Part 9

Marbury laughed. "You will be all the rage in London--the man who spoke with Long-Sword--and survived!"

"I am not so sure as to London--and I care nothing for being the rage. It is the novelty of the thing that takes me."

"Well, you may quiz him to your heart's content, and I think you will find him, outwardly at least, a gentleman. He impressed me as being of superior birth--however much he may have backslid in his calling--and his manners are the equal of your own."

Jamison had seen them coming down the avenue, and had sent a boat ashore for them. He had not allowed any at the landing, he explained, lest the pirates return, and make trouble.

"Sir Edward Parkington wants to see Long-Sword," said Marbury. "Is he in the cabin, or have you had him taken below."

"He is in the cabin, sir," Jamison answered. "I concluded to put the irons only on his legs--I think that will hold him. If you will step here, sir, I will admit you."

He unlocked the cabin door, and pushed it open, and motioned the guard away.

"Long-Sword, here is Sir Edward Parkington, who would speak with you," he said.--"You will excuse me, sir, I must join Mr. Marbury."

Parkington nodded, and stepped within. The pirate turned, slowly, on the bunk.

"You will pardon me for not rising," he said; "I am a trifle indisposed," and he indicated the irons. "How can I serve you?"

"Say rather how I can serve _you_?" Parkington replied.

Long-Sword laughed shortly. "By finishing what that merchantman bungled--make an end of me, or permit me to make an end of myself."

"You are depressed--a most unusual thing for you."

"Eh--what's that!" the other ejaculated--"a most unusual thing for me!--who are you?"

"A friend," said Sir Edward.

"I caught your name as Parkington, did I not?"

"You did."

"Then I do not even know you, sir--how can you be a friend?"

"Is foreknowledge a prerequisite to friendship?" Sir Edward asked.

"Marry, yes; and even then it is a rare article," said the pirate with a sneer. "I am a victim of that same friendship, so you will permit me to doubt."

"Yes, I know; the faithless friend and the disloyal wife. I----"

"Who are you, sir! Come out of the shadow, if you are not afraid to show yourself, I cannot hurt you, now!"

"Brandon," said Parkington, stepping into the light, "you have, I fear, reached the end of your string."

"De Lysle!" exclaimed the wounded man. "May the Devil take me! What do you here--and under a false name? Did England get too warm for you?"

Parkington nodded. "Something of the sort; so I borrowed another's--a dead man's--for the time."

Brandon laughed, grimly. "Methinks your string is little longer than my own--though I wish you success with the game you are playing, whatever it is."

Parkington took a low stool, from the corner, and sat down.

"The immediate point is to lengthen _your_ string," he said.

"You will help me to escape?" the other asked.

"Yes--I have not forgot the old days, Charles."

Brandon looked at him thoughtfully.

"Why?" he asked, "what is the _quid pro quo_?"

"Nothing whatever, but past deeds. You forget the risk is mine. I put myself in your power, when I came here. A word from you, and I am undone."

"A word from the pirate, taken red-handed? Oh, no! But I will grant anything you ask, in reason and out. I may not cavil with the noose before my nose."

"Wait, then, until I ask it!" laughed Parkington. "How is your wounded shoulder."

"It is nothing--only a broken collar-bone. I have led many a boarding party with worse. It is these damn things that weigh me down," indicating the irons.

"You could swim to shore, if they were off?" queried Parkington.

"Easily. Besides, if I fail, I win anyway."

"And the key to the irons is in Jamison's pocket! Well, it shall be my business to abstract it. And, then, having got it to you, the rest depends upon yourself--aided by my prayers."

"If it is just the same to you, I would prefer you stopped with the key," said Brandon. "I doubt the efficacy of your prayers."

"So be it--I will leave the praying to you."

"How long am I to be kept here?" asked Brandon.

"Only a day or two, I believe. It is the purpose of Captain Jamison to carry you to Annapolis for trial."

"And, in the meantime, you will try for the key?"

"I shall try for the key before I leave the ship," said Parkington. "What troubles me, is an excuse to come back to you when I have it.... Brandon, how long have you been doing--this?"

"You mean, how long have I been sailing under the Jolly Roger? Four years, this spring. It was down in Havana. I fell in with a Captain Sparks. From cards to a duel was an easy transition. I killed Sparks, and, for want of something better to do, I seized his ship, put my sword through his mate--who questioned my authority--and ruled in his stead."

