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Prisoners of Chance

by Randall Parrish · English · Gutenberg #17856 · 645,002 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Prisoners of Chance

Author: Randall Parrish

Illustrator: Margaret West Kinney
        Troy Kinney


        
Release date: February 25, 2006 [eBook #17856]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17856

Credits: Produced by Al Haines


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONERS OF CHANCE ***




Produced by Al Haines










[Frontispiece: I could merely clasp the hands she gave so unreservedly
into my keeping, gaze into the depths of her dark eyes, and murmur a
few broken words of confidence and farewell.]






PRISONERS OF CHANCE

THE STORY OF WHAT BEFELL GEOFFREY BENTEEN, BORDERMAN, THROUGH HIS LOVE
FOR A LADY OF FRANCE



BY

RANDALL PARRISH





Author of "When Wilderness was King," "My Lady of the North," "Bob
Hampton of Placer," etc.





ILLUSTRATED IN FULL COLOR BY THE KINNEYS




CHICAGO

A. C. McCLURG & CO.

1908




COPYRIGHT

A. C. McCLURG & CO.

1908



Entered at Stationers' Hall, London


All rights reserved


Published March 28, 1908



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.




CONTENTS


FOREWORD


CHAPTER

      I  THE REQUEST FOR AID
     II  A PERILOUS VENTURE
    III  A VISIT TO THE FLAG-SHIP
     IV  WE HOLD A COUNCIL OF WAR
      V  ON THE DECK OF THE "SANTA MARIA"
     VI  THE ROLE OF PÈRE CASSATI
    VII  THE CHEVALIER DE NOYAN
   VIII  FAVORED OF THE GODS
     IX  THE BIRTH OF THE DEATH-DAWN
      X  A COVERT IN THE CANE
     XI  A NIGHT IN THE BOAT
    XII  WE LAND AN ODD FISH
   XIII  WE GAIN A NEW RECRUIT
    XIV  THE MOUTH OF THE ARKANSAS
     XV  A PASSAGE AT ARMS
    XVI  WE CHANGE OUR COURSE
   XVII  WE MEET WITH AN ACCIDENT
  XVIII  A HARD DAY'S MARCH
    XIX  DEMON, OR WHAT?
     XX  BACKS TO THE WALL
    XXI  THE STRONGHOLD OF THE NATCHEZ
   XXII  PRISONERS IN THE TEMPLE
  XXIII  THE VOTE OF DEATH
   XXIV  THE DAUGHTER OF THE SUN
    XXV  A VISITANT FROM THE SUN
   XXVI  THE CHRONICLES OF THE NATCHEZ
  XXVII  A VENTURE IN THE DARK
 XXVIII  SPEECH WITH NALADI
   XXIX  IN AND OUT THE SHADOW
    XXX  UNDERGROUND
   XXXI  WE MOUNT THE CLIFF
  XXXII  CHIEF PRIEST OF THE SUN
 XXXIII  PERE ANDRÉ LAFOSSIER
  XXXIV  THE TALE OF THE PRIEST
   XXXV  NIGHT AND THE SAVAGES
  XXXVI  THE INTERFERENCE OF THE JESUIT
 XXXVII  THE DEAD BURY THEIR DEAD




ILLUSTRATIONS


I could merely clasp the hands she gave so unreservedly into my
keeping, gaze into the depths of her dark eyes, and murmur a few broken
words of confidence and farewell. . . . _Frontispiece_

Had I ventured upon a smile at his predicament he would have popped
instantly forth again.

"I am the Daughter of the Sun.  These are my children, given unto me by
the great Sun-god. . . .  None of white blood may set foot in this
valley and live."

The woman stood gazing intently down, her red robe sweeping to her
feet; below the flaring torches in the hands of her barbaric followers
cast their light full upon her.




FOREWORD

The manuscript of this tale has been in my possession several years.
It reached me through natural lines of inheritance, but remained nearly
forgotten, until a chance reading revealed a certain historic basis;
then, making note of correspondences in minor details, I realized that
what I had cast aside as mere fiction might possess a substantial
foundation of fact.  Impelled by this conviction, I now submit the
narrative to public inspection, that others, better fitted than I, may
judge as to the worth of this Geoffrey Benteen.

According to the earlier records of Louisiana Province, Geoffrey
Benteen was, during his later years, a resident of La Petite Rocher, a
man of note and character among his fellows.  There he died in old age,
leaving no indication of the extent of his knowledge, other than what
is to be found in the yellowed pages of his manuscript; and these
afford no evidence that this "Gentleman Adventurer" possessed any
information derived from books regarding those relics of a prehistoric
people, which are widely scattered throughout the Middle and Southern
States of the Union and constitute the grounds on which our century has
applied to the race the term "Mound Builders."

Apparently in all simplicity and faithfulness he recorded merely what
he saw and heard.  Later research, antedating his death, has seemingly
proven that in the extinct Natchez tribe was to be found the last
remnant of that mysterious and unfortunate race.

Who were the Mound Builders?  No living man may answer.  Their
history--strange, weird, mysterious--stretches backward into the dim
twilight before tradition, its sole remaining record graven upon the
surface of the earth, vaguely guessed at by those who study graves;
their pathetic ending has long been pictured in our country's story as
occurring amid the shadows of that dreadful midnight upon the banks of
the Ocatahoola, when vengeful Frenchmen put them to the sword.  Whence
they came, whether from fabled Atlantis, or the extinct Aztec empire of
the South, no living tongue can tell; whither fled their remnant,--if
remnant there was left to flee,--and what proved its ultimate fate, no
previous pen has written.  Out from the darkness of the unknown,
scarcely more than spectral figures, they came, wrote their single line
upon the earth's surface, and vanished, kings and people alike sinking
into speechless oblivion.

That Geoffrey Benteen witnessed the tragic ending of this strange
people I no longer question; for I have compared his narrative with all
we moderns have learned regarding them, as recorded in the pages of
Parkman, Charlevoix, Du Pratz, and Duponceau, discovering nothing to
awaken the slightest suspicion that he dealt with other than what he
saw.  More, I have traced with exactitude the route these fugitives
followed in their flight northward, and, although the features of the
country are greatly altered by settlements of nearly two hundred years,
one may easily discern evidence of this man's honesty.  For me it is
enough to feel that I have stood beside the massive tomb of this
mysterious people--a people once opulent and powerful, the warriors of
forgotten battle-fields, the builders of lost civilizations, the
masters of that imperial domain stretching from the Red River of the
North to the sea-coast of the Carolinas; a people swept backward as by
the wrath of the Infinite, scourged by famine, decimated by pestilence,
warred against by flame, stricken by storm, torn asunder by vengeful
enemies, until a weakened remnant, harassed by the French sword, fled
northward in the night to fulfil the fate ordained of God, and finally
perished amid the gloomy shadows of the grim Ozarks, bequeathing to the
curious future neither a language nor a name.

But this I leave with Geoffrey Benteen, and turn to my own simpler
task, a review of the peculiar circumstances leading up to this
narrative, involving a brief chapter from the records of our Southwest.

The early history of the Province of Louisiana is so complicated by
rapid changes in government as to confuse the student, rendering it
extremely difficult to comprehend correctly the varied and conflicting
interests--aristocratic, official, and commercial--actuating her
pioneer colonists.  The written records, so far as translated and
published, afford only a faint reflection of the varied characteristics
of her peculiar, changing population.  The blue-eyed Arcadian of her
western plateaus, yet dreaming upon his more northern freedom; the
royalist planter of the Mississippi bottoms, proud of those broad acres
granted him by letters-patent of the King; the gay, volatile,
passionate Creole of the town, one day a thoughtless lover of pleasure,
the next a truculent wielder of the sword; the daring smugglers of
Barataria, already rapidly drifting into open defiance of all legal
restraint; together with the quiet market gardeners of the
_Côte-des-Allemands_, formed a heterogeneous population impossible to
please and extremely difficult to control.

Varied as were these types, yet there were others, easy to name, but
far more difficult to classify in their political relationships--such
as priests of the Capuchin order; scattered representatives of Britain;
sailors from ships ever swinging to the current beside the levee;
sinewy backwoodsmen from the wilds of the Blue Ridge; naked savages
from Indian villages north and east; raftsmen from the distant waters
of the Ohio and Illinois, scarcely less barbarian than those with
redder skin; Spaniards from the Gulf islands, together with a negro
population, part slave, part free, nearly equal in point of numbers to
all the rest.

And over all who was the master?

It would have been difficult at times to tell, so swiftly did change
follow change--Crozat, Law, Louis the Fifteenth, Charles the Third,
each had his turn; flag succeeded flag upon the high staff which, ever
since the days of Bienville, had ornamented the Place d'Armes, while
great merchants of Europe played the occupants of thrones for the
bauble of this far western province, whose heart, nevertheless,
remained forever faithful to sunny France.

As late as 1768 New Orleans contained scarcely more than three thousand
two hundred persons, a third of these being black slaves.  Sixty-three
years previously Bienville had founded Louisiana Province, making
choice of the city site, but in 1763 it suited the schemes of him, who
ruled the destinies of the mother country, to convey the yet struggling
colony into the control of the King of Spain.  It was fully two years
later before word of this unwelcome transfer reached the distant
province, while as much more time elapsed ere Don Antonio de Ulloa, the
newly appointed Spanish governor, landed at New Orleans, and, under
guard of but two companies of infantry, took unto himself the reins.
Unrest was already in the air,--petitions and delegations laden with
vehement protests crossed the Atlantic.  Both were alike returned,
disregarded by the French King.  Where it is probable that a single
word of wise counsel, even of kindly explanation, might have calmed the
rising tumult, silence and contempt merely served to aggravate it.

It has been written by conscientious historians that commercial
interests, not loyalty to French traditions, were the real cause of
this struggle of 1768.  Be that as it may, its leaders were found in
the Superior Council, a body of governors older even than New Orleans,
of which the patriotic Lafrénière was then the presiding officer, and
whose membership contained such representative citizens as Foucault,
Jean and Joseph Milhet, Caresse, Petit, Poupet, a prominent lawyer.
Marquis, a Swiss captain, with Bathasar de Masan, Hardy de Boisblanc,
and Joseph Villere, planters of the upper Mississippi, as well as two
nephews of the great Bienville, Charles de Noyan, a young ex-captain of
cavalry, lately married to the only daughter of Lafrénière, and his
younger brother, a lieutenant in the navy.

On the twenty-seventh of October, 1768, every Frenchman in Louisiana
Province was marching toward New Orleans.  That same night the guns at
the Tehoupitoulas Gate--the upper river corner--were spiked; while yet
farther away, along a narrow road bordering the great stream, armed
with fowling pieces, muskets, even axes, the Arcadians, and the aroused
inhabitants of the German coast, came sweeping down to unite with the
impatient Creoles of the town.  In the dull gray of early morning they
pushed past the spiked and useless cannon, and, with De Noyan and
Villere at their head, forced the other gates and noisily paraded the
streets under the _fleur de lis_.  The people rose _en masse_ to greet
them, until, utterly unable to resist the rising tide of popular
enthusiasm, Ulloa retired on board the Spanish frigate, which slipped
her cables, and came to anchor far out in the stream.  Two days later,
hurried no doubt by demands of the council, the governor set sail for
the West Indies, leaving the fair province under control of what was
little better than a headless mob.

For now, having achieved success, the strange listlessness of the
Southern nature reasserted itself, and from that moment no apparent
effort was made to strengthen their position--no government was
established, no basis of credit effected, no diplomatic relations were
assumed.  They had battled for results like men, yet were content to
play with them like children.  For more than seven months they thus
enjoyed a false security, as delightful as their sunny summer-time.
Then suddenly, as breaks an ocean storm, that slumbering community was
rudely aroused from its siestas and day-dreaming by the report that
Spaniards were at the mouth of the river in overwhelming force.

Confusion reigned on every hand; scarcely a hundred men rallied to
defend the town; yet no one fled.  The Spanish fleet consisted of
twenty-four vessels.  For more than three weeks they felt their
uncertain way around the bends of the Mississippi, and on the
eighteenth of August, 1769, furled their canvas before the silent
batteries.  Firing a single gun from the deck of his flag-ship, the
frigate "Santa Maria," Don Alexandro O'Reilly, accompanied by
twenty-six hundred chosen Spanish troops and fifty pieces of artillery,
landed, amid all the pomp of Continental war, taking formal possession
of the province.  That night his soldiers patrolled the streets, and
his cannon swept the river front, while not a Frenchman ventured to
stray beyond the doorway of his home.

Within the narrow space of two days the iron hand of Spain's new
Captain-General had closed upon the leaders of the bloodless
insurrection, his judgments falling with such severity as to earn for
him in the annals of Louisiana the title of "Cruel O'Reilly."  Among
those of the revolutionists before mentioned, Petit, Masan, Doucet,
Boisblanc, Jean Milhet, and Poupet were consigned to Moro Castle,
Havana, where they remained a year, and then were stripped of their
property and forbidden ever again to enter the province of Louisiana.
The younger Bienville escaped with the loss of his fortune.  Foucault
met his fate resisting the guard on board the "Santa Maria," where he
was held prisoner; while Lafrénière, De Noyan, Caresse, Marquis, and
Joseph Milhet were condemned to be publicly hanged.  The earnest
supplication, both of colonists and Spanish officials, shocked by the
unjust severity of this sentence, sufficed to save them from the
disgrace of the gallows, but fated them to fall before the volley of a
file of grenadiers.

With the firing of the sunset gun the evening of their last earthly
day, the post-captain visited the condemned men, and spoke with each in
turn; they numbered five.  All through the dark hours of that night
heavily armed sentries stood in the narrow passageway before
nail-studded doors, while each hour, as the ship's bell struck, the
Commandant of Marine peered within each lighted apartment where rested
five plainly outlined forms.  With the first gray of the dawn the
unfortunate prisoners were mustered upon deck, but they numbered only
four.  And four only, white faced, yet firm of step and clear of eye,
stood an hour later with backs to the rising sun and hearts to the
levelled rifles, and when the single volley had echoed and reechoed
across the wide river, the white smoke slowly lifting and blown away
above the trees, only four lifeless bodies lay closely pressed against
the red-brick wall--the fifth condemned man was not there: _Chevalier
Charles de Noyan had escaped his fate_.  Like a spirit had he vanished
during those mysterious hours between midnight and dawn, leaving no
trace of his going save a newly severed rope which hung dangling from a
foreyard.

But had he escaped?

That morning--as we learn from private letters sent home by officers of
the Spanish fleet--there came to the puzzled O'Reilly a report that in
the dense blackness of that starless night a single boat sought to slip
silently past beneath the deep shadows of the upper battery.  Unhalting
in response to a hail of the sentry, a volley was hastily fired toward
its uncertain outline, and, in the flare of the guns, the officer of
the guard noted the black figure of a man leap high into air, and
disappear beneath the dark surface of the river.  So it was the
Captain-General wrote also the name "Charles de Noyan" with those of
the other four, endorsing it with the same terse military record, "Shot
at sunrise."

Nor since that fateful hour has the world known otherwise, for,
although strange rumors floated down the great river to be whispered
about from lip to lip, and New Orleans wondered many a long month
whither had vanished the fair young wife, the daughter of Lafrénière,
yet no authentic message found its way out of the vast northern
wilderness.  For nearly one hundred and fifty years history has
accepted without question the testimony of the Spanish records.  The
man who alone could tell the strange story was in old age impelled to
do so by a feeling of sacred duty to the dead; and his papers,
disarranged, ill-written, already yellowed by years, have fallen to my
keeping.  I submit them without comment or change, save only as to the
subdivision into chapters, with an occasional substitution for some
old-time phrase of its more modern equivalent.  He who calls himself
"Geoffrey Benteen, Gentleman Adventurer," shall tell his own tale.

R. P.




Prisoners of Chance


CHAPTER I

THE REQUEST FOR AID

I am Geoffrey Benteen, Gentleman Adventurer, with much experience upon
the border, where I have passed my life.  My father was that Robert
Benteen, merchant in furs, the first of the English race to make
permanent settlement in New Orleans.  Here he established a highly
profitable trade with the Indians, his bateaux voyaging as far
northward as the falls of the Ohio, while his influence among the
tribesmen extended to the eastern mountains.  My mother was of Spanish
blood, a native of Saint Augustine, so I grew up fairly proficient in
three languages, and to them I later added an odd medley of tribal
tongues which often stood me in excellent stead amid the vicissitudes
of the frontier.  The early death of my mother compelled me to become
companion to my father in his wanderings, so that before I was
seventeen the dim forest trails, the sombre rivers, and the dark lodges
of savages had grown as familiar to me as were the streets and houses
of my native town.  Hence it happened, that when my father fell the
victim of a treacherous blow, although he left to my care considerable
property and a widely scattered trade, I could not easily content
myself with the sameness of New Orleans; there I felt almost a
stranger, ever hungering for the woods and the free life of the
mountains.

Yet I held myself to the work in hand until successful in straightening
out the tangled threads, and might have remained engaged in peaceful
traffic until the end of life, had it not been for a misunderstanding
with her who held my heart in captivity to her slightest whim.  It
matters little now the cause of the quarrel, or where rested the
greater blame; enough that its occurrence drove me forth reckless of
everything, desirous only to leave all of my own race, and seek amid
savage environment and excitement forgetfulness of the past.

It was in September of the year 1769--just forty-eight years ago as I
write--that I found myself once again in New Orleans, feeling almost a
stranger to the town, except for the few rough flatboat-men in company
with whom I had floated down the great river.  Five years previously,
heartsick and utterly careless of life, I had plunged into the
trackless wilderness stretching in almost unbroken virginity to north
and east, desiring merely to be left alone, that I might in solitude
fight out my first grim battle with despair, saying to myself in all
bitterness of soul that never again would I turn face to southward or
enter the boundaries of Louisiana Province.  During those years, beyond
reach of news and the tongue of gossip, I wandered aimlessly from
village to village, ever certain of welcome within the lodges of Creeks
and Shawnees, or farther away amid those little French border towns
dotting the Ohio and the Illinois, constantly feeling how little the
world held of value since both my parents were gone, and this last blow
had fallen.  I loved the free, wild life of the warriors with whom I
hunted, and the _voyageurs_ beside whom I camped, and had learned to
distrust my own race; yet no sooner did I chance to stand again beside
the sweeping current of the broad Mississippi, than I was gripped by
the old irresistible yearning, and, although uninspired by either hope
or purpose, drifted downward to the hated Creole town.

I had left it a typical frontier French city, touched alike by the
glamour of reflected civilization and the barbarism of savagery, yet
ever alive with the gayety of that lively, changeable people; I
returned, after those five years of burial in forest depths, to
discover it under the harsh rule of Spain, and outwardly so quiet as to
appear fairly deserted of inhabitants.  The Spanish ships of war--I
counted nineteen--lay anchored in the broad river, their prows up
stream, and the gloomy, black muzzles of their guns depressed so as to
command the landing, while scarcely a French face greeted me along the
streets, whose rough stone pavements echoed to the constant tread of
armed soldiers.

Spanish sentries were on guard at nearly every corner.  Not a few
halted me with rough questioning, and once I was haled before an
officer, who, hearing my story, and possibly impressed by my
proficiency in his language, was kind enough to provide me with a pass
good within the lines.  Yet it proved far from pleasant loitering
about, as drunken soldiers, dressed in every variety of uniform,
staggered along the narrow walks, ready to pick a quarrel with any
stranger chancing their way, while groups of officers, gorgeous in
white coats and gold lace, lounged in shaded corners, greeting each
passer-by with jokes that stung.  Every tavern was crowded to the
threshold with roistering blades whose drunken curses, directed against
both French and English, quickly taught me the discretion of keeping
well away from their company, so there was little left but to move on,
never halting long enough in one place to become involved in useless
controversy.

It all appeared so unnatural that I felt strangely saddened by the
change, and continued aimlessly drifting about the town as curiosity
led, resolved to leave its confines at the earliest opportunity.  I
stared long at the strange vessels of war, whose like I had never
before seen, and finally, as I now remember, paused upon the ragged
grass of the Place d'Armes, watching the evolutions of a battery of
artillery.  This was all new to me, representing as it did a line of
service seldom met with in the wilderness; and soon quite a number of
curious loiterers gathered likewise along the edge of the parade.
Among them I could distinguish a few French faces, with here and there
a woman of the lower orders, ill clad and coarse of speech.  A party of
soldiers, boisterous and quarrelsome from liquor, pressed me so closely
that, hopeful of avoiding trouble, I drew farther back toward the curb,
and standing thus, well away from others, enjoyed an unobstructed view
across the entire field.

The battery had hitched up preparatory to returning to their quarters
before I lost interest in the spectacle and reluctantly turned away
with the slowly dispersing crowd.  Just then I became aware of the
close proximity of a well-dressed negro, apparently the favored servant
in some family of quality.  The fellow was observing me with an
intentness which aroused my suspicion.  That was a time and place for
exercising extreme caution, so that instinctively I turned away, moving
directly across the vacated field.  Scarcely had I taken ten steps
before I saw that he was following, and as I wheeled to front him the
fellow made a painful effort to address me in English.

"Mornin', sah," he said, making a deep salutation with his entire body.
"Am you dat Englisher Massa Benteen from up de ribber?"

