean to be unkind," replied the 
 girl faintly. 
 
 There was a certain excitement in this play that 
 raised her spirits. She could see that the man believed 
 her : be a fool. .\h, he should learn, some day, who 
 was the fool! 
 
 He talked to her as to a child, without trying to 
 keep the sneering amusement which he felt from his 
 voice and manner. 
 
 " And what shall I do when we go back to Virginia ? " 
 he asked. " Your frien.ds do not like me; and I am 
 
 ■ I 
 
Her Uncle's Real Nature 
 
 417 
 
 too poor a man to live in one of those fine houses and 
 keep up a fine place ? " 
 
 "But when I tell everybody how kind you have 
 been to me, they will be kind to you," replied the girl. 
 " And if you are poor, you can have my money; and 
 Hopeland, too, when I marry." 
 
 Alcazardo could scarcely believe his ears. He 
 glanced away and grinned devilishly. Why, a man 
 could do anything with a fool like this! After all, he 
 had stolen only half her property; and old Fair wood 
 was sure to die, in a year or two, of overeating. It was 
 worth considering. She would give him Hopeland, 
 would she ? 
 
 " I could not think of accepting your property, 
 my dear,' he said, with a leer. 
 
 "But, as you are poor, you must," she replied 
 guilelessly. " I shall not need it. But please tell me 
 why you are not known by your real name on this 
 ship and on the island? I hope you have not done 
 anything wrong." 
 
 This was just the kind of idiotic question Alcazardo 
 was expectmg from the simple little fool. It was 
 interesting — almost as interesting as the first winning 
 of her trust in Virginia. But nevet until now had he 
 suspected her of being quite so stupid and trusting 
 as the last few minutes had proved her. 
 
1:^^ 
 
 218 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 " ^ly dear girl," he said, " the officers of the law are 
 after me for shooting a man. It happened before I 
 ever saw you. I was walking along a quiet street in 
 Madrid one day, when I saw a man attack a woman and 
 beat licr with a stick. I was so overcome with rage 
 that I drew a pistol and shot him. He was a great 
 man; and I have been hunted ever since. I have been 
 afraid to tell you this, my dear Isobel, for I could not 
 bear to have you look upon me as a murderer." 
 
 " I think it was very noble of you," replied the girl, 
 looking at him with wonder in her eves 
 
 But the wonder was at the ease and fertility of his 
 imagination and the depth of his rascality. 
 
 " If I must pretend to be your daughter, I must 
 call you father," she said. 
 
 He laughed aloud, and patted her head as a man pats 
 the head of an amusing dog. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear," he said in a nasty but merry 
 vein. " Call me papa, by all means. I am proud of 
 my lovely, clever daughter. And when we go back to 
 Virginia, what a stir the poor old don will make, to 
 be sure, with his beautiful daughter and his fine son- 
 in-law. I see that I have great times before me." 
 
 Iscbcl retired to her cabin for a little while. She 
 prayerl — and it was a queer prayer. She prayed to 
 be forgiven the lies which she had spoken and acted, 
 
?" FE 
 
 Her Un tc'. Real Nature 
 
 219 
 
 »d for strength an.i cunnln, .„ ,^11 and act more 
 
 her'tr T ™-''"' '='"■ ^'"""'"S "™'»y "--de 
 ■er uncle and gaz.ng with round eyes and e.vclama- 
 
 o s of assumed delight at .ho white-and-green island 
 that grew so swiftly i„ ,he field of sparklbg blue 
 
 A3 t,ie httlc schooner drew near the eastern coast 
 - master of the island saw a small group of m» 
 
 frmgc of cocoanut.trees. One was waving a white 
 flag fra.t,cally seaward. Through his telescope th 
 P«,pnetor could see that the others of the group wer 
 t ctng landward and held muskets in their hands. HU 
 blac.< eyes fairly glistened with rage. He called the 
 master of the schooner to him. 
 
 trio " ir" ^'".T' '""" ™-^' ''"^"""^ '°° '™S this 
 <np, he sa,d. .See, they have driven their driver, 
 
 a most ,„=o the lagoon. Clear the bow-gun and load 
 
 her w,,., cantster, and we'll let them know that the 
 
 •lo" has come home again." 
 
 ma'i!-, h"1 "'i' '•"''• ''"' '■' '"^ ' -"'fe '° chill a 
 man s blood. The big gun in the schooner's bow was 
 
 «npped of her canvas jacket, loaded, a.nd run forward 
 
 « double ume It was easy to see that the rough, 
 
 mas er less-looking feUows were in fear of Alcazardo. 
 
 He stepped close to one of them 
 
 a huge, blond 
 
220 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 feUow with the devil's mark on his face and a bodv like 
 a gladiaior's - and the fellow shrank aside with a little 
 gasp of fear. The don had his children well in hand. 
 Now the schooner was within a hundred vards of 
 the mouth of the gap in the reef opening into the 
 lagoon. She moved slowly and steadilv forward 
 under her main- jib. From her deck a mob of blacks 
 and ragged, brick-red whites could be seen amon- the 
 gray stems of the cocoanut-trees. Thev were a^med 
 with hoes and cane-knives. They shouted mad, 
 wordless threats at the half-dozen feUows on the beach, 
 and even at the schooner. 
 
 ^ The schooner drifted through the gap. Alcazardo 
 sighted the long cannon. At the glow of the red spark 
 of the linstock, the men on the sand ran to the very 
 edge of the water and threw themselves Hat. The 
 poor maddened fools beyond dashed out into open 
 sight. Then the cannon belched and roared across 
 the still waters of the lagoon. 
 
 Half a dozen of the slaves fell and twisted on the 
 white sand. The others turned and fled, their cries of 
 anger thinned to screams of fear. 
 
 One of the overseers scrambled to his feet, screamed 
 and fell forward into the water. Alcazardo smiled' 
 took the burning linstock from the gunner and touched 
 It to the tip of a slender roll of paper and tobacco 
 
 ■»: -■■:-€.m';i.v^^-;-.L .j"^. 
 
Her Uncle's Real Nature 221 
 
 which he held between his lips. In returning it, he 
 struck the flame against the gunner's vvTist The 
 fellow did not flinch, but a horrid film of terror dimmed 
 his eyes. 
 
 " That was a good shot," said the master of the 
 island. " Now they know that the don is home again 
 and the days of love and peace returned." 
 
 Isobel had gone to her cabin, white of face and 
 convulsed with sobs, the moment after the firin- of 
 the cannon. Maria followed her. Isobel turned °and 
 threw her arms around the other's neck. 
 
 "To think," she cried, "he murders, and smiles! 
 Oh, Maria, we have come to hell itself! May I have 
 strength to look him in the eyes -to blind him - 
 to befool him. He shoots do^v7l his labourers as one 
 would shoot quail!" 
 
 The Spanish maid was frightened, and did her best 
 to quiet her mistress. 
 
 " But they had knives in their hands," she said 
 " They were terrible. They were like beasts The 
 sciior had to fire upon them, to save the poor men on 
 the sand." 
 
 " Yes, Maria, you are right and —I am very foolish " 
 replied the lady, in low, hard tones. " The beasts 
 were ready to kill their loving master. How he must 
 grieve at having killed one of his overseers." 
 
 Sif 
 
 li 
 
222 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 They heard the cable roar over the iron lip ;c 
 
 hawse-hole, and the splash of the anchor .u the 
 lagoon. 
 
 Isobel dried her eyes, forced a smile to her lips, 
 and returned to the deck. The maid followed her. ^ ' 
 
 The schooner was at rest on the crystal water, 
 midway between the reef and the beach of powdered 
 coral. Already a boat was pulling away from her, 
 with Alcazardo in ihe item-sheets. The master of 
 the little craft stepped up to Isobel with a respectful 
 salulalicn. 
 
 " Tlic do:i has gone ashore to set things right for 
 your arrival, scnoriia;^ he said. " He will rc.urn for 
 you in a few minutes." 
 
 Lcl^el eyed him steadily. " Have you been long in 
 the service of — :^f my father?" she asked, speaking 
 very nv.ictly. 
 
 TIic mariner shifted from one mahogany-hued foot 
 to the other, and gazed landward. " For a matter of 
 two years, maybe," he said. 
 
 " What is this yessel used for? " asked the girl. 
 
 " For trading among the islands. But see, the don 
 is looking back at us," replied the fellow ncr\^ously. 
 " I'd better get along with my work." 
 
 The don, as everybody called Alcazardo on the 
 schooner, soon returned for Isobel, Maria, and his ovm 
 
 wmm^m^mw^^--'^'Mm&^^^ 
 
t.vat^i 
 
 Her Uncle's Real Natu 
 
 re 
 
 223 
 
 ^d their baggage. He seemed in high spirits, as 
 If the httle matter of the charge of canister had cheered 
 him. 
 
 He helped Isobel over the rail and into the boat 
 with a fine air. He lifted Maria down bodilv - and 
 Maria blushed and flashed her black eyes at him 
 
 The boat was beached near the spot where the 
 overseer had fallen. The body had been carried away 
 but there was still a dabble of blood on the sand' 
 further up the shore two slaves were liftin- the last 
 remaining body of their murdered comracTes - and 
 these were two of the same who had brandished their 
 cane-knives so defiantly only a few minutes before 
 
 A narrow path led through the grove of cocoanut- 
 trees. The underbrush on either hand, between the 
 smooth, gray stems, was of whitewood and manchine-^l 
 The pale-brown soil was full of holes into which .^reat 
 land-crabs scuttled and turned, ready to scuttle%ut 
 agam. 
 
 From the landward edge of the grove Isobel had 
 her first sight of the house - a full view of it all in a 
 flash, looking like a picture in a book. It stood on a 
 gentle rise of land, pink-wallod, pmk-roofed, with 
 vade, low eaves and deep galleries. In front, a dozen 
 cabbage-palms lifted their rustling crests high in the 
 sweep of the trades; the long leaves -nging with 
 
 I'' I 
 
 WA 
 
224 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 almost artificial regularity from the green, jade-like 
 stem that topped the gray pillar of the trunk 
 _ At one side stood the squat tower of the windmill 
 in which the canes were crushed, and a cluster of 
 stables and outhouses; and between these and the 
 house_ a walled garden, with bright, strange foliage 
 gleammg above the walls. 
 
 On the other side stood a fine grove of mahogany- 
 trees; and everywhere gleamed the tender green of 
 sugar-canes and the banner-like leaves of bananas 
 and plantains. A mile away, in the centre of the 
 island, arose two moderate, rounded hills shrouded in 
 dark fohagc. Overhead swam a cloudless sky of palest 
 azure. 
 
 The first few days of Lsobel's stay on the little 
 island of Madiana, of which the don was sole pro- 
 pn-or and the only settler, passed quietlv. The house 
 was large and comfortable, and through the windows 
 and doors and along the galleries the wind drove 
 steadily all day and all night. 
 
 Alcazardo was busy with afiairs of the plantation; 
 and those affairs seemed far away from the cool and 
 quiet house. No smothered curses, cries of pain or 
 sound of blows reached tho garden or the peaceful 
 rooms. 
 
 For three days Isobel saw her uncle only during 
 
. Her Uncle's Real Nature 225 
 
 meals, and he was sneeringly agreeable and a shade 
 preoccupied. He spoke only of the most unimportant 
 matters, and did not mention the dastardly deed by 
 which he had announced his arrival to his slaves 
 Isobel had seen, on that first day, that several of these 
 poor creatures were whites; but she did not dare, 
 just then, to question Alcazardo on the point. 
 
 On the evening of the third day, after the sudden 
 purple night had fallen, Isobel happened upon her 
 uncle and Maria talking earnestly together on the 
 front steps of the gallery. The don came straight to 
 Isobel, took her hand and drew her aside. 
 
 " :^Iaria says that she wants to return to Spain " 
 he saii. in a voice sufficiently loud for the maid [o 
 hear. '• I ha%e been telling her that she cannot go 
 home fcr some momhs-in fact, ti.at she shall be 
 taken to Mrginia before she ever sees Spain again 
 I consider this very unkind of the girl, and I have told 
 her so. \ou are a good mistress and a good friend to 
 her. And she is well paid. I cannot understand what 
 more she wants." 
 
 Isobel did not believe a word of this rigmarole But 
 she pretended to believe every word of it. " Oh she 
 does not mean it. Surely she does not mean to lerve 
 me!" she cried. 
 
 ii 
 
 ^Maria slipped into the hou:,c without a word. 
 
 AI- 
 
226 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 cazardo told his ward to take heart, for the girl could 
 not leave her, however much she might want to 
 
 Isobel pretended to take comfort from tliis assurance 
 " I must beg her not to think of such a thin- " she 
 murmured, and ran into the house and up to tlie'room 
 which she shared with Maria. 
 
 She found the Spanish girl 'here sitting idiv on 
 the edge of her cot. She went to her, knelt before her 
 and took both her hands in hers. 
 
 " .Maria, tell me what you and the senor were talking 
 about," she pleaded. 
 
 " I told him that it was my desire to return im- 
 mediately to Spain," replied the maid in a small voice 
 
 " iMaria, you are not telling me the truth," said 
 Isobel, accusingly. " You are repeating somethin^r 
 that he has told you to say. I know it bv vour voice" 
 even as I heard the lie in his. Have you, too, turned 
 against me, Maria?" 
 
 The maid began to cry. " I have not turned against 
 you, she sobbed. " But I fear the senor - and he 
 treats me very kindly. I am but a poor servant-maid 
 I am not good and clever like j-ou. Dona Isobel 
 You need not fear him, for you are a great lad^•, and 
 rich, and he will treasure 30U for what jou mav do 
 for him in the future. Oh, I see that. But who am 
 
 \nd yet he treats me vcrv 
 
 I to dare to anger him? 
 
Her Uncle's Real Nature 2i7 
 
 kindly and - and I cannot tell you what he said to 
 me." 
 
 •' You need not tell me," returned Isobel " Have 
 you no spirit? Here is a knife -see, it is sharp as 
 ttamc. I carry it ahvays. Take it, Maria! " 
 
 " Xo, I do not want it! " cried the maid. " I am 
 neither a great lady nor a fool. Life is good. If he 
 loves mc, v/hy should I kill myself? " 
 
 ; Poor creature. Poor litti; Maria," whispered her 
 mistress; and she kissed her and wept over her. 
 
 Next morning Alcazardo said: " I have decided to 
 let the girl go back to Spain, after all. Her heart is 
 set on It; and I can find you a verv good servant 
 among the slave women. The schooner leaves at 
 noon." 
 
 Isobel had not the heart to make anv answer She 
 went to her room; nd soon Maria came, kissed her 
 passionately, wet her face with tears, and went awav. 
 Isobel saw that the maid's eyes and cheeks we^e 
 aglow; and she was silent under the wonder and horroi 
 of It. An hour later, she watched the little schooner 
 saa out of the lagoon; and she knew that it was not 
 bound for Spain, and that Maria was not on board 
 
 Two months later, Isobel learned of Maria's death 
 at the hands cf a jealous mulatto woman. 
 
 t.J 
 
 I- I 
 
 4i 3 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE ICE-FLOE 
 
 After her engagement with the schooner of the 
 notorious Black Monlc, the Royal Company's brig 
 completed her westward voyage without further dis- 
 turbance. 
 