"And took the soubriquet of Long-Sword."

"The men gave me the name for want of a better. My rapier struck them as of unusual length."

"And of unusual strength," said Parkington, "as they, doubtless, were made to realize."

"Yes, I suppose so--they were a trifle unruly, at first, and resented discipline. They came to it, however," and he smiled faintly. "It is a long story, De Lysle, a long story!--too long to tell at this time. I am done with the business, now. I should have quit a year ago. I had made enough, for the present, and it is poor sport, anyway--there is too much blood-letting in it. If I get out of this fix, Long-Sword vanishes forever. I will go home, and live decently. You would better follow my example, De Lysle."

"Not at present, thank you; may be, not at all."

The other looked at him and laughed.

"You are visiting at the--Hedgely Hall, are you?" he asked.

Parkington nodded.

"And there is an eligible daughter?"

Another nod.

"I think I comprehend. And you saw and recognized me, while the master of the house was arranging the terms of a ransom. By the Lord! I wonder what became of the gold?--you might take it, yourself, if it has not been picked up. It must be at the landing, somewhere."

"The ransom was found by Captain Jamison, and returned to Marbury," Parkington explained.

"Well, it is a pity. It would have come handy, I reckon. But, if you get the girl, you will get the money, too. Tell me, did you have this scheme in mind, when you left England?--No--and has your change of name anything to do with it?"

"Damn the change of name!" said Parkington. "It complicates everything, and I do not know how to get rid of it."

"Parkington?--Parkington?--Was not he a friend of Baltimore--one of his women chasers?"

"The same;" and told him, briefly, the story of the wreck, the letters, and the substitution.

Brandon laughed. "And, now, the girl intervenes? I do not see how you can manage it and remain in the Colony. Better give her up and continue your travels.--You are not in love with her?"

"Lord! no!"

"And she?"

"Is not either."

"Then you have only your powers as lady-killer, and being an Englishman, to win out with. Man! man! you better abandon the damsel and move on. It may be pleasant sport, but it is too dangerous."

A heavy step crossed the deck and the door opened, to admit the skipper.

"Sir Edward, I am sent by Mr. Marbury to ask if you would care to look over the ship with him. There is much of interest, I can assure you--these pirates were queer gatherers. Hey, Long-Sword?"

Brandon was not inclined to answer, but Parkington gave him a quick look, and, instantly, he understood. Here was the chance to pick Jamison's pocket, and to give him the key without having to return to the cabin. They must take the opportunity.

"Yes--that they were!" said he. "We sailed many seas and encountered many ships, and they all paid toll. I am sorry we have not aboard all that we gathered--of gold and silver, jewels and women. It is a rare life, skipper, a rare life! Sometime, the fever may catch you, and, then, hey for the Jolly Roger, and farewell to the merchantman."

"Bosh! You are talking to hear yourself talk, Long-Sword," said Jamison. "Your end is going to be enough to keep me straight, even if I want to go wrong. No Jolly Roger for mine, thank God! Sometimes, it pays almost as well to catch a pirate as to be one."

"It pays better in this case," said Brandon, laughing. "What is the reward for me?"

He saw his friend's fingers steal in to the skipper's breeches pocket--and come out empty.

"A thousand guineas!--oh, you are rated high in the profession--right at the top! I calculate, with my share of the prize money and the reward, to settle down in Annapolis, and cruise no more." (Parkington crossed the cabin, idly, to the other side, then stopped close by Jamison.) "Of course, I'll have my barge, and a couple of blacks to row it, and a small schooner to sail the Bay, just to keep my hand and voice in. Oh! it's lucky for me, that I came up the Patuxent this morning, and didn't delay along the Coast until noon!" (The skipper was standing with his thumbs under his armpits, his chest thrown out, his head in the air--his pockets invitingly open.)

"Honesty gains its own reward," said Parkington, slyly slipping in his hand. "Captain Jamison will be an honored citizen of Annapolis, while you, Long-Sword, will be nothing but a bloody memory." (The hand came out, and the key was in it.) "'Tis small profit at the best this being a pirate, and cannot be for long. When the end comes, there is naught remains but to die bravely."

