NO DEFENSE

By Gilbert Parker

Volume 3. 

BOOK III

XVI. A LETTERXVII. STRANGERS ARRIVEXVIII. AT SALEMXIX. LORD MALLOW INTERVENESXX. OUT OF THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINESXXI. THE CLASH OF RACEXXII. SHEILA HAS HER SAYXXIII. THE COMING OF NOREENXXIV. WITH THE GOVERNORXXV. THEN WHAT HAPPENED

CHAPTER XVI

A LETTER

With a deep sigh, the planter raised his head from the table where he waswriting, and looked out upon the lands he had made his own. They lay onthe Thomas River, a few hours' horseback travelling from Spanish Town, the capital, and they had the advantage of a plateau formation, withmountains in the far distance and ravines everywhere. 

It was Christmas Day, and he had done his duty to his slaves and the folkon his plantation. He had given presents, had attended a seven o'clockbreakfast of his people, had seen festivities of his negroes, and thefeast given by his manager in Creole style to all who came--plantingattorneys, buccras, overseers, bookkeepers, the subordinates of the localprovost-marshal, small planters, and a few junior officers of the armyand navy. 

He had turned away with cynicism from the overladen table, with itsshoulder of stewed wild boar in the centre; with its chocolate, coffee, tea, spruce-beer, cassava-cakes, pigeon-pies, tongues, round of beef, barbecued hog, fried conchs, black crab pepper-pod, mountain mullet, andacid fruits. It was so unlike what his past had known, so "damnableluxurious!" Now his eyes wandered over the space where were thegrandilla, with its blossom like a passion-flower, the black Tahiti plum, with its bright pink tassel-blossom, and the fine mango trees, loadedhalf with fruit and half with bud. In the distance were the guineacornfields of brownish hue, the cotton-fields, the long ranges of negrohouses like thatched cottages, the penguin hedges, with their beautifulred, blue, and white convolvuluses; the lime, logwood, and breadfruittrees, the avocado-pear, the feathery bamboo, and the jack-fruit tree;and between the mountains and his own sugar-estates, negro settlementsand pens. He heard the flight of parrots chattering, he watched thefloating humming-bird, and at last he fixed his eyes upon the cabbagetree down in the garden, and he had an instant desire for it. It was anatural and human taste--the cabbage from the tree-top boiled for asimple yet sumptuous meal. 

He liked simplicity. He did not, as so many did in Jamaica, drink claretor punch at breakfast soon after sunrise. In a land where all were bon-vivants, where the lowest tradesmen drank wine after dinner, and rum, brandy and water, or sangaree in the forenoon, a somewhat lightsome viewof table-virtues might have been expected of the young unmarried planter. For such was he who, from the windows of his "castle, " saw his domainshimmering in the sun of a hot December day. 

It was Dyck Calhoun. 

With an impatient air he took up the sheets that he had been reading. Christmas Day was on his nerves. The whole town of Kingston, with itstwenty to thirty thousand inhabitants, had but one church. If he enteredit, even to-day, he would have seen no more than a hundred and fifty totwo hundred people; mostly mulattoes--"bronze ornaments"--and peasants inshag trousers, jackets of coarse blue cloth, and no waistcoats, with oneor two magistrates, a dozen gentlemen or so, and probably twice thatnumber of ladies. It was not an island given over to piety, or toreligious habits. 

Not that this troubled Dyck Calhoun; nor, indeed, was he shocked by thefact that nearly every unmarried white man in the island, and manymarried white men, had black mistresses and families born to the blackwomen, and that the girls had no married future. They would become thetemporary wives of white men, to whom they were on the whole faithful anddevoted. It did not even vex him that a wretched mulatto might bewhipped in the market-square for laying his hands upon a white man, andthat if he was a negro-slave he could be shot for the same liberty. 

It all belonged to the abnormal conditions of an island where black andwhite were in relations impossible in the countries from which the whiteman had come. It did not even startle Dyck that all the planters, andthe people generally in the island, from the chief justice and custosrotulorum down to the deckswabber, cultivated amplitude of living. 

But let Dyck tell his own story. The papers he held were sheets of aletter he was writing to one from whom he had heard nothing since thenight he enlisted in the navy, and that was nearly three years before. This was the letter:

 MY DEAR FRIEND:

 You will see I address you as you have done me in the two letters I have had from you in the past. You will never read this letter, but I write it as if you would. For you must know I may never hope for personal intercourse with you. I was imprisoned for killing your father, Erris Boyne, and that separates us like an abysss. It matters little whether I killed him or not; the law says I did, and the law has taken its toll of me. I was in prison for four years, and when freed I enlisted in the king's navy, a quota man, with my servant-friend, Michael Clones. That was the beginning of painful and wonderful days for me. I was one of the mutineers of the Nore, and--

Here followed a description of the days he had spent on the Ariadne andbefore, and of all that happened down to the time when he was arrested bythe admiral in the West Indian Sea. He told how he was sent over to theAriadne with Captain Ivy to read the admiral's letter to the seamen, andthen, by consent of the admiral, to leave again with Michael Clones forJamaica, where he was set ashore with twenty pounds in his pocket--andnot on parole, by the admiral's command. Here the letter shall againtake up the story, and be a narrative of Dyck Calhoun's life from thattime until this Christmas Day. 

 What to do was the question. I knew no one in Jamaica--no one at all except the governor, Lord Mallow, and him I had fought with swords in Phoenix Park five years before. I had not known he was governor here. I came to know it when I first saw him riding over the unpaved street into Kingston from Spanish Town with his suite, ornate with his governorship. He was a startling figure in scarlet, with huge epaulets on his lieutenant-general's uniform, as big a pot as ever boiled on any fire-chancellor, head of the government and of the army, master of the legislature, judging like one o'clock in the court of chancery, controller of the affairs of civil life, and maker of a policy of which he alone can judge who knows what interests clash in the West Indies. 

 English, French, Spanish, and Dutch are all hereabout. All struggle for place above the other in the world of commerce and society, though chiefly it is the English versus the French in these days; and the policy of the governor is the policy of the country. He never knows whether there will be a French naval descent or whether the blacks in his own island will do as the blacks in St. Domingo did--massacre the white people in thousands. Or whether the free blacks, the Maroons, who got their freedom by treaty with Governor Trelawney, when the British commander changed hats with Cudjoe, the Maroon chief, as the sealing of the bargain--whether they will rise again, as they before have risen, and bring terror into the white settlement; and whether, in that case, all negro-slaves will join them, and Jamaica become a land of revolution. 

 Of what good, then, will be the laws lately passed regulating the control of slaves, securing them rights never given before, even forbidding lashes beyond forty-nine! Of what use, then, the punishment of owners who have ill-used the slaves? The local councils who have power to punish never proceed against white men with rigour; and to preserve a fair balance between the white man up above and the black down below is the responsibility of the fair- minded governor. If, like Mallow, he is not fair-minded, then is the lash the heavier, and the governor has burdens greater than could easily be borne in lands where the climate is more friendly. 

 Lord Mallow did not see me when I passed him in the street, but he soon came to know of me from the admiral and Captain Ivy, who told him all my story since I was freed from jail. Then he said I should be confined in a narrow space near to Kingston, and should have no freedom; but the admiral had his way, and I was given freedom of the whole island till word should come from the Admiralty what should be done with me. To the governor's mind it was dangerous allowing me freedom, a man convicted of crime, who had been imprisoned, had been a mutineer, had stolen one of his majesty's ships, and had fled to the Caribbean Sea. He thought I should well be at the bottom of the ocean, where he would soon have put me, I make no doubt, if it had not been for the admiral, and Captain Ivy--you do not know him, I think--who played a good part to me, when men once close friends have deserted me. 

 Well, we had, Michael and I, but twenty pounds between us; and if there was not plenty of free food in the island, God knows what would have become of us! But there it was, fresh in every field, by every wayside, at every doorway. We could not starve, or die of thirst, or faint for lack of sleep, since every bush was a bed in spite of the garapatos or wood-ticks, the snore of the tree-toad, the hoarse shriek of the macaw, and the shrill gird of the guinea- fowl. Every bed was thus free, and there was land to be got for a song, enough to grow what would suffice for two men's daily wants. But we did not rest long upon the land--I have it still, land which cost me five pounds out of the twenty, and for the rest there was an old but on the little place--five acres it was, and good land too, where you could grow anything at all. Heaven knows what we might have become in that tiny plantation, for I was sick of life, and the mosquitos and flying ants, and the chattering parroquets, the grim gallinazo, and the quatre, or native bed--a wooden frame and canvas; but one day at Kingston I met a man, one Cassandro Biatt, who had an obsession for adventure, and he spoke to me privately. He said he knew me from people's talk, and would I listen to him? What was there to do? He was a clean-cut rogue, if ever there was one, but a rogue of parts, as he proved; and I lent an ear. 

 Now, what think you was his story? Well, but this--that off the coast of Haiti, there was a ship which had been sunk with every man on board, and with the ship was treasure without counting-jewels belonging once to a Spaniard of high place, who was taking them to Paris. His box had been kept in the captain's cabin, and it could be found, no doubt, and brought to the surface. Even if that were not possible, there was plenty of gold on the ship, and every piece of it was good money. There had been searching for the ship, but none had found it; but he, Cassandro Biatt, had sure knowledge, got from an obi-man, of the place where it lay. It would not be an expensive business, but, cheap as it was, he had no means of raising cash for the purpose; while I could, no doubt, raise the needed money if I set about it. That was how he put it to me. Would I do it? It was not with me a case of "no shots left in the locker, no copper to tinkle on a tombstone. " I was not down to my last macaroni, or quarter-dollar; but I drank some sangaree and set about to do it. I got my courage from a look towards Rodney's statue in its temple--Rodney did a great work for Jamaica against Admiral de Grasse. 

 Why should I tell Biatt the truth about myself? He knew it. Cassandro was an accomplished liar, and a man of merit of his kind. This obi-man's story I have never believed; yet how Biatt came to know where that treasure-ship was I do not know now. 

 Yes, out we went through the harbour of Kingston, beyond the splendid defences of Port Royal and the men-of-war there, past the Palisadoes and Rock Fort, and away to the place of treasure-trove. We found it--that lost galleon; and we found the treasure-box of the captain's cabin. We found gold too; but the treasure-box was the chief thing; and we made it ours after many a hard day. Three months it was from the day Biatt first spoke to me to the day when, with an expert diver, we brought the box to the surface and opened it. 

 How I induced one of the big men of Jamaica to be banker and skipper for us need not be told; but he is one of whom men have dark sayings--chiefly, I take it, because he does bold, incomprehensible things. That business paid him well, for when the rent of the ship was met, and the few men on it paid--slaves they were chiefly--he pocketed ten thousand pounds, while Biatt and I each pouched forty thousand, and Michael two thousand. Aye, to be sure, Michael was in it! He is in all I do, and is as good as men of ten times his birth and history. Michael will be a rich man one day. In two years his two thousand have grown to four, and he misses no chance. 

 But those days when Biatt and I went treasure-ship hunting were not without their trials. If we had failed, then no more could this land have been home or resting-place for us. We should only have been sojourners with no name, in debt, in disgrace, a pair of braggart adventurers, who had worked a master-man of the island for a ship, and money and men, and had lost all except the ship! Though to be sure, the money was not a big thing--a, few hundred pounds; but the ship was no flea-bite. It was a biggish thing, for it could be rented to carry sugar--it was, in truth, a sugar-ship of four hundred tons--but it never carried so big a cargo of sugar as it did on the day when that treasure-box was brought to the surface of the sea. 

 I'm bound to say this--one of the straightest men I ever met, liar withal, was Cassandro Biatt. He took his jewels and vanished up the seas in a flourish. He would not even have another try at the gold in the bowels of the ship. 

 "I've got plenty to fill my paunch, and I'll go while I've enough. It's the men not going in time that get left in the end"--that's what he said. 

 And he was right; for other men went after the gold and got some of it, and were caught by French and South American pirates and lost all they had gained. Still another group went and brought away ten thousand pounds, and lost it in fighting with Spanish buccaneers. So Biatt was right, and went away content, while I stayed here-- because I must--and bought the land and house where I have my great sugar-plantation. It is an enterprise of volume, and all would be well if I were normal in mind and body; but I am not. I have a past that stinks to heaven, as Shakespeare says, and I am an outlaw of the one land which has all my soul and name and heritage. Yes, that is what they have done to me--made a convict, an outlaw of me. I may live--but not in the British Isles; and if any man kills me, he is not liable to the law. 

 Men do not treat me badly here, for I have property and money, and this is a land where these two things mean more than anywhere else, even more than in a republic like that where you live. Here men live according to the law of the knife, fork, and bottle, yet nowhere in the world is there deeper national morality or wider faith or endurance. It is a land where the sea is master, where naval might is the chief factor, and weighs down all else. 

 Here the navies of the great powers meet and settle their disputes, and every being in the island knows that life is only worth what a hundred-ton brig-of-war permits. I have seen here in Jamaica the off-scourings of the French and Spanish fleets on parole; have seen them entering King's House like loyal citizens; have even known of French prisoners being used as guards at the entrance of King's House, and I have informed the chief justice of dismal facts which ought to have moved him. But what can you expect of a chief justice who need not be a lawyer, as this one is not, and has other means of earning income which, though not disloyal, are lowering to the status of a chief justice? And not the chief justice alone. I have seen French officers entertained at Government House who were guilty of shocking inhumanities and cruelties. The governor, Lord Mallow, is much to blame. On him lies the responsibility; to him must go the discredit. For myself, I feel his enmity on every hand. I suffer from his suggestions; I am the victim of his dark moods. 

 If I want a concession from a local council, his hand is at work against me; if I see him in the street, I get a courtesy tossed, as you would toss a bone to a dog. If I appear at the king's ball, which is open to all on the island who are respectable, I am treated with such disdain by the viceroy of the king that all the island is agog. I went one day to the king's ball the same as the rest of the world, and I went purposely in dress contrary to the regulations. Here was the announcement of the affair in the Royal Gazette, which was reproduced in the Chronicle, the one important newspaper in the island:

 KING'S HOUSE, October 27th, 1797. 

 KING'S BALL. 

 There will be a Ball given by His Honour the Lieutenant- Governor, on Tuesday evening, the 6th day of December next, in honour of

 HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTHDAY. 

 To prevent confusion, Ladies and Gentlemen are requested to order their carriages to come by the Old Court House, and go off by the Long Room. 

 N. B. --No gentlemen can possibly be admitted in boots, or otherwise improperly dressed. 

 Well, in a spirit of mutiny--in which I am, in a sense, an expert-- I went in boots and otherwise "improperly dressed, " for I wore my hair in a queue, like a peasant. What is more, I danced with a negress in the great quadrille, and thereby offended the governor and his lady aunt, who presides at his palace. It matters naught to me. On my own estate it was popular enough, and that meant more to me than this goodwill of Lord Mallow. 

 He does not spare me in his recitals to his friends, who carry his speech abroad. His rancour against me is the greater, I know, because of the wealth I got in the treasure-ship, to prevent which he tried to prohibit my leaving the island, through the withholding of a leave-ticket to me. His argument to the local authorities was that I had no rights, that I am a murderer and a mutineer, and confined to the island, though not on parole. He almost succeeded; but the man to whom I went, the big rich man intervened, successfully--how I know not--and I was let go with my permit- ticket. 

 What big things hang on small issues! If my Lord Mallow had prevented me leaving the island, I shouldn't now own a great plantation and three hundred negroes. I shouldn't be able to pay my creditors in good gold Portuguese half-johannes and Spanish doubloons, and be free of Spanish silver, and give no heed to the bitt, which, as you perhaps know, is equal to fivepence in British money, such as you and I used to spend when you were Queen of Ireland and I was your slave. 

 Then I worshipped you as few women have been worshipped in all the days of the world--oh, cursed spite of life and time that I should have been jailed for killing your bad father! Aye, he was a bad man, and he is better in his grave than out of it, but it puts a gulf between you and me which nothing will ever bridge--unless it should some day be known I did not kill him, and then, no doubt, it will be too late. 

 On my soul, I don't believe I put my sword into him; but if I did, he well deserved it, for he was worse than faithless to your mother, he was faithless to his country--he was a traitor! I did not tell that story of his treachery in court--I did not tell it because of you. You did not deserve such infamy, and the truth came not out at the trial. I, in my view, dared not, lest it might injure you, and you had suffered enough--nay, more than enough--through him. 

 I wonder how you are, and if you have changed--I mean in appearance. I am sure you are not married; I should have felt it in my bones, if you were. No, no, my sweet lass, you are not married. But think--it is more than seven long years since we met on the hills above Playmore, and you put your hand in mine and said we should be friends for all time. It is near three years since a letter came to me from you, and in the time I have made progress. 

 I did not go to the United States, as you asked me to do. Is it not plain I could not? My only course was to avoid you. You see, your mother knows the truth--knows that I was jailed for killing your father and her divorced husband. Therefore, the only way to do was as I did. I could not go where you were. There should be hid from you the fact that Erris Boyne was a traitor. This is your right, in my mind. Looking back, I feel sure I could have escaped jail if I had told what I knew of Erris Boyne; and perhaps it would have been better, for I should, no doubt, have been acquitted. Yet I could not have gone to you, for I am not sure I did not kill him. 

 So it is best as it is. We are as we are, and nothing can make all different for us. I am a dissolute planter of Jamaica who has snatched from destiny a living and some riches. I have a bad name in the world. Yet by saving the king's navy from defeat out here I did a good turn for my country and the empire. 