Leaning upon my rifle, I gazed directly at him in astonishment.  How,
by all that was miraculous, did this strange black know my name and
nationality?  His was a round face, filled with good humor; nothing in
it surely to mistrust, yet totally unknown to me.

"You speak correctly," I made reply, surprise evident in the tones of
my voice.  "I have no reason to deny my name, which is held an honest
one here in New Orleans.  How you learned it, however, remains a
mystery, for I never looked upon your face before."

"No, sah; I s'pects not, sah, 'cause I nebber yet hab been in dem dere
parts, sah.  I was sent yere wid a most 'portant message fer Massa
Benteen, an' I done reckon as how dat am you, sah."

"An important message for me?  Surely, boy, you either mistake, or are
crazy.  Yet stay!  Does it come from Nick Burton, the flatboat-man?"

"No, sah; it am a lady wat sent me yere."

He was excessively polite, exhibiting an earnestness which caused me to
suspect his mission a grave one.

"A lady?"

I echoed the unexpected word, scarcely capable of believing the
testimony of my own ears.  Yet as I did so my heart almost ceased its
throbbing, while I felt the hot blood rush to my face.  That was an age
of social gallantry; yet I was no gay courtier of the town, but a
hunter of the woods, attired in rough habiliments, little fitted to
attract the attention of womanly eyes amid the military glitter all
about.

A lady!  In the name of all the gods, what lady?  Even in the old days
I enjoyed but a limited circle of acquaintance among women.  Indeed, I
recalled only one in all the wide province of Louisiana who might
justly be accorded so high an appellation even by a negro slave, and
certainly she knew nothing of my presence in New Orleans, nor would she
dream of sending for me if she did.  Convinced of this, I dismissed the
thought upon the instant, with a smile.  The black must have made a
mistake, or else some old-time acquaintance of our family, a forgotten
friend of my mother perhaps, had chanced to hear of my return.
Meanwhile the negro stood gazing at me with open mouth, and the sight
of him partially restored my presence of mind.

"Is she English, boy?"

"No, sah, she am a French lady, sah, if ebber dar was one in dis hyar
province.  She libs ober yonder in de Rue Dumaine, an' she said to me,
'Yah, Alphonse, you follow dat dar young feller wid de long rifle under
his arm an' de coon-skin cap, an' fotch him hyar to me!'  Dem am de
bery words wat she done said, sah, when you went by our house a
half-hour ago."

"Is your mistress young or old?"

The black chuckled, his round face assuming a good-natured grin.

"Fo' de Lawd, Massa, but dat am jest de way wid all you white folks!"
he ejaculated.  "If she was ol', an' wrinkled, an' fat, den dat settle
de whole ting.  Jest don't want to know no mor'."

"Well," I interrupted impatiently, "keep your moralizing to yourself
until we become better acquainted, and answer my question--Is the woman
young?"

My tone was sufficiently stern to sober him, his black face
straightening out as if it had been ironed.

"Now, don't you go an' git cross, Massa Benteen, case a laugh don't
nebber do nobody no hurt," he cried, shrinking back as if expecting a
blow.  "But dat's jest wat she am, sah, an' a heap sweeter dan de
vi'lets in de springtime, sah."

"And she actually told you my name?"

"Yas, sah, she did dat fer suah--'Massa Geoffrey Benteen, an Englisher
from up de ribber,' dem was her bery words; but somehow I done
disremember jest persactly de place."

For another moment I hesitated, scarcely daring to utter the one vital
question trembling on my lips.

"But who is the lady?  What is her name?"  As I put the simple query I
felt my voice tremble in spite of every effort to hold it firm.

"Madame de Noyan, sah; one ob de bery first famblies.  Massa de Noyan
am one ob de Bienvilles, sah."

"De Noyan?  De Noyan?" I repeated the unfamiliar name over slowly, with
a feeling of relief.  "Most certainly I never before heard other."

"I dunno nothin' 'tall 'bout dat, Massa, but suah's you born dat am her
name and Massa's; an' you is de bery man she done sent me after, fer I
nebber onct took my eyes off you all dis time."

There remained no reasonable doubt as to the fellow's sincerity.  His
face was a picture of disinterested earnestness as he fronted me; yet I
hesitated, eying him closely, half inclined to think him the
unsuspecting representative of some rogue.  That was a time and place
where one of my birth needed to practise caution; racial rivalry ran so
high throughout all the sparsely settled province that any
misunderstanding between an English stranger and either Frenchman or
Spaniard was certain to involve serious results.  We of Northern blood
were bitterly envied because of commercial supremacy.  I had, during my
brief residence in New Orleans, witnessed jealous treachery on every
hand.  This had taught me that enemies of my race were numerous, while,
it was probable, not more than a dozen fellow-countrymen were then in
New Orleans.  They would prove powerless were I to become involved in
any quarrel.  Extreme caution under such conditions became a paramount
duty, and it can scarcely be wondered at that I hesitated to trust the
black, continuing to study the real purpose of his mysterious message.
Yet the rare good-humor and simple interest of his face tended to
reassure me.  A lady, he said--well, surely no great harm would result
from such an interview; and if, as was probable, it should prove a mere
case of mistaken identity, a correction could easily follow, and I
should then be free to go my way.  On the other hand, if some friend
really needed me, a question of duty was involved, which--God
helping--I was never one to shun; for who could know in how brief a
space I might also be asking assistance of some countryman.  This
mysterious stranger, this Madame de Noyan of whom I had never heard,
knew my name--possibly had learned it from another, some wandering
Englishman, perchance, whom she would aid in trouble, some old-time
friend in danger, who, afraid to reveal himself, now appealed through
her instrumentality for help in a strange land.  Deciding to brave the
doubt and solve the mystery by action, I flung the long rifle across my
shoulder and stood erect.

"All right, boy, lead on," I said shortly.  "I intend to learn what is
behind this, and who it is that sends for me in New Orleans."

Far from satisfied with the situation, yet determined now to probe the
mystery to the bottom, I silently followed the black, attentive to his
slightest movement.  It was a brief walk down one of the narrow streets
leading directly back from the river front, so that within less than
five minutes I was being silently shown into the small reception room
of a tasty cottage, whose picturesque front was half concealed by a
brilliant mass of trailing vines.  The heavy shades being closely drawn
at the windows, the interior was in such gloom that for the moment
after my entrance from the outside glare I was unable to distinguish
one object from another.  Then slowly my eyes adjusted themselves to
the change, and, taking one uncertain step forward, I came suddenly
face to face with a Capuchin priest appearing almost ghastly with his
long, pale, ascetic countenance, and ghostly gray robe sweeping to the
floor.

Startled by this unexpected apparition, and experiencing an American
borderer's dislike and distrust for his class, I made a hasty move back
toward where, with unusual carelessness, I had deposited my rifle
against the wall.  Yet as I placed hand upon it I had sufficiently
recovered to laugh silently at my fears.

"Thou hast responded with much promptitude, my son," the priest said in
gentle voice, speaking the purest of French, and apparently not
choosing to notice my momentary confusion.  "It is indeed an excellent
trait--one long inculcated by our Order."

"And one not unknown to mine--free rangers of the woods, sir priest," I
replied coldly, resolving not to be outdone in bluntness of speech.  "I
suppose you are the 'lady' desiring speech with me; I note you come
dressed in character.  And now I am here, what may the message be?"

There was neither smile nor resentment visible on his pale face,
although he slightly uplifted one slender hand as if in silent rebuke
of my rude words.

"Nay, nay, my son," he said gravely.  "Be not over-hasty in speech.  It
is indeed a serious matter which doth require thy presence in this
house, and the question of life or death for a human being can never be
fit subject for jesting.  She who despatched the messenger will be here
directly to make clear her need."

"In truth it was a woman, then?"

"Yes, a woman, and--ah! she cometh now."

Even as he gave utterance to the words, I turned, attracted by the soft
rustle of a silken skirt at my very side, stole one quick, startled
glance into a young, sweet face, lightened by dark, dreamy eyes, and
within the instant was warmly clasping two outstretched hands, totally
oblivious of all else save her.

"Eloise!" I exclaimed in astonishment.  "Eloise--Mademoiselle
Lafrénière--can this indeed be you?  Have you sent for me?"

It seemed for that one moment as if the world held but the two of us,
and there was a glad confidence in her brimming eyes quickly
dissipating all mists of the past.  Yet only for that one weak,
thoughtless instant did she yield to what appeared real joy at my
presence.

"Yes, dear friend, it is Eloise," she answered, gazing anxiously into
my face, and clinging to my strong hands as though fearful lest I might
tear them away when she spoke those hard words which must follow.  "Yet
surely you know, Geoffrey Benteen, that I am Mademoiselle Lafrénière no
longer?"

It seemed to me my very heart stopped beating, so intense was the pain
which overswept it.  Yet I held to the soft hands, for there was such a
pitiful look of suffering upon her upturned face as to steady me.

"No, I knew it not," I answered brokenly.  "I--I have been buried in
the forest all these years since we parted, where few rumors of the
town have reached me.  But let that pass; it--it is easy to see you are
now in great sorrow.  Was it because of this--in search of help, in
need, perchance--that you have sent for me?"

She bowed her head; a tear fell upon my broad hand and glistened there.

"Yes, Geoffrey."

The words were scarcely more than a whisper; then the low voice seemed
to strengthen with return of confidence, her dark eyes anxiously
searching my face.

"I sent for you, Geoffrey, because of deep trouble; because I am left
alone, without friends, saving only the _père_.  I know well your
faithfulness.  In spite of the wrong, the misunderstanding between
us--and for it I take all the blame--I have ever trusted in your word,
your honor; and now, when I can turn nowhere else for earthly aid, the
good God has guided you back to New Orleans.  Geoffrey Benteen, do not
gaze at me so!  It breaks my heart to see that look in your eyes; but,
my friend, my dearest friend, do you still recall what you said to me
so bravely the night you went away?"

Did I remember!  God knew I did; ay! each word of that interview had
been burned into my life, had been repeated again and again in the
silence of my heart amid the loneliness of the woods; nothing in all
those years had for one moment obliterated her face or speech from
memory.

"I remember, Eloise," I answered more calmly.  "The words you mean
were: 'If ever you have need of one on whom you may rely for any
service, however desperate (and in New Orleans such necessity might
arise at any moment), one who would gladly yield his very life to serve
you, then, wherever he may be, send for Geoffrey Benteen.'  My poor
girl, has that moment come?"

The brown head drooped until it rested in unconsciousness against my
arm, while I could feel the sobs which shook her form and choked her
utterance.

"It has come," she whispered at last; "I am trusting in your promise."

"Nor in vain; my life is at your command."

She stopped my passionate utterance with quick, impulsive gesture.

"No! pledge not yourself again until you hear my words, and ponder
them," she cried, with return to that imperiousness of manner I had
loved so well.  "This is no ordinary matter.  It will try your utmost
love; perchance place your life in such deadly peril as you never faced
before.  For I must ask of you what no one else would ever venture to
require--nor can I hold out before you the slightest reward, save my
deepest gratitude."

I gazed fixedly at her flushed face, scarcely comprehending the strange
words she spoke.

"What may all this be that you require--this sacrifice so vast that you
doubt me?  Surely I have never stood a coward, a dastard in your sight?"

She stood erect, facing me, proudly confident in her power, with tears
still clinging to her long lashes.

"No! you wrong me uttering such a thought.  I doubt you not, although I
might well doubt any other walking this earth.  But listen, and you can
no longer question my words; this which I dare ask of you--because I
trust you--is _to save my husband_."

"Your husband?"  The very utterance of the word choked me.  "Your
husband?  Save him from what?  Where is he?"

"A prisoner to the Spaniards; condemned to die to-morrow at sunrise."

"His name?"

"Chevalier Charles de Noyan."

"Where confined?"

"Upon the flag-ship in the river."

I turned away and stood with my back to them both.  I could no longer
bear to gaze upon her agonized face uplifted in such eager pleading,
such confiding trust; that one sweet face I loved as nothing else on
earth.

Save her husband!  For the moment it seemed as if a thousand emotions
swayed me.  What might it not mean if this man should die?  His living
could only add infinitely to my pain; his death might insure my
happiness--at least he alone, as far as I knew, stood in the way.  "To
die to-morrow!"  The very words sounded sweet in my ears, and it would
be such an easy thing for me to promise her, to appear to do my very
best--and fail.  "To die to-morrow!"  The perspiration gathered in
drops upon my forehead as I wavered an instant to the tempting thought.
Then I shook the foul temptation from me.  Merciful God! could I dream
of being such a dastard?  Why not attempt what she asked?  After all,
what was left for me in life, except to give her happiness?

The sound of a faint sob reached me, and wheeling instantly I stood at
her side.

"Madame de Noyan," I said with forced calmness, surprising myself, "I
will redeem my pledge, and either save your husband, or meet my fate at
his side."

Before I could prevent her action she had flung herself at my feet, and
was kissing my hand.

"God bless you, Geoffrey Benteen!  God bless you!" she sobbed
impulsively; and then from out the dense shadows of the farther wall,
solemnly as though he stood at altar service, the watchful Capuchin
said:

"Amen!"




CHAPTER II

A PERILOUS VENTURE

Any call to action, of either hazard or pleasure, steadies my nerves.
To realize necessity for doing renders me a new man, clear of brain,
quick of decision.  Possibly this comes from that active life I have
always led in the open.  Be the cause what it may, I was the first to
recover speech.

"I hope to show myself worthy your trust, Madame," I said somewhat
stiffly, for it hurt to realize that this emotion arose from her
husband's peril.  "At best I am only an adventurer, and rely upon those
means with which life upon the border renders me familiar.  Such may
prove useless where I have soldiers of skill to deal with.  However, we
have need of these minutes flying past so rapidly; they might be put to
better use than tears, or words of gratitude."

She looked upward at me with wet eyes.

"You are right; I am a child, it seems.  Tell me your desire, and I
will endeavor to act the woman."

"First, I must comprehend more clearly the nature of the work before
me.  The Chevalier de Noyan is already under sentence of death; the
hour of execution to-morrow at sunrise?"

She bent her head in quiet acquiescence, her anxious eyes never leaving
my face.

"It is now already approaching noon, leaving us barely eighteen hours
in which to effect his rescue.  Faith! 't is short space for action."

I glanced uneasily aside at the silently observant priest, now
standing, a slender gray figure, close beside the door.  He was not of
an Order I greatly loved.

"You need have no fear," she exclaimed, hastily interpreting my
thought.  "Father Petreni can be fully trusted.  He is more than my
religious confessor; he has been my friend from childhood."

"Yes, Monsieur," he interposed sadly, yet with a grave smile lighting
his thin white face.  "I shall be able to accomplish little in your
aid, for my trade is not that of arms, yet, within my physical
limitations, I am freely at your service."

"That is well," I responded heartily, words and tone yielding me fresh
confidence in the man.  "This is likely to prove a night when comrades
will need to know each other.  Now a few questions, after which I will
look over the ground before attempting to outline any plan of action.
You say, Madame, that your--Chevalier de Noyan is a prisoner on the
fleet in the river.  Upon which ship is he confined?"

"The 'Santa Maria.'"

"The 'Santa Maria'?--if memory serve, the largest of them all?"

"Yes! the flag-ship."

"She lies, as I remember, for I stood on the levee two hours ago
watching the strange spectacle, close in toward the shore, beside the
old sugar warehouse of Bomanceaux et fils."

"You are correct," returned the Capuchin soberly, the lady hesitating.
"The ship swingeth by her cable scarce thirty feet from the bank."

"That, at least, has sound of good fortune," I thought, revolving
rapidly a sudden inspiration from his answer, "yet it will prove a
desperate trick to try."

Then I spoke aloud once more.

"She appeared a veritable monster of the sea to my backwoods eyes;
enough to pluck the heart out of a man.  Has either of you stepped
aboard her?"

The priest shook his shaven head despondently.

"Nay; never any Frenchman, except as prisoner in shackles, has found
foothold upon that deck since O'Reilly came.  It is reported no negro
boatmen are permitted to approach her side with cargoes of fruit and
vegetables, so closely is she guarded against all chances of treachery."

"Faith! it must be an important crime to bring such extremity of
vigilance.  With what is De Noyan charged?"

"He, with others, is held for treason against the King of Spain."

"There are more than one, then?"

"Five."  He lowered his voice almost to a whisper.  "Madame de Noyan's
father is among them."

"Lafrénière?" I uttered the name in astonishment.  "Then why am I not
asked to assist him?"

The thoughtless exclamation cut her deeply with its seeming implication
of neglect, yet the words she strove to speak failed to come.  The
priest rebuked me gravely:

"Thou doest great injustice by such inconsiderate speech, my son.
There are hearts loyal to France in this province, who would count
living a crime if it were won at the cost of Lafrénière.  He hath been
already offered liberty, yet deliberately chooseth to remain and meet
his fate.  Holy Mother! we can do no more."

I bent, taking her moist hands gently between my own.

"I beg you pardon me, Madame; I am not yet wholly myself, and intended
no such offence as my hasty words would seem to imply.  One's manners
do not improve with long dwelling among savages."

She met my stumbling apology with a radiant smile.

"I know your heart too well to misjudge.  Yet it hurt me to feel you
could deem me thoughtless toward my father."

"You have seen him since his arrest?"

"Once only--at the Captain-General's office, before they were condemned
and taken aboard the flag-ship."

"But the prisoners are Catholics; surely they are permitted the offices
of the Church at such a time?"

A hard look swept across the Capuchin's pale, ascetic face.

"Oh, ay!  I had quite forgotten," he explained bitterly.  "They enjoy
the ministrations of Father Cassati, of our Order, as representative of
Holy Church."

"Pouf!" I muttered gloomily.  "It is bad to have the guard-lines drawn
so closely.  Besides, I know little about the way of ships; how they
are arranged within, or even along the open decks.  We meet them not in
the backwoods, so this is an adventure little to my taste.  It would
hardly be prudent, even could I obtain safe footing there, to attempt
following a trail in the dark when I knew not where it led.  I must
either see the path I am to travel by good daylight, or else procure a
guide.  This Father Cassati might answer.  Is he one to trust?"

The priest turned his head away with a quick gesture of indignant
dissent.

"Nay!" he exclaimed emphatically.  "He must never be approached upon
such a matter.  He can be sweet enough with all men to their faces; the
words of his mouth are as honey; yet he would be true to none.  It is
not according to the canons of our Order for me thus to speak, yet I
only give utterance to truth as I know it in the sight of God.  Not
even the Spaniards themselves have faith in him.  He has not been
permitted to set foot upon shore since first he went aboard."

"And you have no plan, no suggestion to offer for my guidance?"

"Mon Dieu, no!" he cried dramatically.  "I cannot think the first
thing."

"And you, Madame?"

She was kneeling close beside a large chair, her fine dark eyes eagerly
searching my face.

"It rests wholly with you," she said solemnly, "and God."

Twice, three times, I paced slowly across the floor in anxious
reflection; each time, as I turned, I gazed again into her trustful,
appealing eyes.  It was love calling to me in silent language far more
effective than speech; at last, I paused and faced her.

"Madame de Noyan," I said deliberately, my voice seeming to falter with
the intensity of my feelings, "I beg you do not expect too much from
me.  Your appeal has been made to a simple frontiersman, unskilled in
war except with savages, and it is hardly probable I shall be able to
outwit the trained guardsmen of Spain.  Yet this I will say: I have
determined to venture all at your desire.  As I possess small skill or
knowledge to aid me, I shall put audacity to the front, permitting
sheer daring either to succeed or fail.  But it would be wrong, Madame,
for me to encourage you with false expectation.  I deem it best to be
perfectly frank, and I do not clearly see how this rescue is to be
accomplished.  I can form no definite plan of action; all I even hope
for is, that the good God will open up a path, showing me how such
desperate purpose may be accomplished.  If this prove true--and I beg
you pray fervently to that end--you may trust me to accept the
guidance, let the personal danger be what it may.  But I cannot plan,
cannot promise--I can only go forward blindly, seeking some opening not
now apparent.  This alone I know, to remain here in conversation is
useless.  I must discover means by which I may reach the 'Santa Maria'
and penetrate below her deck if possible.  That is my first object, and
it alone presents a problem sufficient to tax my poor wits to the
uttermost.  So all I dare say now, Madame, is, that I will use my
utmost endeavor to save your hus--the Chevalier de Noyan.  I request
you both remain here--it would be well in prayer--ready to receive, and
obey at once, any message I may need to send.  If possible I will visit
you again in person before nightfall, but in any case, and whatever
happens, try to believe that I am doing all I can with such brains as I
possess, and that I count my own life nothing in your service."

However they may sound now, there was no spirit of boasting in these
words.  Conceit is not of my nature, and, indeed, at that time I had
small enough faith in myself.  I merely sought to encourage the poor
girl with what little hope I possessed, and knew she read the truth
behind those utterances which sounded so brave.  Even as I finished she
arose to her feet, standing erect before me, looking a very queen.

"Never will I doubt that, Geoffrey Benteen," she declared impulsively.
"I have seen you in danger, and never forgotten it.  If it is any
encouragement to hear it spoken from my lips, know, even as you go
forth from here, that never did woman trust man as I trust you."

The hot blood surged into my face with a madness I retained barely
sufficient strength to conquer.

"I--I accept your words in the same spirit with which they are
offered," I stammered, hardly aware of what I said.  "They are of
greatest worth to me."