Brandon heaved a sigh of resignation. "I will die game, never fear," he said.

"Oh, it is entirely your concern, how you die!" laughed Parkington. "If you leave it to the mob, the more you cringe and pray the more they will yell."

He took out his snuff box, and extended it to him.

"Yes, thank you!" said Brandon. "You are very kind, indeed."

Parkington crossed to the bunk, thereby throwing himself between the skipper and the prisoner, and with his back to the former. When he stepped aside, the key was in the other's possession.

"Thank you, monsieur, thank you, heartily," said Brandon--"it is delicious, delicious! May I impose on you for another pinch--I lost my box during the fight?"

Parkington handed him the box, and, this time, he was careful to stand so that the skipper could see distinctly.

"Accept it as a gift," said he. "As a slight return for an hour pleasantly spent.--Nay, I insist; I must to Mr. Marbury, so permit me to wish you, sir, a very good morning."

And with a bow and a smile, he preceded the skipper to the deck.

"Nerve, hasn't he?" said the skipper. "One would never know he has a broken collar-bone, and heavy irons on his legs."

"He will die like a gentleman."

"He confided in you, sir?" Jamison asked, eagerly.

"No--that is the last thing a gentleman would do. He was Long-Sword when taken, he will die as Long-Sword. When do you sail for Annapolis?"

"To-morrow--as soon as the inventory is completed.--She is not as rich, sir, as I anticipated, but there will be a plenty, sir, a plenty."

"Ha, Sir Edward, this is a peculiar proceeding--taking account of a pirate ship," said Marbury. "I don't know the law of such prizes, but I'll be on the safe side; no King's deputy is going to pick things over without any one to check him."

"A wise precaution, and an interesting transaction,--in fact, a wholly enjoyable occasion," Parkington answered. "Jewels, money, gay apparel,--everything to appeal to one. You have got well into it, I see," pointing to the deck.

"We have finished it, so far as such things are concerned--that is, we have finished the collecting. They must have lately buried or spent their ill-gotten gains; this is the gatherings of only a comparatively short time, I think.

"For these things make us duly thankful!" laughed Parkington.

"Oh! I am not complaining, and neither, I fancy, is Jamison. I am satisfied--more than satisfied. Here is a diamond brooch, worth at least five hundred pistoles--and another--and another. They were in Long-Sword's cabin. And this bezelled ruby, equally as valuable; and this emerald, bigger than the others, I know not the worth of. There is much gold and silver, too, and many rings and--well, I should put it all at twenty thousand pounds, though half may be too much. Then, there is the ship itself--and Jamison and the crew have the reward to boot. Oh, he can leave the sea, and settle down, if he is so minded."

Parkington looked down at the pile of plunder at his feet. Marbury had been modest in his estimate, he knew. It may, as he said, have been the pickings of a short cruise, but it was a rich prize, then, that they had gathered. There were jewels of many kinds and many sizes, other than the few Marbury had enumerated. Dozens of pearls, and sapphires, rubies and diamonds--set in rings, and singly--encrusted in daggers, and swords, and fans. Great heaps of stuffs: silks and laces, tapestries and damaskins.

"Mr. Marbury's valuation is much too low," said he, looking at Jamison.

"Do you think so, sir? Well, the bigger the value the better." He plunged his hands into his breeches pocket and squared away. "I do not--Why, where, in hell, is the key!" he cried.

"What key!" demanded Marbury.

"The key to the irons--Long-Sword's irons; I had it an hour ago--here, in my pocket!--I----"

"Then you, doubtless, lost it in the confusion of gathering all this plunder," said Parkington.

"And it is no great matter, anyway," Marbury remarked. "You don't intend to remove the irons, so long as Long-Sword is in your custody, do you?"

"No, most assuredly not!"

"Then the Annapolis authorities can cut them off at their leisure, if they have not a key. They are locked on now, which is the essential thing."

"How do you suppose I lost it? I----"

"Never mind how you lost it," said Marbury, impatiently. "You have got the man, so nothing else matters. I want to finish the inventory, and get back to the house. Sir Edward, do not let me keep you, if you wish to return.--You have had your talk with Long-Sword?"

"Yes--and you are right--he is well born, though, of course, as to that, he kept silent. He was ready enough, however, to talk over his pirate days--he recognizes the inevitable and accepts it. There will be no snivelling from him, I think."