 Druric di^ "-'od the treasure of the pirate among his 
 officers anvl .w, every man being served according 
 to his rating. The provisions from the schooner's 
 lazaretto were not reckoned or divided, but went to 
 the brig's credit, in bulk, and added much to the 
 flavour of the meals in both cabin and forecastle. 
 
 They found the fort in a sorry state, only partially 
 recovered from the distress of the long winter. Thev 
 were received with a salute of cannon, feeble but well- 
 intentioned cheering, and the capering of thin, bc- 
 whiskered men along the edge of the tide. 
 
 MacAllistcr, the commander of the fort, put oix 
 from shore in an Indian canoe, and was on the brig's 
 deck before the anchors were let go. He v/as a man 
 of thirty-five years of age, capable, quick-tempered, 
 
 228 
 
 ^aHp^^aaoajPcv !■%.. 
 
The Ice-floe 
 
 ^2^9 
 
 proud as Lucifer, and |X)or as the soil on his native 
 hills. He claimed descent from Adam, King Arthur, 
 St. Andrew, and the prophets, and was in the habit of 
 telling his friends that the tree of knowlerlge still s;tc\v 
 and bore fruit on his father's estate in the Highlands 
 of Scotland. 
 
 He was full of oaths and mad moods and the grandest 
 lies concerning the i^ower and antirjuity of his familv; 
 but when he gave his word to a friend or an enemy 
 the thing was already as good as done. He had seen 
 military service in almost every countr\- of Europe, 
 had gone into Asia against tlie Turks, and had spent 
 a year of his life pulling an oar in a Turkish galley. 
 It was the opinion of his friends that his experiences 
 in Turkey had put a twist in his brain. 
 
 He liked Francis Drurie — and his Hkes v,-ere as 
 violent as his dislikes. The moment his feet touched 
 the brig's deck he grabbed the commander in his long 
 arms and pressed him to the breast of his faded coat 
 with such abandonment of cordiality as almost to 
 crack the Virginian's ribs. 
 
 "Welcome to Fort St. George and St. Andrew," 
 he cried, his gray eyes flashing. " You are welromor, 
 Frank, than the King of England, for you arc a better 
 
 man! " 
 
 Then he told his troubles of the past winter; how 
 
230 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 \k \ 
 
 his lieutenant had died of scurvy, and his chief car- 
 penter, his smith, and three labourers had followed 
 along the same grim path within the week; how two 
 men had been killed by savages, another lost In the 
 wilderness, and three caught by a storm of wind and 
 snow, while hunting, and frozen to death. It was a 
 pitiful tale. 
 
 " And I expect the French to move against us before 
 the summer is over. No doubt the savages ha\e 
 carried word of us to them long before this, ° he con- 
 cluded. 
 
 The gentlemen of the Brave Adventure were soon 
 ashore, and most of the crew foUowed the moment 
 the sails were furled and everything was made fast 
 and shipshape. The stores for the fort were hurried 
 out of the briiT's hold, a small measure of rum was 
 served to all hands, and MacAllister announced that 
 to celebrate ^hc arrival of the first vessel of the fleet, 
 a feast and general merrymaking would be held as 
 soon as the day's work was over. This was received 
 with cheers by landsmen and sailors alike. 
 
 Then Drurie mounted the cask of salt beside the 
 commander of the fort and ^aid that he intended to 
 devote his share of the treasure taken from the pirate- 
 schooner to prizes for contests in marksmanship with 
 musket and pistol, in sword-play, in felling trees with 
 
The Ice-floe 
 
 231 
 
 axes, and in many more sjx)rts and works. There 
 should be separate contests in every event, he ex- 
 plained, for the sailors and the men of the fort, as the 
 landsmen had suffered from lacl; of food. 
 
 The men shouted and dimccd with delight, and e\en 
 the gentlemen checrevl Drurie's generosity. But the 
 commander of the brig took small joy of the ovation; 
 for, ever since the f.eht with the schooner, every hour 
 was haul d by the little cross in his poc'- t. 
 
 Was it the cross Isobc-l had worn on her . i; - neck? 
 Or, was it one of many crosses as like it as two musket- 
 balls are alike? He did not know. Sometimes he 
 was sure of the one thing, and sometimes of the other. 
 The feast WaS a success and ])ut ne,v heart into the 
 settlers. A score of friendly natives shared the great 
 company's bounty, and joined in the dancing that 
 followed the eating, and sat like graven images through 
 the singing and story-telling. Captain .MacAllister 
 danced the sword-dance, Francis and Prowse sang, 
 and Cremona gave an exhibition of knife-throwing. 
 Dawn was in the east before the little fort was quiet 
 and the ashes of the fires were black. 
 
 Under the stimulus of full rations and excitement, 
 the fort seemed to gain new life. Work and play went 
 on, side by side. Clearings were extended into the 
 forest on every side of the fort as a precaution against 
 
 . I 
 
 .Jfci >■ 
 
m 
 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 sudden attack by Frenchmen or natives. The stockade 
 was enlarged and strengthened, a new house was built 
 or MacAllister, and all the cabins were repaired. A 
 bns. trade was carried on with the natives from near 
 and far; small parties explored the forests and the 
 coast, and fish were caught in the sea and the rivers 
 and smoked for winter use. The contests in sports 
 and workmanship were warmly engaged in and oc- 
 cupied the men's spare time for fully a month. The 
 summer was short; and at the first hint of the quick 
 frosts the hunters set out after moose and caribou 
 
 The crews of the three ships joined f a in this 
 work and in the gathering of wild berr;. , and after- 
 ward m the manufacture of pemmi.an from the meat 
 and berncs. By this time, the commanders and masters 
 of the ships were beginning to feel unec^sy. The cargoes 
 of pdts were put under hatches; and early on the 
 mornmg that the first thin shell of ice was found on 
 the ponds around the fort, two of the vessels sailed 
 away.^ Francis had to remain three days longer, waiting 
 for Dick and several members of his crew who were 
 «.own the coast in the brig's long-boat. Hut at last 
 the capstan-bars were manned aboard the Brave 
 Aaz'cniure, the anchors walked up and lashed, and the 
 square sails unfurled. 
 V.'inter comes swiftly to that northern sea. For a 
 
 
II 
 
 The Ice-floe 
 
 233 
 
 little while the sun has held back the merciless desire 
 of the frcst, and the silence; leaves have budded and 
 blown, butterflies have spread their painted wings; 
 and then, as if the forces of death had been waiting 
 just behind the hills, desolation returns to wood and 
 stream. 
 
 Out on the sea the brief, azure days are done. Clouds 
 mount from the hidden pits of storm; fogs and snow 
 trail their shrouds across the shaken waves; the voice 
 of the surf fails along the gray coasts, silenced by the 
 black strip of ice that widens hour by hour. Snow falls, 
 and the land and the ice are as one; then the winds 
 and currents struggle in those nameless wastes and the 
 new ice is broken and tossed adrift. The surf shouts 
 again along the rocks - but in the stillness of the night, 
 in a falling silence, again the frost shackles the livin-' 
 water. ° 
 
 The Brave Adventure raced for the open sea, striving 
 to clear the narrow straits before the frost should close 
 its hand upon the north. She drove eastward and 
 northward across the great bay, under every vard of 
 canvas she could spread. Hour by hour the appalling 
 shadow of winter — a shadow seen with the eyes of 
 the spirit — loomed higher above the northern hori- 
 zon. 
 
 The men felt it. On deck and aloft it cut deep into 
 
234 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 their courage, though the cold was not ^•et s:-.crc; 
 m the warmth of cabin and forecastle it raag a faint' 
 strange echo to their laughter. It was not the cold 
 they feared, but the blind, gripping ice. 
 ^^ "We must drive her," said the master to Drurie. 
 " So long as this wind holds we are safe. If we ^et 
 half-way through the straits before it shifts to {he 
 north we can beat the ice to the sea." 
 
 The wind failed -then blew fitfullv from the 
 south. On a warm, bright morning thev rounded into 
 the narrow seaway, and crept forward east bv south 
 The sunlight, and the knowledge that this was the 
 course that reached to England, raised the spirits of 
 all save the more experienced mariners. 
 ^ Danvers did not like it, and watched the sea and the 
 sky at every point of the compass as if he expected 
 an attack. He kept the brig well up toward the dreary 
 frozen coast to the north - so close that it could be' 
 seen ^nth the naked eye, like a bank of pale fo-r along 
 the horizon. The day passed comfortablv, but with 
 little progress. With the setting of the sun the wind 
 (hed away, and a sudden chill flooded the air. 
 
 In the outer cabin the gentlemen sat around the 
 the table, or lay in their berths and listened to the talk 
 of their comrades and 'he weird comnlaining of the 
 ship's timbers. Not one of them save Cremona 
 
The Ice-floe 
 
 235 
 
 n 
 
 seemed to be able to kc-p his mind on any subject for 
 more than a minutt at a time. They listened for some- 
 thing they could not name — listened with half- 
 turned heads, furtively. They felt a menace they did 
 not understand. They feared neither storm nor battle; 
 but the fear of the North was in their hearts. They 
 listened for the strong, enlivening buTet of the wind; 
 and, not hearing it, they felt an anxiety that they 
 scarcely tried to conceal. 
 
 But Cremona was himself — outwardly, at least. 
 He sat at the ^able with a bottle of wine before him 
 and told a story that nobody listened to. It was a 
 line story, too, and as full of lies as any history. To 
 catch young Prowse's wandering attention, he leaned 
 across the table and poked him in the shoulder with 
 one of his great fingers. 
 
 " I tell you," he said, '• that the French lady turned 
 as V 'i-'te as that candle, and fell, herself, quick into 
 ' <• - ,, and cried loud for me to save her valued life. 
 - ' hat did I do — can you think? I knocked her 
 s(. -i^v out of my course, with a polite word, and struck 
 those two pirates with my might. One of those vile 
 fellows drove a knife — " 
 
 "Hark! What was that?" whispered Prowse, 
 brushing away Cremona's finger and half rising 'rom 
 his scat. 
 
H% i 
 
 236 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 to I!"''' -J?" ^'" ^°"' ^'^^ '^^^'- ^^°w listen 
 to me," said Cremona. 
 
 Prowse paid no attention to him. " What is Drurie 
 domgondeck? Why does he stay up in the cold 
 Danvers can sail the ship without his help " 
 
 "Now, you listen to me." drawled Cremona, and 
 wen on with the yarn to which nobody would listen 
 
 And they thought he was acting like a fool; whereas 
 he was domg h s best to turn their minds from th" 
 menace in the ai? . 
 
 NeUher Drurit nor Danvers left the deek that night 
 rTtul T7.'^' ^""^ "''^'"^ --i 'he shroud! 
 
 o« :; " """ '^^""''°'' "•"" '" ■"' --' 
 
 the httle vessel duzily .s the wind raeed her alon. 
 The eommander and the master stood close together' 
 by the tdler. The night was so black that theyl,uld 
 not see each other's face. 
 
 th7- Tu ??"' ^'""^ e-^Pe<^ted?" asked Drurie, after 
 the w.nd had been uj^n them for several minutes. 
 
 " I '- arH 7 """ ' "^'P"^^' '" ^-^P'^^^ Danvers. 
 I reared a gale- an 1 from the north." 
 
 ^Mi;^ 
 
The Ice-floe 
 
 237 
 
 Half aji hour later Dan vers spoke again. " It will 
 blow strc „'er," he said. " There is a core to it. I 
 felt it all day, and now I hear it." 
 
 A gray, ragged rift of dawn was breaking in front of 
 their pitching jibboom when the thing which the master 
 vas watching for finally reached them. That the 
 immense draft of wind which had been pressing them 
 along for the last eight hours could increase in either 
 weight or speed was a miracle to Drurie. 
 
 It fell upon them as soUd as water, crushing the 
 stout little hull deep into the eager sea, and then hurling 
 her on her course like a plaything. Drurie was spun 
 against the after-companion. He lay there for a 
 minute, gripping at whatever he touched with hands 
 and feet. 
 
 Dan\'ers stooped and roared into his ear : " She'll 
 weather it. She be too quick for the seas to override 
 her. 'Tuill blow itself out in an hour or two." 
 
 Drurie pulled himself to his feet and stood, clinging 
 to the hutch of the companion, until the terror of this 
 madness of wind and wave lifted from his spirit. 
 He, too, had feh the nameless fear of the North. Then 
 he went below. 
 
 As Danvers had said, the storm eased its fury within 
 two hours of its supreme eFort; but it continued to 
 blow at half a gale unlil noon. Every member of the 
 
 
 
 
A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 b gs compaay fd, a relaxing of strained nerves. 
 
 :" " r^'f "' "' 'h^- ™rk, and ,he v.a.ch bdow 
 nslead of sleeping, dustcrcd a!»,u, ,l,e b,,,,-, „f j,, ! 
 
 "'■^■^ and san, .ad.i.ais and decp-sei 
 
 The adventurers aft lolled in the pale sttnli.hf 
 an Cremona, feeling no need for his stc.,. sn»u5^a 
 roll of lobaceo and gave ear to Prowse's ehaf.er about 
 a gtrl .n dtstant Devon. Drurie and the master wen, 
 below and sank to dreamless slumber 
 
 ottf H ""r". "1 ""^ ''"» P^"'^"' ' """""^^ "f inlands 
 of naked rock, pmk and purple in the failing li.ht An 
 
 easy drat, of wind drifted out of the north, and intense 
 CO d fil ed t e air. The hrst mate, who was on du.v 
 made all sa , eager ,o dear the Cape of God and wm 
 mto the wtde .Atlantic before the ice should close the 
 cas e,-n gate of the passage. The men who had t,.e 
 deck put on thdr heavies, clothing, and great mittens 
 of wool on thdr hands. 
 Next morning a thin edge of ice, about six inches 
 
 InfheldT"";! "" ™"-""'^ "' "" ^"■•5- The wind 
 s .11 held from the north, quiet and steadv as a current 
 
 ,cy water. The sea rolled gently, without a break 
 
 o wh„c^ and the brig swept smoothly and silemlv 
 
 *ng. Cape of God loomed ahead, cmuched forward 
 
 as .f ready to hurl itself into the path of the little vessel 
 
 f^j^um','ti:?^(^Km'.^ff^''m^4%'m= 
 
The Ice-floe 
 
 239 
 
 The crew was set to breaking away the fringe of ice 
 with poles and oars. The thin crystal shattered and 
 vanished at a touch; and yet, grown a little thicker, 
 it would support a running man, and a little thicker 
 again it would stop the onward rush of a forging 
 ship. 
 
 By sunset the Brave Adventure was abreast of the 
 soaring cape. Danvers held her well up to the wind, 
 away from the formidable wall and its hidden out- 
 posts, where white spray leai^ed from the smooth 
 sea. 
 
 Before dawn a flurry of snow passed over the brig. 
 This was followed by a fog, that only whitened a little 
 as the hours passed. The gentlemen were at breakfast, 
 with candles on the table and a lantern hanging steady 
 from the deck-beam overhead, when Danvers entered 
 the cabin, threw aside his cloak, and sat down. 
 
 " We are in the edge of slob ice," he said. " But 
 it does not matter now. Even if it tightens around us, 
 it is clear of any land, and will do no more than drift 
 us southward a trifle. As we are well away from the 
 coast of Labrador, that will do no harm." 
 