I bowed low above the white hand resting so confidingly within mine,
anxious to escape from the room before my love gave utterance to some
foolish speech.  Yet even as I turned hastily toward the door, I paused
with a final question.

"The negro who guided me here, Madame; is he one in whom I may repose
confidence?"

"In all things," she answered gravely.  "He has been with the De Noyan
family from a child, and is devoted to his master."

"Then I take him with me for use should I chance to require a
messenger."

With a swift backward glance into her earnest dark eyes, an indulgence
I could not deny myself, I bowed my way forth from the room, and
discovering Alphonse upon the porch, where he evidently felt himself on
guard, and bidding him it was the will of his mistress that he follow,
I flung my rifle across my shoulder, and strode straight ahead until I
came out upon the river bank.  Turning to the right I worked my way
rapidly up the stream, passing numerous groups of lounging soldiers,
who made little effort to bar my passage, beyond some idle chaffing,
until I found myself opposite the anchorage of the Spanish fleet.

In the character of an unsophisticated frontiersman, I felt no danger
in joining others of my class, lounging listlessly about in small
groups discussing the situation, and gazing with awe upon those strange
ships of war, swinging by their cables in the broad stream.  It was a
motley crew among whom I foregathered, one to awaken interest at any
other time--French _voyageurs_ from the far-off Illinois country, as
barbarian in dress and actions as the native denizens of those northern
plains, commingling freely with Creole hunters freshly arrived from the
bayous of the swamp lands; sunburnt fishermen from the sandy beaches of
Barataria, long-haired flatboat-men, their northern skin faintly
visible through the tan and dirt acquired in the long voyage from the
upper Ohio; here and there some stolid Indian brave, resplendent in
paint and feathers, and not a few drunken soldiers temporarily escaped
from their commands.  Yet I gave these little thought, except to push
my way through them to where I could obtain unobstructed view of the
great ships.

The largest of these, a grim monster to my eyes, with bulging sides
towering high above the water, and masts uplifting heavy spars far into
the blue sky, rendered especially formidable by gaping muzzles of
numerous black cannon visible through her open ports, floated just
beyond the landing.  I measured carefully the apparent distance between
the flat roof of the sugar warehouse, against the corner of which I
leaned in seeming listlessness, and the lower yards of her forward
mast--it was no farther than I had often cast a riata, yet it would be
a skilful toss on a black night.

However, I received small comfort from the thought, for there was that
about this great gloomy war-ship--frigate those about me called
her--which awed and depressed my spirits; all appeared so ponderously
sullen, so massive with concealed power, so mysteriously silent.  My
eyes, searching for each visible object, detected scarcely a stir of
life aboard, except as some head would arise for an instant above the
rail, or my glance fell upon the motionless figure of a sentry,
standing at the top of the narrow steps leading downward to the water,
a huge burly fellow, whose side-arms glistened ominously in the sun.
These were the sole signs of human presence; yet, from snatches of
conversation, I learned that hidden away in the heart of that black
floating monster of wood and iron, were nearly four hundred men, and
the mere knowledge made the sombre silence more impressive than ever.

Except for gossiping spectators lining the shore, nothing living
appeared about the entire scene, if I except a dozen or more small
boats, propelled by lusty black oarsmen, deeply laden with produce,
busily plying back and forth between various vessels, seeking market
for their wares.  Even these, as the priest told me, had apparently
been warned away from the flag-ship, as I observed how carefully they
avoided any approach to her boarding-ladder.  The longer I remained,
the more thoroughly hopeless appeared any prospect of success.  Nor
could I conjure up a practical--nay! even possible--method of placing
so much as a foot on board the "Santa Maria."  Surely never was
prison-ship guarded with more jealous care, and never did man face more
hopeless quest than this confronting me.  The longer I gazed upon that
grim, black, sullen mass of wood and iron--that floating fortress of
despotic Spanish power--the more desperate appeared my mission; the
darker grew every possibility of plucking a victim from out that
monster's tightly closed jaws.  Yet I was not one to forego an
enterprise lightly because of difficulty or danger, so with dogged
persistency I clung to the water front, knowing nowhere else to go, and
blindly trusting that some happening might open to me a door of
opportunity.

It frequently seems that when a man once comes, in a just cause, to
such mind as this, when he trusts God rather than himself, there is a
divinity which aids him.  Surely it was well I waited in patience, for
suddenly another produce boat, evidently new to the trade, deeply laden
with fruit and roots, bore down the river, the two negroes at the oars
pointing its blunt nose directly toward the flag-ship, attracted no
doubt by its superior size.  Instantly noting their course I awaited
their reception with interest, an interest intensified by a drawling
English voice from amid the crowd about me, saying:

"I reckon thar'll be some dead niggers in thet thar bumboat if they
don't sheer off almighty soon."

Scarcely were these prophetic words uttered, when the soldier statue at
the head of the boarding-stairs swung his musket forward into position,
and hailed in emphatic Spanish, a language which, thanks to my mother,
I knew fairly well.  There followed a moment of angry controversy,
during which the startled negroes rested upon their oars, while the
enraged guard threatened to fire if they drifted a yard closer.  In the
midst of this hubbub a head suddenly popped up above the rail.  Then a
tall, ungainly figure, clad in a faded, ill-fitting uniform, raised
itself slowly, leaning far out over the side, a pair of weak eyes,
shadowed by colored glasses, gazing down inquiringly into the small
boat.

"Vat ees it you say you have zare?" he asked in an attempt at French,
which I may only pretend to reproduce in English.  "Vat ees ze cargo of
ze leetle boat?"

Instantly the two hucksters gave voice, fairly running over each other
in their confused jargon, during which I managed to distinguish native
names for potatoes, yams, sweet corn, peaches, apples, and I know not
what else.

The Spaniard perched high on the rail waved his long arms in
unmitigated disgust.

"_Caramba_!" he cried the moment he could make his voice distinguished
above the uproar.  "I vant none of zos zings; Saint Cristoval, non!
non!  Ze Capitaine he tole me get him some of ze olif--haf you no olif
in ze leetle boat?"

The darkies shook their heads, instantly starting in again to call
their wares, but the fellow on the rail waved them back.

"Zen ve don't vant you here!" he cried shrilly.  "Go vay dam quick, or
else ze soldier shoot."  As if in obedience to an order the stolid
guard brought his weapon menacingly to the shoulder.

How the episode terminated I did not remain to learn.  At that moment I
only clearly comprehended this--I had a way opened, an exceedingly
slight one to be sure, of doubtful utility, yet still a way, which
might lead me into the guarded mystery of that ship.  The time for
action had arrived, and that was like a draught of wine to me.  Eagerly
I slipped back through the increasing crowd of gaping countrymen, to
where the negro had found a spot of comfort in the sun.

"Alphonse!" I called, careful to modulate my voice.  "Wake up, you
black sleepy-head!  Ay!  I have you at last in the world again.  Now
stop blinking, and pay heed to what I say.  Do you chance to know
where, for love, money, or any consideration, you could lay hands on
olives in this town?"

The fellow, scarcely awake, rolled up the whites of his eyes for a
moment, and scratched his woolly pate, as if seeking vainly to conjure
up some long-neglected memory.  Then his naturally good-humored
countenance relaxed into a broad grin.

"Fo' de Lord, yas sah!  I'se your man dis time suah 'nough.  Dat fat
ol' Dutchman, down by de Tehoupitoulas Gate, suah as you're born had a
whole barrel ob dem yesterday.  I done disremember fer de minute, boss,
jist whar I done saw dem olibs, but I reckon as how de money 'd fotch
'em all right."

I drew forth a handful of French coins.

"Then run for it, lad!" I exclaimed in some excitement.  "Your master's
life hangs upon your speed--hold, wait! do you remember that old
tumble-down shed we passed on our way here; the one which had once been
a farrier's shop?"

The negro nodded, his eyes filled with awakened interest.

"Good; then first of all bring me a suit of the worst looking old
clothes you can scare up in the negro quarters of this town.  Leave
them there.  Then go directly to this Dutchman's, buy every olive he
has for sale at any price, load them into a boat--a common huckster's
boat, mind you, and remain there with them until I come.  Do you
understand all that?"

"Yas, Massa; I reckon as how I kin do dat all right 'nough."  The
fellow grinned, every white ivory showing between his thick red lips.

"Don't stop to speak to any one, black or white.  Now trot along
lively, and may the Lord have mercy on you if you fail me, for I pledge
you I shall have none."

I watched him disappear up the street in a sort of swinging dog-trot,
took one more glance backward at the huge war-ship, now swinging by her
cable silent and mysterious as ever, and turned away from the river
front, my brain teeming with a scheme upon the final issue of which
hung life or death.




CHAPTER III

A VISIT TO THE FLAG-SHIP

I had seldom assumed disguise, except when wearing Indian garb upon the
war-trail.  Yet in boyhood I had occasionally masqueraded as a negro so
successfully as to deceive even my own family.  With this in mind the
resolve was taken that in no other guise than that of a foolish,
huckstering darky could I hope to attain the guarded deck of that
Spanish frigate.  This offered only the barest chance of success, yet
such chances had previously served me well, and must be trusted now.
Opportunity frequently opens to the push of a venturesome shoulder.

Once determined upon this I set to work, perfecting each detail which
might aid in the hazardous undertaking.  Much was to be accomplished,
and consequently it was late in the afternoon before the two of us,
myself as much a negro to outward appearance as my sable companion,
floated anxiously down the broad river in a battered old scow heaped
high with every variety of country produce obtainable.  Drifting with
the current, I kept the blunt nose pointed directly toward the bulging
side of the "Santa Maria," yet without venturing to glance in that
direction, until a sharp challenge of the vigilant sentinel warned us
to sheer off.

Slowly shipping the heavy steering oar, finding it difficult even in
that moment of suspense to suppress a smile at the expression of terror
on Alphonse's black face, I stood up, awed by the solemn massiveness of
the vast bulk towering above me, now barely thirty feet away.  For the
first time I realized fully the desperation of my task, and my heart
sank.  But the gesticulations of the wrathful guard could no longer be
ignored, and, smothering an exclamation of disgust at my momentary
weakness, I nerved myself for the play.

"_Caramba_!" the fellow shouted roughly in his native tongue.  "Stop
there, you lazy niggers; don't let that boat drift any closer.  Come,
sheer off, or, by all the saints, I 'll blow a hole clear through the
black hide of one of you!"

"Hold her back, boy!" I muttered hurriedly to the willing slave.  "That
soldier means to shoot."

Then I held up a handful of our choicest fruit into view.

"I have got plenty vegetables, an' lot fruit fer sell," I shouted
eagerly in negro French, putting all the volume possible into my voice,
hopeful my words might penetrate the hidden deck above.  "Plenty
'tatoes, peaches, olibs--eberyting fer de oppercers."

"Don't want them--pull away, and be lively about it."

It was a moment of despair, every hope suspended in the balance; my
heart beating like a trip-hammer with suspense.  The thoroughly enraged
guard lifted his gun to the shoulder; there was threat in his eyes, yet
I ventured a desperate chance of one more word.

"I got de only _olibs_ on dis ribber."

"_Bastenade_!" yelled the infuriated fellow.  "I 'll give you a shot to
pay for your insolence."

Even as he spoke, fumbling the lock of his gun, that same head observed
before suddenly popped over the high rail like Punch at a pantomime.

"Vat zat you say, nigger?" its owner cried doubtingly.  "Vas it ze olif
you haf zare in ze leetle boat?"

I eagerly held up into view a choice handful of green fruit, my eyes
hopeful.

"Oui, Señor Oppercer--fresh olibs; same as ob your lan'."

The Spaniard was standing upright on the rail by this time, clinging
fast to a rope dangling from above, leaning far over, no slight
interest depicted upon his pinched, sallow countenance.

"It's all right, sentry," he said sharply to the soldier, who lowered
his gun with a scowl indicating his real desire.  My newly found friend
lifted his squeaking voice again in unfamiliar speech.

"Bring ze leetle boat along ze side of ze sheep, you black fellar, an'
come up here wiz ze olif fer ze Capitaine."

"Scull in close against those steps, Alphonse," I muttered, overjoyed
at this rare stroke of good fortune.  "Then pull out a few strokes; but
stay alongside until I come back.  Don't let any one get aboard, and
keep a quiet tongue yourself."

The whites of his eyes alone answered me, he being too badly frightened
for speech.  The situation was one to grate upon any nerves
unaccustomed to danger, yet, trusting the long training of the slave
would hold him obedient, I turned away, and, in another moment, had
scrambled up the rope ladder, plunging awkwardly over the high rail on
to the hitherto concealed deck.  My pulses throbbed with excitement
over the desperate game fronting me, yet, with a coolness surprising to
myself, I lost at that instant every sensation of personal fear, in
determination to act thoroughly my assumed character.  More lives than
one hung in the balance, and, with tightly clenched teeth, I swore to
prove equal to the venture.  The very touch of those deck planks to my
bare feet put new recklessness into my blood, causing me to marvel at
the perfection of my own fool play.

The gaunt Spaniard commanding my presence stood waiting, hardly more
than five paces from where I landed, yet so intense became my immediate
interest in the strange scene--an interest partly real, but largely
simulated for the occasion--that he contented himself watching my
confused antics with much apparent amusement, and without addressing
me.  Even to this hour that scene lies distinct before my eyes.
Possessed I skill with pencil I could sketch each small detail from the
retina of memory--the solitary sentinel beside the rail, his well-worn
uniform of blue and white dingy in the sun; another farther forward,
where a great opening yawned; with yet a third, standing rigid before a
closed door of the after cabin.  An officer, his coat richly decorated
with gold braid, wearing epaulets, and having a short sword dangling at
his side, paced back and forth across the top of a little house near
the stern.  I heard him utter some command to a sailor near the wheel,
but he never so much as glanced toward me.  Perhaps thirty or more
seamen, bronzed of face, and oddly bedecked as to hair, lounged idly
amid the shadows opposite, while, more closely at hand, that gaunt,
cadaverous Spaniard, at whose invitation I was present, leaned against
a big gun, puffing nonchalantly at a cigarette, held between lean,
saffron-colored fingers.  The deck was white as the snows of a northern
Winter, while the brass work along the railings and about the cannon
glittered brilliantly in the sunshine.  There was a gaudy
yellow-and-white striped canopy stretched above a portion of the deck
aft; the huge masts seemed to pierce into the blue of the skies; while
on every side were ranged grim guns of brass and iron.

My role was that of an ignorant, green, half-frightened darky, and I
presume I both appeared and acted the natural-born idiot, if I might
judge from the expression upon the Spaniard's face, and the broad grin
lighting up the fierce countenance of the sentry at the gangway.  Yet
back of this mask there was grim determination and fixed purpose, so
that no article of furniture was along that broad deck which I did not
mentally photograph, so as to know its whereabouts if ever I chanced
that way again.  Ay! even to a little cuddy door beside the cookhouse,
apparently opening directly into the mysterious regions below, and a
great chest lashed hard against the rail, within which I distinguished
the bright colors of numerous flags.  I noticed also the odd manner in
which queer rope ladders led up from either side of the broad deck to
the vast spars high above, rising tier on tier until my head grew dazed
with gazing at them.

"Vel, Sambo, my black fellow," grinned the officer, whose eyes were
still lazily following my erratic movements as I peered innocently into
the muzzle of a brass carronade in apparent hope of discovering the
ball, "zis vus ze first time you vus ever on ze war-sheep, I sink
likely.  How you like stop here, hey, an' fight wis dos sings?"  And he
rested his yellow hand caressingly upon the breech of the gun.

I shook my head energetically, rendering as prominent as possible the
whites of my eyes, at which he grinned wider than ever.

"No, sah, Mister Oppercer Man; you don't git dis hyer nigger into no
fought, sah," I protested with vehemence.  "I done fought wid de Injuns
onct, sah, an' I done don't want no mo'."

"Veil, you not vorry, boy; you voud be no good on ze war-sheep.  But
now you come wis me to ze Capitaine--bring ze olif."

Bearing a tempting sample of the Spaniard's favorite fruit tightly
clutched in my black hand, and pulling my battered straw hat lower in
concealment of my telltale hair, I made awkward attempt to shuffle
along behind him, as he carelessly advanced toward the after part of
the vessel.  But I loitered along our passage to examine so many
objects of curiosity, asking such a multitude of extremely absurd
questions, that we consumed considerable time in traversing even the
comparatively short distance to where the rigid sentinel fronted us
before the cabin door.  My queries were simple enough to have birth in
the brain of a fool, yet my guide was of rare good humor, and evidently
so amused at my ignorant curiosity that his patience withstood the
strain.  On my part none were blindly asked, but were intended to open
a way toward others of the utmost importance.  My sole purpose at that
moment was to lull suspicion to rest; when that had been accomplished,
then I might confidently hope to pump my trustful victim of such
information as I imperatively required.  The ignorant questions of an
imbecile will oftentimes be frankly responded to, where a wise man
might ask in vain, and my first play was to establish my character as a
fool.  That I had succeeded was already evident.

The statuesque guard before the cabin brought his musket up at our
approach with so smart a snap as to startle me into a moment's apparent
terror.  To the officer's request that we be admitted to the presence
of the Captain, he responded briefly that that officer had gone forward
half an hour before.  My guide glanced about as if uncertain where he
had better turn in search.

"Did he go down the hatch?" he queried shortly.

"I know not, Señor Gonzales," was the respectful reply.  "But I believe
he may be with the prisoners' guard below."

The officer promptly started forward, and, awaiting no formal
invitation, I shambled briskly after, keeping as close as possible to
his heels.  Could I gain a brief glimpse below the deck it would be
worth more to me than any amount of blind questioning, and my heart
thumped painfully in remembrance of what hung upon his movements.  With
a single sharp word to the sentry at the hatch he swung himself
carelessly over the edge, mysteriously disappearing into the gloom
beneath.  That was no time for hesitancy, and I was already preparing
to do likewise, when the guard, a surly-looking brute, promptly
inserted the point of his bayonet into my ragged garment, accompanying
this kindly act with a stern order to remain where I was.

"An' what fo' yo' do dat, Señor Sojer?" I cried, in unaffected anguish,
rubbing the injured part tenderly, yet speaking loud so that my words
should be distinctly audible below.  "Dat oppercer man he done tol' me
to foller him to de Captain.  What fo' yo' stop me wid dat toastin'
fork?"

"It's all right, Manuel," sung out a voice in Spanish from the lower
darkness.  "Let the fool nigger come down."

The thoroughly disgusted soldier muttered something about his orders,
that his lieutenant had not ever authorized him to pass fools.
Overlooking this personal allusion, and fearing more serious opposition
from some one higher in authority, I took advantage of his momentary
doubt, promptly swung my legs over the edge of the hatch opening,
groped blindly about with my bare feet until they struck the rungs of a
narrow ladder, and went scrambling down into the semi-darkness of
between-decks, managing awkwardly to miss my final footing, thus
flopping in a ragged heap at the bottom.

"Holy Mother! you make more noise zan a sheep in action," grumbled the
startled officer, as I landed at his feet.  "Vat for you come down ze
ladder zat vay?"

Rubbing my numerous bruises energetically, I contented myself with
staring up at him as if completely dazed by my fall.  Reading in his
amused countenance no symptom of awakening suspicion I ventured a quick
glance at my new surroundings.  We were in what appeared a large
unfurnished room, with doors of all sizes opening in every direction,
while I could perceive a narrow entry, or passageway, extending toward
the after part of the vessel.  The roof, formed of the upper deck, was
low, upheld by immense timbers, and the apartment, nearly square, was
dimly flooded by the sparse light sifting down through the single
hatch-opening above, so that, in spite of its large dimensions, it had
a cramped and stuffy appearance.  The vast butt of the mainmast arose
directly in front of me, and, upon a narrow bench surrounding it, a
dozen soldiers were lounging, while near the entrance to the
passageway, scarcely more than a shadow in that dimness, stood a
sentry, stiff and erect, with musket at his shoulder.  They were mostly
slightly built, dark-featured men, attired in blue and white uniforms,
the worse for wear, and were all laughing at my crazy entrance.  No
doubt my coming afforded some relief to their tiresome, dull routine.
While lying there, apparently breathless from my fall, my brains
effectively muddled, a young officer advanced hastily from out the
gloom to inquire into so unusual an uproar.

"What is all this noise about?" he questioned sharply, striding toward
us.  "Ah, Gonzales; whom have you here?  Another bird to add to our
fine collection?"

"If so, it must be a rare blackbird, Señor Francisco," returned my
friend, vainly endeavoring to recover his customary gravity.  "By Saint
Cristobal!  I have not laughed so heartily for a year past as at this
poor black fool.  Faith, I sought to enlist him in the service of His
Most Christian Majesty, yet his method of coming down a companion
ladder convinced me he sadly lacks the necessary qualifications for a
sailor.  Hast seen aught of the Captain here below?"

"Ay, comrade, thou wilt find him aft.  He hath just had speech once
more with the chief rebel, the graybeard they call Lafrénière, and was
in raging temper when last we met.  _Caramba_! he even called me an
ass, for no more serious fault, forsooth, than that I made the round of
my guard unattended.  Hath your darky news for him?"

"Nay; the fellow possesseth not sufficient sense to be a messenger,
except it may be a message for his stomach to make his humor better,"
was the reply.  "Come, trot along now, boy, and mind where you put down
those big feet in the passage."