 So much to the good. It brought me freedom from the rope and pardon for my chief offence. Then, in company with a rogue, I got wealth from the depths of the sea, and here I am in the bottom of my luxury, drunken and obscene--yes, obscene, for I permit my overseers and my manager to keep black women and have children by them. That I do not do so myself is no virtue on my part, but the virtue of a girl whom I knew in Connemara. I fill myself with drink. I have a bottle of madeira or port every night, and pints of beer or claret. I am a creature of low habits, a man sodden with self-indulgence. And when I am in drink, no slaver can be more cruel and ruthless. 

 Yet I am moderate in eating. The meals that people devour here almost revolt me. They eat like cormorants and drink like dry ground; but at my table I am careful, save with the bottle. This is a land of wonderful fruits, and I eat in quantities pineapple, tamarind, papaw, guava, sweet-sop, star-apple, granadilla, hog-plum, Spanish-gooseberry, and pindal-nut. These are native, but there are also the orange, lemon, lime, shaddock, melon, fig, pomegranate, cinnamon, and mango, brought chiefly from the Spanish lands of South America. The fruit-market here is good, Heaven knows, and I have my run of it. Perhaps that is why my drink does not fatten me greatly. Yes, I am thin--thinner even than when you saw me last. How wonderful a day it was! You remember it, I'm sure. 

 We stood on the high hills, you and I, looking to the west. It was a true Irish day. A little in front of us, in the sky, were great clusters of clouds, and beyond them, as far as eye could see, were hills so delicately green, so spotted with settlements, so misty and full of glamour, and so cheerful with the western light. And the storm broke--do you remember it? It broke, but not on us. It fell on the middle of the prospect before us, and we saw beyond it the bright area of sunny country where men work and prophesy and slave, and pray to the ancient gods and acclaim the saints, and die and fructify the mould; where such as Christopher Dogan live, and men a thousand times lower than he. Christopher came to the jail the day I was released--with Michael Clones he came. He read me my bill of life's health--what was to become of me--the black and the white of it, the good and the bad, the fair and the foul. Even the good fortune of the treasure from the sea he foresaw, and much else that has not come to me, and, as I think, will never come; for it is too full a cup for me so little worthy of it. 

 It seems strange to me that I am as near to the United States here in Jamaica, or almost as near, as one in London is to one in Dublin; and yet one might as well be ten thousand leagues distant for all it means to her one loves in the United States. Yes, dear Sheila, I love you, and I would tear out the heart of the world for you. I bathe my whole being in your beauty and your charm. I hunger for you--to stand beside you, to listen to your voice, to dip my prison fingers into the pure cauldron of your soul and feel my own soul expand. I wonder why it is that to-day I feel more than I ever felt before the rare splendour of your person. 

 I have always admired you and loved you, always heard you calling me, as if from some sacred corner of a perfect world. Is it that yesterday's dissipation--yes, I was drunk yesternight, drunk in a new way. I was drunk with the thought of you, the longing for you. I picked a big handful of roses, and in my mind gave them into your hands. And I thought you smiled and said:

 "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter Paradise. " So I followed you to your home there in the Virginian country. It was a dream, all except the roses, and those I laid in front of the box where I keep your letters and a sketch I made of you when we were young and glad--when I was young and glad. For I am an old man, Sheila, in all that makes men old. My step is quick still, my eye is sharp, and my brain beats fast, but my heart is ancient. I am an ancient of days, without hope or pleasure, save what pleasure comes in thinking of one whom I worship, yet must ever worship from afar. 

 I wonder why I seem to feel you very near to-day! Perhaps it's because 'tis Christmas Day. I am not a religious man but Christmas is a day of memories. 

 Is it because of the past in Ireland? Am I only--God, am I only to be what I am for the rest of my days, a planter denied the pleasure of home by his own acts! Am I only a helpless fragment of a world of lost things?

 I have no friends--but yes, I have. I have Michael Clones and Captain Ivy, though he's far away-aye, he's a friend of friends, is Captain Ivy. These naval folk have had so much of the world, have got the bearings of so many seas, that they lose all littleness, and form their own minds. They are not like the people who knew me in Ireland--the governor here is one of them--and who believe the worst of me. The governor--faugh, he was made for bigger and better things! He is one of the best swordsmen in the world, and he is out against me here as if I was a man of importance, and not a commonplace planter on an obscure river. I have no social home life, and yet I live in what is called a castle. A Jamaica castle has none of the marks of antiquity, chivalry, and distinction which castles that you and I know in the old land possess. 

 What is my castle like? Well, it is a squarish building, of bungalow type, set on a hill. It has stories and an attic, with a jutting dormer-window in the front of the roof; and above the lowest story there is a great verandah, on which the livingrooms and bedrooms open. It is commodious, and yet from a broad standpoint it is without style or distinction. It has none of those Corinthian pillars which your homesteads in America have. Yet there is in it a simple elegance. It has no carpets, but a shining mahogany floor, for there are few carpets in this land of heat. It is a place where music and mirth and family voices would be fitting; but there are no family voices here, save such as speak with a negro lisp and oracularly. 

 I can hear music at this moment, and inside my castle. It comes from the irrepressible throats of my cook and my housemaid, who have more joy in the language of the plantation than you could have in the songs of St. Angelus. The only person in this castle out of spirits is its owner. 

 My castle is embowered in a loose grove of palms and acacias, pimento shrubs, spendid star-apples, and bully-trees, with wild lemon, mahogany, dogwood, Jerusalem-thorn, and the waving plumes of bamboo canes. There is nothing British in it--nothing at all. It stands on brick pillars, is reached by a stair of marble slabs, and has a great piazza on the front. You enter a fine, big hall, dark- you will understand that, though it is not so hot in Virginia, for the darkness makes for coolness. From the hall the bedrooms open all round. We are not so barbaric here as you might think, for my dining-room, which lies beyond the hall, with jalousies or movable blinds, exposed to all the winds, is comfortable, even ornate. There you shall see waxlights on the table, and finger-glasses with green leaves, and fine linen and napkins, and plenty of silver--even silver wine-coolers, and beakers of fame and beauty, and flowers, flowers everywhere, and fruit of exquisite charm. I have to live in outward seeming as do my neighbours, even to keeping a black footman, gorgeously dressed, with bare legs. 

 Here at my window grows a wild aloe, and it is in flower. Once only in fifty years does this aloe flower, and I pick its sweet verdure now and offer it to you. There it lies, beside this letter that I am writing. It is typical of myself, for only once has my heart flowered, and it will be only once in fifty years. The perfume of the flower is like an everlasting bud from the last tree of Time. See, my Sheila, your drunken, reckless lover pulls this sweet offering from his garden and offers it to you. He has no virtues; and yet he would have been a thousand times worse, if you had not come into his life. He had in him the seeds of trouble, the sproutings of shame, for even in the first days of his love there in Dublin he would not restrain himself. He drank, he played cards, he fought and went with bad company--not women, never that; but he kept the company of those through whom he came at last to punishment for manslaughter. 

 Yet, without you, who can tell what he might have been? He might have fallen so low that not the wealth of ten thousand treasure- boxes could give him even the appearance of honesty. And now he offers you what you cannot accept--can never accept--a love as deep as the life from which he came; a love that would throttle the world for you, that would force the doors of hell to bring you what you want. 

 What do you want? I know not. Perhaps you have inherited the vast property to which you were the heir. If you have, what can you want that you have not means to procure? Ah, I have learned one thing, my friend 'one can get nearly everything with money. It is the hidden machinery which makes the world of success go round. With brains, you say? Yes, money and brains, but without the money brains seldom win alone. Do not I know? When I was in prison, with estate vanished and home gone and my father in his grave, who was concerned about me?

 Only the humblest of all God's Irish people; but with them I have somehow managed to win back lost ground. I am a stronger man than I was in all that men count of value in the world. I have an estate where I work like any youth who has everything before him. I have nothing before me, yet I shall go on working to the end. Why? Because I have some faculties which are more than bread and butter, and I must give them opportunity. 

 Yet I am not always sane. Sometimes I feel I could march out and sweep into the sea one of the towns that dot the coast of this island. I have the bloody thirst, as said the great Spanish conquistador. I would like--yes, sometimes I would like to sweep to a watery grave one of the towns that are a glory to this island, as Savanna la Mar was swept to oblivion in the year 1780 by a hurricane. You can still see the ruins of the town at the bottom of the sea--I have sailed over it in what is now the harbour, and there beneath, on the deep sands, lost to time and trouble, is the slain and tortured town of Savanna la Mar. Was the Master of the World angry that day when, with a besom of wind and a tidal wave, He swept the place into the sea? Or was it some devil's work while the Lord of All slept? As the Spanish say, Quien sabe?

 Then there was that other enormous incident which made a man to be swallowed by an earthquake, then belched out again into the sea and picked up and restored to life again, and to live for many years. Indeed, yes, it is so. His tombstone may be seen even at this day at Green Bay, Kingston. His name was Lewis Galdy, and he is held in high repute in this land. 

 I feel sometimes as Beelzebub may feel, and I long to do what Beelzebub might do as part of his mission. Sometimes a madness of revolt comes over me, and I long to ravage all the places I see, all the people I know--or nearly all. Why I do not have negroes thrashed and mutilated, as some do, I know not. Over against the southern shore in the parish of St. Elizabeth is an estate called Salem, owned, it is said, by an American, where the manager does such things. I am told that savageries are found there. There are too many absentee owners of land in this island, and the wrongs done by agents who have no personal honour at stake are all too plentiful. If I could, I would have no slavery, would set all the blacks free, making full compensation to the owners, and less to the absentee owners. 

 I look out on a world of summer beauty and of heat. I see the sheep in hundreds on the far hills of pasturage--sheep with short hair, small and sweet as any that ever came from the South Downs. I see the natives in their Madras handkerchiefs. I see upon the road some planter in his ketureen--a sort of sedan chair; I see a negro funeral, with its strange ceremony and its gumbies of African drums. I see yam-fed planters, on their horses, making for the burning, sandy streets of the capital. I see the Scots grass growing five and six feet high, food unsurpassed for horses--all the foliage too --beautiful tropical trees and shrubs, and here and there a huge breeding-farm. Yet I know that out beyond my sight there is the region known as Trelawney, and Trelawney Town, the headquarters of the Maroons, the free negroes--they who fled after the Spanish had been conquered and the British came, and who were later freed and secured by the Trelawney Treaty. I know that now they are ready to rise, that they are working among the slaves; and if they rise the danger is great to the white population of the island, who are outnumbered ten to one. 

 The governor has been warned, but he gives no heed, or treats it all lightly, pointing out how few the Maroons are. He forgets that a few determined men can demoralize a whole state, can fight and murder and fly to dark coverts in the tropical woods, where they cannot be tracked down and destroyed; and, if they have made supporters of the slaves, what consequences may not follow!

 What do the Maroons look like? They are ferocious and isolated, they are proud and overbearing, they are horribly cruel, but they are potent, and are difficult to reach. They are not small and meagre, but are big, brawny fellows, clothed in wide duck trousers and shirts, and they are well-armed--cutlass, powder-horn, haversack, sling, shot-gun, and pouch for ball. They dress as the country requires, and they are strong fighters against our soldiers who are burdened with heavy muskets, and who defy the climate, with their stuffed coats, their weighty caps, and their tight cross- belts. The Maroons are not to be despised. They have brains, the insolence of freedom among natives who are not free, and vast cruelty. They can be mastered and kept in subjection, can be made allies, if properly handled; but Lord Mallow goes the wrong way about it all. He permits things that inflame the Maroons. 

 One thing is clear to me--only by hounds can these people be defeated. So sure am I upon this point, that I have sent to Cuba for sixty hounds, with which, when the trouble comes--and it is not far off--we shall be able to hunt the Maroons with the only weapon they really fear--the dog's sharp tooth. It may be the governor may intervene on the arrival of the dogs; but I have made friends with the provost-marshal-general and some members of the Jamaica legislature; also I have a friend in the deputy of the provost- marshal-general in my parish of Clarendon here, and I will make a good bet that the dogs will be let come into the island, governor or no governor. 

 When one sets oneself against the Crown one must be sure of one's ground, and fear no foe, however great and high. Well, I have won so far, and I shall win in the end. Mallow should have some respect for one that beat him at Phoenix Park with the sword; that beat him when he would have me imprisoned here; that beat him in the matter of the ship for Haiti, and that will beat him on every hazard he sets, unless he stoops to underhand acts, which he will not do. That much must be said for him. He plays his part in no small way, and he is more a bigot and a fanatic loyalist than a rogue. Suppose--but no, I will not suppose. I will lay my plans, I will keep faith with people here who trust me, and who know that if I am stern I am also just, and I will play according to the rules made by better men than myself. 

But what is this I see? Michael Clones--in his white jean waistcoat, white neckcloth and trousers, and blue coat--is coming up the drive inhot haste, bearing a letter. He rides too hard. He has never carriedhimself easily in this climate. He treats it as if it was Ireland. Hewill not protect himself, and, if penalty followed folly, should now bein his grave. I like you, Michael. You are a boon, but--

CHAPTER XVII

STRANGERS ARRIVE

Dyck Calhoun's letter was never ended. It was only a relic of the yearsspent in Jamaica, only a sign of his well-being, though it gave no realpicture of himself. He did not know how like a tyrant he had become insome small ways, while in the large things he remained generous, urbane, and resourceful. He was in appearance thin, dark-favoured, buoyant inmanner, and stern of face, with splendid eyes. Had he dwelt on Olympus, he might have been summoned to judge and chastise the sons of men. 

When Michael Clones came to the doorway, Dyck laid down his quill-pen andeyed the flushed servant in disapproval. 

"What is it, Michael? Wherefore this starkness? Is some one come fromheaven?"

"Not precisely from heaven, y'r honour, but--"

"But--yes, Michael! Have done with but-ing, and come to the realmatter. "

"Well, sir, they've come from Virginia. "

Dyck Calhoun slowly got to his feet, his face paling, his bodystiffening. From Virginia! Who should be come from Virginia, save sheto whom he had just been writing?

"Who has come from Virginia?" He knew, but he wanted it said. 

"Sure, you knew a vessel came from America last night. Well, in her wasone that was called the Queen of Ireland long ago. "

"Queen of Ireland--well, what then?" Dyck's voice was tuneless, hismanner rigid, his eyes burning. "Well, she--Miss Sheila Llyn and hermother are going to the Salem Plantation, down by the Essex ValleyMountain. It is her plantation now. It belonged to her uncle, BryanLlyn. He got it in payment of a debt. He's dead now, and all his landsand wealth have come to her. Her mother, Mrs. Llyn, is with her, andthey start to-morrow or the next day for Salem. There'll be differentdoings at Salem henceforward, y'r honour. She's not the woman to seeslaves treated as the manager at Salem treated 'em. "

Dyck Calhoun made an impatient gesture at this last remark. 

"Yes, yes, Michael. Where are they now?"

"They're at Charlotte Bedford's lodgings in Spanish Town. The governorwaited on them this morning. The governor sent them flowers and--"

"Flowers--Lord Mallow sent them flowers! Hell's fiend, man, suppose hedid?"

"There are better flowers here than in any Spanish Town. "

"Well, take them, Michael; but if you do, come here again no more whileyou live, for I'll have none of you. Do you think I'm entering the listsagainst the king's governor?"

"You've done it before, sir, and there's no harm in doing it again. Onegood turn deserves another. I've also to tell you, sir, that Lord Mallowhas asked them to stay at King's House. "

"Lord Mallow has asked Americans to stay at King's House!"

"But they're Irish, and he knew them in Ireland, y 'r honour. "

"Well, he knew me in Ireland, and I'm proscribed!"

"Ah, that's different, as you know. There's no war on now, and they'reonly good American citizens who own land in this dominion of the king; sowhy shouldn't he give them courtesy?"

"From whom do you get your information?" asked Dyck Calhoun with an airof suspicion. 

"From Darius Boland, y'r honour, " answered Michael, with a smile. "Whois Darius Boland, you're askin' in y'r mind? Well, he's the new managercome from the Llyn plantations in Virginia; and right good stuff he is, with a tongue that's as dry as cut-wheat in August. And there's humourin him, plenty-aye, plenty. When did I see him, and how? Well, I sawhim this mornin', on the quay at Kingston. He was orderin' the portersabout with an air--oh, bedad, an air! I saw the name upon the parcels--Miss Sheila Llyn, of Moira, Virginia, and so I spoke to him. The restwas aisy. He looked me up and down in a flash, like a searchlightplayin' on an enemy ship, and then he smiled. 'Well, ' said he, 'whomight you be? For there's queer folks in Jamaica, I'm told. ' So I saidI was Michael Clones, and at that he doffed his hat and held out a hand. 'Well, here's luck, ' said he. 'Luck at the very start! I've heard ofyou from my mistress. You're servant to Mr. Dyck Calhoun--ain't thatit?' And I nodded, and he smiled again--a smile that'd cost moneyannywhere else than in Jamaica. He smiled again, and give a slow hitchto his breeches as though they was fallin' down. Why, sir, he's thelongest bit of man you ever saw, with a pointed beard, and a nose that'sas long as a midshipman's tongue-dry, lean, and elastic. He's quick andslow all at once. His small eyes twinkle like stars beatin' up againstbad weather, and his skin's the colour of Scots grass in the dead ofsummer-yaller, he'd call it if he called it anything, and yaller was whathe called the look of the sky above the hills. Queer way of talk he has, that man, as queer as--"

"I understand, Michael. But what else? How did you come to talk aboutthe affairs of Mrs. And Miss Llyn? He didn't just spit it out, did he?"

"Sure, not so quick and free as spittin', y'r honour; but when he'dsorted me out, as it were, he said Miss Llyn had come out here to takecharge of Salem; her own estate in Virginia bein' in such good runnin'order, and her mind bein' active. Word had come of the trouble with themanager here, and one of the provost-marshal's deputies had writtenaccounts of the flogging and ill-treatment of slaves, and that's whyshe come--to put things right at Salem!"

