CHAPTER VI. PLANS OF ESCAPE
After that Arabella Bishop went daily to the shed on the wharf withgifts of fruit, and later of money and of wearing apparel for theSpanish prisoners. But she contrived so to time her visits that PeterBlood never again met her there. Also his own visits were growingshorter in a measure as his patients healed. That they all throve andreturned to health under his care, whilst fully one third of the woundedin the care of Whacker and Bronson--the two other surgeons--diedof their wounds, served to increase the reputation in which thisrebel-convict stood in Bridgetown. It may have been no more than thefortune of war. But the townsfolk did not choose so to regard it. Itled to a further dwindling of the practices of his free colleagues and afurther increase of his own labours and his owner's profit. Whackerand Bronson laid their heads together to devise a scheme by which thisintolerable state of things should be brought to an end. But that is toanticipate.
One day, whether by accident or design, Peter Blood came striding downthe wharf a full half-hour earlier than usual, and so met Miss Bishopjust issuing from the shed. He doffed his hat and stood aside to giveher passage. She took it, chin in the air, and eyes which disdained tolook anywhere where the sight of him was possible.
"Miss Arabella," said he, on a coaxing, pleading note.
She grew conscious of his presence, and looked him over with an air thatwas faintly, mockingly searching.
"La!" said she. "It's the delicate-minded gentleman!"
Peter groaned. "Am I so hopelessly beyond forgiveness? I ask it veryhumbly."
"What condescension!"
"It is cruel to mock me," said he, and adopted mock-humility. "Afterall, I am but a slave. And you might be ill one of these days."
"What, then?"
"It would be humiliating to send for me if you treat me like an enemy."
"You are not the only doctor in Bridgetown."
"But I am the least dangerous."
She grew suddenly suspicious of him, aware that he was permittinghimself to rally her, and in a measure she had already yielded to it.She stiffened, and looked him over again.
"You make too free, I think," she rebuked him.
"A doctor's privilege."
"I am not your patient. Please to remember it in future." And on that,unquestionably angry, she departed.
"Now is she a vixen or am I a fool, or is it both?" he asked the bluevault of heaven, and then went into the shed.
It was to be a morning of excitements. As he was leaving an hour or solater, Whacker, the younger of the other two physicians, joined him--anunprecedented condescension this, for hitherto neither of them hadaddressed him beyond an occasional and surly "good-day!"
"If you are for Colonel Bishop's, I'll walk with you a little way,Doctor Blood," said he. He was a short, broad man of five-and-forty withpendulous cheeks and hard blue eyes.
Peter Blood was startled. But he dissembled it.
"I am for Government House," said he.
"Ah! To be sure! The Governor's lady." And he laughed; or perhaps hesneered. Peter Blood was not quite certain. "She encroaches a deal uponyour time, I hear. Youth and good looks, Doctor Blood! Youth andgood looks! They are inestimable advantages in our profession as inothers--particularly where the ladies are concerned."
Peter stared at him. "If you mean what you seem to mean, you had bettersay it to Governor Steed. It may amuse him."
"You surely misapprehend me."
"I hope so."
"You're so very hot, now!" The doctor linked his arm through Peter's."I protest I desire to be your friend--to serve you. Now, listen."Instinctively his voice grew lower. "This slavery in which you findyourself must be singularly irksome to a man of parts such as yourself."
"What intuitions!" cried sardonic Mr. Blood. But the doctor took himliterally.
"I am no fool, my dear doctor. I know a man when I see one, and often Ican tell his thoughts."
"If you can tell me mine, you'll persuade me of it," said Mr. Blood.
Dr. Whacker drew still closer to him as they stepped along the wharf. Helowered his voice to a still more confidential tone. His hard blue eyespeered up into the swart, sardonic face of his companion, who was a headtaller than himself.