I struggled upright in response to his order, assisted by the sharp tap
of a boot accompanying it, tripped over a gun barrel one of the guard
facetiously inserted between my legs, and went down once more, uttering
such howl of terror as could be only partially drowned beneath the
uproarious laughter of my merry tormentors.  It developed into a
gantlet, yet I ran the line with little damage, and, after much ducking
and pleading, managed to regain my position close to the heels of Señor
Gonzales before he turned into the passageway, which, as I now
perceived, was dimly illumined by means of a single lantern, hung to a
blackened upper beam.

"Well, good luck to both of you," called out the young officer of the
guard laughingly as we disappeared.  "Yet I 'd hate to have the
steering of such a crazy craft as follows in your wake, Gonzales, and I
warn you again the Señor Captain will be found in beastly humor."

"I fear nothing," returned my guide, his lean yellow face turned
backward over his shoulder.  "I have what will bring him greater
happiness than a decoration from the King."

Shambling awkwardly forward, simulating all the uncouthness possible, I
retained my wits sufficiently to note our surroundings--the long,
narrow passage, scarcely exceeding a yard in width, with numerous doors
opening on either side.  Several of these stood ajar, and I perceived
berths within, marking them as sleeping apartments, although one upon
the right was evidently being utilized as a linen closet, while yet
another, just beyond, and considerably larger, seemed littered with a
medley of boxes, barrels, and great bags.  This apartment appeared so
much lighter than those others, even a stray ray of sunshine pouring
directly down into it from above, that I instinctively connected it in
my mind with the cook-house on the upper deck, and the open cuddy door
I had chanced to notice.

As we approached the farther end this passage suddenly widened into a
half circle, sufficiently extended to accommodate the huge butt of the
mizzenmast, which was completely surrounded by an arm-rack crowded with
short-swords, together with all manner of small arms.  A grimly silent
guard stood at either side, and I perceived the dark shadow of a third
still farther beyond, while the half-dozen cabins close at hand had
their doors tightly closed, and fastened with iron bars.

Instinctively I felt that here were confined those French prisoners,
the knowledge of whose exact whereabouts I sought amid such
surroundings of personal peril, and my heart bounded from sudden
excitement.  In simulated awkwardness, I unfortunately overdid my part.
Shuffling forward, more eager than ever to keep at the heels of my
protector, yet with eyes wandering in search of any opening, my bare
feet struck against a projecting ring-bolt in the deck, and over I
went, striving vainly to regain my balance.  Before that human statue
on guard could even lower his gun to repel boarders, my head struck him
soundly in the stomach, sending him crashing back against one of those
tightly closed doors.  Tangled up with the surprised soldier, who
promptly clinched his unexpected antagonist, and, with shocking
profanity, strove to throttle me, I yet chanced to take note of the
number "18" painted upon the white wood just above us.  Then the door
itself was hurled hastily open, and with fierce exclamation of rage a
gray-hooded Capuchin monk bounded forth like a rubber ball, and
instantly began kicking vigorously right and left at our struggling
figures.  It gives me pleasure to record that the Spaniard, being on
top, received by far the worst of it, yet I might also bear testimony
to the vigor of the priest's legs, while we shared equally in the
volubility of his tongue.

"_Sacre_!" he screamed in French, punctuating each sentence with a
fresh blow.  "Get away from here, you drunken, quarrelling brutes!  Has
it come to this, that a respectable priest of Holy Church may not hold
private converse with the condemned without a brawl at the very door?
Mother of God! what meaneth the fracas?  Where is the guard?  Why don't
some of them jab their steel in the blasphemous ragamuffins who thus
make mock of the holy offices of religion?  Take that, you black,
sprawling beast!"

He aimed a vicious stroke at my head, which I ducked in the nick of
time to permit of its landing with full force in my companion's ribs.
I heard him grunt in acknowledgment of its receipt.

"Where is the guard, I say!  If they come not I will strangle the dogs
with my own consecrated hands to the glory of God.  By the sainted
Benedine! was ever one of our Order so basely treated before?  Get
away, I tell you!  'Tis a disgrace to the true faith, and just as I was
about to bring the Chevalier to his knees in confession of his sins!"

Gonzales was fairly doubled up with laughter at the ludicrous incident,
choking so that speech had become an utter impossibility.  By this time
the aroused guards began hurrying forward on a run down the passageway
to rescue their imperilled comrade, yet, before the foremost succeeded
in laying hands upon me, a newcomer, resplendent in glittering uniform,
with an inflamed, almost purple face, leaped madly forth from the
opposite side of the mast and began laying about him vigorously with an
iron pin, making use meanwhile of a vocabulary of choice Spanish
epithets such as I never heard equalled.

"By the shrine of Saint Gracia!" shouted this new arrival hoarsely,
glaring about in the dim light as if half awakened from a bad dream.
"What meaneth this aboard my ship?  _Caramba_! is this a travelling
show--a place for mountebanks and gypsies?  Shut the door, you
shrieking gray-back of a monk, or I 'll have you cat-o'-nine-tailed by
the guard, in spite of your robe.  Get up, you drunken brute!"

The crestfallen soldier to whom these last affectionate words were
addressed limped painfully away, and then the justly irate commander of
His Christian Majesty's flag-ship "Santa Maria" glowered down on me
with an astonishment that for the moment held him dumb.

"Where did this dirty nigger come from?" he roared at last, applying
one of his heavy sea-boots to me with vehemence.  "Who is the villain
who dared bring such cattle on board my ship?"

Gonzales, now thoroughly sobered by the seriousness of the situation,
attempted to account for my presence, but before he had fairly begun
his story, the Captain, who by this time was beyond all reason, burst
roaring forth again:

"Oh, so you brought him!  You did, hey?  Well, did n't I tell you to
let no lazy, loafing bumboat-man set foot on board?  Do you laugh at my
orders, you good-for-nothing scum of the sea?  And above all things why
did you ever drag such a creature as this down between decks to
disgrace the whole of His Majesty's navy?  Get up, you bundle of rags!"

I scrambled to my feet, seeking to shuffle to one side out of his
immediate sight, but a heavy hand closed instantly on my ragged collar
and held me fronting him.  For a moment I thought he meant to strike
me, but I appeared such a miserable, dejected specimen of humanity that
the fierce anger died slowly out of his eyes.

"Francisco," he called sternly, "heave this thing overboard, and be
lively about it!  Saints of Mercy! he smells like a butcher-boat in the
tropics."

Hustled, dragged, cuffed, mercilessly kicked, the fellows got me out
upon the open deck at last; I caught one fleeting glimpse of the great
masts, the white, gleaming planks under foot, the horrified, upturned,
face of Alphonse in the little boat beneath, and then, with a heave and
a curse, over I went, sprawling down from rail to river, as terrified a
darky as ever made hasty departure from a man-of-war.




CHAPTER IV

WE HOLD A COUNCIL OF WAR

The last object I remember seeing was the white face of the Capuchin
monk peering at me over the rail, and my earliest thought as I arose to
the surface, was that as the water had probably cleansed my skin it
would be wise to keep well out of sight from the deck.  Fortunately the
boat floated close at hand.  Laying hasty grasp upon it, but remaining
well immersed in the river, I bade the thoroughly frightened black
paddle with diligence out of that neighborhood.  This was a task he was
not slow in accomplishing, fear lending strength to trained muscles,
and we soon had the good fortune to discover a safe landing-place
beneath the lee of a long molasses shed, where our plight was
unobserved by any one.

Remaining hidden here myself, feeling reasonably secure from prying
eyes, I despatched Alphonse after dry clothing, meanwhile tramping back
and forth across the packed earthen floor to keep chilled blood in
circulation, seeking eagerly to evolve out of the confused events of
the afternoon some programme for future guidance.  This task was no
light one.  The closer I faced the desperate work remaining
unaccomplished the less I enjoyed the outlook, the more improbable
appeared success.  Getting aboard the "Santa Maria" was now, to my
mind, the simplest part of the adventure, but beyond the accomplishment
of that feat I could perceive little to encourage me.  What must
necessarily follow my safe gaining of that guarded deck, during the
dark hours of the night, depended so largely upon the occurrence of
helpful circumstances, any definite plan of action arranged beforehand
became simply an impossibility.  Still, striving to make allowances for
the unexpected, I managed to put together a chain of details, trusting,
with the blind faith of a fatalist, that these would somehow fall into
line when the hour came.  If they failed, as was likely, I determined
to shift them about in any way possible as each fresh emergency arose.
I realized how small a part any preliminary survey holds in such an
enterprise as now fronted me, an enterprise to be worked out amid
darkness and grave personal peril, where any bungling act or false move
might overturn everything in an instant; yet it is always well--or at
least so I have found it--to trace some outline of procedure, rather
than trust wholly to the intuitions of the moment.  God's aid seems
usually granted to those doing most for themselves.

I felt little confidence by the time Alphonse returned, yet my firm
determination to make the effort had in no way abated.  Indeed, had
failure been an absolute certainty I should have gone forward exactly
the same, for I was bound to it by my pledge to Eloise de Noyan.  I
have reason to suppose dogged determination a part of my nature, but
then something far more compelling than this inherited tendency drove
me irresistibly forward to my fate.  This is no story of the rescue of
a prisoner of war, but rather of how love impelled an ordinary man to
the accomplishment of deeds which seemed impossible.

It was evening, already quite dark, it fortunately proving a night of
cloud and threatened storm, when I ventured to steal into the little
cottage on the Rue Dumaine, and found there, even as I had left them,
Madame de Noyan and the _père_ awaiting me.  How anxious a day she had
been compelled to pass since the hour of my departure was plainly
imprinted upon her beautiful face, gently touched by the softened light
from a shaded candle near which she rested; nor was the naturally pale,
emaciated countenance of her spiritual adviser entirely free from
outward marks of care impressed upon it by his patient vigil.

I recall still, a pang tugging at my old heart, with what unspeakable
gentleness Eloise came forward, holding forth both white hands in
greeting, while unrestrained tears glistened upon the long lashes
partly veiling the eager glow of soft eyes searching my face.  She
uttered never a word of questioning relative to the result of my
mission; merely stood there silent, her warm hands in mine, her gaze
fastened upon me, as if within my eyes she sought to read everything
unasked.  Perhaps she did, yet to me it seemed the perfect abandon of
trust, and often since have I thought upon it as illustrative of her
unswerving confidence in my honor.

"I do so thank you, Geoffrey Benteen," she said in all simplicity, "for
thus coming to us once more."

"I returned the earliest moment possible, Madame," I replied quietly,
although all my heart must have leaped responsive into my eyes,
contradicting such coolness of speech.  Be that as it may, my sweet
mistress never glanced aside, nor drew back her hands from mine.  It
was the gravely observant priest, standing behind within the shadows,
whose natural impatience caused him to interrupt our greeting, although
he spoke not unkindly.

"My son," he said, deep anxiety evident in the tone of his soft speech,
"we have remained in solemn prayer ever since the hour of thy
departure, and, while we doubt not our petitions have found favor of
both Mother and Child, yet the flesh sorroweth, and we yearn greatly to
know all from thine own lips as to the fortunes of this day.  Tell us,
I beg thee, hast thou discovered aught of comfort or help for the
condemned?"

His words brought me back to earth with sudden rush.  Releasing the
soft hands I had been clasping so tightly in momentary forgetfulness, I
led the lady to a seat, even finding another myself before venturing
upon reply.

"I thank you heartily for your prayers, Sir Priest.  Often have I heard
my father say the prayer of the righteous availeth much, and although I
be not of Holy Church--for those to whom I looked in earlier years for
guidance were of the dissenting breed--yet I yield respect to all true
religion; and even in the woods, where men grow rough, giving small
thought to the voice of their souls, I have discovered much to tell me
of God, and to make me thankful for His mercies.  But you ask a
difficult question.  The day has not been ill spent nor wasted.  This
much, at least, I may say--I have discovered one weak spot in the
Spanish guard-line, and intend to make the best possible use of it.
Yet the venture is bound to prove a desperate one, and nothing except
the overruling care of Him who guides us all can secure the desired
outcome."

He piously crossed himself, his thin lips moving silently above the
silver crucifix resting in his white fingers, but Eloise only leaned
more eagerly forward, her dark eyes anxiously scanning my face.

"Have you seen my--the Chevalier de Noyan?" she questioned tremblingly.

"No, Madame, yet I have been aboard the 'Santa Maria,'--though in truth
'twas not altogether an enjoyable experience,--and now know precisely
where the prisoners are confined, even to the room of the Chevalier.
If you will listen patiently I will briefly relate the story; then we
can outline together our further plans for the night.  Are we alone?"

Both nodded, far too eager to waste time in words, and as rapidly as
possible I described those incidents already narrated.  At the close
Eloise simply thanked me in silence with an appreciative glance, but
the priest proved more demonstrative.

"Thou hast, indeed, accomplished much, my son," he exclaimed
impulsively, clasping and unclasping the slender fingers of his white
hands nervously.  "Surely but for our fervent prayers the good Lord
would never have led you amid such imminent and deadly peril.  Yet to
me the venture appeareth even more hopeless than before.  You made
mention of plans; shall we not discuss such at once, for the rapidly
speeding time must greatly press us.  The great Apostle once said, in
connection with the work of the Spirit, 'Brethren, the time is short';
it seemeth a fit text for us even now."

"It is too early for action," I replied thoughtfully.  "I require food,
and it will be best to delay until a late hour before moving in such a
scheme as mine.  As to plans--faith, the word was ill-chosen if I used
it, for excepting the mode already outlined for attaining the deck, I
have none.  Yet there are certain matters I require to have arranged
before I depart.  Madame de Noyan, can you furnish me with a strong
boat and two stout oarsmen?  They must be men to trust, who will care
little where they go."

"It shall be done," she answered promptly, her eyes brightening.
"Alphonse will gladly go, and he can select another from among the
slaves."

"The Chevalier, can he swim if occasion arise?"

"He is perfectly at home in the water."

"Good; then we need run no extra risk by keeping a boat beside the
frigate.  Let it await our coming beneath the darkest shadows of the
cotton sheds near the North Gate.  Have them place within it my rifle
and ammunition, together with whatever weapons of war your husband may
be accustomed to use; see that the boat be well provisioned for a long
voyage, as it will require much travel before we get beyond Spanish
reach, and we go not into a region of settlements.  Bid the men exhibit
no light, nor converse above whispers.  My word to them will be
'Virginia'; they are to pay heed to no other.  You understand all this?"

"It is engraven upon my heart," she responded gravely.  "You need have
no fear."

"That I think will be all you can do to aid success--nay, wait!
instruct them also, if we have not arrived before the dawn to bide no
longer; it will be useless."

"Oh, say not so, Geoffrey Benteen," she cried, a sudden sob evidencing
the strain upon her.  "Surely the good God will aid us now."

"It is upon Him I rely," I responded, not knowing how best to minister
to her deep distress.  "We will do all we can, Madame, to win His
favor; beyond that nothing remains but to submit to His will."

She hid her face in her arms upon the table, the light of the candle
streaming almost golden in the heavy masses of her hair.  Instinctively
I rested my hand caressingly upon it.

"Nay, Madame, this is time for strength, not weakness.  Afterwards we
may have opportunity to weep; to-night there is call for action."

She glanced up with a quick, impulsive gesture, and I saw her eyes were
dry of tears.

"You think me unduly nervous and unstrung," she said quietly, and I
could detect a touch of indignation in the tone.  "It is merely my
nature, for the impatient blood of the South has place in my veins, yet
whatsoever a lady of France may do, you can trust me to accomplish,
Monsieur."

Faith! but she had a way with her which ever left me helpless, and no
doubt my face exhibited how abashed I felt at the regal manner in which
she fronted me.  At least I spoke no word, yet the proud look faded
from her eyes, and I felt her hand touch mine.

"Forgive me, Geoffrey," she whispered softly.  "We do not doubt each
other, yet I was over hasty of speech with one who has proven so loyal
a friend."

"Nor have I aught to forgive, Madame, or more to say, except that my
words meant no injustice," I responded.  Then to avoid longer facing
her I turned to where the watchful Capuchin stood.

"And now, Sir Priest, I propose being perfectly frank with you, as I
do not believe this a time for mincing of words.  I am of Protestant
blood; those of my line have ridden at Cromwell's back, and one of my
name stood unrepentant at the stake when Laud turned Scotland into a
slaughter-house.  So 't is safe to say I admire neither your robe nor
your Order.  Yet the events of this day have gone far toward convincing
me that at heart you are a man in spite of the woman's garb you wear.
So now, what say you--will you be comrade with me this night?"

At the brutal bluntness of my speech and question--for I fear I took
out upon him those feelings I ventured not to exploit with Madame,
recalling how this same difference of faith had come between us two
with its dread shadow--a red flush sprang into the priest's thin,
wasted cheeks, and I could see how tightly his hands clinched about the
crucifix at his girdle.

"As to my Order, it hath little to fear from thy dislike, young man, as
that is born from early prejudice, and lack of proper learning," he
returned gravely, meeting I my eyes fairly with his own.  "Yet,
speaking as frankly as yourself, I doubt if I would prove of much
assistance upon a ship's deck; such effort as you propose for this
night would be wholly foreign to my habit of life."

"Spoken truly; nor would I make choice of one with muscles so inert
from disuse were this to be an onset, where men give and take hard
blows.  I ask you not upon the ship's deck at all, my friend, nor shall
I require your company one step farther than the roof of the great
sugar warehouse of Bomanceaux et fils.  Still, it will require steady
nerve to do even what little I require, and, if you doubt your courage,
say so now, and I will seek among the slaves for stouter heart and
readier hand."

That my words touched his pride I could read instantly in his uplifted
face.

"Nay, thou needest seek no further," he announced briefly, his thin
lips tightly pressed together.  "I will go, Monsieur."  I knew
instantly by the bold ring of the words that henceforward I might trust
him to the death.

"I thought you would.  Now a question more, and then I must have food.
Can you prepare for my use one of your robes?"

"Easily, Monsieur; Father Cassati left one behind at the chapter-house
when he went aboard ship, and you do not greatly differ in point of
size.  But is it possible thou proposest to turn priest, and of our
Order?"

"In outward vesture merely, and that not for long.  It would afford me
greater liberty of movement on the 'Santa Maria' than my own garb, and
may spare me some unpleasant questioning.  Yet, perchance, there may be
danger of my overdoing the priestly character, as well as of
overestimating the privileges granted the clergy on board."

He shrugged his shoulders, nettled somewhat by my words and manner.

"I have indeed reason for gravely distrusting your naturalness in the
wearing of a robe dedicated to religion," he made answer.  "But as for
the other matter, there can be little danger of your overstepping the
mark.  Father Cassati is of a somewhat roistering disposition,
over-fond of the bottle, in truth,--although it giveth me pain to speak
thus of one of my own Order,--and I have been informed, moveth at his
own will about the ship.  He is of the sort to be 'hail fellow, well
met' with those roistering Spaniards, who care little for God or man,
as he possesseth few scruples of his own."

"Bear I sufficient resemblance to pass in his stead?"

"You are not unlike as to height and build; as to face, you are far the
better featured.  With the cowl up it might be reasonably safe in a dim
light."

"My beauty has always been my undoing," I ventured, in awakened good
humor.  "Nevertheless I shall be compelled to venture it this time;
moreover, I am pleased to learn that things aboard are as you describe,
for such a state of affairs may greatly serve our purpose."

I turned away from him to recross the room and murmur a few words of
brighter hope into the ear of Eloise, where she sat in white-faced
silence amid the deeper shadows of the portiere.




CHAPTER V

ON THE DECK OF THE "SANTA MARIA"

The Spanish sentries on the Place d'Armes were calling the hour of
midnight when the priest and I stole silently past amid the shadows of
overhanging trees.  I find it impossible, even now, after the lapse of
years, to dwell upon my parting with her who despatched me on so
strange an errand.  My reluctant pen halts, while the tears, dimming my
old eyes, bid me turn to other scenes.  However, under God, the venture
of that night might terminate, I firmly believed I was gazing into her
dear face for the last time; yet, honor sealed my lips, holding back
unspoken those passionate utterances which burned upon my tongue.  I
could merely clasp for one brief moment those hands she gave so
unreservedly into my keeping, gaze into the unfathomed depths of her
dark eyes, and murmur a few broken words of confidence and farewell.
Then, half blinded from emotion, I tore myself away from her beloved
presence, and went forth into night and peril for her dear sake.

However my heart throbbed with hidden anguish as I stepped forth from
that fateful house, the nature of the adventure upon which we were now
fairly launched was sufficient to cool my brain, so that long before we
skirted the guard-lines drawn around the camp of Spanish artillery, I
had become once more the cool, resourceful adventurer, as befitted my
nature and training.

"Sentries are stationed only along the open side of the square, I
think?" I whispered to my companion questioningly, striving vainly to
penetrate the intense darkness in our front.

"True," he responded in so low a voice I could scarcely catch the
words, a slight falter betraying that the strange conditions preyed
upon his unaccustomed nerves.  "It was thus they were posted last
night."

"Then we will assume the risk of finding clear passage.  Keep close,
and venture no speech, whatever happens."