 " Heaven be thanked for letting us out of the narrow 
 waters," said Drurie. 
 
 " Aye, praise be to His name." returned Danvers 
 reverenti}-. Then he ate heartil}-, drank deep, and 
 
 ^-i-c^^mrr 
 
 HI 
 lii i 
 
240 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 laughed and talked with the air of a man ^vho has felt 
 
 a great shadow slip from his spirit. 
 AH day the fog shrouded them; the sails swelled 
 
 for a moment from yard and stay only to flap and sa- 
 agam; the thin fragments of ice, broken from some 
 northern coast, knocked against the brig's sides and 
 clung. In spite of the gloom, a spirit of serenity and 
 security hung over the little vessel, soothing the hearts 
 of her company. 
 
 Clear of threatening rocks and the northern fast- 
 nesses, with the wide ocean on every side, what mattered 
 a few days of southward drifting in the mild bondage 
 of this thin ice? The gentlemen played at cards in the 
 warm, candle-lighted cabin; and even Drurie and 
 Danvers felt free to take an occasional hand. \nd so 
 the day passed, and the fog darkened from white to 
 black again. 
 
 That night, a wonderful dream came to Francis 
 Drurie. It was as if he opened his eves from a deep 
 sleep and looked between the curtains of his berth 
 into his cabin. By the faint light of the lantern 
 hanging over the table, he saw a human ficrure standing' 
 silent and dim as a shadow. Now, this inner cabin 
 v>as his own, and even the master entered it only by 
 his invitation. 
 
 He leaned upon his elbow and stared out, wondering 
 
The Ice-floe 
 
 241 
 
 if one cf his gentlemen had come to speak to him. 
 
 But he could not make llie iigure out. 
 "Who is there?" he asked quietly. 
 At the first sound of his voice the figure moved 
 
 toward him. It was a woman ! It was Isobcl! 
 " Do not fear," said the dear voice, of which not a 
 
 tone had faded from his heart. " I have come, in my 
 dream, to teU you that I still live and wait for you. 
 The path to me, dearest, is one of duty well done, and 
 bitter sufferings, and hoping against hope." 
 
 And then, in the silence that followed, the vision 
 of the girl faded away. Drurie ;ould not move or call 
 her name. He struggled to get out of his berth, but 
 it seemed that invisible barriers held him. At last, 
 in the agony of his futile efforts, he opened his eyes! 
 So — it was only a dream, after all. But what a 
 dream! To Drurie, the hand of God was in it. He 
 was not a man of prayer, but God was a very real 
 Being to him. He slipped from his berth and thanked 
 God on bended knees. The knowledge that bitter 
 sufferings were to be his dimmed neither his gratitude 
 nor his joy. 
 
 By morning the brig was firm in the grip of the 
 drifting floe. Fog still shrouded the sea". Drurie's 
 comrades saw the new light in his eves, and wondered 
 if he had suddenly forgotten his grief. He told of his 
 
 - ». is 
 

 242 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 dream to Dick and Cremona, and both accepted the 
 meanmg of it without question. They found no difH- 
 cult,v m bchevmg it to be a message, and so they 
 rejoiced ;Mth their commander. 
 
."id 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 DENIS ST. OVIDE DUVAL 
 
 It happened that a famous Canadian, known by the 
 style and name of Captain Denis St. Ovide Duval, 
 encountered the same fog-bank and the same ice-floe 
 in which the Brave Adventure drifted blindly. 
 
 Duval was one of England's most exasperating 
 tormentors in the north, from New England to Acadia 
 and Newfoundland. In time of war he was a privateer, 
 and in time of peace a pirate. English commerce wa^ 
 always his target. His delight was to strike a blow at 
 the power of that lion-hearted little island, and, at the 
 same time, fill his pockets with such treasure as the 
 moth of pleasure and the rust of sea-winds destroy. 
 
 He was a strange mixture of soldier and ruffian, 
 gentleman and knave. There was some mystery about 
 his birth. He claimed V ^\p with several great 
 families; but, whether because of his naval acti\ities 
 in times of peace or for another reason, he was avoided 
 by the members of these same families. It was a 
 weU-known fact that the Ad-niral St. Ovide would 
 
 248 
 
 -1 1 
 
244 
 
 ATavalier of Virginia 
 
 never mvue hm. to .. much as a gla.s cf wine; and 
 yet the two h.d ^ough. their ships side by side agains, 
 the forts of h. 'arb.ur of St. John's. He ts a 
 strange fellov. ,.. .^..^^ ^j,,,^^ ^^^^^ ^^.^^ 
 wished to sec ..nly :he bad blood in hi.n could not 
 Ignore the go,>a aaJ taosc whr. wished to see onl the 
 good were remin, i.d, . frequently, of the bad. ' But 
 whatever h:s fu Its in h..r. and breeding, he w.« a 
 brave and brilliant comuaader and a capable navi- 
 gator. ^ 
 
 Denis St. 0^ icie Duval had ' ard of the nr.,- English 
 post in the northern wildernes., from a French trapper, 
 and he had put a fine plan together, rfe would .lip 
 mto.that northern sea just as the armed ..p. of the 
 Royal Company slipped out, an ' take (he forr, and 
 scndc there comfortabiy for the vanter. By sprinrr 
 he shoul :! have ^•aluable cargoes for his to vessels 
 and prisoners for Quebec, to say nothin, of the glorv 
 of leaving a Canadian garrison in the fort and' th^ 
 I" ;ich flag flapping above its walls. fM.relv, for .uch 
 a service, the king could not ,!o less than make hi:n 
 governor of all that vast wilderness, with a percentage 
 from every pelt taken in trad, there. Then he should 
 ha.-e the langh on his I^aughty cusin, th,- admiral. 
 
 \Vith his head full . f such hne intenti< .s had Duval 
 headed northward along the cast of L.orador at that 
 
Denis St Ovide Duval 
 
 345 
 
 late season. Iniiler :icn might have waited for spring; 
 but Duval was tiot dull. Yrt the fog an ' the ice nlayed 
 him a trick, 
 
 Shonly after n, jjst ^, th of the Brave 
 
 Advertur, wen ., urnin- t! -ir cmmy plates and 
 canniKins m the galley, ng f, veil on pea soup 
 and rr;t,tcu vensioi a li ind prang up 
 
 in the wet. ^hcfoghn.K* ^gu ay — and 
 
 there, K., foi hund i yar. s&a.. ward he brig, 
 Ie} wo \essel- in th ^ o\ e ice. 
 
 Anrd ' w- ,uuted into the cabin and the 
 
 forecastle. In x i\ -ng every adventurer and mariner 
 '■as on ieck, gai ig at the unexpected sight. Th- 
 mastv looked i< a moment and turned to DruHr 
 
 with ^ xprob 
 
 'ItisD 
 them before 
 schof r hiri.st 
 
 f concern on his face. 
 . C adian," he said. " I've seen 
 . and un from them. He sails the 
 and wc call it the Black Det'll. The 
 attle b: antini was an English craft once." 
 
 ' L' il! " exclaimed the commander. " Lord, but 
 
 I oula oe afine thing to sink both Us .hipsfor him." 
 
 Danvcr mikd without enthusiasm. " Aye, and a 
 
 ard th .-::- ' epHed. " Both vessels are armed 
 
 like v.ar-shi What I am thinkin' is, 'twould be a 
 
 fine thing to be able to break out of this ice and show 
 
 'em our heels. Two to one makes rare good sport, 
 
 ' i 
 
 .MMiMi 
 
246 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ';|. 
 
 to my mind, with a good sailin' wind and a free keel; 
 but plugged here in the ice, 'twiU be nothing but gun- 
 play. The ways of powder and shot are as Fate 
 intended them, and a cannon fired by a fool shoots 
 as^ far as one fired by a master-gunner; but pretty 
 sailin' gives the ship and the master a chance to work 
 together and confound the enemy." 
 
 " You are right," replied Drurie; " but, as we cannot 
 do any fine sailing, as we did against Black Tvlonk, 
 we must do fine shooting. There is nothing else for 
 it, if those ships in truth belong to Duval." 
 
 As yet, they could see no sign of life aboard the 
 schooner and the brigantine. The guns of the Brave 
 Adventure were cleared for action. Powder and baU, 
 canister and grape, were carried up from the magazines' 
 and the men went to their posts. They went to their 
 posts laughing and joking, poor fellows, full-fed and 
 afraid of no Frenchman under the sun. They did not 
 give a thought to the fact that this fight was to be a 
 simple and terrible matter of give and take, with the 
 same broadsides belching all through, and no help 
 from the wits and skill ci Master Danvers and the 
 speed and handiness of the brier 
 
 The red ensign was run up; and, as if the halyards 
 were hauled by the same hands, up went the white 
 flag of France on both the enemies. 
 
 .aU~ri--5S^.. 
 
^ 
 
 Denis St. Ovide Duval 
 
 247 
 
 The brigantine lay sidc-on to the English brig, and 
 the schi oner, lying farther to the south and east, 
 presented her bows to the brig's port bow. Northward, 
 the ice ran silver and shining under the sun as far as 
 the eye could see. To the west, east, and south it 
 extended for only a mile or so, and lively little seas 
 danced about the edges of it. 
 
 "I would the fog had not lifted," said Danvers 
 earnestly. 
 
 As yet, no sign o." life, beyond the flying of the flags, 
 had apjjcarcd on either of th< French ships. Drurie 
 set his men to shifting the big guns. Tno on the port 
 broadside v.ere moved forward and trained on the 
 schooner, and the other two were run across the deck 
 to reenforce the starboard battery. The swivels from 
 the stern were hauled forward and mounted on the 
 forecastlehcad, beside the long bow-chaser. By this 
 arrangement, six heavy pieces were brought to bear 
 on the brigantine and three heavy pieces and the two 
 swivels on the schooner. Many of the bales of pelts 
 were thrown up from the hold and lashed round the 
 batteries, mside the bulwarks. 
 
 Already the brief northern day was drawing to its 
 close. A look of relief began to spread upon the 
 master's broad face. 
 
 '' There'll not be much damage done in the dark," 
 
 W 
 
 ^. 
 
248 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 he said, " and the floe may break by morning. Then 
 if ye want a fight, the little lady will make a pretty 
 fight; and if ye want to get away, she'll flap her skirts 
 at those water-logged, unhandy arks." 
 
 " I sincerely hope that the floe will break," replied 
 Drurie; " but I am troubled now to know how I can 
 keep the Frenchmen from crossing the ice during the 
 night and boarding us. No doubt both ships are 
 heavily manned." 
 
 " The first broadside will splinter the ice for yards 
 on every side of us," answered the master. " They'U 
 have to use their boats to come aboard us." 
 
 " Then the sooner we spUnter a little ice the better " 
 said Drurie. ' 
 
 He went to the forward battery and saw the gunners 
 tram their pets on the narrow bows of the schooner. 
 Next moment, the five pieces crashed with a deafening 
 report, and the brig surged backward and crumpled 
 the ice for a yard or more under her stern. The smoke 
 drifted over the deck, shutting the scnooner off from 
 the gunners' view. 
 
 Before the wind had blown it away, the reenforced 
 battery to starboard crashed like one gigantic gun 
 Beneath that choking pall of smoke the men toiled 
 frantically, swabbing and loading, though they ex- 
 pected the deadly tempest of the French reply at any 
 
 Jtmsr. 
 
 •jems 
 
Denis St. Ovide Duval 
 
 249 
 
 moment. The yards creaked, and the brig rocked in 
 her basin of shattered ice. The smoke thinned; and 
 at the very moment of the second discharge of the 
 forward battery, the schooner and the briga^tine sent 
 their answers. 
 
 Two men were struck down by the canister from the 
 brigantine, the capstan was hit by a round-shot from 
 the schooner, and a great lump of oak and iron was 
 hurled through the breast of one of the gunners. 
 
 For nearly an hour the battle raged, heroic, appalling, 
 cruel. Then darkness silenced the guns. The Brave 
 Adventure had sufTered terribly. Young Prowse died 
 as many .mother Prowse has died before and since 
 this unrecorded battle in the northern ice. 
 
 Dick -as wounded in the shoulder, seriously. 
 Danvers's left arm was blown away at the elbow, 
 Tizard lay stunned by a flying splinter, and Drurie' 
 had received two flesh-wounds. One of the master- 
 gunners and nine of the crew lay dead, and five more 
 were seriously torn or broken. 
 
 Cremona, who had worked in the most exposed 
 places throughout the fight and yet had escaped without 
 a scratch, > showed a useful knowledge of surgery. 
 •Assisted b: ; .rie. Duff, and the uninjured men, he 
 cut and batned and bandaged swiftly and tenderly. 
 The wounded men were carried below. Rum was 
 
 i I 
 
 sH?5^^^ 
 
250 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 |l^- 
 
 served to all hands, and a hearty meal was eaten the 
 wounded men being fed by their more fortunate 
 comrades. Then the sentries were posted for the fir=t 
 watch of the night. 
 
 The brig had suffered as terribly as her brave com- 
 pany. Her foremast was a wreck, her bulwarks were 
 slmttered, and two of her heavy guns were disabled. 
 The forecastle was battered and splintered, and the 
 bowspnt carried clccn away. A dozen great shot were 
 odged m the stout timbers of her hull, and several 
 had entered her hold dangerously near the waterline 
 The men of the brig could not see what damage had 
 been done to the French vessels. During the fight, the 
 hangmg smoke had allowed them but brief glimpses of 
 their targets; and by the time the smoke had cleared 
 Jt was night. But they had reason to believe that the 
 bngantine was in a bad state, for her fire had slackened 
 by r.alf before the end of the engagement. For- 
 tunately, the night was dark and there was no moon 
 
 Drune's heart was all but broken by the death of 
 Lawrence Prowse and his brave men, and the suffering 
 .of the wounded; and, for all his courage, he could see 
 no hope for the morrow unless a strong wind rose in 
 the night. Even with the ice broken, it was doubtful 
 whether the brig would be able to escape from the 
 schooner in her shattered condition. Unable to sleep 
 
 m^^^s^m 
 
Denis St. Ovide Duval 
 
 251 
 
 he spent the whole night in wandering from one part 
 of the brig to another, now pausing to ease the position, 
 or give water, to one of the wounded, and again to 
 speak a word of encouragement to the men still on 
 duty. 
 
 To his o^vn wounds he gave not a thought, though 
 both -.vere deep and painful. He had washed and bound 
 them soon after the firing had ceased — and that was 
 the last attention he had given them. But Dick's, 
 Tizard's, and Danvers's injuries worried him beyond 
 expression. He had earned Dick to his own berth 
 in the inner cabin. Aheady, before midnight, the poor 
 lad was delirious from the agony of shattered shoulder 
 and bruised chest. Danvers, also, was growing Ught- 
 headcd from intense suffering, and Tizard still lay 
 unconscious, breathing heavily. There was not a 
 corner of the little vessel free from death or agony. 
 