"How often have I not seen you staring out over the sea, your soul inyour eyes! Don't I know what you are thinking? If you could escape fromthis hell of slavery, you could exercise the profession of which youare an ornament as a free man with pleasure and profit to yourself. Theworld is large. There are many nations besides England where a man ofyour parts would be warmly welcomed. There are many colonies besidesthese English ones." Lower still came the voice until it was no morethan a whisper. Yet there was no one within earshot. "It is none so farnow to the Dutch settlement of Curacao. At this time of the year thevoyage may safely be undertaken in a light craft. And Curacao need be nomore than a stepping-stone to the great world, which would lie open toyou once you were delivered from this bondage."
Dr. Whacker ceased. He was pale and a little out of breath. But his hardeyes continued to study his impassive companion.
"Well?" he said alter a pause. "What do you say to that?"
Yet Blood did not immediately answer. His mind was heaving in tumult,and he was striving to calm it that he might take a proper survey ofthis thing flung into it to create so monstrous a disturbance. He beganwhere another might have ended.
"I have no money. And for that a handsome sum would be necessary."
"Did I not say that I desired to be your friend?"
"Why?" asked Peter Blood at point-blank range.
But he never heeded the answer. Whilst Dr. Whacker was professing thathis heart bled for a brother doctor languishing in slavery, denied theopportunity which his gifts entitled him to make for himself, PeterBlood pounced like a hawk upon the obvious truth. Whacker and hiscolleague desired to be rid of one who threatened to ruin them.Sluggishness of decision was never a fault of Blood's. He leapt whereanother crawled. And so this thought of evasion never entertained untilplanted there now by Dr. Whacker sprouted into instant growth.
"I see, I see," he said, whilst his companion was still talking,explaining, and to save Dr. Whacker's face he played the hypocrite. "Itis very noble in you--very brotherly, as between men of medicine. It iswhat I myself should wish to do in like case."
The hard eyes flashed, the husky voice grew tremulous as the other askedalmost too eagerly:
"You agree, then? You agree?"
"Agree?" Blood laughed. "If I should be caught and brought back, they'dclip my wings and brand me for life."
"Surely the thing is worth a little risk?" More tremulous than ever wasthe tempter's voice.
"Surely," Blood agreed. "But it asks more than courage. It asks money. Asloop might be bought for twenty pounds, perhaps."
"It shall be forthcoming. It shall be a loan, which you shall repayus--repay me, when you can."
That betraying "us" so hastily retrieved completed Blood'sunderstanding. The other doctor was also in the business.
They were approaching the peopled part of the mole. Quickly, buteloquently, Blood expressed his thanks, where he knew that no thankswere due.
"We will talk of this again, sir--to-morrow," he concluded. "You haveopened for me the gates of hope."
In that at least he tittered no more than the bare truth, and expressedit very baldly. It was, indeed, as if a door had been suddenly flungopen to the sunlight for escape from a dark prison in which a man hadthought to spend his life.
He was in haste now to be alone, to straighten out his agitated mindand plan coherently what was to be done. Also he must consult another.Already he had hit upon that other. For such a voyage a navigator wouldbe necessary, and a navigator was ready to his hand in Jeremy Pitt. Thefirst thing was to take counsel with the young shipmaster, who must beassociated with him in this business if it were to be undertaken. Allthat day his mind was in turmoil with this new hope, and he was sickwith impatience for night and a chance to discuss the matte
r withhis chosen partner. As a result Blood was betimes that evening in thespacious stockade that enclosed the huts of the slaves together with thebig white house of the overseer, and he found an opportunity of a fewwords with Pitt, unobserved by the others.
"To-night when all are asleep, come to my cabin. I have something to sayto you."
The young man stared at him, roused by Blood's pregnant tone out of themental lethargy into which he had of late been lapsing as a result ofthe dehumanizing life he lived. Then he nodded understanding and assent,and they moved apart.