It proved slow work at the best, as it would never do to have a Spanish
spy dogging our footsteps.  I doubt not it tested good Father Petreni
to the uttermost, yet I thought the better of him for the determined
way in which he clung to my heels through the darkness.  As for myself,
such dodging, twisting, climbing of walls, and skulking amid shadows,
merely sufficed to warm the blood, and yielded greater zest for the
more serious work to follow.  I claim small credit for courage in such
matters; they have ever been so much a portion of life to me that their
excitement became scarcely more than a draught of heady wine.  He was
the truly brave man who, without any such incentive as I possessed,
left his books and quiet cell that night to follow me abroad.

At last we ran across the great deserted market-place, and paused,
crouching breathlessly in the dense shadows of the huge warehouse
standing upon the very brink of the broad river.  As we rested thus we
could hear soft lapping of running water along the further wall, while
occasionally some vagrant puff of air brought to our strained ears the
distant creaking of chains, as the great war-vessels swung by their
cables against the swift current.  Beyond this the night was intensely
still, black, unfathomable, mysterious.  It seemed fairly to weigh down
upon us with its noiseless burden of gloom.

"Are you acquainted with the interior arrangement of this building?" I
asked the priest in some anxiety.

"I was within it only once, and observed little of its features.  I was
called there in haste to speak words of peace to a sorely injured man."

"Could you guide to the ladder leading up to the second floor in the
dark?"

I thought he gave a gesture of dissent, yet so dense was the night I
could barely note the movement.

"I am not certain, my son, yet to my remembrance it leadeth up near the
centre upon the river side.  The building is doubtless empty of all its
cotton at this time of year, and we should be able to feel our way
across if only once within.  How do you purpose gaining entrance?"

"Pah! that is the simplest portion of the whole venture," I said
confidently.  "I am not likely to overlook such a point.  The third
window from here has a loosened shutter; I brought this stick to pry it
apart.  Then the interior will be ours, unless they keep a watchman
stationed within."

"Thou needst have small fear of that at this late season, and the
building empty."

We crept cautiously forward, myself in the lead, and feeling blindly in
the darkness for the loosened shutter previously located.  At last my
groping hand touched it, and drawing the bottom outward as far as
possible by mere grip of the fingers, I inserted the stout oaken bar
within the aperture, and, after listening intently to detect any
presence close at hand, exerted my strength upon the rude lever.  There
followed a slight rasping, as if a wire dragged along a nail,--a
penetrating shrillness there was to it which sent a tingle to the
nerves,--then the heavy shutter swung outward, leaving ample space for
the passage of a man's body.  I lifted myself by my hands and peered
cautiously within.  Everywhere was impenetrable blackness, while the
silence was so profound as to give a sudden strange throb to my heart.
Waiting no longer, I drew myself up on to the narrow ledge; then hung
downward until my groping feet touched the floor.  Once safely landed I
leaned forth again, and in another moment the priest stood beside me,
the shutter tightly drawn behind us.  With a feeling of relief I faced
that black interior.  Now, at least, we were beyond chance of discovery
by any prowling Spanish guard, and could advance more freely.

"Lead on," I commanded shortly, resting my hand upon his shoulder to
make sure of his presence.  "I will keep hold upon your robe, so we
shall not part company in the darkness."

Very slowly we felt uncertain passage across the uneven floor.  It
appeared littered with innumerable articles of the box and barrel
order, with here and there a pile of loose lumber, altogether making
such a jumble of obstruction that keeping our direction became simply
impossible in that intense darkness which seemed to fairly swallow us.
We did well to proceed at all, and escape creating a racket by
stumbling over some of the many unseen obstacles in our path.  As to
myself, I became so thoroughly confused by constant turning and
climbing as to grow completely lost, but fortunately the priest kept a
somewhat clearer brain, and, after groping blindly for some time,
pausing occasionally as though he would smell his way like a dog,
managed to put hand at last upon the object of his patient search.

"'T is here," he whispered.  "Shall I go up?"

"Ay!" I returned hopefully, glad I had restrained the impatience of my
tongue.  "But try each rung before you venture stepping on it; they may
prove rotten and give way beneath your weight."

He swung himself up, after carefully tucking in his robe about the
waist, but the ladder creaked so alarmingly beneath his tread I durst
not venture my heavier weight upon it until he had safely reached the
top.  Finally the noise of his climbing ceased, and I could hear a
board move high above me.

"Are you up safe?" I questioned in a low voice.

"All safe, praise be to God," came the cautious response; "but thou
wilt do well, friend, to exercise grave care, as the way is bad."

It required brief exploration to convince us that this second story
possessed a strong, firm floor, although there remained some danger of
there being traps in it for the hoisting of cotton, while the boards
might not extend over the entire surface.  By this time, however, our
eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the intense blackness enveloping
us, so the slightest change in the prevailing gloom became quickly
apparent.  The air was so fresh and pure, with such a taste of the
night in it, I became convinced there must be an opening somewhere
close at hand, and whispered the suggestion to my companion.  He proved
keener of vision than I, for even as we thus spoke he plucked my sleeve
and pointed upward.

"Then surely it will be yonder," he exclaimed, with more eagerness of
voice than I had before marked in him.  "There is certainly a lightness
to the atmosphere overhead, as if it came from a direct opening to the
sky."

It appeared true even to me, now that he had pointed out the spot.

"It must be the roof hatch uplifted.  Now if we discover a ladder
leading thereto I shall accept it as proof that God guideth us this
night, and feel new courage."

"Our work is of God," said the _père_ solemnly, "or I should never be
here with you, and engaged upon it."

"Nor have I ever doubted it, father," I made haste to answer, creeping
cautiously forward across the ill-matched flooring.  "Yet you have been
a luckier man than I if never you found yourself in the wrong when you
believed it to be right."

There was a ladder there spliced with bits of rope, as we discovered,
yet proving of sufficient strength to up-bear us one at a time.  Thus
we were soon out upon the great flat roof, lying prone at the edge,
whither we had crept silently, peering cautiously forth upon the black
river.  That is, we gazed into the silent mystery where we knew the
river must be, yet it was like peering into an impenetrable bank of
cloud.  There was something awesome about it, for out yonder, within a
few yards of us, swung twenty great vessels of war, manned by thousands
of fighting men, while not a sound reached us, except the slight
creaking of strained cables, or the occasional dash of a wave against
some obstruction in the stream; nor could anything be seen, if I except
flitting sparks of light glimmering here and there like lost stars,
serving to locate the positions of the various ships in their night
anchorage.

I felt, rather than saw, the devout priest at my side piously cross
himself, and there was a mumbling of his lips in prayer, but I
contented myself with searching through the gloom for a glimpse of the
towering masts of the "Santa Maria," which must be close at hand.  They
remained invisible, shrouded behind the mist cloud.  For one moment I
cursed the intense blackness of the night, losing confidence in our
venture.  Yet, even as hope failed me, the dull creaking of a nearby
cable sounded farther up stream.  Guided by this I crept cautiously
along the edge of the roof, aware as I proceeded that Father Petreni,
imitating my example, pressed closely behind.

Near the northern extremity of the long building we came to a halt,
and, leaning well over the roof edge, I peered anxiously into the
enveloping fog.  A deeper density of shadow showed directly in front,
which I felt convinced could be caused only by one of those vast spars
around which canvas had been rolled, as noted that afternoon from the
ship's deck.  Vainly endeavoring to pierce the thick mist, I
distinguished the steady tramping of some one pacing far beneath us.
The sound came from farther out in the stream, where I might reasonably
suppose the stern of the vessel to lie.  I drew back, and placed my
lips close to the priest's ear.

"Can you distinguish any outline yonder?" I queried eagerly, pointing
as I spoke, and feeling fearful lest my eyes had been deceived by
fleeting night shadows.

Resting upon his breast, one hand shading his eyes, he peered long in
the direction indicated before venturing to reply.

"There is a shade of something yonder," he admitted at last.  "It rises
a trifle above us, and almost directly out from this edge.  'T is hard
to say of what it consists, yet 'tis of a peculiar shape, causing me to
think of the foreyard of a big ship."

"Exactly what I name it," I replied, set at ease by his prompt
decision.  "How far would you suppose the thing to lie from where we
are?"

He studied the barely visible object long and carefully, shading his
eyes again with his hands the better to concentrate his gaze upon that
misty blot.

"It is like a jump in the dark, my son, to attempt guessing at so
visionary a thing.  At times it seemeth to fade away altogether, yet
back it cometh once more into the same spot; from where I lie it might
be twenty, or it might be forty, feet."

"Saint Giles! not so bad a guess either.  I figured it at thirty this
afternoon from the bank below, nor am I apt to prove far wrong in such
judgment.  Truss up this confounded skirt of mine, while I uncoil the
rope for a toss."

He opened his eyes wide in amazement.

"Do you hope to cast the loop over the end of the spar?"

"Ay, that offers the only opening to get aboard unobserved," I replied,
loosening as I spoke the slender rope coil from about my waist.  "Nor
would it be any trick if the light were a trifle better.  As it is, I
may miss a throw or two in getting firm hold.  It would prove risky
business attempting to pass across a line insecure at one end.  Lie
down now, _père_, and keep as quiet as if you were dead."

In instant obedience to my words the priest stretched himself at full
length behind the low wooden gutter.  Rising cautiously to my feet, I
passed the cord with utmost care through my fingers, testing its
strands again, making certain it remained perfectly free for the toss.
For a moment I stood thus, swaying forward at the very edge of the
roof, my eyes measuring again and again the hazy, uncertain distance
stretching away toward that slight undulating shadow.  It was
practically impossible to determine where the extreme end of the spar
terminated in air, yet as nearly as possible I made selection for my
point of aim, and, with three noiseless circles about my head to give
it impetus, shot the rope forth into the dense gloom.  I heard the
opening noose strike something which rattled sharply in the intense
silence.  Then the line slipped, hung limp, and finally fell dangling
down over the edge of the roof.  It had failed to catch, and I crouched
low, making no effort to draw the loose end back.  With the first sound
of the blow against the spar the steady tramping across the deck
ceased.  A moment, and a gruff voice hailed in vigorous Spanish from
out the darkness:

"Aloft there!  Who is on the foreyard?"

For a brief space there came no answer, although we were made aware of
other movements more directly below us.  Then some one answered:

"The watch are all here on the forecastle, Señor.  It must have been a
loose block that rattled."

"Two of you jump into the foretop, and make all fast."

The steady tramping was resumed, while a moment later we became aware
of the approach of men climbing through the darkness toward us.  We
were unable to perceive their shadows, yet their muttered conversation,
as they lay out upon the yard, served to fix its actual position more
clearly in my mind.  I believed I knew where I had so grievously
overshot the mark.

"_Boca del Dragon_!" grumbled one of the fellows hoarsely, seemingly in
our very ears.  "The Captain is as nervous over those cursed
frog-eaters down between decks as if we were anchored off Paree."

"Think you that is the trouble, José?" returned the other in the
sprightly voice of a younger man.  "I tell thee, comrade, 'tis only
that bloody demon of an O'Reilly he is fearful of.  I have sailed with
the 'old man' in many seas since first I left Sargon, and never expect
to see him affrighted of any Johnny Frenchman.  But I heard the Admiral
say two days agone, as I hung over his boat in the main chains, that if
the Captain lost so much as a single prisoner it should cost him his
ship.  That, I make it, comrade, is why he has n't taken so much as a
glass of wine since first they were put aboard of us.  _Bastante_! but
he must have acquired a thirst by this time to make his temper red-hot."

The other laughed sourly.

"Poh!  I know even a better reason for his going dry than that, Juan.
He does n't have chance for a drink alongside of that gray-bellied
French priest below.  _Caramba_! it takes him to polish off the red
liquor."

"How know you that?"

"Saint Christopher! how know I?  Did I not just meet him at the main
hatch so drunk he fell over the coamings.  The sojer on guard set him
up against the butt of the foremast to sober off in the night air."

I experienced difficulty in repressing a laugh at the words, but the
two fellows were going down by this time, grumbling in their beards
because they had discovered nothing wrong as reward for their trip
aloft, so I contented myself by silently pressing my companion's arm,
although doubtless he had comprehended no word of the conversation.

We rested there motionless, with no attempt at speech, for fully twenty
minutes before I ventured to haul in the line which dangled downward
from my hand.  Everything remained quiet below, and, coiling it
carefully over my arm, I noiselessly arose to my feet once more,
poising myself to essay a second cast.  As straight this time as an
arrow from the taut string of a bow the noose sped silently away into
the darkness.  I felt a thrill of delight tingle through me as the end
settled softly over the end of the vague, distant spar.  I drew the
cord taut and firm, not a sound breaking the intense stillness closing
us in like a wall.  A heavy wooden post, with a pulley attachment,
stood behind where we rested, probably fitted there for hauling up
heavy bales of cotton.  Creeping back, I wound the slack of the rope
about its base, drawing it as tight as possible, and then placed the
end in the hands of the observant and wondering priest, who continued
to creep after me like a shadow.

"Now all I expect of you is to hold hard on this rope until I get
across on to the spar," I whispered.  "When I give three distinct jerks
on the cord, then let loose of your end; but drop it slowly, mind you,
_père_, so I can draw it in without noise.  You had better creep to the
edge of the roof with it before you release your hold.  Do you
understand?"

He nodded silently, his eyes gazing unwaveringly into mine.  I held
forth my hand to him, moved by the sudden impulse of such a movement.
As he gave me his own in response it felt as cold as ice, yet I marked
his grip was strong.

"As soon as I coil in the rope you had better creep down and go home,"
I explained, speaking slowly, for somehow I felt it strangely hard to
part with this last tie between the present and the uncertain future.
"You can be no further use to me; Madame will be anxious to hear your
report, while it might prove exceedingly awkward for one of your cloth
to be trapped here after this night's work is discovered by the Dons.
So now good-bye; you are a man of nerve, even if you are a priest, and
I am glad to have been comrade with you."

I heard him answer something as I slowly crept down to the edge,
testing again the feel of the rope before venturing to swing off upon
it.  I was not unaccustomed to those adventures incident to rough life
on the frontier; my nerves were not easily jarred by strange
experiences, yet I hold it no pleasant sensation to swing out on a
thirty-foot line at that height, amid utter darkness, especially when
you feel uncertain as to its secure fastening at the farther end.
Moreover, the priest's robe hampered my movements sadly, while, being
no light-weight, the strands of the small cord cut my hands.  I durst
not hurry, but took the passage inch by inch, gritting my teeth as I
hung suspended above the abyss, lest I might emit a cry.  In truth I
thought my arms would pull out of the sockets before I finally came
alongside the spar.  Yet, thanks be to God, the rope held nobly, though
it required every pound of remaining strength to haul my dangling body
up, that I could rest across the wood before I felt after the standing
rope beneath.  I clung there weak as a child, trembling like a
frightened woman, the cold perspiration standing in drops upon my face.

I have been in far happier situations than that--lying bent nearly
double across the yard of an enemy's ship on a black night, but at the
moment, so sincerely rejoiced was I to be off that sagging rope, I felt
like humming a tune.  Yet I contented myself with sliding along the
smooth spar until I discovered a firm strand of rope beneath my feet,
ventured then to stand upright, and clung for support to the cloth of
the sail.  At last I gave our signal, and, as the line slackened to my
hand, drew it cautiously in, coiling it as it came, until all was once
again in my possession.  Waiting a moment, to give the _père_
opportunity to begin his retreat, I undid the noose yet wound about the
small end of the spar, and, with much care, feeling my uncertain way
through the darkness, worked myself slowly along, inward bound toward
the mast.  Finally, close beside it I again made fast the end of my
cord, lowering it, paying out the long coil inch by inch, until I felt
convinced from its limpness it must extend to the deck.

I acknowledge it was several minutes before I mustered sufficient
courage to slip down into that intense blackness.  It was not so much
fear of men which deterred me, but the oppressive silence, the mystery
of what awaited me below, rested heavily upon the nerves, binding me to
the spar, intently gazing and listening for either sight or sound.  It
was recollection of that last, trustful look within the dark eyes of
Eloise which finally aroused me to action.  Muttering an imprecation
upon my faint-heartedness, I instantly swung off on to the dangling
rope, slipping silently downward through the shadows to meet whatsoever
fate might lurk below.

It was a confused tangle of ropes I was compelled to traverse, yet none
greatly interfered with my progress, except to render it slower, and
the consequent strain harder upon the arms.  The huge foremast, close
against which I swung, grew bulkier as I descended.  Suddenly my feet
touched the solid deck.  I discovered myself between the foremast and
the rail, so dropping upon hands and knees I crept silently around,
hoping thus to gain clearer view forward.  As I circled the vast butt
of the mast I came suddenly face to face with the friar, sitting upon
the deck and blinking at me with drunken gravity.




CHAPTER VI

THE ROLE OF PÈRE CASSATI

I have no knowledge as to what the surprised priest thought regarding
the astounding apparition thus bursting upon him.  Perchance he mistook
me for the ghost of some ancient Father Superior visiting him in
warning of his sins.  However, I permitted him small space for any
reflection.  I have ever been swift in action; was awake then with the
excitement of my venture, and little accustomed to hesitancy at such a
time.  Moreover, I despised the fellow, and was not loath to be the
instrument of punishment to him, and I never struck any man a deadlier
blow with the bare fist than that I put in just back of his ear.  My
posture was not the best for such exercise; nevertheless it permitted
me to do the work, and he went over without word or groan, even as I
have seen a buck fall to the rifle when the ball sang straight to the
heart.

Indeed, so limp did he drop upon his side, with not a sigh to relieve
the sickening impression, I feared at first I had killed him--for it is
a wicked blow, such as has caused death more than once.  I was
reassured, however, by listening intently at his heart, and, not
knowing how soon he might revive in the cool night air, took
precautions to keep him dumb before venturing to leave him huddled
against the butt of the great mast, and proceed forth on my own mission.

To lower the long gray skirt of my monk's robe until it touched the
deck planks, loosening as I did so the hunting knife securely hidden
within my waist-belt, and to draw up the coarse, ample hood, thus
better to conceal my features, after the same manner I was pleased to
note Cassati wore his, were my first duties.  The way of procedure had
been made clear; fate had seemingly solved that problem.  My sole
prospect of attaining the guarded space between decks, of reaching the
cell of the man I sought, lay in careful impersonation of the drunken
French priest, now lying insensible at my feet.  Nor in this imposture
did I anticipate serious difficulty.  Everything thus far had developed
so favorably I became hopeful of the outcome--the inspiration of
success brought with it renewed courage and confidence.  The exciting
incidents of the night had awakened me to the humor of the venture, and
I smiled grimly at the rare conceit of the contemplated masquerade.
Nor did it promise an especially difficult part to play.  We were of
similar size, broad-shouldered, stocky men, with smoothly shaven faces,
the difference therein hardly likely to be observed by careless eyes,
beneath dimly burning lights.  I knew enough regarding his
peculiarities of voice and manner to imitate both fairly well, so only
an accident, or some careless slip of the tongue, would be apt to
reveal the fraud.  In short, I was armed with audacity, doubting little
that I should safely pass the guards.  Anyway, there was nothing else
for it; 'twas a moment when one must cast timidity to the winds.

Yet I found it difficult to essay the first step in so desperate an
enterprise.  For several moments I waited, hanging back within the
shadow of the mast, gathering my wits together for the chances of the
play, while endeavoring to pick out details of the situation along
those silent, gloomy decks.  Owing to the mass of over-hanging cordage
and the high wooden bulwarks on either side, the night appeared even
darker than when I was above, perched on the dizzy yard.  Occasionally
some deeper shadow, or the noise of voice or footfall, made apparent to
me the life on board.  Toward the stern that steady tramping back and
forth of the officer on watch continued uninterrupted, as he paced
steadily from rail to rail.  I could even distinguish the dim outlines
of his lower limbs as he passed and repassed before the single gleaming
point of light on board.  I was also assured as to a group of seamen
forward, hard against a steeper rise of the deck; once I heard the
officer aft call out some unintelligible order, when one of the group
detached himself from among those others and passed along the opposite
side of the mast from where I lay, yet so close I could have touched
him with extended hand.  I felt convinced a sentinel stood beside the
hatch, and imagined I could distinguish the faint outlines of another
farther back, near the rail.  Trusting to avoid interference from this
latter soldier,--for I sought no risk of accident which might be
escaped,--I crept around upon the opposite side of the deck from where
I had been crouching so long.  Getting my new bearings as well as
possible amid such confusing darkness, I finally set my teeth to it,
rose, and bore directly down upon the hatchway, lurching somewhat
heavily and unsteadily upon my feet.

Whatever vestige of doubt lingered as to the nature of my reception on
board the "Santa Maria" was quickly out to rest.  In return there came
to me, from that first experience, a measure of confidence in my
assumed character that enabled me to impersonate my drunken priestly
predecessor with a degree of cool perfection that surprised myself.
Faith, 't is always so; life is like the teetering-board of children,
ever up or down.  Evidently the father in his night migrations had
passed that way before, as the sentry--he appeared a burly fellow in
the gloom,--after making certain as to the identity of his unsteady
visitor, asked no unpleasant questions, merely contenting himself with
gruff, good-natured warning to the _padre_ to be more careful this time
and not fall down the ladder.

"Holy saints!" he added soothingly, "your worship's head must be
ringing yet with the blow it got."

To this uncharitable remark I maintained dignified silence, and,
flinging my somewhat uncertain limbs over the coamings, went scrambling
down, leaving him to his solitary meditations.