"To put things wrong in Jamaica, Michael, that's why she's come. Toloose the ball of confusion and free the flood of tragedy--that's whyshe's come! Man, Michael, you know her history--who she was and whathappened to her father. Well, do you think there's no tragedy in hercoming here? I killed her father, they say, Michael. I was punished forit. I came here to be free of all those things--lifted out and away fromthem all. I longed to forget the past, which is only shame and torture;and here it is all spread out at my door again like a mat, which I mustsee as I go in and out. Essex Valley--why, it's less than a day's ridefrom here, far less than a day's ride! It can be ridden in four or fivehours at a trot. Michael, it's all a damnable business. And here she isin Jamaica with her Darius Boland! There was no talk on Boland's part oftheir coming here, was there Michael?"

"None at all, sir, but there was that in the man's eye, and that in histone, which made me sure he thought Miss Llyn and you would meet. "

"That would be strange, wouldn't it, in this immense continent!" Dyckremarked cynically. 

"She knew I was here before she came?"

"Aye, she knew. She had seen your name in the papers--English andJamaican. She knew you had regained your life and place, and was a manof mark here. "

"A marked man, you mean, Michael--a man whom the king has had to pardonof a crime because of an act done that served the State. I am forbiddento return to the British Isles or to the land of my birth, forbidden freetraffic as a citizen, hammered out of recognition by the strokes ofenmity. A man of mark, indeed! Aye, with the broad arrow on me, withthe shame of prison and mutiny on my name!"

"But if she don't believe?"

"If she don't believe! Well, she must be told the truth at last. Iwonder her mother let her come here. Her mother knew part of the truth. She hid it all from the girl--and now they are here! I must see itthrough, but it's a wretched fate, Michael. "

"Perhaps her mother didn't know you were here, sir. "

Dyck laughed grimly. "Michael, you've a lawyer's mind. Perhaps you'reright. The girl may have hid from her mother all newspapers referring tome. That may well be; but it's not the way that will bringunderstanding. "

"I think it's the truth, sir, for Darius Boland spoke naught of themother--indeed, he said only what would make me think the girl came withher own ends in view. Faith, I'm sure the mother did not know. "

"She will know now. Your Darius Boland will tell her. "

"By St. Peter, it doesn't matter who tells her, sir. The business mustbe faced. "

"Michael, order my horse, and I will go to Spanish Town. This mattermust be brought to a head. The truth must be told. Order my horse!""It is the very heat of the day, sir. "

"Then at five o'clock, after dinner, have my horse here. "

"Am I to ride with you, sir?"

Dyck nodded. "Yes, Michael. There's only one thing to do--face all thefacts with all the evidence, and you are fact and evidence too. You knowmore of the truth than any one else. "

Several hours later, when the sun was abating its force a little, aftertravelling the burning roads through yams and cocoa, grenadillas and allkinds of herbs and roots and vagrant trees, Dyck Calhoun and MichaelClones came into Spanish Town. Dyck rode the unpaved streets on hishorse with its high demipicque Spanish saddle, with its silver stirrupsand heavy bit, and made his way towards Charlotte Bedford's lodgings. 

Dyck looked round upon the town with new eyes. He saw it like one forthe first time visiting it. He saw the people passing through the wideverandahs of the houses, like a vast colonnade, down the street, to behappily sheltered from the fierce sun. As he had come down from thehills he thought he had never seen the houses look more beautiful intheir gardens of wild tamarinds, kennips, cocoa-nuts, pimentos, andpalms, backed by negro huts. He had seen all sorts of people at thedraw-wells of the houses-British, Spanish, French, South American, Creoles, and here and there a Maroon, and the everlasting negro who sangas he worked:

 "Come along o' me, my buccra brave, You see de shild de Lord he gave: You drink de sangaree, I make de frichassee--"

Here a face peeped out from the glazed sash of the jalousies of thebalconies above--a face that could never be said to be white, though ithad only a tinge of black in its coaxing beauty. There a workman withlong hair and shag trousers painted the prevailing two-storied house theprevailing colour, white and green. There was a young naval officer infull dress, gold-buckled shoes, white trousers, short jacket with goldswab on shoulders, dress-sword and smart gait making for supper at King'sHouse. 

A long-legged "son of a gun" of a Yankee had a "clapper-claw, " orhandshake, with a planting attorney in a kind of four-posted gig, canopied in leather and curtained clumsily. The Yankee laughed at theheavy straight shafts and the mule that drew the volante, as the gig wascalled, and the vehicle creaked and cried as it rolled along over theroad, which was like a dry river-bed. There a French officer in Hessianboots, white trousers, blue uniform, and much-embroidered scarlet cuffswatched with amusement a slave carrying a goglet, or earthen jar, uponhis head like an Egyptian, untouched by the hand, so adding dignity tocarriage. He was holding a "round-aboutation" with an old hag who wastelling his fortune. 

As they passed King's House, they saw troops of the viceroy's guestsissuing from the palace-officers of the king's navy and army, officersand men of the Jamaica militia, pale-faced, big-eyed men of the Creoleclass, mulattoes, quadroons and octoroons, Samboes with their wives inloose skirts, white stockings, and pinnacle hats. There also passed, inthe streets, black servants with tin cases on their heads, or carryingparcels in their arms, and here and there processions of servants, eachwith something that belonged to their mistresses, who would presently beattending the king's ball. 

Snatches of song were heard, and voices of men who had had a full mealand had "taken observations"--as looking through the bottom of a glass ofliquor was called by people with naval spirit--were mixed in carelesscarousal. 

All this jarred on Dyck Calhoun and gave revolt to his senses. Yet hewas only half-conscious of the great sensuousness of the scene as hepassed through it. Now and then some one doffed a hat to him, and veryoccasionally some half-drunken citizen tossed at him a remark meant towound; but he took no notice, and let things pleasant and provocativepass down the long ranges of indifference. 

All was brought to focus at last, however, by their arrival at CharlotteBedford's lodgings, which, like most houses in the town, had a lookout orbelfry fitted with green blinds and a telescope, and had a green-paintedwooden railing round it. 

At the very entrance, inside the gate, in the garden, they saw SheilaLlyn, her mother, and Darius Boland, who seemed to be enduring from themother some sharp reprimand, to the amusement of the daughter. As thegate closed behind Dyck and Michael, the three from Virginia turned roundand faced them. As Dyck came forward, Sheila flushed and trembled. Shewas no longer a young girl, but her slim straightness and the soft linesof her figure, gave her a dignity and charm which made her youngwomanhood distinguished--for she was now twenty-five, and had a carriageof which a princess might have been proud. Yet it was plain that theentrance of Dyck at this moment was disturbing. It was not what she hadforeseen. 

She showed no hesitation, however, but came forward to meet her visitor, while Michael fell back, as also did Darius Boland. Both these seemed torealize that the less they saw and heard the better; and they presentlygot together in another part of the garden, as Dyck Calhoun came nearenough almost to touch Sheila. 

Surely, he thought, she was supreme in appearance and design. She waslike some rare flower of the field, alert, gentle, strong, intrepid, withbuoyant face, brown hair, blue eyes and cream-like skin. She was touchedby a rose on each cheek and made womanly by firm and yet generousbreasts, tenderly imprisoned by the white chiffon of her blouse in whichwas one bright sprig of the buds of a cherry-tree-a touch of modestluxuriance on a person sparsely ornamented. It was not tropical, thispicture of Sheila Llyn; it was a flick of northern life in a summer sky. It was at once cheerful and apart. It had no August in it; no oil andwine. It was the little twig that grew by a running spring. It wasfresh, dominant and serene. It was Connemara on the Amazon! It wasSheila herself, whom time had enriched with far more than years andexperience. It was a personality which would anywhere have taken placeand held it. It was undefeatable, persistent and permanent; it was thespirit of Ireland loose in a world that was as far apart from Ireland asshe was from her dead, dishonoured father. 

And Dyck? At first she felt she must fly to him--yes, in spite of thefact that he had suffered prison for manslaughter. But a nearer look athim stopped the impulse at its birth. Here was the Dyck Calhoun she hadknown in days gone by, but not the Dyck she had looked to see; for thisman was like one who had come from a hanging, who had seen his dearestswinging at the end of a rope. His face was set in coldness; his hairwas streaked with grey; his forehead had a line in the middle; his mannerwas rigid, almost frigid, indeed. Only in his eyes was there that whichdenied all that his face and manner said--a hungry, absorbing, hopelesslook, the look of one who searches for a friend in the denying desert. 

Somehow, when he bowed low to her, and looked her in the eyes as no onein all her life had ever done, she had an almost agonized understandingof what a man feels who has been imprisoned--that is, never the sameagain. He was an ex-convict, and yet she did not feel repelled by him. She did not believe he had killed Erris Boyne. As for the later crimeof mutiny, that did not concern her much. She was Irish; but, more thanthat, she was in sympathy with the mutineers. She understood why DyckCalhoun, enlisting as a common sailor, should take up their cause and runrisk to advance it. That he had advanced it was known to all the world;that he had paid the price of his mutiny by saving the king's navy witha stolen ship had brought him pardon for his theft of a ship and mutiny;and that he had won wealth was but another proof of the man's power. 

"You would not come to America, so I came here, and--" She paused, hervoice trembling slightly. "There is much to do at Salem, " he addedcalmly, and yet with his heart beating, as it had not beaten since theday he had first met her at Playmore. 

"You would not take the money I sent to Dublin for you--the gift of abelieving friend, and you would not come to America!"

"I shall have to tell you why one day, " he answered slowly, "but I'll paymy respects to your mother now. " So saying he went forward and bowed lowto Mrs. Llyn. Unlike her daughter, Mrs. Llyn did not offer her hand. She was pale, distraught, troubled--and vexed. She, however, murmuredhis name and bowed. "You did not expect to see me here in Jamaica, " hesaid boldly. 

"Frankly, I did not, Mr. Calhoun, " she said. 

"You resent my coming here to see you? You think it bold, at least. "

She looked at him closely and firmly. "You know why I cannot welcomeyou. "

"Yet I have paid the account demanded by the law. And you had no regardfor him. You divorced him. "

Sheila had drawn near, and Dyck made a gesture in her direction. "Shedoes not know, " he said, "and she should not hear what we say now?"

Mrs. Llyn nodded, and in a low tone told Sheila that she wished to bealone with Dyck for a little while. In Dyck's eyes, as he watched Sheilago, was a thing deeper than he had ever known or shown before. In herwhite gown, and with her light step, Sheila seemed to float away--apicture graceful, stately, buoyant, "keen and small. " As she was aboutto pass beyond a clump of pimento bushes, she turned her head towards thetwo, and there was that in her eyes which few ever see and seeing areafterwards the same. It was a look of inquiry, or revelation, of emotionwhich went to Dyck's heart. 

"No, she does not know the truth, " Mrs. Llyn said. "But it has been hardhiding it from her. One never knew whether some chance remark, someallusion in the papers, would tell her you had killed her father. "

"Did I kill her father?" asked Dyck helplessly. "Did I? I was foundguilty of it, but on my honour, Mrs. Llyn, I do not know, and I do notthink I did. I have no memory of it. We quarrelled. I drew my sword onhim, then he made an explanation and I madly, stupidly drank drugged winein reconciliation with him, and then I remember nothing more--nothing atall. "

"What was the cause of your quarrel?"

Dyck looked at her long before answering. "I hid that from my fathereven, and hid it from the world--did not even mention it in court at thetrial. If I had, perhaps I should not have gone to jail. If I had, perhaps I should not be here in Jamaica. If I had--" He paused, a floodof reflection drowning his face, making his eyes shine with black sorrow. 

"Well, if you had! . . . Why did you not? Wasn't it your duty tosave yourself and save your friends, if you could? Wasn't that yourplain duty?"

"Yes, and that was why I did not tell what the quarrel was. If I had, even had I killed Erris Boyne, the jury would not have convicted me. Of that I am sure. It was a loyalist jury. "

"Then why did you not?"

"Isn't it strange that now after all these years, when I have settled theaccount with judge and jury, with state and law--that now I feel I musttell you the truth. Madam, your ex-husband, Erris Boyne, was a traitor. He was an officer in the French army, and he offered to make me anofficer also and pay me well in French Government money, if I would breakmy allegiance and serve the French cause--Ah, don't start! He knew I wason my last legs financially. He knew I had acquaintance with young rebelleaders like Emmet, and he felt I could be won. So he made his proposal. Because of your daughter I held my peace, for she could bear it less thanyou. I did not tell the cause of the quarrel. If I had, there wouldhave been for her the double shame. That was why I held my peace--afool, but so it was!"

The woman seemed almost robbed of understanding. His story overwhelmedher. Yet what the man had done was so quixotic, so Celtic, that hersenses were almost paralysed. 

"So mad--so mad and bad and wild you were, " she said. "Could you not seeit was your duty to tell all, no matter what the consequences. The manwas a villain. But what madness you were guilty of, what cruel madness!Only you could have done a thing like that. Erris Boyne deserved death--I care not who killed him--you or another. He deserved death, and itwas right he should die. But that you should kill him, apart from allelse--why, indeed, oh, indeed, it is a tragedy, for you loved mydaughter, and the killing made a gulf between you! There could beno marriage in such a case. She could not bear it, nor could you. Butplease know this, Mr. Calhoun, that she never believed you killed ErrisBoyne. She has said so again and again. You are the only man who hasever touched her mind or her senses, though many have sought her. Wherever she goes men try to win her, but she has no thought for any. Her mind goes back to you. Just when you entered the garden I learned--and only then-that you were here. She hid it from me, but Darius Bolandknew, and he had seen your man, Michael Clones, and she had then made himtell me. I was incensed. I was her mother, and yet she had hid thething from me. I thought she came to this island for the sake of Salem, and I found that she came not for Salem, but for you. . . . Ah, Mr. Calhoun, she deserves what you did to save her, but you should not havedone it. "

"She deserves all that any better man might do. Why don't you marry herto some great man in your Republic? It would settle my trouble for meand free her mind from anxiety. Mrs. Llyn, we are not children, you andI. You know life, and so do I, and--"

She interrupted him. "Be sure of this, Mr. Calhoun, she knows life evenbetter than either of us. She is, and has always been, a girl of senseand judgment. When she was a child she was my master, even in Ireland. Yet she was obedient and faithful, and kept her head in all vexed things. She will have her way, and she will have it as she wants it, and in noother manner. She is one of the world's great women. She is unique. Child as she is, she still understands all that men do, and does it. Under her hands the estates in Virginia have developed even more thanunder the hands of my brother. She controls like another Elizabeth. She has made those estates run like a spool of thread, and she willdo the same here with Salem. Be sure of that. "

"Why does she not marry? Is there no man she can bear? She could havethe highest, that's sure. " He spoke with passion and insistence. If shewere married his trouble would be over. The worst would have come tohim--like death. His eyes were only two dark fires in a face that was asnear to tragic pain crystallized as any the world has seen. Yet therewas in it some big commanding thing, that gave it a ghastly handsomenessalmost; that bathed his look in dignity and power, albeit a recklesspower, a thing that would not be stayed by any blandishments. He had thelook of a lost angel, one who fell with Belial in the first days of sin. 

"There is no man she can bear--except here in Jamaica. It is no use. Your governor, Lord Mallow, whom she knew in Ireland, who is distant kinof mine, he has already made advances here to her, as he did in Ireland--you did not know that. Even before we left for Virginia he came to seeus, and brought her books and flowers, and here, on our arrival, hebrought her choicest blooms of his garden. She is rich, and he would beglad of an estate that brings in scores of thousands of pounds yearly. He has asked us to stay at King's House, but we have declined. We startfor Salem in a few hours. She wants her hand on the wheel. "

"Lord Mallow--he courts her, does he?" His face grew grimmer. "Well, she might do worse, though if she were one of my family I would rathersee her in her grave than wedded to him. For he is selfish--aye, as fewmen are! He would eat and keep his apple too. His theory is that lifeis but a game, and it must be played with steel. He would squeeze thelife out of a flower, and give the flower to his dog to eat. He thinksfirst and always of himself. He would--but there, he would make a goodhusband as husbands go for some women, but not for this woman! It is notbecause he is my enemy I say this. It is because there is only one womanlike your daughter, and that is herself; and I would rather see hermarried to a hedger that really loved her than to Lord Mallow, who lovesonly one being on earth--himself. But see, Mrs. Llyn, now that you knowall, now that we three have met again, and this island is small andtragedy is at our doors, don't you think your daughter should be told thetruth. It will end everything for me. But it would be better so. It isnow only cruelty to hide the truth, harsh to continue a friendship whichwill only appal her in the end. If we had not met again like this, thensilence might have been best; but as she is not cured of her tenderfriendship made upon the hills at Playmore, isn't it well to end it all?Your conscience will be clearer, and so will mine. We shall have donethe right thing at last. Why did you not tell her who her father was?Then why blame me! You held your peace to save your daughter, as youthought. I held my tongue for the same reason; but she is so much awoman now, that she will understand, as she could not have understoodyears ago in Limerick. In God's name, let us speak. One of us shouldtell her, and I think it should be you. And see, though I know I didright in withholding the facts about the quarrel with Erris Boyne, yet Ifavour telling her that he was a traitor. The whole truth now, ornothing. That is my view. "

He saw how lined and sunken was her face, he noted the weakness of hercarriage, he realized the task he was putting on her, and his heartrelented. "No, I will do it, " he added, with sudden will, "and I will doit now, if I may. "

"Oh, not to-day-not to-day!" she said with a piteous look. "Let itnot be to-day. It is our first day here, and we are due at King's Houseto-night, even in an hour from now. "

"You want her at her glorious best, is that it?" It seemed too strangethat the pure feminine should show at a time of crisis like this, butthere it was. It was this woman's way. But he added presently: "Whenshe asks you what we have talked about, what will you say?"