 Drurie was standing on the forecastle-head, leaning 
 on one of the cannon, with his face sunk on his folded 
 arms, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " This very bad," said the voice of Cremona. " I 
 don't smile at you crying, Frank, for I cry myself at 
 this. I see plenty of men dead before now; but not 
 men I love. Dick wiU die, I think. God, I love him 
 like a mother and a father! Now, you let me tie your 
 leg again." 
 
 i i- 
 % f 
 
 r 
 ,-»■ 
 
 '^£.i^^^mr^ 
 
i iiJ 
 
 ■f 
 
 
 252 
 
 i 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 But Francis Druric would not hear of that. His 
 leg was not hurting him He had lost a pint or so of 
 blood - that was all. He urged Cremona to lie down 
 and try to get a few hours' sleep. 
 
 " No; I sleep soon enough for a vcrv long time, 
 perhaps," replied Cremona. " See, the wind is dead 
 and the air is clear. Soon the sun will come up — 
 and then we begin loading and fuing again. No, 
 Frank; \\e better stay awake now, for we alfsleep soon 
 enough, I think." 
 
 " As Heaven wills," replied Drurie quietlv. " Better 
 men than I am -and maybe as good m'cn as you, 
 Cremona — have died this way." 
 
 " You think me a good man, Frank ? " a.s::ed Cre- 
 mona carnestlv. 
 
 " One of the best," answered Drurie shortly. 
 
 Cremona made no reply, but a fine elation'of spirit 
 went through him like fire. He had Uved a hard life, 
 and had been a low rogue in his time; but here was a 
 fine ending. He had been born into the world among 
 cnmmals and outcasts; and now he stood at the 
 threshold of death, a gentleman among gentlemen, 
 a worthy member of a gallant company. 
 
 Without another word the two parted, the heart of 
 each warm with admiration and a!Tection for the 
 other. Drurie went into the forecastle to tend the 
 
ri 
 
 Denis St Ovide Duval 
 
 253 
 
 sufferers there, and Cremona hurried back to the 
 wounded men in the cabin. Tizard passed away 
 without a struggle, or without once having regained 
 consciousness, an hour before dawn. Cremona and the 
 commander stitched him in his canvas shroud with 
 their own hands, with a round-sliot at his feet. The 
 thin ice, which had formed again since the guns had 
 ceased their recoiling, shattered as he went through. 
 Down he sank through the cold depths, to where his 
 comrade Prowsc and a brave company awaited him, 
 all lying still and blind on the sea-floor, heedless of 
 ambition or duty until the call to the last parade. 
 
 ■ J 
 
 Si, *. 
 
 JEl. - * 
 
f ■■ 
 
 CHAPTER XXr 
 
 THE BRAVE ADVENTTOE SUNK 
 
 A CLEAR dawn heralded ,hc lost day of that heroic 
 
 but nameless battle. By the firs. ,i,J Drurie .ooTe^ 
 
 a h,» enemies m wonder. The white huU of the 
 
 hnganune was shattered and stained with blood 
 
 : ""',?' ''" 'P"' '^ standing, and she lay with 
 
 a .^harp hst to s.arteard. The sch«,ner was no^to 
 
 fenou.ly jnjured. but her great foremast lay on th" 
 
 -. a,t dear, and her bows were riddled with shol 
 
 Driirie called his men together. 
 
 shin'br!''", '"' '""■ " "" '"'™ '""Sht our guns and our 
 sh,p bra^vly enough; but the odds were against us 
 
 :„: ; "t """ "^' "'^'- - ^'■"- 1 spea\ z: 
 
 f,r ™ ^^"^^'■"^"'""'^''i'^ty. I am ready to 
 %h. agam or to surrender. What is your wish in 
 
 the matter ? " ^ ^" 
 
 be,'! ^l "l '^^^' " "'"' ""''"^^ o' ""^ ra™. " We'd 
 better dte fightin' than be hung to the yard-arm." 
 
 254 
 
The Brave Adventure Sunk 
 
 "233 
 
 " Aye, sir, this here Duval don't care what he do 
 to prisoners when he be in a temper," said the boat- 
 swain. " Let us fight it out, sir; and if we die -why, 
 sir, we've ail to come to it some day." 
 
 That suited every man aboard, sound and wounded. 
 They had no desire for Canadian prisons, or for ending 
 a good fight by kicking their heels at the end of a 
 rope. Each man drank a measure of rum after his 
 breakfast, and then went wilUngly but stolidly to his 
 post. 
 
 The sun slid up, clear as glass, but without warmth. 
 Such wind as there was crept cheeriessly out of the 
 northwest, over miles of frozen sea. The air was 
 bitterly cold. The cold alone was enough to chill the 
 courage of brave men, but the lads of the brig stood 
 to their guns and gazed unconcernedly across the 
 glistening ice to the silent ships of the enemy. But 
 those ships did not remain silent for long after the 
 rising of the sun. The schooner reopened'' the battle 
 with a discharge of grape that flew high. The brig 
 repUed with both her batteries, and the horrible tight 
 was on again. 
 
 Through a rift in the cloud of smoke, Drurie saw 
 men running away from the brigantine across the ice. 
 Thinking they were preparing to board the brig, he 
 swept them with canister. The survivors mad'e all 
 

 ?.56 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 11^ 
 
 ■ If 
 f I 
 
 s:>cerl to the schooner. They were not manv. When 
 tiie smoke thinned again the brigantine had 'vanished 
 an,'! only a pool of gray, dancing water was where she' 
 i:'i:l been. 
 
 The last charge of powder aboard the Brave Advm- 
 t::rc had been fired. She was settling steadily by the 
 head. Drurie wiped the blood from his eyes and 
 looked round him. He saw a few men leaning Ust- 
 lessly against the silent guns, and many sprawled 
 upon the deck. The fight was over - and lost. Again 
 blood trickled into his eyes. Then he saw Cremona, 
 and felt him press something into place upon his fore- 
 head and tie a cloth around it. Without a word he 
 turned and walked aft, scarcely knowing what he was 
 about. In the cabin he found both Dick and Danvers 
 dead. He touched their cold calm faces with his 
 hands. 
 
 He saw Cremona enter, kneel beside Dick's bodv 
 and fling his arms forward. He heard the big man 
 v.eep. He turned away and went on deck; and close 
 beside the stump of the mainmast he stumbled over 
 Duff's lifeless body. What were these strange beings 
 clustering about him, with blood and sweat and powder- 
 stams on their grotesque faces? Ah! Thev were his 
 own men - his own brave lads! There was Nicholas, 
 NMth a bandage of sodden cloth over half his face 
 
if 
 
 The Brave Adventure Sunk 257 
 
 lie counted them slowly. Ten! Yes, ten was all he 
 could make of them, and three were on their hands and 
 knees. 
 
 " Lads," he said, " the fight is finished." 
 He drew his sword and tried to break it across his 
 knee; but the good blade was too tough for his nerve- 
 less muscles. 
 
 " Let me do it," said Cremona. So he broke his 
 commander's sword, and then his owti, and tossed the 
 bright pieces into the scuppers. At that moment 
 Duval and twenty of his Canadians cUmbed over the 
 side cf the Brave Adveriure. 
 
 Duval's dark face was flushed with anger. He glared 
 at Cremona. 
 
 " Do ycu surrender? " he asked. 
 •' This gentleman is the commander," said Cremona, 
 indicating Drurie. 
 
 ■ Well, my fine little cock, have you had enough? " 
 cried the Canadian. 
 
 This manner of address clearer Drurie's brain. 
 
 "I am ready to give myself and my men up to 
 Captain Duval, but not to his boatswain," he said. 
 
 "I am Captain Denis St. Ovide Duval," replied 
 the other, more gently. 
 
 " A man of honourable family, I have heard. Well, 
 sir, I surrender Captain Cremona, my men, and 
 
 u 
 
258 
 
 g^8 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 myself 10 you as prisoners of war," said Drurie His 
 clear blue eyes gazed steadily and fearlessly upon the 
 Canadian, with a li^ht in them that was 'enough to 
 shame the devil himself. 
 
 It shamed Duval, whom no bluster could disconcert 
 It appealed to that better part of his nature that came 
 to him from hundreds of valiant men and beautiful 
 women. He turned to the men behind him and spoke 
 to them swiftly, for a little while, in the French tongue. 
 Four of the Canadians began to lead the survivors 
 of the crew of the Brave Adventure across the deck 
 two by two. They carried those who were unabl-^ to' 
 walk. They loweral them all into a boat that lay 
 among the broken ice under the brig's side. Drurie 
 and Cremona were not disturbed, 
 
 Duval stood beside them giving orders to the main 
 body of the force he had brought aboard with him 
 The cabm was looted, and bale after bale of the cosMy 
 furs were brought up from the hold. The brig now 
 was deep in the water, and sharply sunk by the head. 
 AU the schooner's boats were around her, havin<^ been 
 dragged across the ice and launched into the narrow 
 strip of water. As quickly as they were freighted 
 from the brig's cargo they were pulled to the solid ice 
 unloaded and pulled back. A shiver passed through 
 the crippled brig, fore and aft. Duval shouted to 
 
The Brave Adventure Sunk 259 
 
 liis men, and those below quickly scrambled on 
 deck. 
 
 " Come, gentlemen." he aid to Drurie and Cremona. 
 
 Drurie was helped down into one of the boats, 
 for now his wounds were stiffenbg. All the boats 
 were pushed quickly to the ice and pulled out upon 
 the glistening surface. A sound like a sigh came from 
 the wounded and deserted brig, and every one turned 
 to look at her. She swayed gently in her narrow sea- 
 bed. Her sunken bows seemed to lift a little, then 
 pitched deep. The high poop, with its wide ports and 
 gilded scroll-work, soared aloft. Left by an oversight 
 of Duvr:"s, the red ensign flappt d . - the stump of the 
 raainmasi Amid a roaring ar .' ; rg.,.,- of waters 
 the Brave Adventure pitched do i to ] ■ deep-sea 
 grave. A few shattered and bl i -' .i-ed timbers 
 leaped up and floated on the surface of tne ice-rimmed 
 
 ]X)Ol. 
 
 A surgeon aboard the schooner dressed the wounds 
 of Drurie and the other prisoners. They were lowered 
 into the hold, after the bales of furs. All who were not 
 disabled by th. ir injuries were put in irons. The hold 
 was warm — that is, the amidships part of it, where the 
 prisoners lav. The schooner had not suffered any- 
 where but in her bo vs. Two lanterns hung from the 
 deck-beams, and made blurs in the yellow gloom. They 
 
 f-f 
 
260 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 were of no use to see by, but they cheered the eyes 
 and held back the darkness. 
 
 Soon after the dressing of their wounds Drurie and 
 his companions fell into the dreamless sleep of utter 
 exhaustion. Only their wrists were shackled, so they 
 could lie comfortably in any position that suited their 
 aching limbs. 
 
 Drurie was awakened by the touch of a hand on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked sleepily, thinking himself 
 in his berth aboard the Brave Adventure. 
 
 A bowl of broth was placed in his manacled hands. 
 Then he remembered everything; but he also remem- 
 bered the vision that had come to him in the cabin of 
 the brig. By the dull glow of the lanterns he could 
 make out the figure of a man stooped beside him. His 
 stomach yearned for the broth which he held in his 
 hands. 
 
 " Are my men fed ? " he asked. 
 
 " All are drinking the good soup, save one who 
 died while you slept," replied the voice of the surgeon, 
 in English. 
 
 " Who has died? " asked Drtrie. 
 
 " It be poor Hipwood has passed away, sir," said 
 one of the men. 
 
 Drurie drank his broth, which was rich and warm. 
 
to the last drop and the last grain of barley. The 
 French surgeon continued to crouch beside him, his 
 imagination captivated by the courage and fortitude 
 of this slender young Virginian. 
 
 One of the men had told him of the v.-ay he had 
 received Duval aboard the sinking brig — proud, 
 cool, and fearless. The surgeon was a good deal of a 
 coward himself, but he thought courage one of the 
 highest attributes of human and animal nature. He 
 was a student of men, and fearlessness in the face of 
 danger was one of the things he could not understand. 
 The recklessness of rage he counted a small matter. 
 It was the reasoning courage of such men as Drurie 
 and his companions that attracted and puzzled him. 
 Now he waited, in silence, beside the young Virginian, 
 until the bowl was empty. Then he took it from the 
 manacled hands, 
 
 " The ice is breaking away," he said. " We may 
 be clear of it by morning. We are drifting southward 
 and westward fast." 
 
 " And what is the time of day? " asked Drurie. 
 
 " It is now about three hours since sunset," replied 
 the surgeon. " The ca/penters have been hard at 
 work since noon, patching the hull and superstructure 
 and setting up a new spar forward. Your guns did 
 terrific damage, captain." 
 
ggg A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 "They did what they could," said Drurie. And 
 then : •« You talk like an Englishman," he added. 
 
 " That is uot to be wondered at," replied the sur- 
 geon, " as I have lived in both England and one of 
 her v.cstcrn colonies. My mother was an English- 
 woman, and I was brought up, as a child and youth, 
 by her relatives. Later I lived for several years in 
 New England. But my heart was French aJI the 
 whik-; and, in time, I followed my heart. But teU 
 me of yourself, captain." 
 
 " There is Uttle to teU," said Drurie, with a note 
 of bitterness -or was it only weariness — in his 
 voice. " I am a Vuginian. I have fought against the 
 savages there, and I have sailed on two voyages lo 
 Hudson Bay as commarder of the Brave Adventure - 
 the brig that sank to-day. And here I am, sir. It is 
 a fine history." 
 
 " It is a brave history," replied the surgeon. 
 
 Francis Drurie lay wide-awake through that long 
 night, with a thousand scenes passing and repassing 
 across the boundless field of his imier vision. It was 
 as if be '.vatched a play upon a stage as wide as earth 
 fi.id heaven. 
 
 He sa^v the Virginian forests, the lodges of the 
 savages, and the weather-stained militiamen beside 
 whom he had ridden and fought. Again he saw the 
 
The Brave Adventure Sunk 
 
 !263 
 
 autumn groves through which he had returned to 
 Admiral's Pride; and again he heard Isobel's scng, and 
 overtook her in the path. He lived through that 
 wonderful time again — the night of the ball and ths 
 day after. 
 
 Men of Bristol flocked across his vision, and in- 
 sig' Meant scraps of conversations with Smithers, the 
 merry merchant, flashed clear in his memory. Again 
 he and Dick and Cremona travelled in Spain to- 
 gether; and now Dick lay under ihe gray ice, and 
 Cremona slept here in the hold of the French schooner, 
 with irons on his great wrists. 
 
 Minute by minute his brain went over ever}- incident 
 of the terrible battle, sparing him nothing, 'i.howing him 
 again the blood, the leaping splinters, the falling spars, 
 and the limp bodies of his friends and comrades. He 
 wanted to sleep — to forget the horror, and dream only 
 of Virginia and Isob^!. But his brain was too active 
 for sleep. Outraged by the events of the last two 
 days, it had got beyond control of his will. After it 
 had revievied the past, it turned fearfully to the future. 
 
 What was to become of them? Did Duval intend 
 to sail straight to Quebec, and imprison them there, 
 or would he takj them to some French harbour in 
 Newfoundland or io France? 
 
 At last Drurie crawled over and awoke Cremona. 
 
'^•\ 
 
 264 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 M 
 
 "I cannot sleep," he whispered. "My brain is 
 on fire. Let us talk for a little while." 
 