The six months of plantation life in Barbados had made an almost tragicmark upon the young seaman. His erstwhile bright alertness wasall departed. His face was growing vacuous, his eyes were dull andlack-lustre, and he moved in a cringing, furtive manner, like anover-beaten dog. He had survived the ill-nourishment, the excessivework on the sugar plantation under a pitiless sun, the lashes of theoverseer's whip when his labours flagged, and the deadly, unrelievedanimal life to which he was condemned. But the price he was paying forsurvival was the usual price. He was in danger of becoming no betterthan an animal, of sinking to the level of the negroes who sometimestoiled beside him. The man, however, was still there, not yet dormant,but merely torpid from a surfeit of despair; and the man in him promptlyshook off that torpidity and awoke at the first words Blood spoke to himthat night--awoke and wept.
"Escape?" he panted. "O God!" He took his head in his hands, and fell tosobbing like a child.
"Sh! Steady now! Steady!" Blood admonished him in a whisper, alarmed bythe lad's blubbering. He crossed to Pitt's side, and set a restraininghand upon his shoulder. "For God's sake, command yourself. If we'reoverheard we shall both be flogged for this."
Among the privileges enjoyed by Blood was that of a hut to himself, andthey were alone in this. But, after all, it was built of wattles thinlyplastered with mud, and its door was composed of bamboos, through whichsound passed very easily. Though the stockade was locked for the night,and all within it asleep by now--it was after midnight--yet a prowlingoverseer was not impossible, and a sound of voices must lead todiscovery. Pitt realized this, and controlled his outburst of emotion.
Sitting close thereafter they talked in whispers for an hour or more,and all the while those dulled wits of Pitt's were sharpening themselvesanew upon this precious whetstone of hope. They would need to recruitothers into their enterprise, a half-dozen at least, a half-score ifpossible, but no more than that. They must pick the best out of thatscore of survivors of the Monmouth men that Colonel Bishop had acquired.Men who understood the sea were desirable. But of these there were onlytwo in that unfortunate gang, and their knowledge was none too full.They were Hagthorpe, a gentleman who had served in the Royal Navy, andNicholas Dyke, who had been a petty officer in the late king's time, andthere was another who had been a gunner, a man named Ogle.
It was agreed before they parted that Pitt should begin with these threeand then proceed to recruit some six or eight others. He was to movewith the utmost caution, sounding his men very carefully before makinganything in the nature of a disclosure, and even then avoid renderingthat disclosure so full that its betrayal might frustrate the planswhich as yet had to be worked out in detail. Labouring with them inthe plantations, Pitt would not want for opportunities of broaching thematter to his fellow-slaves.
"Caution above everything," was Blood's last recommendation to him atparting. "Who goes slowly, goes safely, as the Italians have it. Andremember that if you betray yourself, you ruin all, for you are the onlynavigator amongst us, and without you there is no escaping."
Pitt reassured him, and slunk off back to his own hut and the straw thatserved him for a bed.
Coming next morning to the wharf, Blood found Dr. Whacker in a generousmood. Having slept on the matter, he was prepared to advance the convictany sum up to thirty pounds that would enable him to acquire a boatcapable of taking him away from the settlement. Blood expressed histhanks becomingly, betraying no sign that he saw clearly into the truereason of the other's munificence.
"It's not money I'll require," said he, "but the boat itself. Forwho will be selling me a boat and incurring the penalties in GovernorSteed's proclamation? Ye'll have read it, no doubt?"
Dr. Whacker's heavy face grew overcast. Thoughtfully he rubbed his chin."I've read it--yes. And I dare not procure the boat for you. It would bediscovered. It must be. And the penalty is a fine of two hundred poundsbesides imprisonment. It would ruin me. You'll see that?"
The high hopes in Blood's soul, began to shrink. And the shadow of hisdespair overcast his face.
"But then..." he faltered. "There is nothing to be done."
"Nay, nay: things are not so desperate." Dr. Whacker smiled a littlewith tight lips. "I've thought of it. You will see that the man who buysthe boat must be one of those who goes with you--so that he is not hereto answer questions afterwards."
"But who is to go with me save men in my own case? What I cannot do,they cannot."