"Is it not easy? I am a mother, " she said meaningly. 

"And I am an ex-convict, and a mutineer--is that it?"

She inclined her head. "It should not be difficult to explain. When youcame I was speaking as I felt, and she will not think it strange if Igive that as my reason. "

"But is it wise? Isn't it better to end it all now? Suppose Lord Mallowtells her. "

"He did not before. He is not likely now, " was the vexed reply. "Is ita thing a gentleman will speak of to a lady?"

"But you do not know Mallow. If he thought she had seen me to-day, hewould not hesitate. What would you do if you were Lord Mallow?"

"No, not to-day, " she persisted. "It is all so many years ago. It canhurt naught to wait a little longer. "

"When and where shall it be?" he asked gloomily. "At Salem--at Salem. We shall be settled then--and steady. There is every reason why youshould consider me. I have suffered as few women have suffered, and I do not hate you. I am only sorry. "

Far down at the other end of the garden he saw Sheila. Her face was inprofile--an exquisite silhouette. She moved slowly among the pimentobushes. 

"As you wish, " he said with a heavy sigh. The sight of the girlanguished his soul. 

CHAPTER XVIII

AT SALEM

The plantation of Salem was in a region below the Pedro Plains in theparish of St. Elizabeth, where grow the aloe, and torch-thistle, andclumps of wood which alter the appearance of the plain from the SouthDowns of England, but where thousands of cattle and horses even in thosedays were maintained. The air of the district was dry and elastic, andit filtered down to the valleys near like that where Salem was with itsclusters of negro huts and offices, its mills and distilleries wheresugar and rum were made. Salem was situated on the Black River, accessible by boats and canoes. The huts of negro slaves were near thesugar mills, without regard to order, but in clusters of banana, avocado-pear, limes and oranges, and with the cultivated land round their hutsmade an effective picture. 

One day every fortnight was allowed the negroes to cultivate their crops, and give them a chance to manufacture mats for beds, bark-ropes, wicker-chairs and baskets, earthen jars, pans, and that kind of thing. The hutsthemselves were primitive to a degree, the floor being earth, the roof, of palm-thatch or the leaves of the cocoa-nut tree, the sides hard-postsdriven in the ground and interlaced with wattle and plaster, and insidescarcely high enough for its owner to walk upright. The furniture wasscant--a quatre, or bed, made of a platform of boards, with a mat and ablanket, some low stools, a small table, an earthen water-jar, and somesmaller ones, a pail and an iron pot, and calabashes which did duty forplates, dishes and bowls. In one of the two rooms making the hut, therewere always the ashes of the night-fire, without which negroes could notsleep in comfort. 

These were the huts of the lowest grade of negro-slaves of the fields. The small merchants and the domestics had larger houses with boardedfloors, some even with linen sheets and mosquito nets, and shelves withplates and dishes of good ware. Every negro received a yearly allowanceof Osnaburgh linen, woollen, baize and checks for clothes, and someplanters also gave them hats and handkerchiefs, knives, needles andthread, and so on. 

Every plantation had a surgeon who received a small sum for attendance onevery slave, while special cases of midwifery, inoculation, etc. , had aparticular allowance. The surgeon had to attend to about four hundred tofive hundred negroes, on an income of L150 per annum, and board andlodging and washing, besides what he made from his practice with thewhites. 

Salem was no worse than some other plantations on the island, but it wasfar behind such plantations as that owned by Dyck Calhoun, and had beennotorious for the cruelties committed on it. To such an estate a ladylike Sheila Llyn would be a boon. She was not on the place a day beforeshe started reforms which would turn the plantation into a model scheme. Houses, food, treatment of the negroes, became at once a study to her, and her experience in Virginia was invaluable. She had learned there notto work the slaves too hard in the warm period of the day; and she showedher interest by having served at her own table the favourite olio theslaves made of plantains, bananas, yams, calalue, eddoes, cassavi, andsweet potatoes boiled with salt fish and flavoured with cayenne pepper. This, with the unripe roasted plantain as bread, was a native relish andhealth-giving food. 

Ever since the day when she had seen Dyck Calhoun at Spanish Town she hadbeen disturbed in mind. Dyck had shown a reserve which she felt was notwholly due to his having been imprisoned for manslaughter. In one way helooked little older. His physique was as good, or better than when shefirst saw him on the hills of Playmore. It was athletic, strenuous, elastic. Yet there was about it the abandonment of despair--at leastof recklessness. The face was older, the head more powerful, the hairslightly touched with grey-rather there was one spot in the hair almostpure white; a strand of winter in the foliage of summer. It gave a touchof the bizarre to a distinguished head, it lent an air of the singular toa personality which had flare and force--an almost devilish force. Thatmuch was to be said for him, that he had not sought to influence her tohis own advantage. She was so surrounded in America by men who knew herwealth and prized her beauty, she was so much a figure in Virginia, thatany reserve with regard to herself was noticeable. She was enoughfeminine to have pleasure in the fact that she was thought desirableby men; yet it played an insignificant part in her life. 

It did not give her conceit. It was only like a frill on the skirtsof life. It did not play any part in her character. Certainly DyckCalhoun had not flattered her. That one to whom she had written, as shehad done, should remove himself so from the place of the deservingfriend, one whom she had not deserted while he was in jail as a criminal--that he should treat her so, gave every nerve a thrill of protest. Sometimes she trembled in indignation, and then afterwards gave herselfto the work on the estate or in the household--its reform and itsrearrangement; though the house was like most in Jamaica, had adequateplate, linen, glass and furniture. At the lodgings in Spanish Town, after Dyck Calhoun had left, her mother had briefly said that she hadtold Dyck he could not expect the conditions of the Playmore friendshipshould be renewed; that, in effect, she had warned him off. To thisSheila had said that the killing of a man whose life was bad might bepunishable. In any case, that was in another land, under abnormalconditions; and, with lack of logic, she saw no reason why he should besocially punished in Jamaica for what he had been legally punished forin Ireland. As for the mutiny, he had done what any honest man of spiritwould do; also, he had by great bravery and skill brought victory to theking's fleet in West Indian waters. 

Then it was she told her mother how she had always disobeyed her commandswhere Dyck was concerned, that she had written to him while he was injail; that she had come to Jamaica more to see him than to reform Salem;that she had the old Celtic spirit of brotherhood, and she would not bedriven from it. In a sudden burst of anger her mother had charged herwith deceit; but the girl said she had followed her conscience, and shedismissed it all with a gesture as emphatic as her mother's anger. 

That night they had dined with Lord Mallow, and she saw that hisattentions had behind them the deep purpose of marriage. She had notbeen overcome by the splendour of his retinue and table, or by themagnificence of his guests; though the military commander-in-chief andthe temporary admiral on the station did their utmost to entertain her, and some of the local big-wigs were pompous. Lord Mallow had ability andknew how to use it; and he was never so brilliant as on this afternoon, for they dined while it was still daylight and hardly evening. He toldher of the customs of the country, of the people; and slyly andeffectively he satirized some of his grandiloquent guests. Not unduly, for one of them, the most renowned in the island, came to him afterdinner as he sat talking to Sheila, and said: "I'm very sorry, yourhonour, but good Almighty God, I must go home and cool coppers. " Then hegave Sheila a hot yet clammy hand, and bade her welcome as a citizen tothe island, "alien but respected, beautiful but capable!" Sheila hadseen a few of the Creole ladies present at their best-large-eyed, simple, not to say primitive in speech, and very unaffected in manner. She hadlearned also that the way to the Jamaican heart was by a full table and alittle flattery. 

One incident at dinner had impressed her greatly. Not far away fromher was a young lady, beautiful in face and person, and she had seen ascorpion suddenly shoot into her sleeve and ruthlessly strike and strikethe arm of the girl, who gave one cry only and then was still. Sheilasaw the man next to the girl--he was a native officer--secure thescorpion, and then whip from his pocket a little bag of indigo, dip it inwater, and apply the bag to the wounded arm, immediately easing thewound. This had all been done so quickly that it was over before thetable had been upset, almost. 

"That is the kind of thing we have here, " said Lord Mallow. "There is alady present who has seen in one day a favourite black child bitten by acongereel, a large centipede in her nursery, a snake crawl from under herchild's pillow, and her son nearly die from a bite of the black spiderwith the red spot on its tail. It is a life that has its trials--and itscompensations. "

"I saw a man's head on a pole on my way to King's House. You have to usefirm methods here, " Sheila said in reply. "It is not all a rose-garden. You have to apply force. "

Lord Mallow smiled grimly. "C'est la force morale toujours. "

"Ah, I should not have thought it was moral force always, " was theironical reply. 

"We have criminals here, " declared the governor with aplomb, "and theyneed some handling, I assure you. We have in this island one of theworst criminals in the British Empire. "

"Ah, I thought he was in the United States!" answered the girl sedately. 

"You mean General George Washington, " remarked the governor. "No, it isone who was a friend and fellow-countryman of yours before he took tokilling unarmed men. "

"You refer to Mr. Dyck Calhoun, I doubt not, sir? Well, he is still afriend of mine, and I saw him today--this afternoon, before I came here. I understood that the Crown had pardoned his mutiny. "

The governor started. He was plainly annoyed. 

"The crime is there just the same, " he replied. "He mutinied, and hestole a king's ship, and took command of it, and brought it out here. "

"And saved you and your island, I understand. "

"Ah, he said that, did he?"

"He said nothing at all to me about it. I have been reading the JamaicaCornwall Chronicle the last three years. "

"He is ever a source of anxiety to me, " declared the governor. 

"I knew he was once in Phoenix Park years ago, " was the demure yet sharpreply, "but I thought he was a good citizen here--a good and well-to-docitizen. "

Lord Mallow flushed slightly. "Phoenix Park--ah, he was a capable fellowwith the sword! I said so always, and I'd back him now against achampion; but many a bad man has been a good swordsman. "

"So, that's what good swordsmanship does, is it? I wondered what it wasthat did it. I hear you fight him still--but with a bludgeon, and hedodges it. "

"I do not understand, " declared Lord Mallow tartly. "Ah, wasn't theresome difference over his going for the treasure to Haiti? Some one toldme, I think, that you were not in favour of his getting his ticket-of-leave, or whatever it is called, and that the provost-marshal gave it tohim, as he had the right to do. "

"You have wide sources of information in this case. I wonder--"

"No, your honour need not wonder. I was told that by a gentleman on thesteamer coming here. He was a native of the island, I think--or perhapsit was the captain, or the mate, or the boatswain. I can't recall. Ormaybe it came to me from my manager, Darius Boland, who hears thingswherever he is, one doesn't know how; but he hears them. He is to mewhat your aide-de-camp is to you, " she nodded towards a young man near byat the table. 

"And do you dress your Darius Boland as I dress my aide in scarlet, withblue facings and golden embroidery, and put a stiff hat with a feather onhis head?"

"But no, he does not need such things. I am a Republican now. I am acitizen of the United States, where men have no need of uniform to tellthe world what they are. You shall see my Darius Boland--indeed, youhave seen him. He was there to-day when you gave me the distinction ofyour presence. "

"That dry, lean, cartridge of a fellow, that pair of pincers with aface!"

"And a tongue, your honour. If you did not hear it yet, you will hearit. He is to be my manager here. So he will be under your control--if I permit him. "

"If you permit him, mistress?"

"If I permit him, yes. You are a power, but you are not stronger thanthe laws and rules you make. For instance, there was the case of Mr. Dyck Calhoun. When he came, you were for tying him up in one littlecorner of this island--the hottest part, I know, near to Kingston, whereit averages ninety degrees in the shade at any time of the year. But theKing you represent had not restricted his liberties so, and you being theKing, that is, yourself, were forced to abide by your own regulations. So it may be the same with Darius Boland. He may want something, andyou, high up, looking down, will say, "What devilry is here!" anddecline. He will then turn to your chief-justice or provost-marshal-general, or a deputy of the provost-marshal, and they will say thatDarius Boland shall have what he wants, because it is the will of thewill you represent. "

Almost the last words the governor used to her were these: "Those onlylive at peace here who are at peace with me"; and her reply had been:"But Mr. Dyck Calhoun lives at peace, does he not, your honour?"

To that he had replied: "No man is at peace while he has yet desires. "He paused a minute and then added: "That Erris Boyne killed by DyckCalhoun--did you ever see him that you remember?"

"Not that I remember, " she replied quickly. "I never lived in Dublin. "

"That may be. But did you never know his history?" She shook her headin negation. His eyes searched her face carefully, and he was astonishedwhen he saw no sign of confusion there. "Good God, she doesn't know. She's never been told!" he said to himself. "This is too startling. I'll speak to the mother. "

A little later he turned from the mother with astonishment. "It'smadness, " he remarked to himself. "She will find out. Some one willtell her. . . . By heaven, I'll tell her first, " he hastily said. "When she knows the truth, Calhoun will have no chance on earth. Yes, I'll tell her myself. But I'll tell no one else, " he added; for he feltthat Sheila, once she knew the truth, would resent his having told abroadthe true story of the Erris Boyne affair. 

So Sheila and her mother had gone to their lodgings with depression, buteach with a clear purpose in her mind. Mrs. Llyn was determined to tellher daughter what she ought to have known long before; and Sheila wasfirm to make the one man who had ever interested her understand that hewas losing much that was worth while keeping. 

Then had followed the journey to Salem. Yet all the while for Sheilaone dark thought kept hovering over everything. Why should life be socomplicated? Why should this one man who seemed capable and had thetemperament of the Irish hills and vales be the victim of punishment andshame--why should he shame her?

Suddenly, without her mother's knowledge, she sent Darius Boland throughthe hills in the early morning to Enniskillen, Dyck Calhoun's place, witha letter which said only this: "Is it not time that you came to wish uswell in our new home? We shall expect you to-morrow. "

When Dyck read this note he thought it was written by Sheila, butinspired by the mother; and he lost no time in making his way down acrossthe country to Salem, which he reached a few hours after sunrise. At thedoorway of the house he met Mrs. Llyn. 

"Have you told her?" he asked in anxiety. Astonished at his presenceshe could make no reply for a moment. "I have told her nothing, " sheanswered. "I meant to do so this morning. I meant to do it--I must. "

"She sent me a letter asking if it was not time I came to wish you wellin your house, and you and she would expect me to-day. "

"I knew naught of her writing you, " was the reply--"naught at all. Butnow that you are here, will you not tell her all?"

Dyck smiled grimly. "Where is she?" he asked. "I will tell her. "

The mother pointed down the garden. "Yonder by the clump of palms I sawher a moment ago. If you go that way you will find her. "

In another moment Dyck Calhoun was on his way to the clump of palms, andbefore he reached it, the girl came out into the path. She was dressedin a black silk skirt with a white bodice and lace, as he had seen her onher arrival in Kingston, and at her throat was a sprig of the wild pear-tree. When she saw him, she gave a slight start, then stood still, andhe came to her. 

"I have your letter, " he said, "and I came to say what I ought to sayabout your living here: you will bring blessings to the place. "

She looked at him steadfastly. "Shall we talk here, " she said, "or inside the house? There is a little shelter here in the trees"--pointing to the right--"a shelter built by the late manager. It has thecovering of a hut, but it is open at two sides. Will you come?" As shewent on ahead, he could not fail to notice how slim and trim she was, howperfectly her figure seemed to fit her gown-as though she had been pouredinto it; and yet the folds of her skirt waved and floated like silkyclouds around her! Under cover of the shelter, she turned and smiled athim. 

"You have seen my mother?"

"I have just come from her, " he answered. "She bade me tell you whatought to have been told long ago, and you were not, for there seemed noreason that you should. You were young and ignorant and happy. You hadno cares, no sorrows. The sorrows that had come to your mother belongedto days when you were scarce out of the cradle. But you did not know. You were not aware that your mother had divorced your father for crimeagainst marital fidelity and great cruelty. You did not know even whothat father was. Well, I must tell you. Your father was a handsome man, a friend of mine until I knew the truth about him, and then he died--Ikilled him, so the court said. "

Her face became ghastly pale. After a moment of anguished bewilderment, she said: "You mean that Erris Boyne was my father?"

"Yes, I mean that. They say I killed him. They say that he was foundwith no sword drawn, but that my open sword lay on the table beside mewhile I was asleep, and that it had let out his life-blood. "

"Why was he killed?" she asked, horror-stricken and with pale lips. 

"I do not know, but if I killed him, it was because I revolted from theproposals he made to me. I--" He paused, for the look on her face waspainful to see, and her body was as that of one who had been struck bylightning. It had a crumpled, stricken look, and all force seemed to bedriven from it. It had the look of crushed vitality. Her face was setin paleness, her eyes were frightened, her whole person was, as it were, in ghastly captivity. His heart smote him, and he pulled himselftogether to tell her all. 

"Go on, " she said. "I want to hear. I want--to know all. I ought tohave known--long ago; but that can't be helped now. Continue--please. "

Her words had come slowly, in gasps almost, and her voice was so frayedhe could scarcely recognize it. All the pride of her nature seemedshattered. 

"If I killed him, " he said presently, "it was because he tried to temptme from my allegiance to the Crown to become a servant of France, to--"

He stopped short, for a cry came from her lips which appalled him. 

"My God--my God!" she said with bloodless lips, her eyes fastened on hisface, her every look and motion the inflection of despair. "Go on--tellall, " she added presently with more composure. 