 "I was dreaming. We were in the little lugger 
 again — you and Dick and I — sailing along in the 
 sunshine over that blue water," said Cremona. 
 
 " No, do not talk of those things," pleaded Druric. 
 " They are what spin in my mind until I can stand no 
 more. Tell me of things and people I do not know — 
 not of the things I have known and lost." 
 
 " I will tell you of an old man who was good to me 
 long ago, when I was a little boy," said Cremona; 
 and he told of his first voyage, and of an old boatswain 
 who used to share his food with him, and comforl 
 him v.lien others were cruel, and tell him wonderful 
 stories. 
 
 Cremona went on from speaking of the boatswain 
 to reciting some of those long-forgotten tales. Drurie 
 listened eagerly. Cremona's voice was low and steady. 
 Drurie's eyelids closed, and opened quicklv. Yes, he 
 had heard this story before, long ago, from his mother. 
 How strange and comforting it was to hear Cremona 
 telling it. Again his eyes closed. And when the men 
 in the forecastle were just beginning to stir, and the 
 watch on deck was looking eastward at the dawn, 
 Drurie's tired brain fell asleep. 
 
 The surgeon appeared early in the prisoners' quar- 
 
The Brave Adventure Sunk 
 
 265 
 
 ters, with a man behind him carrying food and 
 drink. 
 
 He found that another of the wounded Englishmen 
 had died in the night. He awoke Drurie and Cremona, 
 who were sleeping <"-.undly side by side. His assistant 
 aroused the others, and all fell heartily to the business 
 of eating. But one of the men suddenly became uneasy 
 and began to feel about in the darkness with his feet. 
 
 " Wake up, Jim," he cried. " Ye was feelin' better 
 last night. Wake up, now, an' try a snack o' this here 
 salt junk." 
 
 " My lad, your friend is dead," said the surgeon. 
 " He was more than half dead when he was brought 
 aboard. But the rest of you will Hve, I think." 
 
 The fellow who had called his friend to 'vake up and 
 eat trembled \ iolcntl\ . A chill passed over the little 
 company, as if a cold wind had blown upon them. 
 
 "Is ii Jim Hawkins who i- "one now?" asked 
 Drurie. 
 
 '' Ave. -ir. it be Jim Hawkins — him that beat us 
 all at the broadsword play at the fou," said one of the 
 men. 
 
 " He v>av a good !ad," said Drurie. " He never 
 s^hirkal his duty, and ho died without a cry. He'll 
 rest cas}-. lads, and go to a sure reward." 
 
 The men returned to their food without any more 
 
 £;L. 
 
266 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 V 
 
 talk. Death had lost much of its awesomencss in their 
 eyes of late. It did not seem such a terrible matter, 
 after all, here in the hold of the French schooner, 
 among the drifting ice. Neither life nor death seemed 
 a thing worth troubling about now. Poor old Jim! 
 Well, he was past suffering now, and perhaps well clear 
 of what was to come. More than one of those brave 
 fellows envied the dead man in their hearts. 
 
 ^ 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 UNSUSPECTED FATE 
 
 On the day of Hawkins's death, and after the body 
 had been carried up and pitched into the sea, Captain 
 Duval himself descended into the hold. He had been 
 in a terrible temper up to this time; and so, wishing to 
 appear a man of breeding in Drurie's eyes, had kept 
 away from his prisoners. 
 
 From the point of view of a pirate, he had reason 
 to feel bad-tempered; for he had lost a vessel and forty 
 men, and his plans for the winter were knocked to 
 ruins, all for about a thousand pounds* worth of booty 
 and a handful of prisoners. And the English fort in 
 the wilderness stood unharmed, flying its red ensign 
 at the winter winds. 
 
 All this was a sorry blow to the Canadian's pride 
 as well as to his pocket. But he regained control of 
 his temper before going into the hold, anxious to 
 convince the pale young gentleman in irons that he, 
 toe, was a gentleman. 
 
 Duval carried an extra lantern with him, and squatted 
 
 867 
 
268 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 \m 
 
 ^i..'. 
 
 on a bale of skins beside Druric and Cremona. " I 
 hope you have been comfortable here," he said, as 
 if he had entertained honoured guests in his best bed- 
 chamber. •' And I hope you have had sufficient 
 food." 
 
 " You have treated us with exceptional kindness, and 
 I thank you for it in all our names," replied the Vir- 
 ginian. 
 
 Duval v.-as flattered by this. " Some commanders 
 would not have been so considerate," he said. " But 
 Denis St. Ovide Duval is a gentleman. Brave him- 
 self, he respects brave men — even if they have sunk 
 cne of his ships and killed forty of his mariners." 
 
 " \\r did v.hat vvc could, captain," replied Drurie 
 qulcll}-. " With sea room, I doubt not but that we 
 should have sent both your vessels to the bottom and 
 killed eighty of your men." 
 
 "Not so fast!" cried Duval. Then he laughed, 
 for he had a sense of humour. " You are outspoken, 
 captain. Your spirit is amazing high." 
 
 ■' I speak what I think — and my spirit is as Heaven 
 made it." 
 
 " 'Tis so v-ith all of us. So gentlemen of distin- 
 guished fanii!}- are made. But your friend here. Cap- 
 tain Cremona, says nothing." 
 
 " When I talk," said Cremona, " I talk to a purpose. 
 
 
Unsuspected Fate 
 
 269 
 
 Will you tell me how things are doing up in daylight, 
 Captain Duval ? " 
 
 " The ice has spread," replied the Canadian, " and 
 we arc sailing southward very pleasantly, though our 
 rigging is not what it was." 
 
 "May I ask what you intend to do with us?" 
 inquired Druric. 
 
 " That I cannot tell you at present," said Duval 
 politely. " I have not yet decided. If St. John's were 
 not in the hands of the English again, I'd land you 
 there. If I were bound for Quebec, I'd take you to 
 the governor there: but I am not. As it is, I cannot say 
 what I shall do with you; but you may be sure that 
 v.-hilc you are in my hands you shall be treated with 
 every consideration due to prisoners of war." 
 
 Then he went away before they could ask him any 
 more questions. 
 
 Within a half-hour of his visit, a small measure of 
 fine brandy was served to each of the prisoners. 
 
 " I think this Dmal an honest fellow," said Francis 
 to Cremona. 
 
 Cremona swallowed the last drop of his brandv 
 before replying. Then he said : " I think he ha- an 
 honest side to him — and another side that is not so 
 honest. He is gentleman now — rogue to-morrow. 
 Thai is what I hear. He haa something bad in his 
 
J270 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 III 
 
 brain even while he talked to us so pc lite. I could 
 see it behind his eyes, by the lanicrn-light. I think 
 this Duval cares greatly for \ou to think him all gentle- 
 man now ; but when pu no longer have >our eye on 
 him, then he not give a hang what you think. He is 
 a vain fellow, but he knovss his betters." 
 
 " He spoke us fairly enough, and has treated us 
 well," replied Drurie. 
 
 "I fear, Frank, you will hear him speak another 
 tune one day," returned Cremona. " The gentleman 
 in him will be weaker than the rogue one fine day — 
 and then you will want to break his head." 
 
 " We must take a little trouble to humour him, my 
 friend," said Drurie. 
 
 The wounded prisoners regained strength day by 
 day. Forticr, the surgeon, attended to their injuries 
 with honest care, and was proud of the success that 
 cro^vned his work. Only young Nicholas, Drurie's 
 servant, seemed to hang in the wind in the matter of 
 recovery. His wound had not been more severe 
 than the wounds of others; but his courage failed him 
 at thought of a French prison, and a slow fever thinned 
 his blood. 
 
 Now, the hatch overhead was often removed, and 
 left off throughout the heat of the day, letting the 
 fresh wind renew the aj- and lift the gloom of the hold 
 
Unsuspected Fate 
 
 271 
 
 At the first sight of the blue sky and the white clouds 
 (lri\ing over, hope awoke in the heart of every man of 
 that shackled company. Even Nicholas opened his 
 eyes and took some interest in the things of the present. 
 As for the others — why, it was like morning after a 
 night of despair. 
 
 They had almost become convinced that the whole 
 world was dark, faintly lit by the flames of two tallow- 
 dips in tin lanterns. They had aU but forgotten 
 that winds blow and sails are spread on lively yards 
 and clouds voyage across the dome of heaven. For 
 days they had been nothing more than dreamers of 
 dull dreams. Now, in a twinkling, they were living 
 sailors again. They began to talk of gay thmgs they 
 had done, at one time and another, and even to make 
 light of French prisons. 
 
 Captain Duval did not visit them again; but on 
 the fourteenth day, after the schooner had got clear 
 of the ice, he sent word for Druric to come to the cabin. 
 It was Fortier who brought the message and helped 
 the Virginian to the deck, by way of a passage that 
 led into the forecastle and up an iron ladder to the 
 brisk and sunlit world above. The men of the schooner 
 eyed Drurie with interest — even with admiration — 
 as he walked aft, with his shackled hands and white, 
 fearless face. 
 
 I'. 
 
MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 ^ r^PPUED IM/IGE 
 
 '65,5 tosi Woin -Jreel 
 (716) ?88 - 5989 -rax 
 
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 272 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 r i ;■ 
 
 
 If 
 
 II 
 
 At the door of the inner cabin the surgeon left him. 
 
 An armed mariner opened the door for Drurie, 
 followed him into the cabin, and closed the door. The 
 ports stood open, admitting a draft of wind, a wavering 
 radiance of simlight, and the sibilant complaining of 
 the schooner's wake. On the locker under the open 
 ports lolled Duval — ruddy, black-haired, and black- 
 eyed — and garbed midway between the style of a 
 French gentleman and a pirate. 
 
 " Place a seat for Captain Drurie," he commanded, 
 without risuig. 
 
 Drurie sat down heavily on the stool that was pushed 
 against the back of his legs bv the armed mariner. 
 
 " Another glass on the table, Pierre. And now 
 you may withdraw to the other side of the door," said 
 the Canadian. 
 
 Left alone with his prisoner, Duval sat up and 
 pushed a bottle across the table. " It is good wine, 
 from the lazaretto of your own unfortunate brig, I 
 believe," he said. " Help yourself, captain." 
 
 Drurie flushed quickly and lifted his hands above 
 the edge of the table, so that the short chain between 
 the bracelets of iron clanked against the bottle. " I 
 must trouble you, I fear," he said. 
 
 *' A thousand pardons," cried Duval, rising quickly. 
 He did not strike off the irons, however, but contented 
 
 Ti^'^^'^.j. 
 
Unsuspected Fate 
 
 273 
 
 himself with pouring wine for the Virginian and then 
 for himself. 
 
 Drurie felt faint. He raised his glass clumsily in 
 both manacled hands and emptied it at a gulp. 
 
 Duval smiled and refilled the glass. Then he re- 
 turned to his lolling position on the locker. 
 
 " Captain Drurie," he said, " I have given a great 
 deal of thought to the case of you and your companioi-.s, 
 and also to the losses I have suffered at your hands. 
 The cargo and stores of your brig did not repay one- 
 fifth of my losses. I must try to recover what I can. 
 You understand, captain, that I do not work alto- 
 gether for glory. I am a poor man, and must look 
 sharp to the doubloons. But I do not blind myself 
 to the rights and feelings of others." 
 
 " I believe you," replied Drurie quietly. " You 
 speak honestly, and have treated me with more con- 
 sideration than I expected at your hands." 
 
 Duval leaned across the table and refilled the other's 
 glass. 
 
 " Well, sir," he continued, " I cannot carry you to 
 Quebec, as I told you before; and I should be sorry 
 to do so, anyway. I am sailing to the islands to the 
 south of St.-Kitt's, to see if I cannot pick up a prize 
 or two in those waters. And I have a proposition — 
 a suggestion — to make to you." 
 
^pp 
 
 274 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 i^ 
 
 Drurie nodded and looked at him hopefully. What 
 now? 
 
 " I honour your spirit and that of your big friend 
 and your men," continued the Canadian. "It lost 
 me a good ship, forty stout lads, and a deal of stores; 
 but I honour it, for all it has cost me. Never have I 
 seen such fighting as that of your little brig. 
 
 " To snow my admiration, I now offer you a position 
 as my lieutenant and berths for your friend and your 
 eight men. It is freedom I offer you, and membership 
 in a brave company. When you have served with me 
 a year, if you or any of your men are then anxious to 
 lea\e me, I will set you ashore near some English 
 settlement." 
 
 " I thank you for your offer," replied Drurie. " No 
 doubt, you mean it kindly. But serving you for a 
 year means preying upon my own country for a year. 
 For myself, I refuse the offer. My comrades are free 
 to do as they please in the matter." 
 
 " You do not ask of the alternative?" said Duval, 
 smiling. 
 
 " No matter what the aUernative may be, I reject 
 your offer," said the Virginian, his blue eyes shining 
 as cold as ice. 
 
 " You speak bravely," said the Canadian. " But 
 listen, Cai> in Drurie, Those who cannot serve me, 
 
Unsuspected Fate 
 
 275 
 
 and so earn their freedom in an easy and pleasant 
 manner, must be sold to some sugar- planter in the 
 southern islands. Do you know the meaning of that ? 
 A white slave leads a hard life. One had better row 
 in a Turkish galley than work in the fields of a West 
 Indian plantation. Your courage is magnilicent. 
 'Tis a pity to think of it breaking, day by day, under 
 the whips of half-caste drivers." 
 
 "I see my duty plain," replied Drurie promptly. 
 " I cannot turn my hand against the ships of my own 
 people. What is fighting for you would be nothing 
 but black murder for me. The blood on my iiands 
 would not be blood of my enemies, but of my fellow 
 countrymen. I will work and die on any plantation 
 under the sun rather than desert the service in which 
 my fathers have fought and won glory. I cannot forget 
 that I am a Virginian gentleman." 
 
 " It is a pity," said Duval. " I think you are pig- 
 headed." 
 
 Poor young Drurie smiled faintly. This was cer- 
 tainly an unusual name for loyalty. Then a thought 
 came to him that awoke hope in him again. How 
 gladi- his father would pay money to save him and 
 his comrades from the fate that threatened them! 
 And that money was what Duval wanted was plain as 
 a pikestaff. 
 
276 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 |*li 
 
 " My father is rich and generous," he said. " I 
 offer you a hundred pounds for each one of my little 
 company — a thousand pounds in all. My home is 
 in Virginia; and I promise you, on the word of a 
 gentleman, that the money shall be paid to you the 
 very day you put us ashore in that coimtry. And 
 you shall be allowed to get safely away again." 
 
 Duval shook his head. " I am sorry to beem dis- 
 obliging," he replied, " but I do not think it would 
 be wise for me to land you in Virgmia. That is a 
 dangerous coast. A thousand pounds do not cover 
 the risks — even if your generous father should con- 
 sider it worth his while to pay so much for what he 
 had already recovered." 
 
 He smiled slyly, emptied his glass, and refilled it. 
 
 " I answer for my father's honour," cried Drurie. 
 " He will pay double that sum of money, and let you 
 go as free as the wind. Yes, I promise you two thousand 
 {X)unds ! " 
 
 " The coast of Virginia is ;iot a safe place for Captain 
 Duval in his crippled schojner," replied the Canadian. 
 " I have sighted three English war-ships in those 
 waters in cnc day's run. I fear that the money would 
 be of small use to me if I went there to get it." 
 