"He may be a pirate, but to my mind, he is pretty much of a man. Jamison, let Sir Edward be put ashore."

"Well, it is up to Brandon, now," Parkington reflected as he stepped from the boat, at the landing, and turned toward the house. "And, unless I am not much mistaken, there will be a pirate chief missing, in the morning. And, pray God, he wins out! Who would have thought Sir Charles Brandon would ever have become a buccaneer? He was the gayest of us all, until, one evening, he surprised his wife in his friend's arms. He killed the friend at the next day-break, then disappeared; we never saw him more! And to think, that Long-Sword the Corsair is he! Long-Sword! they named him well--there was not a man, in all England, who could stand up before him with a hope of success. Many is the trick of fence he has taught me--and other tricks, as well. I would I could help him more--yet, I have done all I can. The couple of guineas, I concealed in the snuff-box, may be of assistance; I could manage no more. That devil of a skipper came a bit too soon." ... He walked a little way, in silent meditation. Then shook himself, like one throwing off a spell. "High ho! I am becoming morbid. When the devil drives, the road is apt to be a trifle rough, in spots. Brandon's fortunes are his own--I must not let them affect me.... To marry or not to marry?--to make the maid care for me or not?--and whether the maid can be made to care or not?--that is the question. And, more important still, shall I or shall I not doff the masquerade? Poof! I am growing childish--I cannot make up my mind. To-morrow--to-morrow--to-morrow! To-morrow is another day!--but, to-morrow never comes! Bah! I will decide _to-day_!"

XII

MAYNADIER'S DREAM

The ladies came back from Rose Hill, just before supper, accompanied by Mr. Richard Maynadier and Mr. Bordley, who had stopped the night with him.

It was to the calm and peaceful Hedgely Hall of yesterday, that they returned, not the one of turmoil and stress, which they had left that morning. There were no traces of a struggle around the place; the grounds were as usual, the house as usual, the servants as usual. The only evidence that remained, were the scars on the rear door, and even those had been almost obliterated.

"It is all a fairy tale!" laughed Richard Maynadier, "this wonderful story of pirates, and ransom, and their chief being in manners a gentleman, bowing and scraping as though he were doing the minuet. I do not believe a word of it."

"No one asked you to believe it!" retorted Miss Marbury, with a toss of her head, "and, what is more, no one cares whether you do or whether you do not."

"You said that as if you meant it," said Maynadier with an amused smile, "and you said it very prettily, Judith,--but can you assume to answer for all your party?"

"You know perfectly well that 'no one' is equivalent to I," she answered, with another toss.

"Then I is equivalent to no one, and no one comprehends any one, and any one comprehends every one, and every one----"

"Dick!" she cried: "Stop it! stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Winding yourself into a ball."

"I thought I was deducing a fact."

"Well, stop it! Besides, I do not care for the fact--and neither do I care for you, sir."

"Is _that_ a fact?" he asked.

"It is," she answered. "Very much a fact."

"Are you sure--quite sure?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Because, if you are----"

"Yes?" she inflected.

"I will be obliged to----"

"You will be obliged to what?"

"To modify my opinion of----"

"Your opinion does not concern me," she said indifferently.

"So, I assumed; but, nevertheless, I modify it in regard to the pirates. I accept everything you tell, absolutely--the pirate chief and all his mannerisms, included.--Now, do you care for me?"

"You are sincere--you believe it, every word?"

"Every word," he averred.

"Well, in that event, I may care for you to-morrow."

"And to-day--this evening?"

She shook her head. "No--you must pay penalty for a little while. I am going to give this evening to Sir Edward Parkington," she said, as he swung her out of the saddle, and added: "He, I know, cares." Then ran hurriedly up the steps, and into the house.

Richard Maynadier hastily turned the horses over to a groom, and made to follow her, reconsidered, and went on to the library.

This was a new twist in her character, savoring more of the spoiled beauty, than of the equal-tempered Judith he had known. And he was not so sure that he did not like it. She had the beauty to justify it, the poise to make it alluring--and the wealth to make it permissible, even if she had neither of the other two.