Swiftly he described what happened in the little room at the traitor'stavern, of the momentary reconciliation and the wine that he drank, drugged wine poured out but not drunk by Erris Boyne, and of his laterunconsciousness. At last he paused. 

"Why did these things not come out at the trial?" she asked in hushedtones. 

He made a helpless gesture. "I did not speak of them because I thoughtof you. I hid it--I did not want you to know what your father was. "

Something like a smile gathered at her pale lips. "You saved me for themoment, and condemned yourself for ever, " she said in a voice of torture. "If you had told what he was--if you had told that, the jury would nothave condemned you, they would not have sent you to prison. "

"I believe I did the right thing, " he said. "If I killed your father, prison was my proper punishment. But I can't remember. There was noother clue, no other guide to judgment. So the law said I killed him, and--he had evidently not drawn his sword. It was clear he was killeddefenceless. "

"You killed a defenceless man!" Her voice was sharp with agony. "Thatwas mentioned at the trial--but I did not believe it then--in that longago. " She trembled to her feet from the bench where she was sitting. "And I do not believe it now--no, on my soul, I do not. "

"But it makes no difference, you see. I was condemned for killing yourfather, and the world knows that Erris Boyne was your father, and hereLord Mallow, the governor, knows it; and there is no chance of friendshipbetween you and me. Since the day he was found dead in the room, therewas no hope for our friendship, for anything at all between us that I hadwished to be there. You dare not be friends with me--"

Her face suddenly suffused and she held herself upright with an effort. She was about to say, "I dare, Dyck--I do dare!" but he stopped her witha reproving gesture. 

"No, no, you dare not, and I would not let you if you would. I am anex-convict. They say I killed your father, and the way to understandingbetween us is closed. "

She made a protesting gesture. "Closed! Closed!--But is it closed? No, no, some one else killed him, not you. You couldn't have done it. Youwould have fought him--fought him as you did Lord Mallow, and in fightingyou might have killed him, but your sword never let out his life when hewas defenceless--never. "

A look of intense relief, almost of happiness, came to Dyck's face. "That is like you, Sheila, but it does not cure the trouble. You and Iare as far apart as noon and midnight. The law has said the only thingthat can be said upon it. "

She sank down again upon the wooden bench. "Oh, how mad you were, not totell the whole truth long ago! You would not have been condemned, andthen--"

She paused overcome, and his self-control almost deserted him. Withstrong feeling he burst out: "And then, we might have come together?No, your mother--your friends, myself, could not have let that be. See, Sheila, I will tell you the whole truth now--aye, the whole absolutetruth. I have loved you since the first day I saw you on the hills whenyou and I rescued Christopher Dogan. Not a day has passed since thenwhen you were not more to me than any other woman in all the world. "

A new light came into her face, the shadows left her eyes, and the pallorfled from her lips. "You loved me?" she said in a voice grown soft-husky still, but soft as the light in a summer heaven. "You loved me--and have always loved me since we first met?"

Her look was so appealing, so passionate and so womanly, that he longedto reach out his arms to her, and say, "Come--come home, Sheila, " but thesituation did not permit that, and only his eyes told the story of whatwas in his mind. 

"I have always loved you, Sheila, and shall do so while I have breath andlife. I have always given you the best that is in me, tried to do whatwas good for us both, since my misfortune--crime, Lord Mallow calls it, as does the world. Never a sunrise that does not find you in theforefront of all the lighted world; never a flower have I seen that doesnot seem sweeter--it brings thoughts of you; never a crime that does notdeepen its shame because you are in the world. In prison, when I used tomop my floor and clean down the walls; when I swept the dust from thecorners; when I folded up my convict clothes; when I ate the prison foodand sang the prison hymns; when I placed myself beside the bench in theworkshop to make things that would bring cash to my fellow-prisoners intheir need; when I saw a minister of religion or heard the Litany; when Icounted up the days, first that I had spent in jail and then the days Ihad still to spend in jail; when I read the books from the prison libraryof the land where you had gone, and of the struggle there; when I sawyou, in my mind's eye, in the cotton-fields or on the verandah of yourhouse in Virginia--I had but one thought, and that was the look in yourface at Playmore and Limerick, the sound of your voice as you camesinging up the hill just before I first met you, the joyous beauty ofyour body. "

"And at sea?" she whispered with a gesture at once beautiful andpathetic, for it had the motion of helplessness and hopelessness. Whatshe had heard had stirred her soul, and she wanted to hear more--or wasit that she wished to drain the cup now that it was held to her lips?-drain it to the last drop of feeling. 

"At sea, " he answered, with his eyes full of intense feeling--"at sea, Iwas free at last, doomed as I thought, anguished in spirit, and yet witha wild hope that out of it would come deliverance. I expected to lose mylife, and I lived each day as though it would be my last. I was chiefrogue in a shipful of rogues, chief sinner in a hell of sinners, and yetI had no remorse and no regret. I had done all with an honest purpose, with the good of the sailors in my mind; and so I lived in daily touchwith death, honour, and dishonour. Yet I never saw a sailor in theshrouds, or heard the night watch call 'All's well!' in the midst ofnight and mutiny, that I did not long for a word from you that would takeaway the sting of death. Those days at sea for ten long weeks were neverfree from anxiety, not anxiety for myself, only for the men who had putme where I was, had given me captain's rank, had--"

Suddenly he stopped, and took from his pocket the letter he was writingon the very day she landed in Jamaica. He opened it and studied it for amoment with a dark look in his face. 

"This I wrote even as you were landing in Jamaica, and I knew naught ofyour coming. It was an outbreak of my soul. It was the truth writtento you and for you, and yet with the feeling that you would never see it. I was still writing it when Michael Clones came up the drive to tell meyou and your mother were here. Now, I know not what Christopher Doganwould say of it, but I say it is amazing that in the hour you were firstcome to this land I should be moved to tell you the story of my lifesince I left prison; since, on receiving your letter in London, forwardedfrom Dublin, I joined the navy. But here it is with all the truth andterror in it. --Aye, there was terror, for it gave the soul of my life toone I never thought to see again; and, if seeing, should be compelled todo what I have done--tell her the whole truth at once and so have itover. 

"But do not think that in telling it now I repent of my secrecy. I repent of nothing; I would not alter anything. What was to be is, andwhat is has its place in the book of destiny. No, I repent nothing, yethere now I give you this to read while still my story of the days ofwhich you know is in your ears. Here it is. It will tell the wholestory; for when you have read it and do understand, then we part to meetno more as friends. You will go back to Virginia, and I will stay here. You will forgive the unwilling wrong I have done you, but you will makeyour place in life without thought of me. You will marry some one--notworthy of you, for that could not be; but you will take to yourself someman from among the men of this world. You will set him apart from allother men as yours, and he will be happy, having been blessed beyonddeserving. You will not regret coming here; but you will desire ourfriendship to cease; and what has been to be no more, while the tinctureof life is in your veins. Sheila, read this thing, for it is the rest ofthe story until now. "

He handed her the papers, and she took them with an inclination of thehead which said: "Give it to me. I will read it now while my eyes canstill bear to read it. I have laid on my heart the nettle of shame, andwhile it is still burning there I will read all that you have to teachme. "

"I will go out in the garden while you read it, " he said. "In a half-hour I will come back, and then we can say good-bye, " he added, with painin his voice, but firmly. 

"No, do not go, " she urged. "Sit here on the bench--at the end of ithere, " she said, motioning with her hand. 

He shook his head in negation. "No, I will go and say to your motherthat I have told you, and ease her mind, for I know she herself meant totell you. "

As he went he looked at her face closely. It was so young, so pathetic, so pale, yet so strangely beautiful, and her forehead was serene. Thatwas one of her characteristics. In all her life, her forehead remaineduntroubled and unlined. Only at her mouth and in her eyes did misery orsorrow show. He looked into her eyes now, and he was pleased with whathe saw; for they had in them the glow of understanding and the note ofwill which said: "You and I are parted, but I believe in you, and I willnot show I am a weak woman by futile horror. We shall meet no more, butI shall remember you. "

That was what he saw, and it was what he wished to see. He knew hercharacter would stand the test of any trial, and it had done so. Horrorhad struck her, but had not overwhelmed her. She had cried out in heragony, but she had not been swept out into chaos. She had no weakpassions and no futilities. But as he turned away now, it was with thesharp conviction that he had dealt a blow from which the girl wouldrecover, but would never be the same again. She was rich "beyond thedreams of avarice, " but that would not console her. She had resourceswithin herself, had what would keep her steady. Her real power andforce, her real hope, were in her regnant soul which was not to becajoled by life's subterfuges. Her lips opened now, as though she wouldsay something, but nothing came from them. She only shook her headsadly, as if to say: "You understand. Go, and when you come again, itwill be for us to part in peace--at least in peace. "

Out in the garden he found her mother. After the first agitatedgreeting-agitated on her part, he said: "The story has been told, and sheis now reading--"

He told her the story of the manuscript, and added that Sheila hadcarried herself with courage. Presently the woman said to him: "Shenever believed you killed Erris Boyne. Well, it may not help thesituation, but I say too, that I do not believe you did. I cannotunderstand why you did not deny having killed him. "

"I could not deny. In any case, the law punished me for it, and the bookis closed for ever. "

"Have you never thought that some one--"

"Yes, I have thought, but who is there? The crowd at the Dublin hotelwhere the thing was done were secret, and they would lie the apron off abishop. No, there is no light, and, to tell the truth, I care not now. "

"But if you are not guilty--it is not too late; there is my girl! If thereal criminal should appear--can you not see?"

The poor woman, distressedly pale, her hair still abundant, her eyesstill bright, her pulses aglow, as they had ever been, made a gesture ofappeal with hands that were worn and thin. She had charm still, in a wayas great as her daughter's. 

"I can see--but, Mrs. Llyn, I have no hope. I am a man whom some menfear--"

"Lord Mallow!" she interjected. 

"He does not fear me. Why do you say that?"

"I speak with a woman's intuition. I don't know what he fears, but hedoes fear you. You are a son of history; you had a duel with him, andbeat him; you have always beaten him, even here where he has been supremeas governor--from first to last, you have beaten him. "

"I hope I shall be even with him at the last--at the very last, " was DyckCalhoun's reply. "We were made to be foes. We were from the first. Ifelt it when I saw him at Playmore. Nothing has changed since then. Hewill try to destroy me here, but I will see it through. I will try andturn his rapier-points. I will not be the target of his arrows withoutmaking some play against him. The man is a fool. I could help him here, but he will have none of it, and he is running great risks. He has beenwarned that the Maroons are restive, that the black slaves will rise ifthe Maroons have any initial success, and he will listen to no advice. He would not listen to me, but, knowing that, I got the provost-marshalto approach him, and when he knew my hand was in it, he stiffened. Hewould have naught to do with it, and so no preparations are made. And upthere"--he turned and pointed--"up there in Trelawney the Maroons areplotting and planning, and any day an explosion may occur. If it occursno one will be safe, especially if the blacks rise too--I mean the blackslaves. There will be no safety then for any one. "

"For us as well, you mean?"

"For you as well as all others, and you are nearer to Trelawney than mostothers. You are in their path. So be wise, Mrs. Llyn, and get back toVirginia as soon as may be. It is a better place than this. "

"My daughter is mistress here, " was the sorrowful reply. "She will haveher own way. "

"Your daughter will not care to stay here now, " he answered firmly. 

"She will do what she thinks her duty in spite of her own feelings, oryours, or mine. It is her way, and it has always been her way. "

"I will tell her what I fear, and she may change her mind. "

"But the governor may want her to stay, " answered Mrs. Llyn none toosagely, but with that in her mind which seemed to justify her. 

"Lord Mallow--oh, if you think there is any influence in him to keepher, that is another question, " said Dyck with a grim smile. "But, nevertheless, I think you should leave here and go back to Virginia. It is no safe place for two ladies, in all senses. Whatever Lord Mallowthinks or does, this is no place for you. This place is your daughter'sfor her to do what she chooses with it, and I think she ought to sell it. There would be no trouble in getting a purchaser. It is a fineproperty. "

"But the governor might not think as you do; he might not wish it sold. "

Mrs. Llyn was playing a bold, indeed a reckless game. She wanted to showDyck there were others who would interest themselves in Sheila even ifhe, Dyck, were blotted from the equation; that the girl could look high, if her mind turned towards marriage. Also she felt that Dyck should knowthe facts before any one else, so that he would not be shocked in thefuture, if anything happened. Yet in her deepest heart she wished himwell. She liked him as she had never liked any of Sheila's admirers, andif the problem of Erris Boyne had been solved, she would gladly have seenhim wedded to Sheila. 

"What has the governor to do with it!" he declared. "It is yourdaughter's own property, and she is free to hold or to part with it. There is no Crown consent to ask, no vice-regal approval needed. "

Suddenly he became angry, almost excited. His blood pounded in hisveins. Was this man, Mallow, to come between his and her fate always, come into his problem at the most critical moment? "God in heaven!" hesaid in a burst of passion, "is this a land of the British Empire or isit not? Why should that man break in on every crisis? Why should he dothis or that--say yea or nay, give or take away! He is the king'srepresentative, but he is bound by laws as rigid as any that bind you orme. What has he to do with your daughter or what concerns her? Is therenot enough trouble in the world without bringing in Lord Mallow?If he--"

He stopped short, for he saw coming from the summerhouse, Sheila with hispaper in her hand. She walked slowly and with dignity. She carried herhead high and firmly, and the skin of her face was shining with lightas she came on. Dyck noticed how her wide skirts flicked against theflowers that bordered the path, and how her feet seemed scarcely to touchthe ground as she walked--a spirit, a regnant spirit of summer sheseemed. But in her face there was no summer, there was only autumn andwinter, only the bright frost of purpose. As she came, her mother turnedas though to leave Dyck Calhoun. She called to her to wait, and Mrs. Llyn stood still, anxious. As Sheila came near she kept her eyes fixedon Dyck. When she reached them, she held out the paper to him. 

"It is wonderful, " she said quietly, "that which you have written, but itdoes not tell all; it does not say that you did not kill my father. Youare punished for the crime, and we must abide by it, even though you didnot kill Erris Boyne. It is the law that has done it, and we cannotabash the law. "

"We shall meet no more then!" said Dyck with decision. 

Her lips tightened, her face paled. "There are some things one may notdo, and one of them is to be openly your friend--at present. "

He put the letter carefully away in his pocket, his hand shaking, thenflicking an insect from the collar of his coat, he said gently, yet withan air of warning: "I have been telling Mrs. Llyn about the Maroons upthere"--he pointed towards Trelawney--"and I have advised your going backto Virginia. The Maroons may rise at any moment, and no care is beingtaken by Lord Mallow to meet the danger. If they rise, you, here, wouldbe in their way, and I could not guarantee your safety. Besides, Virginia is a better place--a safer place than this, " he added withmeaning. 

"You wish to frighten me out of Jamaica, " she replied with pain in hervoice. "Well, I will not go till I have put this place in order andbrought discipline and good living here. I shall stay here in Jamaicatill I have done my task. There is no reason why we should meet. Thisplace is not so large as Ireland or America, but it is large enough togive assurance we shall not meet. And if we meet, there is no reason whywe should talk. As for the Maroons, when the trouble comes, I shall notbe unprepared. " She smiled sadly. "The governor may not take youradvice, but I shall. And remember that I come from a land not withoutits dangers. We have Red Indians and black men there, and I can shoot. "

He waved a hand abruptly and then made a gesture--such as an asceticmight make-of reflection, of submission. "I shall remember every wordyou have said, and every note of your voice will be with me in all thelonely years to come. Good-bye--but no, let me say this before I go:I did not know that Erris Boyne was your father until after he was dead. So, if I killed him, it was in complete ignorance. I did not know. Butwe have outlived our friendship, and we must put strangeness in itsplace. Good-bye--God protect you!" he added, looking into Sheila'seyes. 

She looked at him with sorrow. Her lips opened but no words came forth. He passed on out of the garden, and presently they heard his horse'shoofs on the sand. 

"He is a great gentleman, " said Mrs. Llyn. 

Her daughter's eyes were dry and fevered. Her lips were drawn. "We mustbegin the world again, " she said brokenly. Then suddenly she sank uponthe ground. "My God--oh, my God!" she said. 

CHAPTER XIX

LORD MALLOW INTERVENES

Two months went by. In that time Sheila and Dyck did not meet, thoughDyck saw her more than once in the distance at Kingston. Yet they hadnever met since that wonderful day at Salem, when they had parted, asit might seem, for ever. Dyck had had news of her, however, for DariusBoland had come and gone between the two plantations, and had won MichaelClones' confidence. He knew more perhaps than he ever conveyed to Dyck, who saw him and talked with him, gave him advice as to the customs ofJamaica, and let him see the details in the management of Enniskillen. 

Yet Dyck made no inquiries as to how Mrs. Llyn and Sheila were; firstbecause he chose not to do so, and also because Darius Boland, at onetime or another, would of his own accord tell what Mrs. Llyn and Sheilawere doing. One day Boland brought word that the governor had, more thanonce, visited Salem with his suite; that he had sat in judgment on a casein Kingston concerning the estate of Salem, and had given decision in itsfavour; and that Mrs. Llyn and Sheila visited him at Spanish Town andwere entertained at King's House at second breakfast and dinner--inshort, that Lord Mallow was making hay in Salem Plantation. This was nosurprise to Dyck. He had full intuition of the foray the governor wouldmake on Sheila, her estate and wealth. 