 " Then land us somewhere near New England," 
 cried Drurie. " You may be sure that the money will 
 
Unsuspected Fate 
 
 277 
 
 be sent to you as soon as I can communicaic with my 
 father. Come, captain ! Two thousand poimds make a 
 goodly bag of money." 
 
 Duval shrugged his shoulders. " Bah! You are 
 brave, my friend — and you are simple. But I am 
 not a fool! Say no more of your generous father." 
 
 He rapped sharply on the table with his knuckles. 
 The armed sailor opened the door and came to Drurie's 
 side. 
 
 " I am sorry that you are so pig-headed, Captain 
 Drurie," said Duval. 
 
 " And I am sorry that you will not accept my word 
 for the money," said Drurie, staring haughtily at the 
 big Canadian. 
 
 The guard led him away, back to his manacled 
 comrades in the dark hold. One by one the rest of 
 the survivors of the Brave Adventure's crew were 
 taken to Duval and offered membership in the schoon- 
 er's company. 
 
 Every one of them, except a lad named Stark, gave 
 the same answer that their commander had given. 
 After that there were nine prisoners in the hold instead 
 of ten. 
 
 As the schooner drew farther southward, the air 
 in the hold became almost unbearable. The stench 
 of the bilge a.vash only a few feet below them tortxired 
 
^99 
 
 WF 
 
 278 
 
 Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 m 
 
 even their seasoned nostrik. For a week the schooner 
 rolled idly in the doldrums. In such weather not so 
 much as a breath of wind came down to the prisoners 
 through the open hatch. 
 
 One night Drurie crawled under the square eye 
 of the hatch and lay flat on his back, gazing upward. 
 A touch of fever was in his blood. He counted the 
 large, indifferent star^ over and over, trying thus to 
 win sleep to smarting eyelids and oblivion to aching 
 brain and body. Despair came instead. 
 
 For the first time since the sinking of the brig, his 
 courage failed him utterly. He groaned, and raised 
 his hands to his face; and in the movement the chain 
 that held wrist to wrist fell heavily across his chin. 
 At that, sudden anger revived nis spirit. He sat up 
 and stared into the dark. 
 
 " Lads," he cried, " we i ^ ^aten so long as 
 
 there is life in us. But Stai. a* ark is in a worse 
 plight than the dead men under the ice! These dogs 
 will sell us to lesser dogs — and these irons will be 
 struck from us so that we may work in the fields. 
 Strengthen youi hearts for that day, lads — there'll 
 be cold iron in our hands then instead of on our wrists." 
 
 When Drurie awoke, the sudden tropic morning 
 was aflare across the square of the hatchway. That 
 day the schooner won clear of the regions of calm. 
 
 ys 
 
Unsuspected Fate 
 
 279 
 
 All her sails were spread to the steady wind, and she 
 lay over with a bar of white foam under her forefoot 
 and the furrows of her wake diverging far astern. 
 
 Duval had the captives brought on deck for an 
 airing. A healthy slave brings a better price than a sick 
 one. They sat forward, m the shade of the headsails, 
 and drank in the glitter and swing of wind and sea. 
 The rush of waters along the driving hull, the vision 
 of straining canvas, and the smell of pitch melting in 
 the seams revived hope in their courageous breasts. 
 
 They remembered with a glow of pride what a 
 great fight they had made against fearful odds; and 
 the certainty grew in their hearts that they should • 
 fight again. Those who could moveu up and down 
 the deck; and the homely sights of shipboard — the 
 smoking galley, the captain's wash flying from a line, 
 and the fellow aloft in a boatswain's chair scraping the 
 maintopmast — awoke the zest of life in them. The 
 Frenchmen grinned at them, and gave them tobacco 
 and lime-juice. Some of them showed their wounds 
 to the English with the greatest good-humour. They 
 seemed to recall the desperate battle only as a joke. 
 
 Throughout the remainder of the vpyage the prisoners 
 were allowed to take an airing on the deck every day. 
 Also, they were well treated in the matter of food and 
 drink. But Duval kept away from them. He did not 
 
280 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 
 'fll! 
 
 feel quite at ease when Drurie was looking at him. 
 The surgeon continued to tend such of the prisoners 
 as required his services. Soon Lhe wounds were all 
 healed, and Nicholas, with his fever, was the only man 
 on the sick-list. 
 
 The schooner won to that fairy sea. Every day new 
 landfalls were made. Dolphins llashed about her 
 bows, and the blue water astern was cut by low, black 
 trysails, the dorsal fins of sharks, cruising back and 
 forth. Flying fish broke from the waves in silver 
 showers, skimmed away until they were but specks 
 against the blue, and splashed again into the waves. 
 The schooner crowded away from every sail she 
 sighted. Once she ran so close to a little French island 
 that the men could coimt the red roofs of a village 
 nestled between the seaward palms and the timbered 
 shoulders of the mountain-cone. They could see brown 
 children at play on the lilac sand. 
 
CHAPTER XXm 
 
 ISOBEL LOOKS FROM HER WINDOW 
 
 Captain Devis St. Ovide Duval anchored his 
 schooner outside the reef of the little island of IMadiana 
 and signalled for the don to come aboard. They were 
 supposed to be on friendly terms, this lawless Coiiadian 
 and this nameless Spaniard. For all that, the don 
 would not trust himself aboard the schooner. So Duval, 
 accompanied by one of his officers and four armed men' 
 went ashore. The don received him with many signs 
 of a delight which he did not feel. To tell the truth, 
 he was afraid of the Canadian. 
 
 "I have nine white slaves for you," aid Duval. 
 "Two gentlemen and seven seamen. ' o you a ant 
 them, my friend ? " 
 
 " And why not ? I am short of hands. Of what 
 breed are thty?" replied the don. He would have 
 bough* the Frenchman's windlass or his spare set 
 of sails if asked — anything to humour the dangerous 
 fellow and get him speedily away from the island. 
 
 " One is a Spaniard, or somethin:=; of that kind. 
 
 281 
 
 ?-.*I^^WI 
 
«8« A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 III 
 
 H I: 
 
 Hh 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
 The ethers are English to a man," replied Duval 
 insolently. 
 
 The proprietor of the island paid no attention to 
 the ncie of insolence in the other's voice and manner. 
 "Send for them, captain. Bring them ashore and 
 let ire glarxc them over," he cried as if he could 
 scarcely contain his delight at the prospect of buying 
 prisoners from the Canadian. 
 
 Vet he knew that he would have to pay a heavy 
 price fcr the fellows. Yes, a heavy price. Had he 
 knoM-n how heavy, I think he would have given Duval 
 all his fortune to carry them away. 
 
 Irons were put on the prisoners' legs for the first 
 time, and they were brought ashore. The don glanced 
 them over with a sinister smUe. He was wishing that 
 Duval was one of them. 
 
 He walked up to Cremona, " You are a Spaniard," 
 he said. 
 
 "Ycu are a liar," replied Cremona. " I am an 
 English gentleman." 
 
 The doit drew back as if he had been stung. " You'll 
 die for that," he cried. " Your great carcass will rot 
 in the sun for that, you fool." 
 
 Duval and his feUows laughed long and loud. 
 " Yes, he is a gentleman, whatever country bred him," 
 said the Frenchman. "Two of them are men of 
 
Isobel Looks from Her Window 283 
 
 breeding, as I told you. I had no trouble with them, 
 for I know how to treat gentlemen. It is a pity you 
 <' net understand the breed." 
 
 The don found that a hard mouthful to swallow, 
 uut he swallowed it. 
 
 Iscbel closed the lo^ - - . i utters of her window and 
 peeped cut between the slats at the pitiful procession 
 that came slowly up from the sand. She had been 
 watching the schooner for some time and the men on 
 the sh c, wondering if the visit of this fine craft 
 would bring any change in her drear;' life. As the 
 strangers came nearer, and she saw that iV i maiii 
 body of them were ironed at wrist and leg, she under- 
 stood the reason of the schooner's visit, and her heart 
 sank. 
 
 The xcssion passed close to the front of the house. 
 :x\ii\ .juked down upon the ragged, weary feUows 
 ..s ihey toiled along through the beating sunlight. 
 1: i.< Jcnl}- her attention was caught by the gallant, 
 familiar bearing of one of the shackled men. A low 
 cry escaped her — and, as if he had heard the cry, the 
 man looked up. She gazed down, horror-stricken, 
 into the face of her lover — into the thin, undaunted 
 face of Francis Drurie. Then a cloud of fire surged 
 across her vision. 
 Isobel recovered her senses quickly. At that moment 
 

 IN 
 
 
 284 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 her uncle entered the room. He came close to her and 
 took her roughly by the arm. 
 
 " I want you to keep out of sight until that schooner 
 gets her anchor up," he whispered. " She is a French 
 pirate. Her captain is now in the dining-room. If 
 he catciios sight of you -why, you will wish that you 
 were still living quietly with me." 
 
 The girl promised to keep out of the pirate's sight 
 Alcazardo left her after a final warning to keep to 
 her room and not to open the shutters of her windows. 
 Then she threw herself down upon the bed and wept. 
 What was she- ^o do ? She knew to what a place her 
 lover had been brought, but her heart told her that it 
 would be dangerous to let him know of her presence 
 on the island or to let her uncle suspect Drurie's 
 identity. She prayed the knowledge be kept from him. 
 To what depths of torture it might inspire him, his 
 own black heart alone could say. After the storm of 
 tears, her mind was clear. She saw that she must now 
 work cunningly and swiftly toward Alcazardo's over- 
 throw. 
 
 She realized that she could not disclose her presence 
 to her lover, until the don's power was broken, without 
 danger to his life. He would spring upon the fellow, 
 bent upon her rescue, and die miserably and uselessly. 
 Her most terrible fear was that the don might learn 
 
Isobel Looks from Her Window 285 
 
 that one of his new slaves was none other than Francis 
 
 Drurie, the Virginian. Perhaps he already knew it. 
 
 Her mind tortured her with suppositions as to what the 
 
 monster would do in such a case. 
 
 He would see, in a flash, the end of his dream —a 
 dream which the girl had artfully encouraged — of 
 going back to Virginia some day and Uving the Ufe of 
 a prosperous, godly gentleman. If he thought that 
 she had not seen her lover, might he not kill him im- 
 mediately, and so look to stand as firmly m her favour 
 then as before? What a thought! Again, if he knew 
 that the girl had seen the Virginian, he would have no 
 more use for her. She trembled at thought of what 
 her fate might be. 
 
 In the dining-room Duval and the don drank wine 
 and bartered. At last the don paid over the exorbitant 
 sum demanded by the Canadian for the nine prisoners. 
 Then he began to ask questions. 
 
 "What ship did these fellows belong to?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Now, there was no reason in the world why Duval 
 should not tell the Spaniard what he knew of the 
 truth, but, not liking the fellow, his first thought was 
 to lie to him. 
 
 " They came out of a brig I captured off the coast 
 of Newfoundland," he said. " You will find them 
 
286 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 II ti:. 
 
 • - 1 " I 
 
 rii 
 
 I f - 
 
 hardy lads. And two of them, as I have told you, are 
 gentlemen." 
 
 " And what ore the names of those two ? " asked 
 the don. 
 
 " Bah! What do I know of the names of my pris- 
 oners?" replied Duval. 
 
 " Slaves require no names," agreed the dan. 
 
 He pc.ured more wine foi his guest and himself 
 He was m a great hurcy to get the Canadian out of 
 the hcuso, for the fellow had an uncomfortable way 
 cf staring at the box from which he had just been paid 
 for the slaves, and of looking at the silver on the side- 
 board with calculating eyes. By the time Duval waS 
 ready to go back to his ship the don had forgotten the ' 
 mild curiosity he had once entertained regarding the 
 names cf the men he had bought for so much "good 
 gold. 
 
 At last the schooner got her anchor up and slipped 
 away, out of sight of the tnankful Spaniard and the 
 Island of Madiana. She ran down the narrow sea 
 between the soarin, ncs of xMartinique and Dominica 
 and southward, still past islr.nd- holdings of Spain' 
 France, England, and Holland. There she gathered 
 easy spoil; and all the while her commander planned 
 a brave return against his old enemies in the smoky 
 seas of the north. But on his way to the north he 
 
 r^ 
 
Isobel Looks from Her Window 287 
 
 would stop at a certain smaU, unprotected island and 
 see what the don^s fortune was worth. No doubt the 
 yellov' faced old devil had the price of more than one 
 good ship hidden away. 
 
 To the sunivors of the Brave Adventure the change 
 from Duval's schooner to the doit^s island did not seem 
 at first to be a change for the better. The doit was full 
 of cruelty. He gave his mind to the practice of causing 
 pam, as another man would to some absorbing sport 
 He conceived the torture to suit the particular^case in 
 hand, considermg the temperament and constitution 
 of his victims with scientific nicety. His slaves stood 
 m such terror of him that fear hid their hatreJ. even 
 from themselves. He filled every day of their miserable 
 lives wuh such a dread and apprehension that many 
 of them, seemg no other way of escape, openc 1 for 
 themselves the door of death. If the victim in such a 
 case happened to be old, feeble, or diseased, the word 
 of his self-destruction was received by the doK with 
 every sign of satisfaction; but if, on the other hand, 
 the suicide had been a valuable slave, he feU into the 
 most furious transports of temper. On such an occasion 
 he had gone so far as to have one of his trusted over- 
 seers tied up and flogged. The dor^ promised himself 
 a deal of diversion at the expense of his new English 
 slaves. As they were of a proud ana ourageous race 
 
 j[i-i 
 
. i 
 I' I 
 
 •88 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 if 
 lilll 
 
 1 . 1 ;■ 
 
 m 
 
 I r I s ~ 
 
 i! 
 
 and the children of generations of freemen, subtle 
 cruelty would not be lost upon them. As for his other 
 white slaves — why, like the blacks, they had become 
 so dispirited that they could only be aroused to suffering 
 by physical pain. But this new importation? Ah! 
 he would flay their pride as well as their backs. He 
 would crush them to the soil; break their manhood; 
 set 'hdr natures back a thousand years. 
 
 Tiie wrists of the new slaves were freed, but the 
 irons were kept on their le-s. They were given wide 
 hats of native straw, with the crowns filled with leaves 
 so that the sun wouM not stri.ce them dead. Tliey 
 were dri^•cn like cattle dov.-n a track, between 
 bananas and plantains, to a hillside field of young 
 can:s. Each was given a hoe, of unwieldy shape 
 and extraordinary weight, and was directed by fierce 
 gestures to pulverize the sun-baked clods of soil about 
 the plants. 
 
 Drurie set an example manfully, and the others fol- 
 lowed it, determined to make the best of a bad business 
 for just so long as it was necessary. While their beloved 
 captain worked, they would work; and when he fought, 
 they would fight. They suffered as much from his 
 wounds and his weariness as from their own. 
 
 Aftei two hours of steady work, the lad, Nicholas, 
 reeiea and fell. An overseer shouted at him and 
 
 h iM^. 
 
Isobel Looks from Her Window 289 
 
 cracked thr knotted, rawhide lash of his v.hin Poor 
 NichoL. , tried to regain his feet; tried to pick up the 
 hoe, only to fall again on hands and knees, and so 
 crouch helpless, close to the warm eartli. The overseer 
 cursed furiously. 
 