"There are others detained on the island besides slaves. There areseveral who are here for debt, and would be glad enough to spreadtheir wings. There's a fellow Nuttall, now, who follows the trade ofa shipwright, whom I happen to know would welcome such a chance as youmight afford him."
"But how should a debtor come with money to buy a boat? The questionwill be asked."
"To be sure it will. But if you contrive shrewdly, you'll all be gonebefore that happens."
Blood nodded understanding, and the doctor, setting a hand upon hissleeve, unfolded the scheme he had conceived.
"You shall have the money from me at once. Having received it, you'llforget that it was I who supplied it to you. You have friends inEngland--relatives, perhaps--who sent it out to you through the agencyof one of your Bridgetown patients, whose name as a man of honour youwill on no account divulge lest you bring trouble upon him. That is yourtale if there are questions."
He paused, looking hard at Blood. Blood nodded understanding and assent.Relieved, the doctor continued:
"But there should be no questions if you go carefully to work. Youconcert matters with Nuttall. You enlist him as one of your companionsand a shipwright should be a very useful member of your crew. You engagehim to discover a likely sloop whose owner is disposed to sell. Then letyour preparations all be made before the purchase is effected, so thatyour escape may follow instantly upon it before the inevitable questionscome to be asked. You take me?"
So well did Blood take him that within an hour he contrived to seeNuttall, and found the fellow as disposed to the business as Dr. Whackerhad predicted. When he left the shipwright, it was agreed that Nuttallshould seek the boat required, for which Blood would at once produce themoney.
The quest took longer than was expected by Blood, who waited impatientlywith the doctor's gold concealed about his person. But at the end ofsome three weeks, Nuttall--whom he was now meeting daily--informed himthat he had found a serviceable wherry, and that its owner was disposedto sell it for twenty-two pounds. That evening, on the beach, remotefrom all eyes, Peter Blood handed that sum to his new associate, andNuttall went off with instructions to complete the purchase late on thefollowing day. He was to bring the boat to the wharf, where under coverof night Blood and his fellow-convicts would join him and make off.
Everything was ready. In the shed, from which all the wounded men hadnow been removed and which had since remained untenanted, Nuttall hadconcealed the necessary stores: a hundredweight of bread, a quantityof cheese, a cask of water and some few bottles of Canary, a compass,quadrant, chart, half-hour glass, log and line, a tarpaulin, somecarpenter's tools, and a lantern and candles. And in the stockade, allwas likewise in readiness. Hagthorpe, Dyke, and Ogle had agreed to jointhe venture, and eight others had been carefully recruited. In Pitt'shut, which he shared with five other rebels-convict, all of whom wereto join in this bid for liberty, a ladder had been constructed in secretduring those nights of waiting. With this they were to surmount thestockade and gain the ope
n. The risk of detection, so that they madelittle noise, was negligible. Beyond locking them all into that stockadeat night, there was no great precaution taken. Where, after all, couldany so foolish as to attempt escape hope to conceal himself in thatisland? The chief risk lay in discovery by those of their companionswho were to be left behind. It was because of these that they must gocautiously and in silence.
The day that was to have been their last in Barbados was a day of hopeand anxiety to the twelve associates in that enterprise, no less than toNuttall in the town below.
Towards sunset, having seen Nuttall depart to purchase and fetchthe sloop to the prearranged moorings at the wharf, Peter Blood camesauntering towards the stockade, just as the slaves were being drivenin from the fields. He stood aside at the entrance to let them pass, andbeyond the message of hope flashed by his eyes, he held no communicationwith them.
He entered the stockade in their wake, and as they broke their ranksto seek their various respective huts, he beheld Colonel Bishop in talkwith Kent, the overseer. The pair were standing by the stocks, plantedin the middle of that green space for the punishment of offendingslaves.
As he advanced, Bishop turned to regard him, scowling. "Where have youbeen this while?" he bawled, and although a minatory note was normal tothe Colonel's voice, yet Blood felt his heart tightening apprehensively.