Lord Mallow had acted with discretion, and yet with sufficient passion towarrant some success. He was trying to make for himself a future whichmight mean the control of a greater colony even. If he had wealth, thatwould be almost a certainty, and he counted Sheila's gold as a guaranteeof power. He knew well how great effect could be produced at Westminsterand at the Royal Palace by a discreet display of wealth. He was alsoaware that no scandal could be made through an alliance with Sheila, forshe had inherited long after the revolutionary war and with her skirtsfree from responsibility. England certainly would welcome wealth gotthrough an Irish girl inheriting her American uncle's estates. So, steadily and happily, he pressed his suit. At his dinner-parties hegave her first place nearly always, and even broke the code controllingprecedence when his secretary could be overruled. Thus Sheila was givenhonour when she did not covet it, and so it was that one day at Salemwhen the governor came to court her she was able to help Dyck Calhoun. 

"Then you go to Enniskillen?" Lord Mallow said to Darius Boland, as heentered the plantation, being met by the astute American. 

"Sometimes, your honour, " was the careful reply. "I suppose you knowwhat Mr. Calhoun's career has been, eh?"

"Oh, in a way, your honour. They tell me he is a good swordsman. "

The governor flushed. "He told you that, did he?"

"No, no, your honour, never. He told me naught. He does not boast. He's as modest as a man from Virginia. He does not brag at all. "

"Who told you, then?"

"Ah, well, I heard it in the town! They speak of him there. They allknow that Kingston and Spanish Town, and all the other places, would havebeen French by now, if it hadn't been for him. Oh, they talk a lot abouthim in Kingston and thereabouts!"

"What swordsmanship do they speak of that was remarkable?"

"Has your honour forgotten, then? Sure, seven years is a poor limit fora good memory. " The blow was a shrewd one, for Darius Boland knew thatPhoenix Park must be a galling memory to his honour. But Darius did notcare. He guessed why the governor was coming to Salem, and he could notshirk having his hand in it. He had no fear of the results. 

"Aye, seven years is a poor limit, " he repeated. 

The governor showed no feeling. He had been hit, and he took it as partof the game. "Ah, you mean the affair in Phoenix Park?" he said with noapparent feeling. 

Darius tossed his head a little. "Wasn't it a clever bit of work?Didn't he get fame there by defeating one of the best swordsmen--inIreland?"

Lord Mallow nodded. "He got fame, which he lost in time, " he answered. 

"You mean he put the sword that had done such good work against achampion into a man's bowels, without 'by your leave, ' or 'will you drawand fight'?"

"Something like that, " answered the governor sagely. 

"Is it true you believed he'd strike a man that wasn't armed, sir?"

The governor winced, but showed nothing. "He'd been drinking--he is aheavy drinker. Do you never drink with him?"

Darius Boland's face took on a strange look. Here was an intended insultto Dyck Calhoun. Right well the governor knew their relative socialpositions. Darius pulled at the hair on his chin reflectively. "Yes, I've drunk his liquor, but not as you mean, your honour. He'd drink withany man at all: he has no nasty pride. But he doesn't drink with me. ""Modest enough he is to be a good republican, eh, Boland?"

"Since your honour puts it so, it must stand. I'll not dispute it, mebeing what I am and employed by whom I am. "

Darius Boland had a gift of saying the right thing in the right way, andhe had said it now. The governor was not so dense as to put this managainst him, for women were curious folk. They often attach importanceto the opinion of a faithful servant and let it weigh against great men. He had once lost a possible fortune by spurning a little terrier of thedaughter of the Earl of Shallow, and the lesson had sunk deep into hismind. He was high-placed, but not so high as to be sure of success wherea woman was concerned, and he had made up his mind to capture SheilaLlyn, if so be she could be caught flying, or settled, or sleeping. 

"Ah, well, he has drunk with worse men than republicans. Boland. He wasa common sailor. He drank what was given him with whom it chanced in thefo'castle. "

Darius sniffed a little, and kept his head. "But he changed all that, your honour, and gave sailormen better drink than they ever had, I hear. In Jamaica he treats his slaves as though they were men and notMohicans. "

"Well, he'll have less freedom in future, Boland, for word has come fromLondon that he's to keep to his estate and never leave it. "

Darius looked concerned, and his dry face wrinkled still more. "Ah, andwhen was this word come, your honour?"

"But yesterday, Boland, and he'll do well to obey, for I have no choicebut to take him in hand if he goes gallivanting. "

"Gallivanting--here, in Jamaica! Does your honour remember where weare?"

"Not in a bishop's close, Boland. "

"No, not in a bishop's close, nor in an archdeacon's garden. For of allplaces on earth where they defy religion, this is the worst, your honour. There's as much religion here as you'll find in a last year's bird's-nest. Gallivanting--where should he gallivant?"

The governor waved a contemptuous hand. "It doesn't need ingenuity tofind a place, for some do it on their own estate. I have seen it. "

Darius spoke sharply. "Your honour, there's naught on Mr. Calhoun'sestate that's got the taint, and he's not the man to go hunting for it. Drink--well, suppose a gentleman does take his quartern, is it a crime?I ask your honour, is that a crime in Jamaica?"

"It's no crime, Boland; nevertheless, your Mr. Calhoun will have to takehis fill on his own land from the day I send him the command of theLondon Government. "

"And what day will that be, your honour?"

To be questioned by one who had been a revolutionary was distasteful tothe governor. "That day will be when I find the occasion opportune, mybrave Boland, " he said sourly. 

"Why 'brave, ' your honour?" There was an ominous light in Darius' eye. 

"Did you not fight with George Washington against the King of England--against King George? And if you did, was that not brave?"

"It was true, your honour, " came the firm reply. "It was the one rightgood thing to do, as we proved it by the victory we had. We did what weset out to do. But see, if you will let a poor man speak his mind, if Iwere you I'd not impose the command on Mr. Calhoun. "

"Why, Boland?"

Darius spoke courageously. "Your honour, he has many friends in Jamaica, and they won't stand it. Besides, he won't stand it. And if he contestsyour honour, the island will be with him. "

"Is he popular here as all that?" asked the governor with a shrug of theshoulders. 

"They don't give their faith and confidence to order, your honour, "answered Darius with a dry inflection. 

The burr in the voice did not escape the other's attentive ear. He swunga glance sharply at Darius. "What is the secret of his popularity--howhas it been made?" he asked morosely. 

Darius' face took on a caustic look. "He's only been in the island ashort time, your honour, and I don't know that I'm a good judge, but I'llsay the people here have great respect for bravery and character. "

"Character! Character!" sniffed the governor. "Where did he get that?"

"Well, I don't know his age, but it's as old as he is--his character. Say, I'm afraid I'm talking too much, your honour. We speak our mindsin Virginia; we never count the cost. "

The governor waved a deprecating hand. "You'll find the measure of yourspeech in good time, Boland, I've no doubt. Meanwhile, you've got thepleasure of hunting it. Character, you say. Well, that isn't what thejudge and jury said. "

Darius took courage again. Couldn't Lord Mallow have any decency?

"Judge and jury be damned, your honour, " he answered boldly. "It was anIrish verdict. It had no sense. It was a bit of ballyhack. He did notkill an unarmed man. It isn't his way. Why, he didn't kill you when hehad you at his mercy in Phoenix Park, now, did he, governor?"

A flush stole up the governor's face from his chin. Then he turned toBoland and looked him straight in the eyes. "That's true. He had me athis mercy, and he did not take my life. "

"Then, why do you head the cabal against him? Why do you take joy incommanding him to stay on his estate? Is that grateful, your honour?"

The governor winced, but he said: "It's what I am ordered to do, my man. I'm a servant of the Crown, and the Crown has ordained it. "

Again Darius grew stronger in speech. "But why do you have pleasure init? Is nothing left to your judgment? Do you say to me that if he keepsthe freedom such as he has enjoyed, you'd punish him? Must the governorbe as ruthless as his master? Look, your honour, I wouldn't impose thatcommand--not till I'd taken his advice about the Maroons anyway. There'strouble brewing, and Mr. Calhoun knows it. He has warned you through theprovost-marshal. I'd heed his warning, your honour, or it may injureyour reputation as a ruler. No, I'd see myself in nethermost hell beforeI'd meddle with Mr. Calhoun. He's a dangerous man, when he's moved. "

"Boland, you'll succeed as a schoolmaster, when all else fails. Youteach persistently. "

"Your honour is clever enough to know what's what, but I'd like to seethe Maroons dealt with. This is not my country, but I've got interestshere, or my mistress has, and that's the same to me. . . . Does yourhonour travel often without a suite?"

The governor waved a hand behind him. "I left them at the lastplantation, and rode on alone. I felt safe enough till I saw you, Boland. "

He smiled grimly, and a grimmer smile stole to the lean lips of themanager of Salem. "Fear is a good thing for forward minds, your honour, "he said with respect in the tone of his voice and challenge in the words. 

"I'll say this, Boland, your mistress has been fortunate in her staff. You have a ready tongue. "

"Oh, I'm readier in other things, your honour, as you'd find on occasion. But I thank you for the compliment in a land where compliments are few. For a planter's country it has few who speak as well as they entertain. I'll say this for the land you govern, the hospitality is rich and rare. "

"In what way, Boland?"

"Why, your honour, it is the custom for a man and his whole family to goon a visit to a neighbour, perhaps twenty or forty miles away, bringtheir servants--maybe a dozen or more--and sit down on their neighbour'shearthstone. There they eat his food, drink his wine, exhaust his fowl-yard and debilitate his cook--till all the resources of the place areplayed out; then with both hands round his friend's neck the man and hispeople will say adieu, and go back to their own accumulated larder andawait the return visit. The wonder is Jamaica is so rich, for truly thewaste is harmful. We have the door open in Virginia, but not in thatway. We welcome, but we don't debauch. "

The governor smiled. "As you haven't old friends here, you should makeyour life a success--ah, there is the open door, Boland, and yourmistress standing in it. But I come without my family, and with no fellpurposes. I will not debilitate the cook; I will not exhaust the fowl-yard. A roasted plantain is good enough for me. "

Darius' looks quickened, and he jerked his chin up. "So, your honour, so. But might I ask that you weigh carefully the warning of Mr. Calhoun. There's trouble at Trelawny. I have it from good sources, and Mr. Calhoun has made preparations against the sure risings. I'd take heed ofwhat he says. He knows. Your honour, it is not my mistress in thedoorway, it is Mrs. Llyn; she is shorter than my mistress. "

The governor shaded his brow with his hands. Then he touched up hishorse. "Yes, you are right, Boland. It is Mrs. Llyn. And look you, Boland, I'll think over what you've said about the Maroons and Mr. Calhoun. He's doing no harm as he is, that's sure. So why shouldn't hego on as he is? That's your argument, isn't it?"

Boland nodded. "It's part of my argument, not all of it. Of course he'sdoing no harm; he's doing good every day. He's got a stiff hand for theshirker and the wanton, but he's a man that knows his mind, and that's agood thing in Jamaica. "

"Does he come here-ever?"

"He has been here only once since our arrival. There are reasons why hedoes not come, as your honour kens, knowing the history of Erris Boyne. "

A quarter of an hour later Darius Boland said to Sheila: "He's got anorder from England to keep Mr. Calhoun to his estate and to punish him, if he infringes the order. "

Sheila started. "He will infringe the order if it's made, Boland. Butthe governor will be unwise to try and impose it. I will tell him so. "

"But, mistress, he should not be told that this news comes from me. "

"No, he should not, Boland. I can tempt him to speak of it, I think. He hates Mr. Calhoun, and will not need much prompting. "

Sheila had changed since she saw Dyck Calhoun last. Her face wasthinner, but her form was even fuller than it was when she had bade himgood-bye, as it seemed to him for ever, and as it at first seemed to her. Through anxious days and nights she had fought with the old passion; andat last it seemed the only way to escape from the torture was by makingall thought of him impossible. How could this be done? Well, LordMallow would offer a way. Lord Mallow was a man of ancient Irish family, was a governor, had ability, was distinguished-looking in a curious leanway; and he had a real gift with his tongue. He stood high in theopinion of the big folk at Westminster, and had a future. He had awinning way with women--a subtle, perniciously attractive way with hersex, and to herself he had been delicately persuasive. He had theancient gift of picturesqueness without ornamentation. He had a strongwill and a healthy imagination. He was a man of mettle and decision. 

Of all who had entered her field outside of Dyck Calhoun he was the mostattractive; he was the nearest to the possible husband which she must oneday take. And if at any day at all, why not now when she needed a man asshe had never done--when she needed to forget? The sardonic critic mightask why she did not seek forgetfulness in flight; why she remained inJamaica where was what she wished to forget. There was no valid reason, save a business one, why she should remain in Jamaica, and she was in aquandary when she put the question. There were, however, other reasonswhich she used when all else failed to satisfy her exigeant mind. Therewas the question of vessels to Virginia or New York. They were few andnot good, and in any case they could have no comfortable journey to theUnited States for several weeks at least, for, since the revolutionarywar, commerce with the United States was sparse. 

Also, there was the question of Salem. She did not feel she ought towaste the property which her Uncle Bryan had nurtured with care. Injustice to his memory, and in fairness to Darius Boland, she felt sheought to stay--for a time. It did not occur to her that these reasonswould vanish like mist--that a wilful woman would sweep them into thebasket of forgetfulness, and do what she wished in spite of reason: thatall else would be sacrificed, if the spirit so possessed her. Truth wasthat, far back in her consciousness, there was a vision of better daysand things. It was as though some angel touched the elbow of her spiritand said: "Stay on, for things will be better than they seem. You willfind your destiny here. Stay on. "

So she had stayed. She was deluding herself to believe that what she wasdoing was all for the best; that the clouds were rising; that her fatehad fairer aspects than had seemed possible when Dyck Calhoun told herthe terrible tale of the death of her father, Erris Boyne. Yet memorygave a touch of misery and bitterness to all she thought and did. Fortwenty-five years she had lived in ignorance as to her paternity. Itsurely was futile that her mother should have suffered all those years, with little to cheer her, while her daughter should be radiant in healthand with a mind free from care or sadness. Yet the bitterest thing ofall was the thought that her father was a traitor, and had diedsacrificing another man. When Dyck had told her first, she had shiveredwith anger and shame--but anger and shame had gone. Only one thing gaveher any comfort--the man who knew Erris Boyne was a traitor, and couldprofit by telling it, held his tongue for her own sake, kept his owncounsel, and went to prison for four years as the price of his silence. He was now her neighbour and he loved her, and, if the shadow of a gravewas not between them, would offer himself in marriage to her. This sheknew beyond all doubt. He had given all a man can give--had saved herand killed her father--in ignorance had killed her father; in love hadsaved herself. What was to be done?

In a strange spirit Sheila entered the room where the governor sat withher mother. She had reached the limit of her powers of suffering. Soonafter her mother had left the room, the governor said:

"Why do you think I have come here to-day?"

He added to the words a note of sympathy, even of passion in his voice. 

"It was to visit my mother and myself, and to see how Salem looks afterour stay on it, was it not?"

"Yes, to see your mother and yourself, but chiefly the latter. As forSalem, it looks as though a mastermind had been at work, I see it ineverything. The slaves are singing. Listen!"

He held up a finger as though to indicate attention and direction. 

 "One, two, three, All de same; Black, white, brown, All de same; All de same. One, two, three--"

They could hear the words indistinctly. 

"What do the words mean?" asked Sheila. "I don't understand them. "

"No more do I, but I think they refer to the march of pestilence orplague. Numbers, colour, race, nothing matters, the plague sweeps allaway. Ah, then, I was right, " he added. "There is the story in otherwords. Listen again. "

To clapping of hands in unison, the following words were sung:

 "New-come buckra, He get sick, He tak fever, He be die; He be die. New-come buckra--"

"Well, it may be a chant of the plague, but it's lacking in poetry, " sheremarked. "Doesn't it seem so to you?"

"No, I certainly shouldn't go so far as that. Think of how much of astory is crowded into those few words. No waste, nothing thrown away. It's all epic, or that's my view, anyhow, " said the governor. "If youlook out on those who are singing it, you'd see they are resting fromtheir labours; that they are fighting the ennui which most of us feelwhen we rest from our labours. Let us look at them. "

The governor stood up and came to the open French windows that faced thefields of sugar-cane. In the near distance were clumps of fruit trees, of hedges of lime and flowering shrubs, rows of orange trees, mangoes, red and purple, forbidden-fruit and grapefruit, the large scarlet fruitof the acqui, the avocado-pear, the feathering bamboo, and the Jack-fruittree, with its enormous fruit like pumpkins. Parrots were chattering inthe acacia and in the Otaheite plum tree, with its bright pink blossomslike tassels, and flanking the negro huts by the river were bowers ofgrenadilla fruit. Around the negro huts were small individualplantations kept by the slaves, for which they had one day a fortnight, besides Sundays, free to work on their own account. Here and there alsowere patches of "ground-fruit, " as the underground vegetables werecalled, while there passed by on their way to the open road leading toKingston wains loaded with sugar-casks, drawn by oxen, and in two casesby sumpter mules. 

"Is there anything finer than that in Virginia?" asked the governor. "I have never been in Virginia, but I take this to be in some ways likethat state. Is it?"

"In some ways only. We have not the same profusion of wild fruits andtrees, but we have our share--and it is not so hot as here. It is abetter country, though. "

"In what way is it better?" the governor asked almost acidly. 

"It is better governed. "

"What do you mean by that? Isn't Jamaica well governed?"

"Not so well that it couldn't be improved, " was Sheila's reply. 

"What improvements would you suggest?" Lord Mallow asked urbanely, forhe was set to play his cards carefully to-day. 

"More wisdom in the governor, " was the cheerful and bright reply. 

"Is he lacking in wisdom?"

"In some ways, yes. "

"Will you mind specifying some of the things?"

"I think he is careless. "

"Careless--as to what?"