 Stepping past several of the other labourers, who 
 i.ad paused in theu work to gaze in pitv and dismay 
 at their fallen comrade, he laid his whip, full-swung 
 across the panting body. Nicholas flinched and 
 groaned. The felhw flung the whip back for another 
 olow; but before he could administer it, Drurie had 
 him by the threat, and all the new slaves were jumping 
 tovN-ard him en their shackled feet. He let fall the 
 whip, tore himself clear of the choking fingers, and 
 fled. 
 
 The >hn^s new slaves spent that night on an earthen 
 floor, chained to the timbers of a foul hu^ Young 
 Nicholas was in a raging fever. He rolled from side 
 to side, muttcicd cominuously, and pulled at his 
 shackles. Dcbpair and madness were in thrt black 
 hut; and death lurked withoi ^n the sickening, black 
 night, where a mulatto driver aatted with a musket 
 {'.cross his knees. 
 
 But Drurie's courageous soul was able to derive 
 some ]:ope from the horrors of the past day. It seemed 
 to him that either death or a mure desirable form of 
 
fl i 
 
 )!i 
 
 290 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 M 
 
 I i- 
 
 freedom must soon be theirs, for already every man 
 of them had tasted the lash, and they had all openly 
 attacked their taskmaster. This spirit meant a change 
 of some kind-perhap? death, perhaps freedom. 
 And why not freedom ? 
 
 Surely these other slaves that he had seen suffering 
 in the fields were ready to rise! A sudden attack, a 
 quick death for some, and life for more. And then, if 
 he were fortunate enough to be one of the living, the 
 search for Isobel and her uncle. He recalled' the' fact 
 that one of the overseers had come but slowlv to help 
 subdue the revolt of the morning, and that, thou-h he 
 had snapped his whip diligently enough, he had not 
 struc'. any of the slaves. There was hope m that 
 surely. ' 
 
 If that overseer could be won to his side, it would 
 be no great matter to put an end to the don's reign on 
 the island. Then he remembered the vision that had 
 come to him aboard the Brave Adventure. With hope 
 firm in his heart, he at last fell asleep. He did not 
 know how long he had been unconscious, when a 
 light touch on his shoulder awoke him. He felt that 
 some one stooped close to him. 
 
 " Who's there ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Hush," came the guarded reply. 
 
 He felt a hand on his shoulder and the rim of a cool 
 
Isobel Looks from Her Window 291 
 
 cup ...gainst his lips. He drank eagerly; but the cup 
 was not held straight, and as much of the water spiUed 
 over his chin and breast as passed down his parched 
 throat. But it felt deUcious wherever it touched him. 
 At last the sweet cup was withdrawn. 
 
 'I Who are you?" he whispered. The impact of 
 a light, soft-shod foot sounded twice on the earthen 
 floor. He turned on his de and listened. 
 
 There was only a sound of quiet breathing in the 
 dark. Even Nicholas had ceased his restless muttering 
 The silence of peace filled the black hut as if an angel 
 had soothed it. 
 
 In the garden, on the other side of the wall from the 
 hut and the yard, two persons whispered together. 
 
 One was Isobel, the supposed daughter of the don; 
 the ether was Laroche, the half-caste overseer whom 
 the don had once flogged. 
 
 " When the fight is well begun, they will all be brave 
 enough; but they fear the don worse than the devil 
 himself," said Laroche. 
 
 " It must be planned for the night after to-morrow " 
 whispered the lady. " You and Valois will otYer to 
 take the places of the guards. Give them rum and a 
 little of this money." 
 
 Then they parted. The girl moved toward the house. 
 Laroche returned through the gate in the waU. 
 
^Iffi 
 
 It 
 It I ' 
 
 m 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A PLEASANT TIME BEFORE BREAKFAST 
 
 Very early in the morning, before any food was served 
 to them, the nine new slaves were lined up in the en- 
 closed yard in front of the hut in which they had spent 
 the night. The two overseers who marshalled them 
 had pistols in their belts as well as whips in their hands. 
 Laroche was not one of the two. Nicholas was in the 
 line, leaning weakly against one of his comrades. 
 Now and then a leg-iron clanked. Otherwise, the 
 slaves and their guards waited in silence — the slaves 
 waiting for they knew not what. Over one wall they 
 saw the green crests of palms and the red-tiled roof 
 of the hous?. Over another loomed the stone tower 
 of the windmill. .\ draft of sea air came fanning do^^-n 
 to them, and their hearts sickened with longing for 
 deck and spar. 
 
 A door in the wall, over which the palms crulrj be 
 seen, opened suddenly, and the don jitcppcd into the 
 yard. He was dressed in loose white linen, r. !.at of 
 native straw, and a sash of red silk around hb waist. 
 
 292 
 
:ll: 
 
 A Pleasant Time Before Breakfast ^93 
 
 On his bare feet he wore heelless slippers of slraw. 
 He halted a few paces from the prisoners and looked 
 them over with deliberate menace. Every man of them, 
 save Nicholas, met the black eyes fearlessly. Nicholas' 
 poor lad, was not c^•en aware of the doii's presence. 
 
 ihc Spaniard stared at Drurie with what seemed 
 exaggerated intentness, as if with his glance alone he 
 would force the younger and smaller man to some show 
 of weakness or fear. But in the clear blue eyes and 
 thin face he saw a spirit that challenged and scorned 
 him. He turned to the fellow whose throat had been 
 endangered by Drurie's fingers, and put a brief question 
 in Spanish. For answer, the overseer pointed at the 
 Virgmian. 
 
 " You and your comrades are evidently of the lawless 
 class of English," said the don, leering at Drurie. 
 " I know the country. The men are all either cringing 
 shopkeepers or lawless ruffians. The women! Bah! 
 High and low, they are all equally without virtue." 
 " You are a liar! " said Drurie. 
 " You are a dirty dog! " cried Cremona. 
 The don^s leer deepened. " Lawlessness is a thing 
 I dare not allow on this island," he said. " We live 
 in peace and harmony heie. I do not like to have 
 my slaves attempt to murder the men I set over 
 them." 
 
294 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 He turned to the fellow whom Drurie had attacked 
 on the previous day. " As we are short of hands," 
 he said in Spanish, " and the crop is coming on, we 
 cannot give them as much as I should like just now. 
 Ten lashes apiece will do for to-day. Make haste, 
 for I have not yet had my coffee." 
 
 There were four iron rings in the wall — two high 
 up, two close to the ground. One of the overseers 
 grabbed Drurie by the shoulder and began to push 
 him across the yard toward the wall. 
 
 "Not so fast!" cried the don. "We'll serve our 
 two fine gentlemen last of all. They'll enjoy watching 
 the sport." 
 
 So the ruffian released the Virginian and seized the 
 man who stood next in line. The poor fellow did not 
 resist, though his hands were free. In a trice he was 
 tied to the rings in the wall by wrists and ankles. His 
 tattered shirt was torn roughly from his back. The 
 short-stocked, long-lashed whip was swung back, and 
 at the same moment the other overseer presented his 
 pistols — one at Drurie and one at Cremona. The 
 lashes whistled in the air and descended upon the 
 flinching back. The don began to count aloud. Again 
 the lashes swooped and fell. Again — and this time 
 the blood sprang after the wire-tipped thongs, in dark 
 lines across the white back. And so on, until ten 
 
A Pleasant Time Beiore Breakfast 295 
 
 strokes had been mt odically given and as methodi- 
 cally counted. 
 
 Then, poor Tyler was loosened from the wall, a 
 bucketful of water was sloshed over his back and some 
 sort of ointment v.as applied to the bruised and bleeding 
 flesh. When the cords were untied he fell to the ground 
 in a dead faint. He was carried into {he hut by two 
 negro sla\es; and as soon as he regained consciousness 
 a clean shirt was put upon him, and coffee an I food 
 were given him. It was important that he shculd be 
 able to do his work, for this was a busy season of the 
 year on the li;.le island. The canes in si.\ty acres of 
 the plantation were now ready for the knives of the 
 reapers, and, along with the harvesting and boiling, 
 many acres of young canes had still to be cultivated. 
 
 The two overseers took turn and turn about at 
 applying the whip to the backs of the English mariners. 
 The dtni coun;ed the strokes and frequently cried for 
 more haste, as he had not yet partaken of his first 
 breakfast. When Nicholas was dragged to the wall, 
 Drurie pro'ested at the top of his voice. 
 
 " You fiead," he cried at the don, " can't you see that 
 ten lashes will kill him ? He is already all but dead with 
 the fever." 
 
 The don walked over to Nicholas and examined him 
 closely. " Yes, you are right," he said cooUy. " The 
 
29G 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ! 
 
 mil 
 
 II- h 
 
 fellow cost me money — and, tlso, I am short of hands. 
 It will be a month's time, perl .ps, before I can afford 
 to give any of you your fuh measure of correc- 
 tion." 
 
 The Virginian's only reply was a look of such 
 unutterable hate and scorn that the don flushed under 
 his swarthy skin. 
 
 Last of all, Drurie was untied from the wall and 
 allowed to return to the hut. He walked without 
 assistance, clanking the chain between his feet. His 
 facp was lumiuouj with a desperate pallor, and blood 
 trickled down his lean back. He accepted the washing 
 and dressing without a word, and ate bravely when 
 food was brought to him. He drained his bowl of 
 coHcc to the last drop and then looked at his men, 
 his glance passing tenderly from face to face. 
 
 ^ Keep up your courage, lads," said he, " for a low 
 heart breeds fever — and fever is an enemy from whom 
 I cannct deliver you. As for this swine who thinks 
 lie owns us! Lads, as surely as I was bred in Virginia, 
 ril shov.- Lim to you before many days are gone, with 
 a yard of iron through his bellv." 
 
 IIa^•ing gloated over the sight of Drurie's lacerated 
 bac!: until the gloom of the hut hid it from him, the 
 planter passed again through the door in the wall by 
 v.hich he had entered the yard. By only the width 
 
 ^If^ 
 
 '^^m '^^m..^^i 
 
 '^s^r;^ 
 
A Pleasant Time Before Breakfasf 297 
 
 of one step — by the thickness of the wall — was the 
 whipping- place separated from a garden paradise. 
 In the one were glaring sunshine, terror, iron, and little 
 drops of blood. In the other were blending of shadow 
 and sunlight, rustling of high foliage, great blooms of 
 hybiscus, and petals of red roses on the ground. 
 
 But the dori was indilTerent to the beauty " ^ one 
 as to the ugliness of the other. He wcvy ,arden. 
 
 Therefore, the palms singing in the sca-i ..-^e, lemon- 
 trees leaning above benches of carved stone, along 
 which green lizards darted in their play; therefore, the 
 bells cf the hybiscus flowers and the flaring blooms of 
 the flambeau-trees; therefore, the roses budding and 
 blowing. He must whip his slaves; and, therefore, the 
 unshaded yard, the high wall, and the rings in the 
 masonry 
 
 Alcaz.ido passed under the green branches and 
 flaring blooms and ascended a flight of steps to the 
 gallery of his house. In the cool shade stood a table 
 set for two. Here \\"re white linen and gleaming 
 silver. An old man stood beside the table. 
 
 " Tell the scnorita that I am ready," ordered the 
 don. The old man hurried away. 
 
 In a moment Isobel appcareo, her face as white as 
 the linen on the table and her evr- <A .■..-■r- with 
 tears. Her uncle sneered at her open ■; 
 
fi!^ 
 
 208 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 ilfl^ 
 
 
 ^ ^'^}i}i 
 
 I 
 
 " Well, my daughter, what is the trouble with you ? " 
 lie asked, with mocking tenderness in his voice. 
 
 The girl could not find courage to meet his cruel, 
 searching regard. She was afraid that he might read 
 what was in her heart — the hate, the contempt, the 
 crouching fury that was so soon to strike. 
 
 " I am not well," she faltered. " I feel feverish and 
 weak. I yearn for my home in Virginia." 
 
 He accepted this statement without a suspicion. 
 " You must take some quinine and keep out of the 
 sun," he said. " And as for your home in Virginia — 
 well, you'll get there all in good time, my dear." 
 
 While eight of the new slaves toiled in the fields, 
 and the lad Nicholas lay raving in the dark hut, Isobel 
 and the fellow Laroche went steadily about their hidden 
 work. 
 
 Before evening the little schooner Twelve Apostles 
 put into the lagoon, with a cargo of stores for the 
 island. The hearts of Isobel and Laroche Hfted at the 
 sight of her. 
 
 At last night came, and the men of the Brave Adven- 
 ture dragged themselves back to the hut. They were . 
 chained in their places and fed. Drurie saw that the 
 man on guard was the same fellow who had withheld 
 his hand during the brief revolt of the previous day. 
 He stood in the door of the hut. a black bulk a^^ainst 
 
 m 
 
A Pleasant Time Before Breakfast 299 
 
 the paler dark of the early night. The lads on the 
 earthen floor, with iron in their souls as well as on 
 their limbs, v/ere desperate. Even Cremona had lost 
 all sense of caution. They begged Drurie to let them 
 fight as soon as they were unchained in the morning. 
 
 "Let us ease our souls, a bit, sir, afore we die," 
 pleaded Tyler. " 'Twould be like liquor to us, sir, 
 to kill some o' these fiends." 
 
 " If we do not fight soon, we'll have no strength 
 to fight at all," said Cremona. 
 
 Before Drurie could answer, the guard turned and 
 stepped close to him, and whispered something in 
 Spanish. 
 
 " Tell it to me," said Cremona. " I know the talk." 
 
 Laroche moved to Cremona's side. " You must wait 
 until to-morrow night," he whispered. " Then I will 
 remove the chains and free your hands and your feet 
 and give you each a cutlass. The senorila and I have 
 arranged this. The other slaves are cowards; but they 
 will rise when they know that you are already creeping 
 upon the house. We shall kill the dan and capture the 
 schooner." 
 
 Cremona could scarcely believe the evidence of his 
 ears. 
 
 " Are you honest in this — or is it some new tor- 
 ture?" he asked. 
 

 300 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 i:i ■^ 
 
 pp. 
 fii 
 
 Laroche drew a crucifix from his breast and swore 
 a great oath that he meant every word of what he had 
 said. 
 
 "Then you shall be well paid for it, my friend. 
 The captain is a rich man, and will be generous with 
 you," said Cremona. 
 
 " Nay, I want no money from you," replied Laroche. 
 " The seiiorita has promised me an bc.iourable position 
 and a sum of money — but my reward will be to see 
 the blood of that black dog spurting out." 
 " Who is this sefiorita? " asked Cremona. 
 "They call her the don's daughter," whispered 
 Laroche. " But I do not think this is so, for she hates 
 the dog even as you and I hate him. We have had no 
 courage to strike; but when you came, and the captain 
 there looked as if he feared the don no more than a dead 
 fish, then wc found our courage. So you must keep your 
 hearts covered until I come to you to-morrow night." 
 Without another word, the overseer went noiselessly 
 back to the door of the hut, stood there a few moments 
 with his musket across the hollow of his arm, and 
 then stepped into the yard. From somewhere in the 
 dislance came the voices of the crew of the little 
 schooner. The fellows were singing over their liquor. 
 Cremona crawled as close to Drurie as his chain 
 would allow and whispered him the story of their 
 
 m 
 
A Pleasant Time Before Breakfast 301 
 
 promised deliverance. And so, in fragments, it passed 
 from one to another of the battered company. It put 
 new life into them, and went to their heads like wine. 
 Again the world was theirs, and they saw again the 
 tall spars and white sails of ships and the hills and 
 fields of their distant homes. The glad news set all 
 hearts aglow with hope, save the heart of the lad 
 Nicholas. He, poor fellow, had died quietly even while 
 the overseer whispered in Cremona's ear. 
 