"I've been at my work in the town," he answered. "Mrs. Patch has a feverand Mr. Dekker has sprained his ankle."
"I sent for you to Dekker's, and you were not there. You are given toidling, my fine fellow. We shall have to quicken you one of these daysunless you cease from abusing the liberty you enjoy. D'ye forget thatye're a rebel convict?"
"I am not given the chance," said Blood, who never could learn to curbhis tongue.
"By God! Will you be pert with me?"
Remembering all that was at stake, growing suddenly conscious thatfrom the huts surrounding the enclosure anxious ears were listening, heinstantly practised an unusual submission.
"Not pert, sir. I... I am sorry I should have been sought...."
"Aye, and you'll be sorrier yet. There's the Governor with an attack ofgout, screaming like a wounded horse, and you nowhere to be found. Beoff, man--away with you at speed to Government House! You're awaited,I tell you. Best lend him a horse, Kent, or the lout'll be all nightgetting there."
They bustled him away, choking almost from a reluctance that he darednot show. The thing was unfortunate; but after all not beyond remedy.The escape was set for midnight, and he should easily be back by then.He mounted the horse that Kent procured him, intending to make allhaste.
"How shall I reenter the stockade, sir?" he enquired at parting.
"You'll not reenter it," said Bishop. "When they've done with you atGovernment House, they may find a kennel for you there until morning."
Peter Blood's heart sank like a stone through water.
"But..." he began.
"Be off, I say. Will you stand there talking until dark? His excellencyis waiting for you." And with his cane Colonel Bishop slashed thehorse's quarters so brutally that the beast bounded forward all butunseating her rider.
Peter Blood went off in a state of mind bordering on despair. Andthere was occasion for it. A postponement of the escape at least untilto-morrow night was necessary now, and postponement must mean thediscovery of Nuttall's transaction and the asking of questions it wouldbe difficult to answer.
It was in his mind to slink back in the night, once his work atGovernment House were done, and from the outside of the stockade makeknown to Pitt and the others his presence, and so have them join himthat their project might still be carried out. But in this he reckonedwithout the Governor, whom he found really in the thrall of a severeattack of gout, and almost as severe an attack of temper nourished byBlood's delay.
The doctor was kept in constant attendance upon him until long aftermidnight, when at last he was able to ease the sufferer a little by ableeding. Thereupon he would have withdrawn. But Steed would not hear ofit. Blood must sleep in his own chamber to be at hand in case of need.It was as if Fate made sport of him. For that night at least the escapemust be definitely abandoned.
Not until the early hours of the morning did Peter Blood succeed inmaking a temporary escape from Government House on the ground that herequired certain medicaments which he must, himself, procure from theapothecary.
On that pretext, he made an excursion into the awakening town, andwent straight to Nuttall, whom he found in a state of livid panic. Theunfortunate debtor, who had sat up waiting through the night, conceivedthat all was discovered and that his own ruin would be involved. PeterBlood quieted his fears.
"It will be for to-night instead," he said, with more assurance thanhe felt, "if I have to bleed the Governor to death. Be ready as lastnight."
"But if there are questions meanwhile?" bleated Nuttall. He was a thin,pale, small-featured, man with weak eyes that now blinked desperately.
"Answer as best you can. Use your wits, man. I can stay no longer." AndPeter went off to the apothecary for his pretexted drugs.
Within an hour of his going came an officer of the Secretary's toNuttall's miserable hovel. The seller of the boat had--as by lawrequired since the coming of the rebels-convict--duly reported the saleat the Secretary's office, so that he might obtain the reimbursementof the ten-pound surety into which every keeper of a small boat wascompelled to enter. The Secretary's office postponed this reimbursementuntil it should have obtained confirmation of the transaction.
"We are informed that you have bought a wherry from Mr. Robert Farrell,"said the officer.
"That is so," said Nuttall, who conceived that for him this was the endof the world.