Sheila smiled. "He is indifferent to good advice. He has been told oftrouble among the Maroons, that they mean to rise; he has been advised tomake preparations, and he makes none, and he is deceived by a show ofloyalty on the part of the slaves. Lord Mallow, if the free Maroonsrise, why should not the black slaves rise at the same time? Why do younot act?"

"Is everybody whose good opinion is worth having mad?" answered thegovernor. "I have sent my inspectors to Trelawney. I have had reportsfrom them. I have used every care--what would you have me do?"

"Used every care? Why don't you ensure the Maroons peaceableness byadvancing on them? Why don't you take them prisoners? They are enragedthat two of their herdsmen should be whipped by a negro-slave under theorder of one of your captains. They are angry and disturbed and haveambushed the roads to Trelawney, so I'm told. "

"Did Mr. Calhoun tell you that when he was here?"

"It was not that which Mr. Calhoun told me the only time he came here. But who Erris Boyne was. I never knew till, in his honour, he told me, coming here for that purpose. I never knew who my father was till hetold me. My mother had kept it from me all my life. "

The governor looked alert. "And you have not seen him since that day?"

"I have seen him, but I have not spoken to him. It was in the distanceonly. "

"I understand your manager, Mr. Boland, sees him. "

"My manager does not share my private interests--or troubles. He is freeto go where he will, to speak to whom he chooses. He visits Enniskillen, I suppose--it is a well-managed plantation on Jamaican lines, and itsowner is a man of mark. "

Sheila spoke without agitation of any kind; her face was firm and calm, her manner composed, her voice even. As she talked, she seemed to beprobing the centre of a flower which she had caught from a basket at thewindow, and her whole personality was alight and vivifying, her goodtemper and spirit complete. As he looked at her, he had an overmasteringdesire to make her his own--his wife. She was worth hundreds ofthousands of pounds; she had beauty, ability and authority. She was theacme of charm and good bearing. With her he could climb high on theladder of life. He might be a really great figure in the British world-if she gave her will to help him, to hold up his hands. It had neveroccurred to him that Dyck Calhoun could be a rival, till he had heard ofDyck's visit to Sheila and her mother, till he had heard Sheila praisehim at the first dinner he had given to the two ladies on Christmas Day. 

On that day it was clear Sheila did not know who her father was; butstranger things had happened than that she should take up with, and evenmarry, a man imprisoned for killing another, even one who had beencondemned as a mutineer, and had won freedom by saving the king's navy. But now that Sheila knew the truth there could be no danger! DyckCalhoun would be relegated to his proper place in the scheme of things. Who was there to stand between him and his desire? What was there tostay the great event? He himself was a peer and high-placed, for itwas a time when the West Indian Islands were a centre of the world'sfighting, where men like Rodney had made everlasting fame; where thecurrents of world-controversy challenged, met and fought for control. 

The West Indies was as much a cock-pit of the fighting powers as everBelgium was; and in those islands there was wealth and the power whichwealth buys; the clash of white and black and coloured peoples; the navalcontests on the sea; the horrible massacres and enslavement of free whitepeoples, as in St. Domingo and Grenada; the dominating attacks of peoplefighting for control--peoples of old empires like France and Spain, andnew empires like that of Britain. These were a centre of colonial lifeas important as had been the life in Virginia and New York and the NewEngland States and Canada--indeed, more important than Canada in onesense, for the West Indies brought wealth to the British Isles, and had abig export trade. He lost no time in bringing matters to an issue. 

He got to his feet and came near to her. His eyes were inflamed withpassion, his manner was impressive. He had a distinguished face, becomemore distinguished since his assumption of governorship, and authorityhad increased his personality. 

"A man of mark!" he said. "You mean a marked man. Let me tell you Ihave an order from the British Government to confine him to his estate;not to permit him to leave it; and, if he does, to arrest him. That ismy commanded duty. You approve, do you not? Or are you like most women, soft at heart to bold criminals?"

Sheila did not reply at once. The news was no news to her, for DariusBoland had told her; but she thought it well to let the governor thinkhe had made a new, sensational statement. 

"No, " she said at last, looking him calmly in the eyes. "I have no softfeelings for criminals as criminals, none at all. And there is everyreason why I should be adamant to this man, Dyck Calhoun. But, LordMallow, I would go carefully about this, if I were you. He is a man whotakes no heed of people, high or low, and has no fear of consequences. Have you thought of the consequences to yourself? Suppose he resists, what will you do?"

"If he resists I will attack him with due force. "

"You mean you will send your military and police to attack him?" Thegibe was covered, but it found the governor's breast. He knew what shewas meaning. 

"You would not expect me to do police work, would you? Is that what yourpresident does? What your great George Washington does? Does he makethe state arrests with his own hand?"

"I have no doubt he would if the circumstances were such as to warrantit. He has no small vices, and no false feelings. He has provedhimself, " she answered boldly. 

"Well, in that case, " responded Lord Mallow irritably, "the event will beas is due. The man is condemned by my masters, and he must submit to myauthority. He is twice a criminal, and--"

"And yet a hero and a good swordsman, and as honest as men are made in adishonest world. Your Admiralty and your government first pardoned theman, and then gave him freedom on the island which you tried to prevent;and now they turn round and confine him to his acres. Is that pardon ina real sense? Did you write to the government and say he ought not to befree to roam, lest he should discover more treasure-chests and buyanother estate? Was it you?"

The governor shook his head. "No, not I. I told the government incareful and unrhetorical language the incident of his coming here, andwhat I did, and my reasons for doing it--that was all. "

"And you being governor they took your advice. See, my lord, if thisthing is done to him it will be to your own discomfiture. It will hurtyou in the public service. "

"Why, to hear you speak, mistress, it would almost seem you had afondness for the man who killed your father, who went to jail for it, and--"

"And became a mutineer, " intervened the girl flushing. "Why not say all?Why not catalogue his offences? Fondness for the man who killed myfather, you say! Yes, I had a deep and sincere fondness for him eversince I met him at Playmore over seven years ago. Yes, a fondness whichonly his crime makes impossible. But in all that really matters I amstill his friend. He did not know he was killing my father, who had noclaims upon me, none at all, except that through him I have life andbeing; but it is enough to separate us for ever in the eyes of the world, and in my eyes. Not morally, of course, but legally and actually. Heand I are as far apart as winter and summer; we are parted for ever andever and ever. "

Now at last she was inflamed. Every nerve in her was alive. All she hadever felt for Dyck Calhoun came rushing to the surface, demandingrecognition, reasserting itself. As she used the words, "ever and everand ever, " it was like a Cordelia bidding farewell to Lear, her father, for ever, for there was that in her voice which said: "It is finalseparation, it is the judgment of Jehovah, and I must submit. It is thelast word. "

Lord Mallow saw his opportunity, and did not hesitate. "No, you arewrong, wholly wrong, " he said. "I did not bias what I said in my report--a report I was bound to make--by any covert prejudice against Mr. Calhoun. I guarded myself especially"--there he lied, but he was anincomparable liar--"lest it should be used against him. It would appear, however, that the new admiral's report with mine were laid together, andthe government came to its conclusion accordingly. So I am bound to domy duty. "

"If you--oh, if you did your duty, you would not obey the command of thegovernment. Are there not times when to obey is a crime, and is not thisone of them? Lord Mallow, you would be doing as great a crime as Mr. Dyck Calhoun ever committed, or could commit, if you put this order intoactual fact. You are governor here, and your judgment would be accepted--remember it is an eight weeks' journey to London at the least, and whatmight not happen in that time! Are you not given discretion?"

The governor nodded. "Yes, I am given discretion, but this is an order. "

"An order!" she commented. "Then if it should not be fulfilled, breakit and take the consequences. The principle should be--Do what is right, and have no fear. "

"I will think it over, " answered the governor. "What you say has immenseweight with me--more even than I have words to say. Yes, I will think itover--I promise you. You are a genius--you prevail. "

Her face softened, a new something came into her manner. "You do trulymean it?" she asked with lips that almost trembled. 

It seemed to her that to do this thing for Dyck Calhoun was the leastthat was possible, and it was perhaps the last thing she might ever beable to do. She realized how terrible it would be for him to be shorn ofthe liberty he had always had; how dangerous it might be in many ways;and how the people of the island might become excited by it--andtroublesome. 

"Yes, I mean it, " answered Lord Mallow. "I mean it exactly as I say it. "

She smiled. "Well, that should recommend you for promotion, " she saidhappily. "I am sure you will decide not to enforce the order, if youthink about it. You shall be promoted, your honour, to a better place, "she repeated, half-satirically. 

"Shall I then?" he asked with a warm smile and drawing close to her. "Shall I? Then it can only be by your recommendation. Ah, my dear, mybeautiful dear one, " he hastened to add, "my life is possiblehenceforward only through you. You have taught me by your life andperson, by your beauty and truth, by your nobility of mind and characterhow life should be lived. I have not always deserved your good opinionnor that of others. I have fought duels and killed men; I have aspiredto place; I have connived at appointment; I have been vain, overbearingand insistent on my rights or privileges; I have played the dictator herein Jamaica; I have not been satisfied save to get my own way; but youhave altered all that. Your coming here has given me a new outlook. Sheila, you have changed me, and you can change me infinitely more. I who have been a master wish to become your slave. I want you--beloved, I want you for my wife. "

He reached out as though to take her hand, but she drew back from him. His thrilling words had touched her, as she had seldom been touched, asshe had never been touched by any one save the man that must never behers; she was submerged for the moment in the flood of his eloquence, andhis yielding to her on the point of Dyck's imprisonment gave fresh accentto his words. Yet she could not, she dared not yet say yes to hisdemand. 

"My lord, " she said, "oh, you have stirred me! Yet I dare not reply toyou as you wish. Life is hard as it is, and you have suddenly made itharder. What is more, I do not, I cannot, believe you. You have lovedmany. Your life has been a covert menace. Oh, I know what they said ofyou in Ireland. I know not of your life here. I suppose it iscircumspect now; but in Ireland it was declared you were notorious withwomen. "

"It is a lie, " he answered. "I was not notorious. I was no better andno worse than many another man. I played, I danced attendance, I saidsoft nothings, but I was tied to no woman in all Ireland. I wasfrolicsome and adventurous, but no more. There is no woman who cansay I used her ill or took from her what I did not--"

"Atone for, Lord Mallow?"

"Atone--no. What I did not give return for, was what I was going tosay. "

The situation was intense. She was in a place from which there was noescape except by flight or refusal. She did not really wish to refuse. Somehow, there had come upon her the desire to put all thought of DyckCalhoun out of her mind by making it impossible for her to think of him;and marriage was the one sure and complete way--marriage with this man, was it possible? He held high position, he was her fellow countryman andan Irish peer, and she was the daughter of an evil man, who was, aboveall else, a traitor to his country, though Lord Mallow did not know that. The only one she knew possessed of the facts was the man she desired tosave herself from in final way--Dyck Calhoun. Her heart was for themoment soft to Lord Mallow, in spite of his hatred of Dyck Calhoun. Thegovernor was a man of charm in conversation. He was born with rarefaculties. Besides, he had knowledge of humanity and of women. He knewhow women could be touched. He had appealed to Sheila more by abilitythan by aught else. His concessions to her were discretion in a way. They opened the route to her affections, as his place and title could notdo. 

"No, no, no, believe me, Sheila, I was a man who had too many temptations--that was all. But I did not spoil my life by them, and I am here atrusted servant of the government. I am a better governor than yourfirst words to me would make you seem to think. "

Her eyes were shining, her face was troubled, her tongue was silent. Sheknew not what to say. She felt she could not say yes--yet she wanted toescape from him. Her good fortune did not desert her. Suddenly the doorof the room opened and her mother entered. 

"There is a member of your suite here, your honour, asking for you. Itis of most grave importance. It is urgent. What shall I say?"

"Say nothing. I am coming, " said the governor. "I am coming now. "

CHAPTER XX

OUT OF THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES

That night the Maroons broke loose upon Jamaica, and began murder anddepredation against which the governor's activities were no check. Estates were invaded, and men, women and children killed, or carried intothe mountains and held as hostages. In the middle and western part ofthe island the ruinous movements went on without being stayed; plantersand people generally railed at the governor, and said that through hisneglect these dark things were happening. It was said he had failed topunish offences by the Maroons, and this had given them confidence, filling them with defiance. They had one advantage not possessed by thegovernment troops and militia--they were masters of every square rod ofland in the middle and west of the island. Their plan was to raid, toambush, to kill and to excite the slaves to rebel. 

The first assault and repulse took place not far from Enniskillen, DyckCalhoun's plantation, and Michael Clones captured a Maroon who wasslightly wounded. 

Michael challenged him thus: "Come now, my blitherin' friend, tell usyour trouble--why are you risin'? You don't do this without cause--what's the cause?"

The black man, naked except for a cloth about his loins, and with a smallbag at his hip, slung from a cord over his shoulder, showed his teeth ina stark grimace. 

"You're a newcomer here, massa, or you'd know we're treated bad, " heanswered. "We're robbed and trod on and there's no word kept with us. We asked the governor for more land and he moved us off. We warned himagainst having one of our head young men flogged by a slave in thepresence of slaves--for we are free men, and he laughs. So, knowing afew strong men can bring many weak men to their knees, we rose. I saythis--there's plenty weak men in Jamaica, men who don't know right whenthey see it. So we rose, massa, and we'll make Jamaica sick before we'vedone. They can't beat us, for we can ambush here, and shoot those thatcome after us. We hide, one behind this rock and one behind that, two orthree together, and we're safe. But the white soldiers come all togetherand beat drums and blow horns, and we know where they are, and so wecatch 'em and kill 'em. You'll see, we'll capture captains and generals, and we'll cut their heads off and bury them in their own guts. "

He made an ugly grimace, and a loathsome gesture, and Michael Clones feltthe man ought to die. He half drew his sword, but, thinking better ofit, he took the Maroon to the Castle and locked him up in a slave's hut, having first bound him and put him in the charge of one he could trust. But as he put the man away, he said:

"You talk of your people hiding, and men not being able to find you; butdid you never hear of bloodhounds, that can hunt you down, and chew youup? Did you never hear of them?"

The man's face wrinkled like a rag, for there is one thing the nativefears more than all else, and that is the tooth of the hound. But hegathered courage, and said: "The governor has no hounds. There ain'tnone in Jamaica. We know dat--all of us know dat--all of us know dat, massa. "

Michael Clones laughed, and it was not pleasant to hear. "It may be thegovernor has no bloodhounds, and would not permit their being broughtinto the island, but my master is bringing them in himself--a lot withtheir drivers from Cuba, and you Maroons will have all you can do tohide. Sure, d'ye think every wan in the island is as foolish as thegovernor? If you do, y'are mistaken, and that's all there is to say. "

"The hounds not here--in de island, massa!" declared the Maroonquestioningly. 

"They'll be here within the next few hours, and then where will you andyour pals be? You'll be caught between sharp teeth--nice, red, sharp, bloody teeth; and you'll make good steak-better than your best olio. "

The native gave a moan--it was the lament of one whose crime was cometete-a-tete with its own punishment. 

"That's the game to play, " said Michael to himself as he fastened thedoor tight. "The hounds will settle this fool-rebellion quicker thanaught else. Mr. Calhoun's a wise man, and he ought to be governor here. Criminal? As much as the angel Gabriel! He must put down thisrebellion--no wan else can. They're stronger, the Maroons, than everthey've been. They've planned this with skill, and they'll need a lot ofhandlin'. We're safe enough here, but down there at Salem--well, theymay be caught in the bloody net. Bedad, that's sure. "

A few moments afterwards he met Dyck Calhoun. "Michael, " said Dyck, "things are safe enough here, but we've prepared! The overseers, bookkeepers and drivers are loyal enough. But there are others not sosafe. I'm going to Salem-riding as hard as I can, with six of our bestmen. They're not so daft at Salem as we are, Michael. They won't knowhow to act or what to do. Darius Boland is a good man, but he's only hadVirginian experience, and this is different. A hundred Maroons are asgood as a thousand white soldiers in the way the Maroons fight. Thereare a thousand of them, and they can lay waste this island, if they getgoing. So I shall stop them. The hounds are outside the harbour now, Michael. The ship Vincent, bringing them, was sighted by a sloop twodays ago, making slowly for Kingston. She should be here before we'vetime to turn round. Michael, the game is in our hands, if we play itwell. Do you go down to Kingston and--"

He detailed what Michael was to do on landing the hounds, and laid outplans for the immediate future. "They're in danger at Salem, Michael, sowe must help them. The hounds will settle this whole wretched business. "

Michael told him of his prisoner, and what effect the threat about thehounds had had. A look of purpose came into Dyck's face. 

"A hound is as fair as a gun, and hounds shall be used here in Jamaica. The governor can't refuse their landing now. The people would kill himif he did. It was I proposed it all. "

"Look, sir--who's that?" asked Michael, as they saw a figure ridingunder the palms not far away. 

It was very early morning, and the light was dim yet, but there wassufficient to make even far sight easy. Dyck shaded his forehead withhis hand. 

"It's not one of our people, Michael. It's a stranger. "

As the rider came on he was stopped by two of the drivers of the estate. Dyck and Michael saw him hold up a letter, and a moment later he was onhis way to Dyck, galloping hard. Arrived, he dropped to the ground, andsaluted Dyck. 

"A letter from Salem, sir, " he said, and handed it over to Dyck. 

Dyck nodded, broke the seal of the letter and read it quickly. Then henodded again and bade the man eat a hearty breakfast and return with himon one of the Enniskillen horses, as his own would be exhausted. "We'llhelp protect Salem, my man, " said Dyck. 