There was no light burning in the big square room below, merely a faint
yellow reflection stealing forth from that passageway leading aft.  For
this blessing of Providence I was profoundly thankful.  A good
half-dozen of the night guard, wearing similar uniform with those I had
met on duty during the afternoon, were idly lounging about the butt of
the mainmast, evidently awaiting turn on sentry post, and ready enough
to welcome any diversion chancing their way which would help to break
the dull tedium of the night.  I observed likewise, as I made a drunken
pause at the foot of the ladder in an apparently vain endeavor to
steady myself, that these roisterers of the night-watch were a set of
jolly dogs, and had been opening numerous bottles of red wine with
which to pass lagging hours more pleasantly.  They were already in that
gay, thoughtless spirit of badinage which comes of fair allowance.
Good humor had laid careless hand on duty, until, the stern restraint
of discipline noticeably relaxing, good fellowship had become king.
Their officer lay outstretched at full length upon three camp stools, a
fellow long of limb, with face as dark as a Moor.  He made no effort to
arise from his undignified position, yet hailed me as though I had been
a boon companion of his revel.

"Ha!" he exclaimed gleefully, tapping as he spoke an empty glass
against the deck.  "Comrades, 't is as I prophesied; we are not long
robbed of the Church.  See, the most reverend Father hath already
returned unto his own.  Truly art thou welcome, _padre_, for I fear thy
flock were about to go astray without a shepherd.  Ho, Alva! seest thou
not the coming of thine own liege lord? or art thou already so blinded
by good liquor thou would'st dare neglect the very Pope himself, did he
honor us with his company?  Alva, I say, you roistering hound, you
drunken blade, bring hither a stool for the worthy confessor!  Faith!
doth he not bear the sins of us all, and must he not be greatly aweary
with so vast a load.  Saint Theresa! 't is fortunate there is yet a
bottle left uncracked for the good _padre_!" I gathered the heavy hood
closer about my face, so as better to muffle voice as well as conceal
features; made an apparent effort to stand firm, but with such poor
success I noticed the grins expand on the faces watching me.

"Peace, my son," I hiccoughed, with an assumption of drunken gravity,
uplifting my disengaged arm as if in priestly benediction of the
impious crew.  "Tempt me not to turn aside from the solemn path of duty
by offerings of that foul fiend which doth so corrupt and despoil men.
Know you, I am now on my way to perform the sweet offices of our most
holy religion, and need greatly to permit my mind to dwell in peace
upon more soulful things than that which lieth in the wine pot.  You
are mere beasts of the field, sons of Belial, children of wrath, every
one of you, doomed to death, even as it is written, 'He that taketh the
sword shall perish by the sword.'  Laugh, will you, you drunken scum of
the sea!" I shouted, glaring about savagely on the grimacing faces.
"'T is truth out of Holy Writ I speak, but I waste the precious word in
such company--'t is casting pearls before swine--for there be none here
who comprehend the things of the Spirit."

"The spirit say you, _padre_?" interrupted the officer, evidently in
rare good humor.  "_Bastinade_! thou doest wrong to all this worshipful
company by so grievous a slur.  The spirit we know right well, although
I confess thou art ever a full bottle in advance of the most of us."

I cast upon him a withering glance of scorn as rebuke to his unseemly
levity, venturing to lurch a step nearer.

"Hush such vain and impious speech, thou man of war," I commanded
thickly, indignation apparent even through my drunkenness.  "Thou
makest mock of the sacred teachings of Holy Church, and art from
henceforth accursed by virtue of my office.  I pause here, holding
converse no longer with such mocking tongue, nor linger in presence of
this blasphemous crew.  There resteth upon me the eternal destiny of a
human, unshriven soul, and I bid thee permit my passage; 't is the
final night of earth for some upon this ship, and I have until now
neglected to perform my priestly duty with one of the condemned.  'T is
upon this holy mission I would pass thee now."

"I truly think, _padre_," exclaimed one of the group, with a careless
laugh, "if you had another drink of red wine beneath your cassock you
could never tell a prayer from a song; so for the sake of those poor
devils yonder we ought to pass you this time without demanding toll."

"To whom do you go at such unseemly hour with ghostly consolations?"
inquired the Commandant, negligently rolling a cigarette between his
long fingers, and resting back his head in supreme content.

"I give absolution unto De Noyan."  In spite of my utmost endeavors my
voice trembled mentioning the name.  I watched the fellow's face
narrowly, yet read nothing save reckless indifference.

"Ah! the gay Chevalier.  Faith, I doubt not he hath grave need of thee
and thy paternosters ere he find peace.  Yet surely, _padre_, 'twas
with him you were this very afternoon, while I was on guard before.  I
marvel greatly he should care for your company so much.  Saints, he
seems scarcely of the kidney to take kindly to so many prayers."

I felt a chill sweep across me even at this slight check.  Had I dared
too much?  Had I ventured too far?  I knew not, yet spoke my next words
boldly, realizing that any retreat now would be impossible.

"Thou knowest little of men at such a moment; even careless hearts
learn fear of God as they face the end.  Holy Mother! but 't would even
pale your black face, and put a stopper on that ribald tongue, were
grim Death stalking at your very heels.  You may smile now, making
reckless mock of the sacraments, but that hour will come when you will
be as a child at the knee of Mother Church.  Ay, I was with the
Chevalier to-day; 'twas the coming of that negro huckster which took me
from his side before, and I seek now to complete the gracious work
which then had well begun.  Surely thou wilt not stand between a dying
man and his last confession!"

"Nay; not I.  Let the poor devil have his chance, as may the good Lord
grant me mine.  But, _padre_, I have only just returned from my last
round among the prisoners, and am greatly wearied, nor will I journey
that way again with you.  In truth, 'tis all I can well do to guide my
own footsteps, without helping along a priest of thy weight.  So here,
_padre_, take the key, and, mind ye, have it safely back in my hands
before the ship's bell soundeth the half hour."

Hastily snatching the bit of iron he flung rattling on the deck at my
feet, I paused merely long enough to favor the company with parting
admonition on their probable future.  Then, glad enough to be thus
easily rid of them, I lurched heavily forward into the narrow
passageway.  Some coarse joke launched at my expense attracted the
attention of those behindhand speeded me onward.

My heart throbbed in anxious anticipation of what unknown trial was at
hand.  Such rare fortune as had thus far attended my efforts, seemed
too remarkable to endure; nor was it impossible that, through some
unforeseen mischance, the cup of success might yet be stricken from my
very lips.  So far at least I had made no mistake; evidently this Père
Cassati was "hail fellow, well met" among these riotous guards aboard
the "Santa Maria," and I had played the part to their complete undoing.
But now I was facing a new experience, and stiffened myself to meet it
boldly, uncertain still what trick fate might have in store.

The sentinel, whom I discovered facing forward, hardly more than two
paces from that door having the figures "18" painted upon it, quickly
lowered his gun as I lurched unsteadily into sight.  Greatly to my
relief, as soon as he obtained distinct view of his unexpected visitor,
he returned the piece carelessly to his shoulder, and leaned back, his
elbow against the arm-rack.  He was a good-natured-looking fellow, with
round, boyish face, upon which streamed the full glare of a
swinging-lamp suspended from a chain fastened to an upper beam.  His
unsuspicious appearance served greatly to reassure me.

"I give thee peace of Holy Church, my son," I muttered solemnly,
leaning heavily against the jamb of the door, uplifting my hand in
benediction.  "May the presence of the Mother and Child guard thee in
time of battle."

The face of the young soldier grew sober, and he withdrew one hand from
its grasp on the shining musket piously to make the sign of the cross.

"I thank thee, _padre_, for thy blessing," he returned gratefully.  "It
will be in accord with the prayers of those I left at home in Spain."

Whether or not guards on duty in the corridor had orders to pass the
father unquestioned, this lad, at least, made no effort to prevent my
inserting the great iron key within the lock of the door.  Doubtless my
possession of it was accepted as evidence of my right to its use;
anyway he remained there in that same careless posture, a pleased smile
on his face, watching me curiously.  The heavy nail-studded door swung
noiselessly ajar; with single questioning glance backward at the
motionless sentry, I stepped within, closed it behind me, and stood, my
heart throbbing fiercely, face to face with her husband--the man to
whom had been given the woman I loved,--Chevalier Charles de Noyan,
condemned to die at sunrise.




CHAPTER VII

THE CHEVALIER DE NOYAN

It seems strange any man should deliberately venture life for one he
had never seen; one whom, moreover, he hated with an intensity of
passion seldom experienced between man and man.  I have not been of
revengeful disposition, nor often indulged in grave personal dislike,
yet it would be wrong in this simple narrative for me to attempt
concealment of my own impulses.  So it is impossible to deny that, from
the first moment when she called Charles de Noyan husband, I felt
toward him a degree of animosity deeper than I had before supposed it
possible for me to entertain relative to any human being.  It was
bitter memory of the past, a belief that I had once won the heart of
this fair girl, only to be balked of reward by spectral hands of
religion, which swayed me thus strongly.  To my thought this stranger
was one who had purchased, from priests at the altar, what was mine by
divine decree; what would remain mine forever from the mandate of love
unchangeable, eternally sealed by higher power than any priestly ritual.

Yet I had already passed through a day and night of intense excitement,
of grave peril, endeavoring to preserve the life of this man whom I
would more gladly see die than any one I ever knew.  I stood now in the
open jaws of my own destruction, where the slightest false movement, or
ill-judged word, upon his part or my own, must mean betrayal; where an
awakening of suspicion in the simple mind of the sentry without, or of
his captain in the corridor; the return to consciousness, or chance
discovery, of the bound priest upon the upper deck, would ruin every
hope, sentencing me to a fate no less speedy or certain than that which
now awaited him I sought to serve.  All this had I risked that I might
aid in the escape of the one and only man in all the wide world who
stood between me and the woman I loved.

It was an odd position, a heartless caprice of fate.  I felt the full
measure of its strangeness, yet the thought never occurred to me of
shrinking back from duty, nor slightest dream of realizing a personal
victory through any act of baseness.  I was not there for his sake, or
my own, but to redeem my pledged word to her whose slightest wish was
law, whose pleading face forever rose before me.  Nevertheless, as I
stood fronting him for the first time, there was little except bitter
hatred in my heart--hatred which, no doubt, burned for the instant
within my eyes,--but a hatred which never returned, to curse my memory,
from that day unto this.  I may have found much to test my patience,
much to dislike about him in those weary weeks which followed, much of
weakness and of fickle spirit, but naught ever gave birth anew to the
deep resentment I buried there.

The room in which I found myself was long and narrow, dimly lighted by
an oil lamp screwed fast into a blackened beam overhead.  Along one
side was the bare wall, unrelieved in its plain planking except for a
small cracked mirror and a highly colored picture of the Virgin in a
rude frame.  Opposite, two berths were arranged one above the other,
both partially concealed by a dingy red curtain extending from ceiling
to floor.  The only other furniture I noted in my hasty survey
consisted of a rough stool chair, and a huge iron-bound, wooden
sea-chest, the last so bulky as almost completely to block the narrow
space between the lower berth and the opposite wall.  Seated upon the
stool, which was tilted back upon two legs, his shoulders resting
comfortably on a pillow pressed against the wall, his long limbs
extended in posture of supreme contentment and laziness, upon the
chest, was the man of my desperate search, the gallant soldier of
France, the leader of rebellion, condemned to die before the rifles
within four short hours.

I have never greatly feared death, have witnessed it often and in many
hideous forms, yet always believed it would test my nerves to the
uttermost to face it as a certainty under guard of enemies.  Yet here
was one, young in years, strong of limb, vigorous of hope, with all the
joy of life just opening before him; a man of wealth, of fashion, and
of ease, who was seemingly awaiting the inevitable hour of his doom
with as calm indifference as if it meant no more than the pleasant
summons to a Creole ball.  With one glance I made a mental picture of
him--a young, high-bred face, marred somewhat by dissipation and late
hours, yet beneath that dim light appearing almost boyishly fresh, and
bearing upon its every feature the plain impress of reckless humor, and
indolent content.  It was the face of a youth rather than a man; of one
more accustomed to looking upon gay companions at the club than on the
horrors of a battlefield; one who could justly be expected to boast of
fair conquests, yet who might prove somewhat slow at drawing sword to
front a warrior of mettle, unless his blood were heated with wine.

Such were my first impressions, until I noted a certain manliness
imparted thereto by the heavy moustaches adorning the upper lip, almost
yellow in color, curled sharply upward, so heavily waxed at the ends as
nearly to reach the ears, or rather to lose themselves amid the
luxuriant growth of hair.  This latter, of the same unusual tinge,
swept low over the shoulders, and was trimmed squarely across the
forehead according to a fashion then prevalent among young French
cavaliers.  His dress was not a uniform, but that of the latest mode in
the province, somewhat exaggerated, I thought, as to length of the
bronze shoes and glaring color of the waistcoat.  All these details I
noted, as he turned somewhat indolently in my direction, calmly
flipping the ash from off a cigarette, and permitting a spiral of thin
blue smoke to curl slowly upward from his lips into the air.

"So it is you, you miserable, drunken reprobate!" he exclaimed, a touch
of temper tingling in a voice I felt must naturally be soft and low.
"Have you dared come back to pester me with your abominable
consolations?  Sacre! did I not bid you this afternoon to let me alone?
I care nothing for your tipsy paternosters.  Faith, man, it will be
pleasanter to face that firing squad to-morrow than your drunken
prayers to-night.  Come, get out of the room before I lay unregenerate
hands upon your shaven poll.  I am but giving you fair warning, priest,
for I am quick of blow when my blood is heated, nor care I greatly for
the curses of Mother Church."

I stepped quickly forward, coming as directly before him as the great
sea-chest would permit, fearful lest his loud words might be
distinguishable beyond the closed door.  Then, with silent gesture of
warning, I flung aside the heavy cowl which had concealed my features.

"You, I presume, are Charles de Noyan," I said gravely.  "I am not
Father Cassati, nor drunken priest of any Order of Holy Church."

The prisoner was thoroughly astounded.  This I could perceive by the
sudden gleam leaping into his eyes, but that he retained marvellous
control over every muscle was abundantly proven by the fact that no
change of attitude, or of voice, gave slightest evidence of emotion.

"Well, Mother of God preserve me!" he exclaimed, with a short, reckless
laugh.  "'Tis some small comfort to know even that much.  Yet may I
politely inquire who the devil you are, to invade thus coolly the
bedchamber of a gentleman, without so much as asking leave, at this
unholy hour of the morning?  _Pardieu_, man, are you aware that this is
the last night on earth I have?"

He was staring at me through blue rings of tobacco smoke, very much as
one might observe some peculiar animal seen for the first time.

"Had it been otherwise you might rest assured I should never have
troubled you," I replied, some constraint in my voice, his boyish
bravado of speech rasping harshly upon my nerves.  "But time presses,
Chevalier; there remains small space for useless exchange of
compliment, nor does indifference appear becoming to those in such
grave peril as you and I."

"_Sacre_! are you also one of us?  Surely, I have no recollection of
your face."

"I am one in so far as I now face the same fate at the hands of the
Spaniards, although, it is true, I had no part in your uprising.  I am
not of your race."

He laughed easily, passing one slender, white hand carelessly through
his long hair.

"Pah! you scarcely need tell me that, for the taste of the French
tongue seems ill-suited to your lips.  Yet I would have you speak out
more plainly!  I play not easily into the hands of strangers."

"Why not?  You could hardly be worse off than you are now."

"_Pardieu_! you are not so far wrong in your philosophy, friend.  Still
I stick to my text, and if you care to hold further speech with me it
will be well to declare yourself.  I have ever been a bit careful as to
my associates."

"It makes small odds, Chevalier, who I am; nor will it greatly aid you
to learn my name, which is plain Geoffrey Benteen, without even a
handle of any kind to it, nor repute, save that of an honest hunter
along the upper river.  I say who I am makes small odds, for I come not
with application for membership into your social circle, nor with card
of introduction from some mutual friend."

His expressive eyebrows uplifted in surprise.

"Then, Monsieur, pray relieve my natural curiosity, and tell me why I
am thus honored by your presence?"

"To aid your escape from this hole, God willing.  That is, provided you
rouse up from lethargy, and bear your part as becomes a man."

I spoke with heat, for his indifference irritated me; yet I failed to
note that my words made the slightest impression on him, for I did
merely mark a slight shrugging of the shoulders, while he crossed his
legs more comfortably, rolling some fresh tobacco, before he took
trouble to reply.

"You are evidently of a choleric temper, friend Benteen.  Great
Heavens, what names have you English!" he exclaimed.  "And you need
greatly to practise better control over yourself, as such weakness is
apt to lead one into just such scrapes as this of ours.  _Sacre_! it
hath been my failing also, otherwise would I now be a fat Major of the
Line instead of a poor devil condemned to the volley, for no worse
crime than an over-hot head.  But seriously, Monsieur, and I am truly
of a most grave disposition, it is not so easy to accomplish that which
you propose with so glib a tongue.  Imagine you I have lain here, under
tender Spanish care, all these weeks, where, as I do most solemnly
affirm, not so much as a glass of decent wine has found way down my
throat, nor have I possessed a bit of pomade for the proper arrangement
of my locks--which will account for their present dishevelment--Saint
Cecilia! but that moon-faced Moor who commands the guard merely laughed
at me when I did request a comb;--think you, I say, I have been through
all this without calculating chances for escape?  But, _pardieu_! what
use?  A man of sense will not dream such fool dreams.  This I know,
there are three sentries yonder in the passageway, a good dozen more
under arms in the guard-room beyond, with still others vigilantly
pacing the deck above.  What use, I say, for did not poor Villere try
it, and, before he had covered twenty feet, had three bullets in his
brain?  Nay, Master Benteen, to endeavor running such a gantlet would
only give me my fill of Spanish lead before the hour set, which, they
tell me, comes with the sunrise."

He arose languidly to his feet, paused a moment in front of the cracked
mirror to recurl his long moustaches, and then, turning about, extended
a white hand toward me, smiling pleasantly as he did so.

"Faith, I fear I shall not look my best when it is all over, but if so
it will be the fault of the Dons--they seem most careless as to
requirements of the toilet.  Yet I would not have you deem me
ungrateful, and I thank you heartily, Monsieur.  But if it be my turn
to die, and I doubt it not,--for who ever heard of mercy in the black
heart of a Spaniard?--then it is best I front it as becomes a gentleman
of France, not with a bullet in my back, as though I fled from fate
with the faint heart of a coward.  Nay, good friend, if death is to be
my portion, I prefer meeting it with a smile, and thus prove, at the
ending, worthy of my race."

There was a certain dignified manliness in his speech and manner which
for the moment caused me to doubt my earlier reading of his character.
There might be steel beneath the velvet glove of this fair courtier.

"Do you mean you deliberately choose to remain here, rather than accept
the chance I offer you?"

"Sacre!  I have as yet heard of no chance," he replied easily, sinking
indolently back into his old seat against the wall.  "I shall be fairly
comfortable here for the while, though I must say I have used a better
grade of tobacco than this furnished me."

For the moment I was in despair as to the outcome of my mission, nor
did I accept the proffered hand of the prisoner.  Here was a totally
different order of man from what had ever come my way before, nor did I
know how best to meet him.  How much of his vain and reckless speech
came from the heart, and how much of it was merely a mask with which to
test my purpose, I could not determine, yet I remained resolute
regarding my own duty, and accordingly sat coolly down upon the chest,
determined to play out his own game with him to the bitter end.

"Quite true, Chevalier," I said, smiling pleasantly, as if I entered
fully into his reckless spirit.  "Doubtless you are right--needs must
when the devil drives.  Could you spare me a morsel of that same
tobacco, until I test the quality of which you complain?"  I produced a
pipe from the recesses of my monk's habit, knocking the ashes out
carelessly against the chest.

He passed over his pouch in silence.

"When one resteth between His Satanic Majesty and the deep sea it makes
small odds at the best which direction he turns.  It becomes merely a
matter of taste.  Death," I continued musingly as I deliberately rammed
home a charge into the bowl, "must be about the same to one man as to
another, except for matter of temperament; so if you can afford to sit
here and welcome its coming, so can I."

"Do you mean you are sufficiently crazy to remain deliberately and die
with me?"

"Certainly.  I pledged your devoted wife I would rescue you, or never
return alive myself.  As you stubbornly refuse to listen to reason,
this seems to be all that is left me.  Opinions might differ as to
which was crazed, but as to that we will probably neither of us ever
know.  May I trouble you for a light?"

I leaned forward, coolly helping myself to the burning cigarette he
held forth doubtingly between his fingers, and, puffing vigorously,
silently resumed my seat.

"My wife, say you?"  A fresh interest appeared to sweep over him at the
word, overcoming his indifference.  "Did Eloise de Noyan send you here
seeking to succor me?"

"It was at her request I came; at her wish I stay," I answered firmly.

"You knew her?"

"Several years since, when she was scarcely more than a girl; yet she
retained sufficient faith to call upon me in extremity."

He sat staring at me as if he would like to question further.

"The Lord love us, you are a cool fish," he finally exclaimed, bringing
his hand down upon his knee, and speaking with fresh animation in his
soft voice.  "What is more, I rather like you.  So Eloise really wishes
me to desert the Dons?  Queer choice that, for she would make a lovely
widow.  Oh, well, what's the odds?  'Tis only the question of a ball in
the back to-night, or a ball in the front to-morrow.  If you chance to
have a tuck ready for my hand, friend, I 'll try a dash at the deck
just for the sport of it."