"You are in no haste, it seems, to declare the same at the Secretary'soffice." The emissary had a proper bureaucratic haughtiness.
Nuttall's weak eyes blinked at a redoubled rate.
"To... to declare it?"
"Ye know it's the law."
"I... I didn't, may it please you."
"But it's in the proclamation published last January."
"I... I can't read, sir. I... I didn't know."
"Faugh!" The messenger withered him with his disdain.
"Well, now you're informed. See to it that you are at the Secretary'soffice before noon with the ten pounds surety into which you are obligedto enter."
The pompous officer departed, leaving Nuttall in a cold perspirationdespite the heat of the morning. He was thankful that the fellow had notasked the question he most dreaded, which was how he, a debtor, shouldcome by the money to buy a wherry. But this he knew was only a respite.The question would presently be asked of a certainty, and then hellwould open for him. He cursed the hour in which he had been such a foolas to listen to Peter Blood's chatter of escape. He thought it verylikely that the whole plot would be discovered, and that he wouldprobably be hanged, or at least branded and sold into slavery likethose other damned rebels-convict, with whom he had been so mad asto associate himself. If only he had the ten pounds for thisinfernal surety, which until this moment had never entered into theircalculations, it was possible that the thing might be done quicklyand questions postponed until later. As the Secretary's messenger hadoverlooked the fact that he was a debtor, so might the others at theSecretary's office, at least for a day or two; and in that time hewould, he hoped, be beyond the reach of their questions. But in themeantime what was to be done about this money? And it was to be foundbefore noon!
Nuttall snatched up his hat, and went out in quest of Peter Blood.But where look for him? Wandering aimlessly up the irregular, unpavedstreet, he ventured to enquire of one or two if they had seen Dr. Bloodthat morning. He affected to be feeling none so well, and indeed hisappearance bore out the deception. None could give him information; andsince Blood had never told him of Whacker's share in this business, hewalked in his unhappy ignorance past the door of the one man in Barbadoswho would eagerly have saved him in this extremity.
Finally he
determined to go up to Colonel Bishop's plantation. ProbablyBlood would be there. If he were not, Nuttall would find Pitt, and leavea message with him. He was acquainted with Pitt and knew of Pitt's sharein this business. His pretext for seeking Blood must still be that heneeded medical assistance.
And at the same time that he set out, insensitive in his anxiety to thebroiling heat, to climb the heights to the north of the town, Bloodwas setting out from Government House at last, having so far eased theGovernor's condition as to be permitted to depart. Being mounted, hewould, but for an unexpected delay, have reached the stockade ahead ofNuttall, in which case several unhappy events might have been averted.The unexpected delay was occasioned by Miss Arabella Bishop.
They met at the gate of the luxuriant garden of Government House, andMiss Bishop, herself mounted, stared to see Peter Blood on horseback.It happened that he was in good spirits. The fact that the Governor'scondition had so far improved as to restore him his freedom of movementhad sufficed to remove the depression under which he had been labouringfor the past twelve hours and more. In its rebound the mercury of hismood had shot higher far than present circumstances warranted. He wasdisposed to be optimistic. What had failed last night would certainlynot fail again to-night. What was a day, after all? The Secretary'soffice might be troublesome, but not really troublesome for anothertwenty-four hours at least; and by then they would be well away.
This joyous confidence of his was his first misfortune. The next wasthat his good spirits were also shared by Miss Bishop, and that shebore no rancour. The two things conjoined to make the delay that in itsconsequences was so deplorable.
"Good-morning, sir," she hailed him pleasantly. "It's close upon a monthsince last I saw you."
"Twenty-one days to the hour," said he. "I've counted them."
"I vow I was beginning to believe you dead."
"I have to thank you for the wreath."
"The wreath?"
"To deck my grave," he explained.
"Must you ever be rallying?" she wondered, and looked at him gravely,remembering that it was his rallying on the last occasion had driven heraway in dudgeon.