"I might almost, if I were a younger man," he reflected, "think she was trying to make a fool of me, or else was in love with me. But, as I can not think either, she must just be trying her hand on the old friend, who will not misunderstand. Sir Edward Parkington!--'he, I know, cares!' Well, my lady, do not presume with him too far. He is one, I fancy, who is apt to take whatever comes his way."

At supper, Parkington was placed at her right and Herford on the left, and he observed that the former exerted his privilege, and monopolized the conversation. Herford, several times, tried to break in, but was always manoeuvred out of it; and, presently, with a somewhat bad grace, he gave over, and, thereafter, Parkington had it all his own way.

And Judith seemed to encourage him, at least, she did nothing to discourage; she was blindly oblivious to Herford's efforts, gave him no assistance, and welcomed Sir Edward back into the talk with almost flattering eagerness. Whereat, Maynadier was puzzled, and a trifle surprised. Here, also, was a new twist in her character.

A little later, when he was strolling alone down the avenue, he was joined by Herford, who, after a few minutes' talk, said bluntly:

"Maynadier, am I right in supposing you have no particular interest in Sir Edward Parkington?"

"What do you intend by 'particular interest'?" asked Maynadier.

"Friendship--friendship as distinguished from acquaintanceship."

"If you mean, am I an acquaintance rather than a friend of Sir Edward Parkington, I should say, yes."

"Then you have no objection, if I speak plainly?"

"None whatever," said Maynadier. "I am not his sponsor, and neither am I responsible for what you say."

Herford nodded. "Did it ever strike you that there is something queer about him?" he asked.

"No, it did not. On the contrary, I think that he is possessed of faculties far above the ordinary."

"I expressed myself poorly," said Herford. "I meant that he is not what he seems."

Maynadier was silent.

"There is something about him which raises a doubt," Herford went on.

"A doubt as to his personality, or a doubt as to his good repute?" asked Maynadier.

"As to the latter," was the sneering reply, "he is a friend of Baltimore--which is sufficient to put him under a standing suspicion. As to his personality, I do not mean that he is _not_ Sir Edward Parkington--his letters were entirely regular--but that he is playing a part. He does not ring true. I cannot tell just what it is, Maynadier, but it is. How does he impress you?"

"No! no! Herford," said Maynadier. "I did not engage to swap confidences with you, concerning Sir Edward Parkington. All I said was that _you_ might speak plainly concerning him, if you so wished."

"I do not ask for your confidence," said Herford. "I recognize that you are of the Council, and may know matters which are not for us----"

"The Council has no information whatever, concerning Sir Edward," Maynadier interrupted.

"Which goes to show that he is not an agent of the government."

("Which goes to show nothing of the sort," thought Maynadier.)

"And that he is here solely on his own account. As I said, I do not know what makes me suspicious, but I am. Did you notice him with Miss Marbury--ever since we came here, it has been going on--but especially to-night. He has fascinated her."

"Oh! I think not," said Maynadier. "She is the gracious hostess to her guest, who happens to be a man of prominence--nothing more. And, even if he has fascinated her, how does it concern either of us? She has a father and a brother, who are amply able to care for her. Furthermore, as to your proposition, it proves nothing, except that he is much above the average in attractiveness."

"But you could warn them."

"Warn them of what?" said Maynadier, smiling.

"Of the danger."

"The danger of what?"

"Of her showing him so much encouragement."

"And be laughed at for my pains--or shown the door."

"Your intimacy with the Marburys will permit it."

"Intimacy never warrants presumption."

"Friendship does."

"Besides I do not agree with you."

"You are blind!" declared Herford, "as blind as the Governor, himself."

"And how is his Excellency afflicted?"

"In blindness, as to his niece. The fellow is there all the time--morning, afternoon and night."

"And you would change places with him!" said Maynadier, with a laugh.

"I would," Herford answered, promptly, (and Maynadier liked him for it) "but that is not my reason. Were he one whom we knew--one of the men of Maryland--Miss Stirling might favor him, and I have no fault to find. But this is different. An Englishman, with a title, and unsavory antecedents will bear the closest watching."

"Give yourself no concern, Herford," said Maynadier. "If ever there was a girl capable of taking care of herself, and, at the same time, getting the most out of life and its opportunities, it is Miss Stirling. There is no chance of her head being turned by Sir Edward Parkington's attentions. She knows his world and his likes, and will give to his conduct the value it deserves."

"I wish I could think so," said Herford.