I shook my head emphatically.

"We will attempt passage without flashing of weapons, or not at all.  I
grant a quick stroke might win us the open, yet would only serve to
rouse the ship; neither of us would ever lift head above the river
surface without a bullet in the brain."

"It is the only way fit for a gentleman."

"Confound your gentlemen!" I cried, now thoroughly aroused at this
ill-chosen trifling with time.  "Either you do as I bid you, or else we
settle down without any more ado, to wait the file to-morrow.  How
often does the Commandant look in?"

"On the stroke of the ship's bell."

"Then, Monsieur, the sooner you arrive at some decision the better.  If
indifference is your game, I play it out with you to the end."  As I
spoke I leaned carelessly back against the lower bunk, puffing away at
my pipe to get it fairly alight once more.

I could note from the corner of my eye he was watching me closely, and
with no slight degree of aroused interest, but I would have rested
there without further speech until the guard came, had he not first
broken silence.

"And she sent you?"

"So I said."

"To me, not Lafrénière, her father?"

"There was a possible chance to save one, not two."

"_Sacre_! yes, I understand that; yet it doth puzzle me why she should
have chosen as she did.  Know you just why it was De Noyan instead of
Lafrénière?"

"Madame selected me for action, not advice," I answered shortly, now
thoroughly tired of his questioning.  "Lafrénière, I understood,
positively refused opportunity to escape, from scruples of conscience.
Besides, the father must be near the end of his days, while you were
yet young, with long life before you.  No doubt this also had weight
with her decision.  As for myself I sincerely wish it might have been
some other, so I could have brought my aid to a man of sense."

He rose up, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are not especially choice in speech, yet your purpose harmonizes
somewhat with my present humor.  I will risk the effort; so now tell me
your plan?"

I permitted no sign of pleasure at his decision to appear in my face.

"I did intend dressing you in this cassock so you might play priest,
and slip safely past the guard beneath its gray cover," I said quietly.
"I purposed remaining behind, arranging for myself as best I might; but
now that we have met, to be perfectly frank about it, I retain no
confidence in your discretion which will warrant the risk.  I therefore
decide we had better abide together until this venture be done."

He smiled, apparently in rare good humor at my words.

"No doubt it will prove best, my friend.  Your wider knowledge should
supplement my boyish enthusiasm," he responded with mocking bow.  "I
rather suspect, from outward appearance, you may be some years my
junior, yet in life experience I readily yield you the palm.  So lead
on, most noble Captain; from henceforth command me as your devoted
follower.  And now, your excellency, I trust you will pardon if I
venture the inquiry, what would you have your humble servant do?"

I permitted him to ramble along as he pleased.  Now I had won his
pledge I cared little for the nature of his raillery.  While he talked
I flung open the great chest upon which I had been sitting, and
discovering it packed with clothing, hastily dragged the various
articles forth, flinging them into the lower berth, covering the pile
with blankets in such a manner that they resembled the sleeping figure
of a man.  Then I turned toward him.

"My first order, Monsieur, is that you get in here."

"_Sacre_! not I--"

There came a quick, firm footstep sounding along the passageway
without; then a hand fell heavily upon the latch of the door.




CHAPTER VIII

FAVORED OF THE GODS

It seemed as if my heart must choke me at sound of those steady
footsteps approaching down the passageway.  I heard the sharp click of
a gun-barrel in the sentry's hand as he presented arms, then the noise
of the uplifting latch, yet remained so paralyzed by the suddenness of
it as to be fairly helpless, unable to move from my position.  De Noyan
merely smiled lazily, as though this new act formed part of the play,
beginning calmly to roll another cigarette.

"The devil came likewise," he murmured lightly, sinking back upon his
stool.  "Begin your paternosters, friend Benteen, or he will fly away
with both of us."

Fortunately these mocking words brought me to my senses quickly enough
to permit dropping upon my knees with back to the door before it swung
wide open.  Nor did I trust myself to do aught save mumble inarticulate
and mongrel Latin, until it had been safely closed again.  Had I sought
to exercise my wits on this occasion, my companion permitted small
opportunity for words.

"Ah! so it is you, you black-faced Arab?" he exclaimed sneeringly, as
the Commandant of the guard peered curiously in.  "Not content to wait
the striking of the ship's bell, you must even interrupt my prayers.
Nice treatment of a gentleman his last night on earth, to push yourself
in between him and the consolations of the holy father.  _Sacre_! had I
only a small sword at my side I would write a message across your black
Spanish heart which would teach your master how to guard a French
cavalier safely, and still be decent about it."

It is doubtful whether the officer comprehended this tirade.  It was
voiced in French, yet tone and manner must have conveyed much of its
import, for I distinguished a muttered word or so regarding the
unpleasant duty of a soldier, and the length of time the priest had
retained the key, ere the intruder finally backed out closing the door
behind him.  I clung to my knees, however, until his retreating
footsteps had died entirely away in the distance; even until De Noyan
addressed me again in his exasperating drawl.

"So, Father, you must now realize, if never before, how highly I value
your ministrations.  Faith! never until this hour have I truly enjoyed
the prayers of any _padre_; I knew not what I missed.  Still there is
limit even to such pleasure, and it is time now to conclude; I have
heard better Latin in my day, while your provincial accent rasps
painfully upon the ears."

"You made your play quite well, Monsieur," I said shortly, somewhat
mortified he should thus take the leadership out of my hands at the
first symptom of danger.  "But there must be something besides
play-acting for us to-night if we get free of this ship.  So come now;
do you get into the box?"

He looked down at it doubtfully, with a shrug of the shoulders.

"_Pardieu_!  I would ask certain questions first," he said with greater
show of seriousness.  "For how long a time? for what sort of a passage?
It will prove somewhat cramped, I take it, for a man of my length of
limb."

"I hope both may prove short," I returned, continuing to hold up the
lid for him to enter.  "Yet I know of no other possible means whereby
you can leave this room without being halted by the guard at the door.
There is no certainty in this, yet there is a chance, Chevalier, and
that ought always to be invitation to a brave man.  Beyond this it is
God's affair."

The soldier twisted his long moustaches reflectively, a new light
gleaming in the eyes that fronted me.

"_Sacre_, man!" he said at last stepping forward in sudden resolution.
"As you say it may be worth trying, but it's not unlike climbing into a
coffin three sizes too small for the deceased.  Still I 'll bide
therein for a while, only, I warn you, you better be easy when you put
me down, or the corpse may furnish a sudden resurrection."

It proved truly no easy task to stow him safely in that contracted
space.  At any other time I should have laughed outright, marking the
final result of our combined efforts, especially at the expression,
half ludicrous, half pathetic, upon his face as he gazed up at me just
before the lid was closed.

"Now mind, Chevalier," I said gravely, for had I ventured upon a smile
at his predicament he would have popped instantly forth again, "you are
to make no movement of any kind until left alone.  When certain of that
you may venture out of the chest, but remain quiet until you hear from
me again."

[Illustration: Had I ventured upon a smile at his predicament he would
have popped instantly forth again.]

"You believe you know a way?"

"Under God's guidance yes, if you will only bear your part."

Without pausing for his answer I dropped the heavy cover over him, and
gave vent to a sigh of relief.

So far, at least I had won; thus far the gods had favored me.  In spite
of the obstacle of temperament I had found means to attain my end, to
work my will, yet I realized well De Noyan would never bear such
uncomfortable posture long; whatever was to be accomplished must be
done quickly.  Fortunately my plan, dim and doubtful as it was, had
already taken outline.  I had determined what to endeavor; it must be
attempted at once, with bold heart, or the opportunity would be gone
forever.  Pulling the hood across my face, I partially opened the door,
glancing out upon the curious sentry.  To my relief he was alone.

"I suppose the Commandant told you to give me a lift out with this
box?" I asked in Spanish.

"No, señor _padre_."

The man was exceedingly good-natured, evidently one who had profound
respect for the cloth.

"_Caramba_!" I growled angrily, using the Spanish tongue so he might
not miss my meaning.  "He promised it only a moment ago, when he looked
in.  He must have forgotten.  There is no sense in having such a great
chest lumbering up the entire room.  Know you how it ever came there?"

"It was the señor Lieutenant's state-room, _padre_, before the
prisoners were brought aboard.  I think it might be his sea-chest."

"Well, the Commandant said it could be removed, so out it goes.  It
leaves no space for us to kneel in prayer."

I bent down as I spoke, exerting all my strength, and succeeded in
dragging the heavy, iron-bound chest forward, across the threshold.  My
heart beat fiercely in misgiving lest the guard might feel moved to
interfere, but he never stirred; merely gazed at my movements in stolid
wonder.  Concealing from him all the interior possible with my body, I
spoke a brief word of farewell to the prisoner, supposed to be safely
within, then closed and locked the door.

"Here," I said authoratively, my cheeks flushed with delight at so
successful an issue, "lay hold on one end of this, and give me a lift."

Obligingly, and apparently without a moment's reflection as to his
duty, the soldier, young in years and doubtless a new recruit, leaned
his gun against the mast, bending down with hand upon the rope handle.

"Where to, señor _padre_?"

"The Commandant said it might be placed in the store-room.  'Twill stow
away safely enough there, and bother nobody.  Know you where that is?"

"Ay; only a step this way."

"Lead on then, yet Saint Cecilia! it makes no light load.  The
Lieutenant must have kept his stock of wine within."

I durst not venture bearing the thing farther, fearful lest we might
run afoul of others of the guard who would prove more suspicious than
this honest fellow, besides, all my hasty plan of escape hung now upon
the faith retained, that the half-open cuddy door had direct
communication with the provisions stored below.  Surely they could
never be loaded and unloaded by means of the distant hatch-ladder.  So
dull and unintelligent in the dim light appeared the face of the fellow
opposite, as we strained forward beneath the weight of the chest, I
ventured upon a question.

"How does the cook get out all that provender from here?"

"I know not, señor _padre_; but I think there will be opening from the
store-room to the upper deck.  They were at work there yesterday while
I was on guard."

By good fortune the room sought was only three doors down the
passageway.  As it was, my forehead was wet with perspiration for fear
De Noyan would lose what little stock of patience he possessed before
we reached there, or that the Spaniard would begin to wonder at the
surprising weight.  Dropping the chest with good will amid the raffle
littering up the floor space, we came forth together, the soldier to
pick up his gun, while, mopping my face vigorously, I proceeded forth
into the guard-room for the purpose of delivering up the key.

This was a task I approached with dread.  Even now some slight slip of
tongue, or action, could easily ruin everything accomplished, yet I
durst not omit the precaution, lest the missing key awaken suspicion
and lead to immediate pursuit.  Here, again, fortune played strangely
into my hands, as I discovered the officer dozing in his chair, and,
stepping softly, so as not to arouse him, I gladly handed that
important bit of iron over to the care of one of the guard, himself too
drowsy from potations to trouble me with questioning.  Relieved of this
duty, my heart filled with gratitude for all the mercies of the night,
I betook myself up the ladder unmolested, and a moment later stood in
comparative freedom upon the open deck.

I could scent the coming dawn in the fresh morning air the moment I
arose through the hatch opening, yet there was no sign of it in the
sky; indeed I felt there must be fog in the atmosphere, it rendered it
so thick, although not sufficiently heavy to drip in moisture.  It
required only a moment to locate all life present along the forward
deck, and I became convinced few wakeful eyes remained among them at
this sleepiest of all hours of the night.  Trusting to this, as well as
the garb I wore for concealment, I walked boldly back as far as the
mainmast, meeting no one.  Then, fearful of observation from the
officer still pacing the poop, I skulked stealthily along in the black
shadow of the cook's galley, until I reached the cuddy door, quaking
with fear lest it fail me.  It opened instantly to the touch of the
hand, and with heart throbbing wildly, for now all that had been
accomplished hung in the balance of this last experiment, I groped
about within seeking to solve the mystery of that gloomy interior.  The
place had the feel of a big, square box; by stretching out across the
edge I could barely reach the farther side, but could touch no bottom,
nor did I feel the rungs of any ladder leading down.  It resembled a
well, and the thought immediately took possession of me that the crew
hauled up their provisions by use of ropes, yet I could discover no
hoisting apparatus of any kind.  With head projected far below the deck
level I ventured a soft whisper into the darkness:

"Are you there, Chevalier?"

There was a slight movement beneath, as if he drew closer to where I
was.

"Yes, it is all right," he returned, his voice so modulated as to be
barely audible.  "But I discover nothing in this darkness to aid in
reaching the deck.  Know you where a rope can be secured?"

"Ay; lie quiet until I return."

It was a bit ticklish, yet required doing.  A trip to the foremast put
in my possession quite a section of line sliced from off the rope's end
previously left dangling from the upper yard.  Incidentally as I passed
back and forth I revisited Father Cassati, still resting easily in his
bonds, but now peacefully sleeping off his earlier potations
undiscovered upon the hard deck.  Returning with my treasure, I payed
it out into the intense blackness of the cuddy hole, and anxiously
awaited developments below.

Nor had I long to wait--there came a touch on the line followed by a
firmer pull, as if the party below tested its strength.  For a moment
the cord wiggled about as if the man was working with his end to some
purpose, then there followed three sharp jerks which I interpreted to
mean to hoist away.  I promptly put my full strength to it, bracing
both feet firmly against a heavy cross-piece of timber, evidently
nailed there for that very purpose.  The rope ran over a small roller
set close against the coaming, which I had failed to observe in my
hasty search, so I found the strain less than expected, although a
heavy weight was evidently attached to the other end.  But I uplifted
this, for I was vain of my strength in those days, and the distance was
not so great but that shortly his hands managed to grip hold upon the
deck planks, and a moment later he stood beside me, complacent and
debonair as ever, in the dense shadows of the galley.

"_Sacre_! 'tis a most scurvy trick we are playing on the Dons, friend
Benteen," he murmured smiling easily, while peering about him in the
darkness.  "And now, what is the next act in this midnight melodrama,
most cautious youth?"

"The keeping of a still tongue until we are both overboard," I replied
somewhat roughly.  "Follow me closely, and keep quiet about it, if you
retain the slightest care for your life."

It was not much of a trick, the rest of it, and within five minutes we
were silently floating down the great river, through the darkness,
seeking after some quiet landing-place below the fleet.




CHAPTER IX

THE BIRTH OF THE DEATH-DAWN

We durst not swim to the nearest landing, just beyond the bow of the
big flag-ship we had so unceremoniously quitted, fearing our efforts to
stem the current might attract the attention of some watcher on board.
So permitting myself to drift silently beneath the vessel's stern,
without the stir of a limb to disturb the water, I was soon well away
from the great black shadow.  Without a word De Noyan followed.  Yet
time was far too precious to permit long drifting, and at the earliest
moment I dared the venture we turned aside, striking out boldly for the
shore.

"We must move rapidly, Chevalier, to make up lost time," I cautioned
briefly, wading out, dripping, upon the bank.

"Are the streets patrolled by the Dons?"

"Ay! although not as thoroughly as when the Spaniards first landed.  We
shall require to exercise caution."

"Where do you take me?  There can be no safe hiding spot in New
Orleans?"

"I know none.  We go to the rear of a long row of tobacco sheds near
the North Gate.  A boat thoroughly stocked, with two oar men, awaits
us."

"I mind the place," he said eagerly, "I outfitted there for hunting
more than once.  It is best for me to lead, as I know well every inch
of the path, and have grown interested in the play."

He certainly proved his familiarity with that labyrinth of sombre
streets and alleys.  Selecting a devious course, stooping low beneath
the black shadows of walls and fences, he yet set so swift a gait with
his confounded long legs it kept me puffing to follow.  But we found
clear passage, seeing no one close enough to interfere with our rapid
progress, while no challenge sounded, until we crept, silently as
possible, around the dilapidated end of the old tobacco shed, and a
black figure, scarcely distinguishable in the gloom, suddenly arose,
uttering no word, yet with threatening gesture, barring further passage
toward the river.

"Virginia," I gasped, breathless from the hard run.

"Bless de Lawd, Massa Benteen," returned a darky voice.  "An' Massa
Charlie, as I 'm a sinner.  I tell you, sah, we done 'bout gib you both
up fo' suah."

"Stop talking just now, Alphonse, and lead along lively," said De
Noyan, with returning authority.  "We can converse later, in
surroundings more congenial."

Another moment and we were in the boat, the Chevalier pushing it clear
of the bank, then lightly clambering in over the stern.

"Benteen," he exclaimed, panting heavily, "I confess I'm about useless
from lack of wind.  _Sacre_!  I 've been housed so long I am weak as an
invalid, yet I can steer the craft if you inform me where 'tis best to
go."

"Up country is our only chance," I gasped, grasping an oar, vaguely
noting a second figure huddled within the bow.  "All the lower water is
patrolled by the fleet, but above there are plenty of hiding places.
Lay down to it hard, you black rascals; you are pulling for your lives."

De Noyan extended his hand toward the east.

"It will be dawn in about an hour," he said, a tone of earnestness
creeping into his soft voice.  "We can never pull against this stiff
current so as to get any distance in that time.  This east shore is
flat as a board for leagues.  I 'm for heading straight across.  If we
gain the west bank within an hour, or even two, the Devil himself would
have a hard job to find us."

"Go on," I muttered, bending grimly to my task.  "You know this country
better than I.  When we reach upper waters it will be my turn to guide."

As I uttered these words, a bit impatiently, there sounded a quick step
on the low bank at our right.  A sharp voice cleaved the darkness.

"Halt there!  Halt that boat, or I put a ball through you."

"Sheer off lively, lads," I whispered.  "Swing her head out, Chevalier."

There was a rush of feet down the steep embankment.  Then a second
voice questioned eagerly:

"What was it you saw, Sanchez?"

"Nothing, Señor; I heard voices out yonder.  Listen!  As the saints
watch, 't is the dip of oars."

"Halt that boat, or we shoot!"

There followed a moment's painful pause.  An oar in our bow slipped,
making an awkward splash in the water.  "_Caramba_! you will not?  Take
aim, men--fire."

A jagged flash of flame cleaved the night.  It lit the steep bank,
flinging a bright glare across the dark waters.  In that instant I saw,
my face set shoreward, a dozen black figures clustered in a bunch.  One
ball crashed into the planking close beside my hand, hurling a splinter
of wood against my face.  The boat gave a sudden tremor, and, with a
quick, sharp cry of pain, the negro next me leaped into the air, and
went plunging overboard.  I flung forth a hand in vain effort to
grapple his body, yet never touched it, and everything about became
black once more.

"The poor devil's gone," muttered De Noyan.  "The rest of you lay down
to your oars, before they have time to load again."

So quickly did this occur I do not believe we lost more than a stroke
or two, and were already well out into the stream, nothing except our
narrow stern pointing toward the bank, where some of the soldiers--we
judged from their voices--were reloading for a second volley, the
others searching the shore after some boat in which to begin the
pursuit.  It was a hard pull, especially upon my part, as I chanced to
sit on the lower side, having full sweep of the current tugging against
my oar, while De Noyan headed the boat as directly as possible for the
western shore.  The soldiers, completely swallowed in the gloom, made
no further attempt to fire; possibly, having seen the fall of the
black, they believed their work done.  Nor did other sounds reach us
evidencing pursuit; for that moment at least we were free.  It was then
I watched the coming of the dawn.

There was a slight, scarcely perceptible, shading into a lighter tinge
of the clinging black shadows that veiled the eastern sky, dimly
revealing misty outlines of white, fleecy clouds extending above the
faint horizon line, until they assumed a spectral brightness, causing
me to dream of the fairies' dwellings which my mother pictured to me in
childhood.  Gently the delicate awakening spread along the wider
expanse of sky, which became bluish gray, gradually expanding and
reflecting its glow along the water, until this also became a portion
of the vast arch, while the darker borderland, now far astern, formed
merely a distant shade, a background to the majestic picture.  The east
became gradually a lighter, more pronounced gray; rosy streaks shot
upward through the cloud masses, driving them higher into an
ever-deepening upper blue like a flock of frightened birds, until at
last the whole eastern horizon blushed like a red rose, while above the
black line of distant, shadowy trees, the blazing rim of the sun itself
uplifted, casting a wide bar of dazzling gold along our wake.  Gazing
thus, every thought of our surroundings, our dangers, and fatigue
passed from memory.  Bending to the oar, my soul was far away upon a
voyage of its own.

Some unusual movement served to attract attention from this
day-dreaming, my eyes falling suddenly upon De Noyan.  His face, turned
partially away from the rising sun, was gray with anxiety, and I noted
he shivered in his wet clothes.  Yet his smile and speech seemed
jauntily unconcerned as ever.

"Yonder was to have been my last sunrise," he remarked grimly, nodding
backward across his shoulder.  "'Tis about the hour now for those in
the hands of the Dons to have their backs against the wall."

I caught a sound as of a partially suppressed sob behind me, but before
I could turn sufficiently to ascertain the cause, the Chevalier sprang
past, rocking the little boat furiously, and my ears overheard that
which caused me to keep my face set the other way.

"Eloise!" he exclaimed exultantly.  "Are you here, little wife?  Mon
Dieu!  I dreamed it not; yet should have known you would never leave
such duty to the slaves."

"I was simply compelled to come," she answered, and I could mark her
voice falter.  "Do not be angry with me.  What have I now left except
you?  The rising of the sun sealed my father's fate."