"A man must sometimes laugh at himself or go mad," said he. "Few realizeit. That is why there are so many madmen in the world."
"You may laugh at yourself all you will, sir. But sometimes I think youlaugh at me, which is not civil."
"Then, faith, you're wrong. I laugh only at the comic, and you are notcomic at all."
"What am I, then?" she asked him, laughing.
A moment he pondered her, so fair and fresh to behold, so entirelymaidenly and yet so entirely frank and unabashed.
"You are," he said, "the niece of the man who owns me his slave." But hespoke lightly. So lightly that she was encouraged to insistence.
"Nay, sir, that is an evasion. You shall answer me truthfully thismorning."
"Truthfully? To answer you at all is a labour. But to answer truthfully!Oh, well, now, I should say of you that he'll be lucky who counts youhis friend." It was in his mind to add more. But he left it there.
"That's mighty civil," said she. "You've a nice taste in compliments,Mr. Blood. Another in your place...."
"Faith, now, don't I know what another would have said? Don't I know myfellow-man at all?"
"Sometimes I think you do, and sometimes I think you don't. Anyway, youdon't know your fellow-woman. There was that affair of the Spaniards."
"Will ye never forget it?"
"Never."
"Bad cess to your memory. Is there no good in me at all that you couldbe dwelling on instead?"
"Oh, several things."
"For instance, now?" He was almost eager.
"You speak excellent Spanish."
"Is that all?" He sank back into dismay.
"Where did you learn it? Have you been in Spain?"
"That I have. I was two years in a Spanish prison."
"In prison?" Her tone suggested apprehensions in which he had no desireto leave her.
"As a prisoner of war," he explained. "I was taken fighting with theFrench--in French service, that is."
"But you're a doctor!" she cried.
"That's merely a diversion, I think. By trade I am a soldier--at least,it's a trade I followed for ten years. It brought me no great gear,but it served me better than medicine, which, as you may observe, hasbrought me into slavery. I'm thinking it's more pleasing in the sight ofHeaven to kill men than to heal them. Sure it must be."
"But how came you to be a soldier, and to serve the French?"
"I am Irish, you see, and I studied medicine. Therefore--since it's aperverse nation we are--.... Oh, but it's a long story, and the Colonelwill be expecting my return." She was not in that way to be defraudedof her entertainment. If he would wait a moment they would ride backtogether. She had but come to enquire of the Governor's health at heruncle's request.
So he waited, and so they rode back together to Colonel Bishop's house.They rode very slowly, at a walking pace, and some whom they passedmarvelled to see the doctor-slave on such apparently intimate terms withhis owner's niece. One or two may have promised themselves that theywould drop a hint to the Colonel. But the two rode oblivious of allothers in the world that morning. He was telling her the story of hisearly turbulent days, and at the end of it he dwelt more fully thanhitherto upon the manner of his arrest and trial.
The tale was barely done when they drew up at the Colonel's door, anddismounted, Peter Blood surrendering his nag to one of the negro grooms,who informed them that the Colonel was from home at the moment.
Even then they lingered a moment, she detaining him.
"I am sorry, Mr. Blood, that I did not know before," she said, and therewas a suspicion of moisture in those clear hazel eyes. With a compellingfriendliness she held out her hand to him.
"Why, what difference could it have made?" he asked.
"Some, I think. You have been very hardly used by Fate."
"Och, now...." He paused. His keen sapphire eyes considered her steadilya moment from under his level black brows. "It might have been worse,"he said, with a significance which brought a tinge of colour to hercheeks and a flutter to her eyelids.
He stooped to kiss her hand before releasing it, and she did not denyhim. Then he turned and strode off towards the stockade a half-mileaway, and a vision of her face went with him, tinted with a rising blushand a sudden unusual shyness. He forgot in that little moment that hewas a rebel-convict with ten years of slavery before him; he forgotthat he had planned an escape, which was to be carried into effectthat night; forgot even the peril of discovery which as a result of theGovernor's gout now overhung him.
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