 At last sleep came to them, and silence filled that 
 black hut where eight living men and one dead man 
 lay chained on the earthen floor. Throughout the 
 long night Drurie dreamed of Isobel and Virginia. 
 

 : n 
 
 ill 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 I }. < I 
 
 THE RISING 
 
 Ween Alcazardo heard next morning that one of 
 his new slaves was dead, he fell into a fit of ungovern- 
 able fury. He had spsi -d the fellow a whipping so 
 that he might live — and, behold, the rascal had died, 
 thus cheating the unfonunate don of the pleasure of 
 counting ten more lashes as well as of the price paid 
 to Duval. He raved like a madman; and as for the 
 fellow who brought him the news, he received a blow 
 on the side of the head from a candlestick that laid 
 him flat for half the day. 
 
 Then the doii set out for the field in which the English 
 slaves were at work. He carried in his hand a long and 
 limber stick of the West Indian vine called supple- 
 jack. Upon reaching the toiling, weary fellows, he- 
 laid about him cruelly, striking their aching legs and 
 raw backs with merciless, slashing cuts. 
 
 " I'll soon have you all on the dunghill where your 
 shipmate was thrown this morning," he cried. 
 
 At that, the Virginian's rage overcame his caution. 
 
 302 
 
' n «i '"- 'ii«4""ia; = ■»•— « 
 
 The Rising 
 
 303 
 
 He straightened himself and looked the don up and 
 do\Mi. " You shameless cur! The only white man 
 you are not afraid of is a dead one," he cried. 
 
 Alcazardo sprang at him and struck him fair across 
 the face with the heavy, fibrous stick. Twice he struck 
 — and at the second blow Drurie fell without a sound. 
 
 When Drurie recovered consciousness it was to find 
 himself on the earthen floor of the hut. His face and 
 left eye ached with a dull throbbing that, at the slightest 
 movement, sprang to excruciating activity. He lifted 
 his hand cautiously and felt that his head and face 
 wei-e generously bandaged in damp cloths. At the 
 discovery, thought of the senorita, of whom the over- 
 seer had spoken, came to him. The cloths that bound 
 head and eyes were of fine linen, and a subtle fragrance 
 of lavender exhaled from them. An overseer would 
 have bandaged his wounds with very different material, 
 he reflected. Could it be that the senorita, that mys- 
 terious and merciful being, had tended him with her 
 own hands ? How strongly, sweetly familiar this scent 
 of lavender! 
 
 Francis Drurie felt a light, light touch on his hand. 
 It brought him back from a sweet half dream of Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 " You must drink this," whispered a muffled voice 
 at his ear. He felt a tender arm behind his head and 
 
i .i 
 
 304 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 in 
 
 the cool rim of a cup against his lips. He drank the 
 wine and water, helpless and obedient as a child. 
 
 " Is it the merciful seiiorita? " he asked when the 
 cup was withdra. n. 
 
 "Yes," came the reply, in a faint but ihrilling 
 whisper. 
 
 " I do not ask your reason for planning to save us, 
 but I thank you with all my heart," he said. " If you, 
 too, wish to be saved from this place of des:;air — 
 madam, I ask no questions — I shall blithel)- r:J; my 
 life to save you. It is for the love of one merciiul and 
 beautiful woman that I cling to life — then in the 
 service of another as merciful, and perhaps as beautiful, 
 let me lose it." 
 
 " What is the name of the woman ycu love ? "' 
 asked the voice of the senorita, so low that he could 
 scarcely hear the words. 
 
 " Isobel." replied Drurie frankly. It was lilx food 
 to his hu-.gry heart to speak of his love. 
 
 "Then, for her sake, you must save yourself and 
 me," came the faint reply. " Before midnight your 
 chains shall be unfastened. Be wise and brave. For 
 her sake -— Heaven prosper you, my captain." 
 
 He felt the touch of lips on his hand. Quick as 
 thought, for all the bhndness of his bandaged eyes, he 
 caught one of her hands and pressed it to his lip: 
 
 Ui. 
 
The 
 
 Pvisinj^ 
 
 305 
 
 For houn Druric lay there, alcne, his heart full of 
 hope and cf a strange, sweet excitement. He thought 
 cf ihc' senorita — and it was the vision of Isobel that 
 came to his mind. This was a mad thing, but nc no 
 the less exhilarating for its madness. He gave his 
 imaginatioji free wing. The hand he had kissed 
 became the hand of the beautiful girl he loved. He 
 pictured Isobel in that dank hut, kneeling on the 
 earthen floor and supporting his head on one white and 
 rounded arm and hoMing the cup to his lips. At la^c 
 he heard the shufflmg of naked, blistered feet rnd the 
 clanking of irons, and he knew that the day cf toil 
 was over and the night of deliverance at hand. 
 
 Then reason returned to his brain, but not to his 
 heart. His brain told him that the approaching hour 
 held nothing for him but a battle and the chance of 
 life — or death. Yet his heart played with the mad 
 dream of the girl he loved. 
 
 Food and water vvcre brought to the eight survivors. 
 Even Drurie forced a little of the unsavoury mess 
 down his throat. In broken whispers the plan of the 
 attack was passed along the wall from one to another 
 cf the shackled slaves. 
 
 They were slaves no longer. Already their hearts 
 were free and the chains on their aching bdics for- 
 gotten. Agu.in they were sailors and soldiers, and a 
 
303 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 M 
 
 mi 
 
 II M 
 
 IH 
 
 fight was close at hand. Sweet is rest after strife; 
 but sweeter still is strife after slavery and torture, hope 
 after despair. 
 
 They waited in the dark hut, whispering, joking a 
 little. They could hear the other slaves, in their 
 distant quarters, chanting a wild, tuneless song. 
 
 Hall, a big New Englander, began snapping the 
 joints of his fingers. " I must supple 'em up a bit," he 
 whispered, " so's to get a good grip on the cutlass." 
 
 " Aye, an' mine be as stiff as wood," replied another; 
 " but they'll limber, I reckon, when they feel the shark- 
 skin grip o' a good hanger." 
 
 " There be no cuttin'-tool in the world so sweet to 
 handle as a fust-class English-made hanger," said 
 Tyler, with relish in his tones. 
 
 At last Laroche and two blacks entered the hut. 
 The blacks carried cutlasses wrapped in sacking. 
 Laroche carried a clay jug full of water and rum and 
 fresh limes. He placed 't on the earthen floor and felt 
 his way to where Drurie sat against the wall. He 
 un'ocked the great chain from the Virginian's waist, 
 and then struck off the irons from wrist and leg. And 
 so with the other seven, working swiftly and noiselessly. 
 When all were free, without a word they went to where 
 the two bundles of cutlasses lay on the ground, and 
 each selected a weapon to suit his hand and arm. 
 
The Rising 
 
 307 
 
 Then, also in silence, each drank a measure of the 
 levivifying punch. As there was only one cup they 
 drank in turn, according to their old ratings aboard 
 the Brave Adventure. 
 
 The night was windless and a mist hung between 
 the stars and the earth. Tnc eight, accompanied by 
 Laroche and the two blacks who had brought them 
 their weapons, stole from the hut and across the little 
 yard. Drurie still wore a bandage around his head and 
 over his injured eye; but he had parted the damp 
 and fragrant folds of the linen so that he could see with 
 his right eye. 
 
 At the gate in the wall they divided into two parties. 
 Cremona, with Hall, Waller, and Hogan and the two 
 blacks, went down the slope toward the iagoon where 
 a lantern in the rigging of the little schooner glowed like 
 a red star. Tyler, Benson, and Jarv'is, led by Drurie 
 and Laroche, crawled slowly and noiselessly through 
 the garden toward the house. 
 
 At last, peering between the rose-bushes, Drurie 
 caught sight of the don taking his ease with the master 
 of the Twelve Apostles. The two rascals sat scarcely 
 ten yards away, at a small table at the top of the gallery 
 steps. Two candles stood on the table, the flames 
 straight as darts in the nerveless air. The men were 
 leaning forward, smoking and talking confidentially. 
 
 nuw. tAttr i » 
 
308 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Wr 
 
 m 
 
 Glasses and a round-bellied decanter gleamed between 
 them in the soft glow of the candles. The heart of the 
 decanter, being of choice and ancient rum from Mar- 
 tinique, shone red as a ruby. 
 
 Drurie was motionless as stone, crouched there 
 close to the warm earth, gripping the hilt of his cutlass 
 with fingers as hard as iron. And hio heart was hard 
 as iron, though heated red with hate of the man who sat 
 so close to him, leering behind the candles. 
 
 He thought of his dead servant, the -lad Nicholas, 
 and of the blood springing across the backs of his men. 
 He remembered the stinging, crushing strokes of the 
 stick across his face. His men stirred behind him, 
 (gripping and regripping their weapons and gasping 
 nervously for a full breath of the heavy air. 
 
 Laroche touched Drurie's arm and whispered that 
 the lantern was being lowered from the rigging of the 
 Fchooner. Drurie got quietly to his feet, paused for a 
 moment to hear his men rise behind him, and then 
 (lasiied for the gallery. The table went over with a 
 crash of glass and silver and the candles were trampled 
 imdcr foot. 
 
 " Hold them, lads," cried Drurie. " Do not kill! 
 Tt is for me to kill!" 
 
 In the dark it was hard to know when you were 
 ialling a man and when you were simply trying to keep 
 
 '^m 
 
The Rising 
 
 809 
 
 him from killing you. The lads did their best to obey 
 their commander's orders; but when Laroche came 
 suddenly from the interior of the house with two fresh 
 can:llcs in his hands, the master of the little schooner 
 was found to be lying fiat on the floor of the gallery, 
 stone dead. 
 
 Benson and Jarvis held the don, faint, but uninjured. 
 A cheer rang across from the little ^'essel in the lagoon; 
 and from the direction of the slaves' quarters, where the 
 overseers and drivers had been making merry with the 
 crew of the schooner, came sounds as of wild beasts 
 in mortal combat. 
 
 " Tbcy have lost their fear of the don and his hire- 
 ling?," said Druric, with a shudder. 
 
 3.ro"c candles v.ere brought from the house. Some 
 were placed on the ledges of the windows, and some on 
 the rail of the gallery. The shipmaster's body and 
 the chr-'-s and broken table were tossed into the garden. 
 
 " X Av, lads," said Drurie, " I am going to kill this 
 dog in fair fight. Guard the steps, one of you. Give 
 him a cutlass, some one." 
 
 He turned to the limp figure in the grip of the two 
 Englishmf^n. " I'll give you a chance to die like a man, 
 even if you have never lived like one," he said. 
 
 T.arochc handed his former master a cutlass. " You 
 will remember my back when this gentleman drives a 
 
810 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 foot of iron into your dirty carcass," he said, grin- 
 ning. 
 
 The seamen released Alcazardo. He held the cutlass 
 limply and stood like a man in a dream. 
 
 " Lads," said Drurie, " low as this fellow is, I want 
 to kill him fair. If he disables me, or kills me, you must 
 let him go free — though where to, the devil only knows. 
 He may have a boat hidden somewhere, in which he'll 
 be able to row away to some other island. However 
 that may be, if he beats me in fair fight you must let 
 him go. But you need not fear. I promised to show 
 you his blood, and I'll do it." 
 
 Laroche smiled quietly. He was not bound. by any 
 rules of honesty in matters, of this kind, as were the 
 Virginian and the sailors. He hud his cutlass ready, 
 alert to strike the don at the first sign of his overpower- 
 ing the other. 
 
 Fired with the courage of desperation, the dan 
 attacked strongly, ringing cut after cut on Drurie's 
 guard. Both his eyes were at his service and his arm 
 was long. At first it seemed to the onlookers as if he 
 would surely overcome his small and enfeebled an- 
 tagonist. 
 
 Then, suddenly, Drurie halted in his slow and 
 staggering retreat ; and in the instant of ceasing to 
 retreat he began to advance. He saw that he must make 
 
The Rising 
 
 811 
 
 a great effort, even if at the expense of all his strength. 
 His short blade circled and stabbed — a rapier and a 
 sabre in one. He moved swiftly and lightly, to the 
 right, to the left, and forward. 
 
 Tyler chuckled. Laroche swore softly in admiration. 
 Then the don screamed at the bite of an inch of cold 
 steel in his shoulder and lurched to one side. The 
 candles toppled from the rail into the garden. A back- 
 handed sweep of his blade sent the other candles flying 
 from the window-sill. 
 
 " He's gone! After him, my lads! " cried Drurie. 
 
 The doit had escaped, sure enough. Clearing the 
 railing of the gallery at a bound, he dashed through 
 the rose-garden, through a hedge of flowering shrubs, 
 and into a field of full-grown canes; and hot on his 
 trail dashed Laroche, the three English sailors, and 
 half a dozen blacks. The night was dark and the trail 
 thick with blinds. 
 
 Drurie did not follow his antagonist. He had put 
 every oimce of his strength into the combat with the 
 Spaniard, and now a sudden swirling faintness overtook 
 him. He reeled to the open door and peered within. 
 The great hall was dark; but he made out a gleam of 
 white close in front of hira. 
 
 " Are you safe, senorita? " he cried. Then he fell 
 across the threshold. 
 
„V- olflU. 
 
 312 
 
 A Cavalier of Virginia 
 
 Around the house, and through the canes, the slaves 
 still hunted. Their fierce, exuhant cries rang far and 
 wide over the little island. Cremona and his men 
 held the little schooner. Laroche, three of the English 
 seamen, and a icw blacks guarded the house. They 
 kne\v that as soon as the hunting was over the mad pack 
 would loot and destroy the house. 
 
 " We must hurry, senorita," said Laroche. " Let 
 two of these men carry their captain. We must get 
 aboard the schooner before the beasts outside become 
 quite mad. They have found the rum — and they 
 have tasted blood." 
 
 But at that moment Francis Drurie came back to the 
 world. Looking up, he saw the face of Isobel Dariza 
 close above him, the wonderful eyes agleam with tears. 
 
 " It is another vision," he said, weakly. 
 
 Then the face came closer, and he felt her lips upon 
 his. 
 
 Captain Denis St. Ovide Duval sighted the little 
 island shortly before noon; and as he drew near a 
 small schooner passed across his course, not a mile 
 distant, and headed northward. 
 
 " Let her go," said he. " She'd not be worth the 
 trouble of overhauling." 
 
 When he arrived off the entrance to the lagoon he 
 
The Rising 
 
 313 
 
 beheld a smouldering ruin where the don's fine house had 
 stood; and a mob of wild creatures, armed with cane- 
 knives, shouted defiance from the beach. Had he 
 been foolhardy enough to force a landing he might 
 have stumbled across the lifeless and mutilated body 
 of the Senor Josef Alcazardo. 
 
 THE EXD. 
 
 )