"True," he admitted soberly, lifting his hat in grave gesture.  "I feel
like a condemned coward, my name a byword for the rabble, being here in
such comparative safety, when, in honor, I should be lying beside my
comrades."

"Nay; say not that!  You are young; much of life, of usefulness, lies
before you.  I knew that at the best only one destined victim might be
plucked from the Spaniard's vengeance.  It was at his approval I made
choice of you.  My father is robbed of but few years, while you are too
young to die.  Somewhere--God guiding--we shall find a home again, and
days of peace."

"Ay! you were ever of brave heart, Eloise.  But let us not forget we
yet remain in reach of Spanish claws, and they are merciless.  Go back
to the tiller a while, and let me lay hold upon this oar; 'tis heavy
work for such soft hands as yours.  Point the course direct for the
cane island--you must remember it; you were there once with me."

I fail to recall even glancing into her face as she sat fronting me,
her hands upon the tiller bar.  I durst not, fearing some telltale
expression within my eyes might bring her added pain.  So I sat with
glance downcast upon the planks, while tugging doggedly at the oar with
all my strength, feeling that same sunrise had brought with it my own
death warrant.  So dull and heavy grew my heart with lonely weariness,
I cannot guess how long we pulled before the boat's nose ran up upon
the shore, and De Noyan, springing overboard, dragged it well beyond
view among the thick cane.

"We shall be safe enough here," he exclaimed lightly, gazing about with
approval.  "Come, Eloise, step on this dry sand, for you must be
greatly cramped from so tedious a passage."

As I arose, the more easily to permit her passing me in the narrow
space, she suddenly grasped both my hands within her own; then my eyes
glanced up once more to meet hers, dark with unshed tears.

"Do not think, Geoffrey Benteen," she said brokenly, her voice
vibrating with emotion, "that I fail to realize what this means to you.
Your troubled face has been a silent accuser of me this hour past.  But
I thank you; you have proven yourself a man, such a man as I have ever
believed you to be.  May the good God bless you and bring you peace."

"Ay!" chimed in her husband, apparently in good humor.  "He's the
nerviest fellow ever I met, Eloise.  _Sacre_! had you hunted this
province over you could never have found one to perform better work
this night.  I wonder how it was you chanced upon him?"

Without venturing a word in reply to either of them, I helped her
gravely over the boat's side, within grasp of his outstretched hand,
all about us the warm sunshine piercing the thick canes with golden
light.




CHAPTER X

A COVERT IN THE CANE

Our boat was securely hidden amid a thick growth of reeds, which
extended their domain far down the shore, even out into the river
shallows.  These reeds sprang quickly back into position as we pressed
through, leaving no trail for pursuers to follow.  Nevertheless, making
all secure on board, and removing from the locker a quantity of biscuit
and some smoked meat, we took the further precaution of covering the
boat with rushes so as thoroughly to disguise its presence from prying
eyes.  Satisfied with the result of these efforts, we clambered up the
slight ridge to where we found a small open space, carpeted with soft
grass, and sufficiently elevated to permit our looking about above the
level of the cane, while remaining concealed ourselves.

Our lodgment was upon a small island, a stream of languidly flowing
water extending between us and the main west shore.  This, so far as my
eyes could distinguish, did not differ in appearance from our present
abiding place, being composed of low, swampy land, thickly covered with
a heavy growth of cane, and exhibiting no sign of human habitation.
The sole break to this dull monotony of outline was a narrow fringe of
trees situated farther back, where doubtless firmer soil gave spread to
their roots.

Northward the eye might trace the slight curve of the bank for miles.
It appeared irregular and low, slightly diversified by small, marshy
islands, similar to this we occupied, possibly cloven from the mainland
by some eccentricity of current.  Occasionally I distinguished openings
into lagoons, such passages into the low-lying mainland being evidenced
by the deeper green of the vegetation bordering them, as well as by
wind-twisted trees clinging despairingly to the crooked banks.  East
and south swept the river, so broad our eyes could barely trace the dim
presence of a distant shore.  Below, that majestic yellow flood poured
downward unbroken, although De Noyan imagined he perceived distant
spars of the Spanish fleet outlined against the blue background of the
southern sky.  This may have been possible, yet to my eyes all was
blank, although I could mark pretty accurately where they should have
been.

We indulged in little conversation, reclining on the short grass,
partaking of our cold meal.  The Chevalier attempted a sorry jest or
two, yet soon subsided, discovering so unresponsive an audience.  It
was plain to my mind the reflections of Madame were altogether with her
father--lying dead before this hour--and this sad memory darkened even
the delight of her husband's safety.  His affected gayety of manner,
and reckless speech, jarred more harshly upon her in this hour than
perhaps ever before in her life.  Yet she made a pathetically brave
effort to appear of good cheer, managing to eat with us, although it
was easy to perceive the food choked her, while her eyes were blurred
with tears resolutely held in restraint.  It was plain, I say, yet this
is but my thought, for I question whether De Noyan, in his careless
mood, observed her depression.  He was of a nature reflecting slightly
on any save himself; past sorrow being quickly forgotten in any present
gleam of sun.  As we thus ended this silent meal it occurred to me they
might require slumber more than I, and I expressed my willingness to
stand guard while they sought rest.  Perhaps my face told a tale of
weariness easily read, for this proposal met immediate resistance.

"No, no, Geoffrey Benteen," exclaimed Madame impulsively, "what have I
done except sit quietly in a boat, waiting the passing of the hours?
You have been through strain and labor which wears out life.  It is you
who will lie here upon my wrap, trusting me to call should need arise."

"Hush, both of you," impatiently burst in De Noyan, rising to his feet,
and gazing across the sparkling water.  "A watch would have small
value.  There is no safer spot on all the lower river than this; if the
Dons discover it, no way of escape exists even were we all awake and
ready.  To remain quiet is all we can do, and how can we accomplish
that better than by going to sleep?  _Sacre_!  I am a soldier, and not
apt to make light of a guard, yet," and he stifled a yawn, "I see no
necessity here, nor could I be more completely played after a night of
dancing at a Creole ball."

Thus the matter was agreed upon, not altogether to my liking, but I
yielded owing to too great weariness to argue.  At first Madame
protested she could not sleep, yet finally consented to lie down.  As
to myself my head had scarcely pressed the soft pillow of grass before
I was lost in slumber.

A blessing of youth lies in the fact that sleep then truly gives rest.
The tired body responds so thoroughly to the gentle touch of slumber
that the latter becomes a magician capable of restoring every faculty
to complete power.  It was thus I rested motionless, and it was nearly
evening before I stirred, although the sun must have been streaming
directly across my upturned face for hours.  I awoke to perfect
consciousness of our situation, as naturally as ever in a bed at home.
Dimly impressed that some unusual noise had aroused me, I immediately
sat upright.  This change of posture brought my eyes on a level with
the tops of the cane on either side, and, my face being turned
southward, there was outspread before me the full, broad sweep of the
Mississippi, glinting under the westering sun, so that for a moment it
dazzled eyes yet clogged with the heaviness of sleep.  Then I perceived
what afforded me so severe a shock that I ducked hastily down into my
covert, every faculty instantly alert.  Close in against the reeds, as
though skirting the low line of the shore, loomed the black outline of
a large boat.

Coming bow on toward the place of our concealment, every eye in her
would naturally be scanning the spot where we lay hidden, and I durst
not raise my head again until assured they had passed by.  I rolled
partially over to gain view of the others of our own party.  Both were
slumbering heavily, Eloise near the western edge of the little grass
plot, wrapped within a great shawl so as to leave not even her head
visible, while De Noyan rested within easy reach of my outstretched
arm, breathing so heavily I felt it safer to arouse him, before that
strange boat should come abreast.  It required severe shaking, his
sleep being that of sheer exhaustion, yet he proved sufficiently a
trained soldier to obey instantly my signal for silence.  Nor were
words needed to explain the reason, as by this time the sound of oars
was clearly audible.  Suddenly some one spoke, apparently at our very
side.  Lying as I was I noticed the shawl pushed hastily down from
Madame's face, her brown eyes gazing questioningly across into my own;
yet, with rare self-control, not so much as a limb quivered.

"I tell you, _padre_, there's nothing along this cursed cane-marsh,"
growled a deep rumbling voice in Spanish.  "It is a mere bog, in which
a man would sink to his armpits, were he to venture outside the boat."

"Bog it may be," retorted a sharper, petulant voice, the sound of which
was oddly familiar, "but I tell you this, Señor, 'tis on this very
shore French gallants come hunting from New Orleans.  There is dry land
in plenty beyond the fringe of reeds."

"_Saprista_! there may be, as there may be water in Hell, but I 'll
never tangle my boat amid that mass of cane to make its discovery.  Let
the frog-eaters have it, say I; the saints bless them.  Come, pull away
sharply, lads, and we'll see what the shore-line looks like above."

The sound of dipping oars instantly increased in rapidity.

"You are one pig-headed fool of an officer, Señor," snarled the sharp
voice contemptuously.

"Mother of God!" roared the other, enraged.  "Speak so again, you dog
of a French priest, and even your gray robe will not save you from
tasting the mud at the bottom.  Do you want to know what I think of
you?  Well, I 'll tell you, you snivelling, drunken singer of
paternosters--you did more to help that fellow escape than you 'd care
to have known.  Now you 're trying to hold us back until he has time to
get safely away up the river.  That's my opinion of you, you snarling
gray-back, and if you dare breathe another word, I 'll give orders to
chuck you overboard."

"Where do you purpose going?" ventured the cowed priest, in a subdued
tone.

"Straight up the stream.  That's where your cursed Frenchman has
disappeared so swiftly, unless the guard at the North Gate shot him, as
they swear to O'Reilly.  So sit there quiet, and hold your tongue--you
may command the Devil, for all I care, but I 'm in charge of this boat."

The sound of angry controversy died away in the distance.  Cautiously I
lifted my eyes to the level of the cane, and peered over.  The Spanish
boat, a large one propelled by the vigorous sweep of twelve oars, was
already a hundred yards above, swiftly stemming the current.  From
their gestures I judged the debate yet raged between the gray-robe
crouched in the stern, and the big, burly fellow, resplendent in gold
lace, standing up and urging his oarsmen to greater exertion.  Within
ten minutes they rounded the upper point, and when they again appeared
within vision, the boat was a mere dot floating in the midst of the
golden sunshine, where the setting sun gave a good-night kiss to the
vast, sombre river.

De Noyan's boyish face was aglow with unconcealed amusement as I turned
toward him.

"Well, Benteen," he asked, twirling his moustache, and staring after
them, "what was it the Dons said?  _Peste_!  I could not make out a
word of their lingo, except when the fellows swore."

I repeated to him the conversation, and he burst into a hearty laugh.

"Indeed, a sweet-scented Frenchman, that Capuchin priest," he said
carelessly.  "I wonder what has so set the drunken fool against me?"

"It is not you, Chevalier," I acknowledged, feeling a touch of his
spirit; "it is rather that lad who landed so heavily behind his ear
last night, and who ran such a merry masquerade in monk's robe as never
Spanish war-ship saw before.  I warrant it is I the holy father seeks
so savagely.  Faith, it would be pleasant to know how he got out of the
pickle in which I left him.  'T is odd the Dons did not use him in your
place."

"Ay, that will be the cause, for I did nothing to anger the fellow,
except it was to laugh at his prayers, with a joke at the quality of
his Latin.  But Dieu protect you, Monsieur, if ever he gets whip-hand.
A revengeful priest is more to be feared than a rabid dog.  I stirred
one of his breed once at the Cathedral by some wild prank, and carry
the scar of it still.  But come, it becomes dusk.  Let's break our
fast, and while eating consider the best plan for the night.  Eloise,
do you awaken refreshed?"

She came quickly forward, a smile for us both, looking dainty and
sweet, although the heavy mass of brown hair appeared somewhat
dishevelled from her unaccustomed pillow.

"I must have been exceedingly tired," she confessed pleasantly, "for I
slept with never a dream, and this is my first experience of lying
without the covering of a roof.  It was all strange and solemn at
first, with never a sound except the dismal whispering of wind through
the cane, and the dull murmur of the river.  The very, stillness, no
doubt, lulled me to slumber.  Nay!" and she sprang hastily forward,
taking from my hands the few provisions I was bearing.  "That is to be
my part of the work, Geoffrey Benteen, not yours.  You will find hard
enough task before morning, while there remains so little for me that I
refuse to be robbed of any rights."

I realized, watching her prepare our scant meal, that she was bravely
endeavoring to appear gay, while her heart remained heavy from memory
of her father.  Whether this assumed levity deceived De Noyan I cannot
say--he was of a volatile nature, easily swayed by either smile or
tear, and instantly joined responsive to her seeming mood.  I left them
thus, engaged in pleasant badinage, while seeking some spot where I
might bathe my heated face.  It was no small hardship to watch them
thus together.

Seated upon the grass, lingering over the rude repast, we discussed our
situation, seeking to outline vaguely our future plans.  De Noyan was
for keeping close against the western bank as we progressed northward.
He had hunted amid the marshes, and remembered sufficiently the
formation of the shore-line to be aware that for several leagues it
remained thickly skirted by small islands, while numerous bayous
offered secure hiding-places.  In this choice I acquiesced, urging also
that the downward flow of the current would sweep with greater force
along the opposite shore; besides which the search-boat, just passing
us on the way up-stream, would be more likely to return along the
eastern bank.

"There is no reason," I continued, "why we should delay departure
longer.  We can keep the boat beneath the shadows of the bank, and even
if the Dons stop to make camp, they would hardly do so without building
a fire, which would afford ample warning to sheer out into the stream.
If they return along this shore--as is unlikely--we should hear the
heavy strokes of their oars before they caught the sound of our lighter
ones.  I am for embarking at once."

This agreed upon, within a half-hour we were pushing slow passage
through the thick cane, soon finding ourselves once again afloat upon
the broad water, the prow of our boat turned up-stream, while here and
there a dim star winked down upon us between scurrying clouds.




CHAPTER XI

A NIGHT IN THE BOAT

This was one of many nights we passed in the narrow confines of the
boat during our flight northward.  Yet its incidents remain in memory
with peculiar distinctness of detail.  I do not recall exactly how it
occurred, but my duty during that first night chanced to place me at
the after oar.  In consequence I sat directly facing Madame de Noyan,
operating the rudder bar.  It was so warm, merely a delicate, fragrant
breeze blowing from the south, she had felt no necessity for drawing up
her hood, and the soft light of distant stars, glimmering along the
bosom of the river, reflected back into her face, illumining it until I
could almost note the changing expression within her dark eyes.

It was a sadder, graver face than the one I associated with her
girlhood.  Yet I could scarce forbear an impression that it was now a
sweeter one, more womanly, faint lines beginning to mark its satin
smoothness with impress of sorrow.  To my thought a new, higher
womanhood had found birth within, during weary days and nights of
suspense and suffering.  It was yet torture to me constantly beholding
these two together, but, as I observed her then, I thanked the good God
who had permitted me to be near her in time of trial.  In patience I
would serve, even though I must suffer.  Tears were clinging to her
long lashes, and occasionally one would glitter an instant upon her
white cheek, as she leaned her face upon one hand, from which the loose
sleeve fell away, revealing an arm like chiselled marble.  She made no
effort at concealing these evidences of emotion, doubtless believing
them sufficiently hidden by the gloomy shadows.  Nor did she appear to
glance at me, keeping her own gaze directly ahead, where the dark,
swirling waters merged into the mystery of the North.

We were none of us in talkative mood--although I heard De Noyan, behind
me, humming a light French air, as though perfectly free from
trouble--and I have no recollection of exchanging a word for more than
an hour.  We merely continued to pull sturdily against the downward
rush of the stream, the deep silence of the night broken only by the
dripping of uplifted blades, or the occasional far-off hooting of an
owl upon the bank to our left.  The pressure of the river's current was
scarcely perceptible close against the shore, so we made fair progress.
Yet it was hard work, neither of us being accustomed to such exercise,
the heavy oars feeling awkward to the hand.  The grim uncertainty of
the future, coupled with our solitary surroundings, exercised a
depressing influence upon the spirits of each, although differing
widely in degree, according to our several natures.  Undoubtedly this
same sense of dreariness led De Noyan to sing, caused me such painful
restlessness under that same singing, and left Eloise saddened in her
lonely thoughts.

Every occurrence impressed me that night as unusual.  Perchance this
was because both heart and head were sadly out of tune.  Yet, at best,
it was a lonesome journey, and remains a grewsome memory, haunting with
many a spectre, as weird as the shadows of delirium.  The few stars,
peeping shyly forth between scurrying black cloud masses, were so far
away they merely silvered the cloud edges, leaving them as though
carven from granite.  The low shore, often within reach of our oar
blades, appeared gloomy and inhospitable, the spectral rushes creeping
far out upon the water like living things, seeming to grasp after us as
the wind swept them, and we glided past in phantom silence.  Beyond,
like a great black wall, arose higher ground, occasionally jutting into
bare bluffs outlined against the lighter sky; again diversified by
gaunt dead trees, their fleshless limbs extended upward toward ghostly
pillars of vapor ever floating from off the river's surface.
Occasionally, jaggedly uneven, close-set trunks of forest growth would
appear, spectral in solemn ugliness, a veritable hedge, impenetrable
and grim.

If, with a shudder of disgust, I turned away from that lorn, dead line
of shore, my eyes swept a waste of waters slipping solemnly past, while
farther out, where sky and stream met and mingled in wild riot, the
surging river swirled and leaped, its white-capped waves evidencing
resistless volume.  It was a sight to awe one, that immense mass
pouring forth from the upper darkness, flashing an instant beneath the
star-gleam, only to disappear, a restless, relentless flood, black,
unpitying, impenetrable, mysterious, a savage monster, beyond whose
outstretched claws we crept, yet who at any moment might clutch us
helpless in a horrible embrace.  It was a sight to stun, that brutal
flood, gliding ever downward, while, far as eye could see, stretched
the same drear expanse of cruel waters.

From out that mystery would suddenly emerge, rolling toward us, as if
born of the shadows, some grim apparition, a wildly tossing figure,
with gaunt, uplifted arms beating the air, to startle for an instant,
then fade from our ken into the dimness below.  Well I knew it was only
driftwood, the gnarled trunk of uprooted tree made sport with by mad
waves, yet more than once I shrank backward, my unstrung nerves
tingling, as such shapeless, uncanny thing was hurled past like an
arrow.  Nor were the noises that broke the silence less fearsome.  Bred
to the wilderness, I little minded loneliness when in the depths of the
backwoods, but this was different.  I cared nothing for the honk of
wild fowl overhead, nor those sounds of varied animal life borne to us
from off the black land; but that strange, dull roar, caused by great
logs grinding together in the swirl of the current, and the groaning of
bits of undermined shore as they gave way and dropped heavily into the
water, racked my nerves.

The peace I found lay in that sweet face, turned partially away, yet
appearing fairer than ever beneath the protecting hood, drawn up as the
night air grew chill.  Whether similar sense of strangeness and
timidity rested upon her, I could not determine, yet I believed her
thoughts so far away that our present surroundings were no more to her
than the vaguest dream.  She scarcely stirred during all the hours I
watched her; only once did she glance up, to smile as she met my eyes
before I could withdraw them from her face.  Had she read aright their
message, perchance this story might never have been written; yet purer,
truer love no man ever gave to woman.  We must have continued thus,
pulling silently, for hours before De Noyan broke the oppressive
silence with impatient speech.  Indeed, not the least impressive
feature of the grewsome night was his continued stillness.

"_Le Diable_!" he exclaimed uneasily, shifting in his seat.  "If the
Styx be more gloomy than this accursed stream, then Jesu pity its
voyagers.  Never have I put in so miserable a night, to say nothing of
a strained back, and a pair of sore hands.  What are those black,
crawling things yonder?  _Mon Dieu_!  I have seen a thousand hideous
demons since we left the cane."

I glanced across my shoulder in the direction he pointed, glad enough
to hear once again the sound of a voice.

"Only the fire-seared branch of a tree tossed on the current--the night
rests heavily upon your nerves."

"Heavily?  _Parbleu_! it has unmanned me with hideous silence, with
creeping, ghostly mystery, until I am half mad, scarcely daring to
whisper, in fear of my own voice.  Eloise, are you there? or have the
spectres of this haunted journey flown away with you?"

"Angels or demons, they would have naught of me," she replied in
seeming unconsciousness of his mood.  "My thoughts, I fear, have been
sufficiently sad to accord well with the gloom, only my shadows are
within, not without."

"_Sacre_! mine are all yonder," he exclaimed, indicating with a gesture
the vast extent of angry water.  "Why should I bear heavy heart, except
for brooding phantoms of the night?  Life is still mine in all its
sweetness.  Not that I greatly valued it, to be sure, yet 'tis somewhat
better than I once thought, and there is always pleasure left in the
world for the young.  From whence springs your mood of sadness, Eloise?"

"My thought was with my father."

"'Tis not strange it should be.  Yet, it might be better if you dwelt
upon the brighter view of our own future.  He is at rest; no tears can
be of aid.  But we can look forward to dreams of happiness.  'Tis my
plan to cross the great ocean, seeking better fortune on the Continent.
France, they say, has ever a vacant place for a good sword, nor is the
king likely to refuse service to a nephew of Bienville.  You and I,
Eloise, shall yet tread the Paris streets, nor shall

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