The man grinned. "That's good, " he answered. "They knew naught of therising when I left. But the governor was there yesterday, and he'dprotect us. "

"Nonsense, fellow, the governor would go straight to Spanish Town wherehe belongs, when there is trouble. "

When the man had gone, Dyck turned to his servant. "Michael, " he said, "the news in the letter came from Darius Boland. He says the governortold him he had orders from England to confine me here at Enniskillen, and he meant to do it. We'll see how he does it. If he sends hismarshals, we'll make Gadarene swine of them. "

There was a smile at his lips, and it was contemptuous, and the lines ofhis forehead told of resolve. "Michael, " he added, "we'll hunt LordMallow with the hounds of our good fortune, for this war is our war. They can't win it without me, and they shan't. Without the hounds it maybe a two years' war--with the hounds it can't go beyond a week or so. "

"If the hounds get here, sir! But if they don't?"

Dyck laid his hand upon the sword at his side. "If they don't get here, Michael, still the war will be ours, for we understand fighting, and thegovernor does not. Confine me here, will he? If he does, he'll be abetter man than I have ever known him, Michael. In a few hours I shallbe at Salem, to do what he could not, and would not, do if he could. Hislove is as deep as water on a roof, no deeper. He'll think first ofhimself, and afterwards of the owner of Salem or any other. Let me showyou what I mean to do once we've Salem free from danger. Come and have alook at my chart. "

Some hours later Dyck Calhoun, with his six horsemen, was within a mileor so of Salem. They had ridden hard in the heat and were tired, butthere was high spirit in the men, for they were behind a trusted leader--a man who ate little, but who did not disdain a bottle of Madeira ora glass of brandy, and who made good every step of the way he went--watchful, alert, careful, determined. They cared little what his pasthad been. Jamaica was not a heaven for the good, but it was a haven formany who had been ill-used elsewhere; where each man, as though he werereally in a new world, was judged by his daily actions and not by anyhistory of a hidden or an open past. As they came across country, Dyckalways ahead, they saw how he responded to every sign of life in thebush, how he moved always with discretion where ambush seemed possible. They knew how on his own estate he never made mistakes of judgment;that he held the balance carefully, and that his violences, rare andtremendous, were not outbursts of an unregulated nature. "You can't foolCalhoun, " was a common phrase in the language of Enniskillen, and therewere few in the surrounding country who would not have upheld its truth. 

Now, to-day, he was almost moodily silent, reserved and watchful. Noneknew the eddies of life which struggled for mastery in him, nor of hishorrible disappointments. None knew of his love for Sheila. Yet allknew that he had killed--or was punished for killing--Erris Boyne. Noneof them had seen Sheila, but all had heard of her, and the governor'scourtship of her, and all wondered why Dyck Calhoun should be doing whatclearly the governor should do. 

Somehow, in spite of the criminal record with which Calhoun's life wasstained, they had a respect for him they did not have for Lord Mallow. Dyck's life in Jamaica was clean; and his progress as a planter had beenfree from black spots. He even kept no mistress, and none had ever knownhim to have to do with women, black, brown, or white. He had never gonea-Maying, as the saying was, and his only weakness or fault--if it was afault--was a fondness for the bottle of good wine which was ever open onhis table, and for tobacco in the smoking-leaf. To-day he smokedincessantly and carefully. He threw no loose ends of burning tobaccofrom cigar or pipe into the loose dry leaves and stiff-cut ground. Yetthey knew the small clouds floating away from his head did not check hisobservation. That was proved beyond peradventure when they were withinsight of the homestead of Salem on an upland well-wooded. It was inapparently happy circumstances, for they could see no commotion about thehomestead; they saw men with muskets, evidently keeping guard--yet tooopenly keeping guard, and so some said to each other. 

Presently Dyck reined his horse. Each man listened attentively, and eyedthe wood ahead of them, for it was clear Dyck suspected danger there. For a moment there seemed doubt in Dyck's mind what to do, but presentlyhe had decided. 

"Ride slow for Salem, " he said. "It's Maroons there in the bush. Theyare waiting for night. They won't attack us now. They're in ambush--ofthat I'm sure. If they want to capture Salem, they'll not give alarm byfiring on us, so if we ride on they'll think we haven't sensed them. Ifthey do attack us, we'll know they are in good numbers, for they'll befacing us as well as the garrison of Salem. But keep your muskets ready. Have a drink, " he added, and handed his horn of liquor. "If they see usdrink, and they will, they'll think we've only stopped to refresh, andwe'll be safe. In any case, if they attack, fire your muskets at themand ride like the devil. Don't dismount and don't try to find them inthe rocks. They'll catch us that way, as they've caught others. It's apoor game fighting hidden men. I want to get them into the open downbelow, and that's where they'll be before we're many hours older. "

With this he rode on slightly ahead, and presently put his horse at agentle canter which he did not increase as they neared the place wherethe black men ambushed. Every man of the group behaved well. Noneshowed nervousness, even when one of the horses, conscious of hiddenMaroons in the wood, gave a snort and made a sharp movement out of thetrack, in an attempt to get greater speed. 

That was only for an instant, however. Yet every man's heart beatfaster as they came to the place where the ambush was. Indeed, Dyck sawa bush move, and had a glimpse of a black, hideous face which quicklydisappeared. Dyck's imperturbable coolness kept them steady. They evengossiped of idle things loud enough for the hidden Maroons to hear. Noface showed suspicion or alarm, as they passed, while all felt thepresence of many men in the underbrush. Only when they had passed theplace, did they realize the fulness of the danger through which they hadgone. Dyck talked to them presently without turning round, for thatmight have roused suspicion, and while they were out of danger now, there was the future and Dyck's plan which he now unfolded. 

"They'll come down into the open before it's dark, " he said quietly, "and when they do that, we'll have 'em. They've no chance to ambush inthe cane-fields now. We'll get them in the open, and wipe them out. Don't look round. Keep steady, and we'll ride a little more quicklysoon. "

A little later they cantered to the front door of the Salem homestead. 

The first face they saw there was that of Darius Boland. It had a lookof trouble. Dyck explained. "We thought you might not have heard of therise of the Maroons. We have no ladies at Enniskillen. We prepared, andwe're safe enough there, as things are. Your ladies must go at once toSpanish Town, unless--"

"Unless they stay here! Well, they would not be unwise, for though theslaves under the old management might have joined the Maroons, they willnot do so now. We have got them that far. But, Mr. Calhoun, the ladiesaren't here. They rode away into the hills this morning, and they've notcome back. 

"I was just sending a search party for them. I did not know of the riseof the Maroons. "

"In what direction did they go?" asked Dyck with anxiety, though histone was even. 

Darius Boland pointed. "They went slightly northwest, and if they go asI think they meant to do, they would come back the way you came in. "

"They were armed?" Dyck asked sharply. 

"Yes, they were armed, " was the reply. "Miss Llyn had a small pistol. She learned to carry one in Virginia, and she has done so ever since wecame here. "

"Listen, Boland, " said Dyck with anxiety. "Up there in the hills bywhich we came are Maroons hidden, and they will invade this place to-night. We were ready to fight them, of course, as we came, but it's arisky business, and we wanted to get them all if possible. We couldn'tif we had charged them there, for they were well-ambushed. My idea wasto let them get into the open between there and here, and catch them asthey came. It would save our own men, and it would probably do for them. If Mrs. And Miss Llyn come back that way, they will be in greater dangerthan were we, for the Maroons were coming here to capture the ladies andhold them as hostages; and they would not let them pass. In any case, the risk is immense. The ladies must be got to Spanish Town, for theMaroons are desperate. They know we have no ships of the navy here now, and they rely on their raiding powers and the governor's weakness. Theyhave placed their men in every part of the middle and western country, and they came upon my place last evening and were defeated. Several werekilled and one taken prisoner. They can't be marched upon like an army. Their powers of ambush are too great. They must be run down bybloodhounds. It's the only way. "

"Bloodhounds--there are no bloodhounds here!" said Darius Boland. "Andif there were, wouldn't pious England make a fuss?"

Dyck Calhoun was about to speak sharply, but he caught sarcasm in DariusBoland's face, and he said: "I have the bloodhounds. They're outside theharbour now, and I intend to use them. "

"If the governor allows you!" remarked Darius Boland ironically. "Hedoes not like you or your bloodhounds. He has his orders, so he says. "

Dyck made an impatient gesture. "I will not submit to his orders. I have earned my place in this is land, and he shall not have his way. The ladies must be brought to Spanish Town, and placed where thegovernor's men can protect them. "

"The governor's men! Indeed. They might as well stay here; we cansurely protect them. "

"Perhaps, for you have skill, Boland, and you are cautious, but is itfair for ladies to stay in this isolated spot with murderers about? Whenthe ladies come back, they must be sent at once to Spanish Town. Can'tyou see?"

Darius Boland bowed. "What you say goes always, " he remarked, "but tellme, sir, who will take the ladies to Spanish Town?"

Dyck Calhoun read the inner meaning of Darius Boland's words. They didnot put him out of self-control. It was not a time to dwell on suchthings. It was his primary duty to save the ladies. 

"Come, Boland, " he said sharply, "I shall start now. We must find theladies. What sort of a country is it through which they pass?" Hepointed. 

"Bad enough in some ways. There's an old monastery of the days of theSpaniards up there"--he pointed or the ruins of one, and it is a pleasantplace to rest. I doubt not they rested there, if--"

"If they reached it!" remarked Dyck with crisp inflection. "Yes, theywould rest there--and it would be a good place for ambush by the Maroons, eh?"

"Good enough from the standpoint of the Maroons, " was the reply, thevoice slightly choked. 

"Then we must go there. It's a damnable predicament--no, you must notcome with me! You must keep command here. "

He hastily described the course to be followed by those of his own menwho stayed to defend, and then said: "Our horses are fagged. If you loanus four I'll see they are well cared for, and returned in kind or cash. I'll take three of my men only, and loan you three of the best. We'llfill our knapsacks and get away, Boland. "

A few moments later, Calhoun and his three men, with a guide added byBoland, had started away up the road which had been ridden by Mrs. Llynand Sheila. One thing was clear, the Maroons on the hill did not know ofthe absence of Sheila and her mother, or they would not be waiting. Hedid not like the long absence of the ladies. It was ominous at such atime. 

Dyck and his small escort got away by a road unseen from where theMaroons were, and when well away put their horses to a canter and gotinto the hills. Once in the woods, however, they rode alertly, andDyck's eyes were everywhere. He was quick to see a bush move, to observethe flick of a branch, to catch the faintest sound of an animal origin. He was obsessed with anxiety, for he had a dark fear that some ill hadhappened to the two. His blood almost dried in his veins when he thoughtof the fate which had followed the capture of ladies in other islandslike Haiti or Grenada. 

It did not seem possible that these beautiful women should have falleninto the outrageous hands of savages. He knew the girl was armed, andthat before harm might come to her she would end her own life and hermother's also; but if she was caught from behind, and the opportunity ofsuicide should not be hers--what then?

Yet he showed no agitation to his followers. His eyes were, however, intensely busy, and every nerve was keen to feel. Life in the open haddeveloped in him the physical astuteness of the wild man, and he had allthe gifts that make a supreme open-air fighter. He sensed things; butwith him it was feeling, and not scent or hearing; his senses were suchperfect listeners. He had the intense perception of a delicate plant, those wonderful warnings which only come to those who live close tonature, who study from feeling the thousand moods and tenses of livingvegetables and animal life. He was a born hunter, and it was not easy tosurprise him when every nerve was sharp with premonition. He saw themarks of the hoofs of Sheila's and her mother's horses in the road, knowing them by the freshness of the indentations. An hour, two hourspassed, and they then approached the monasterial ruin of which Boland hadspoken. Here, suddenly, Dyck dropped to the ground, for he sawunmistakable signs of fright or flurry in the hoofmarks. 

He quickly made examination, and there were signs of women's feet andalso a bare native foot, but no signs of struggle or disturbance. Thefootprints, both native and white, were firmly placed, but the horses'hoof-prints showed agitation. Presently the hoofmarks became morecomposed again. Suddenly one of Dyck's supporters exclaimed he hadpicked up a small piece of ribbon, evidently dropped to guide those whomight come searching. Presently another token was found in a loose bitof buckle from a shoe. Then, suddenly, upon the middle of the road was alittle pool of blood and signs that a body had lain in the dust. 

"She shot a native here, " said Dyck to his men coolly. "There are nosigns of a struggle, " remarked the most observant. 

"We must go carefully here, for they may have been imprisoned in theruin. You stay here, and I'll go forward, " he added, with a hand on hissword. "I've an idea they're here. We have one chance, my lads, andlet's keep our heads. If anything should happen to me, have a tryyourselves, and see what you can do. The ladies must be freed, ifthey're there. There's not one of you that won't stand by to the last, but I want your oath upon it. By the heads or graves of your mothers, lads, you'll see it through? Up with your hands!"

Their hands went up. "By our mothers' heads or graves!" they said in lowtones. 

"Good!" he replied. "I'll go on ahead. If you hear a call, or a shotfired, forward swiftly. "

An instant later he plunged into the woods to the right of the road, bywhich he would come upon the ruins from the rear. He held a pistol as hestole carefully yet quickly forward. He was anxious there should be nodelay, but he must not be rash. Without meeting anyone he came near theruins. They showed serene in the shade of the trees. 

Then suddenly came from the ruin a Maroon of fierce, yet not cruelappearance, who laid a hand behind his ear, and looked steadfastlytowards that part of the wood where Dyck was. It was clear he had heardsomething. Dyck did not know how many Maroons there might be in theruins, or near it, and he did not attack. It was essential he shouldknow the strength of his foe; and he remained quiet. Presently thenative turned as though to go back into the ruins, but changed his mind, and began to tour the stony, ruined building. Dyck waited, and presentlysaw more natives come from the ruins, and after a moment another three. These last were having an argument of some stress, for they pulled ateach other's arms and even caught at the long cloths of theirheaddresses. 

"They've got the ladies there, " thought Dyck, "but they've done them noharm yet. " He waited moments longer to see if more natives were comingout, then said to himself: "I'll make a try for it now. It won't do torun the risk of going back to bring my fellows up. It's a fair risk, butit's worth taking. "

With that he ran softly to the entrance from which he had seen the menemerge. Looking in he saw only darkness. Then suddenly he gave a softcall, the call of an Irish bird-note which all people in Ireland--in thewest and south of Ireland--know. If Sheila was alive and in the placeshe would answer it, he was sure. He waited a moment, and there was noanswer. Then he called again, and in an instant, as though from a greatdistance, there came the reply of the same note, clearer and more bell-like than his own. 

"She's there!" he said, and boldly entered the place. It was dark anddamp, but ahead was a break in the solid monotony of ruined wall, and hesaw a clear stream of light beyond. He stole ahead, got over the stoneobstructions, and came on to a biggish room which once had been arefectory. Looking round it he saw three doors--one evidently led intothe kitchen, one into a pantry, and one into a hall. It was clear thewomen were alone, or some one would have come in answer to his call. Whocould tell when they would come? There was no time to be lost. With aninstinct, which proved correct, he opened the door leading into the oldkitchen, and there, tied, and with pale faces, but in no other sensedisordered, were Sheila and her mother. He put his fingers to his lips, then hastily cut them loose from the ropes of bamboo, and helped them totheir feet. 

"Can you walk?" he whispered to Mrs. Llyn. She nodded assent, andbraced herself. "Then here, " he said, "is a pistol. Come quickly. Wemay have to fight our way out. Don't be afraid to fire, but take goodaim first. I have some men in the wood beyond where you shot thenative, " he added to Sheila. "They'll come at once if I call, or a shotis fired. Keep your heads, and we shall be all right. They're adangerous crew, but we'll beat them this time. Come quickly. "

Presently they were in the refectory, and a moment after that they wereover the stones, and near the entrance, and then a native appeared, armed. Without an instant's hesitation Dyck ran forward, and as heentered, put his sword into the man's vitals, and he fell, calling out ashe fell. 

"The rest will be on us now, " said Dyck, "and we must keep going. "

Three more natives appeared, and he shot two. 

Catching a pistol from Sheila he aimed at the third native and woundedhim, but did not kill him. The man ran into the wood. Presently moreMaroons came--a dozen or more, and rushed for the entrance. They weremet by Dyck's fire, and now also Sheila fired and brought down her man. Dyck wounded another, and in great skill loaded again, but at that momentthree of the Maroons rushed down into the ruins. 

They were astonished to see Dyck there, and more astonished to receive--first one and then another--his iron in their bowels. The third man madea stroke at Dyck with his lance, and only gashed Dyck's left arm. Thenhe turned and fled out into the open, and was met by a half-dozen others. They all were about to rush the entrance when suddenly four shots behindthem brought three of them down, and the rest fled into the woodshouting. In another moment Dyck and the ladies were in the open, andmaking for the woods, the women in front, the men behind, loading theirmuskets as they ran, and alive to the risks of the moment. 

The dresses of the ladies were stained and soiled with dust and damp, butotherwise they seemed little the worse for the adventure, save that Mrs. Llyn was shaken, and her face was pale. 

"How did you know where we were, and why did you come?" she said, afterthey had got under way, having secured the horses which Sheila and hermother had ridden. 

Briefly Dyck explained how as soon as he had dealt with the revolt of theMaroons at his own place he came straight to Salem. 

"I knew you were unused to the ways of the country and to our sort ofnative here, and I felt sure you would not refuse to take help--even mineat a pinch. But what happened to you?" he added, turning to Sheila. 

It was only yesterday Sheila had determined to cut him wholly out of herlife by assenting to marry Lord Mallow. Yet here he was, and she couldscarcely bear to look into his face. He was shut off from her by everyfact of human reason. These were days when the traditions of family lifewere more intense than now; when to kill one's own father was not so badas to embrace, as it were, him or her who had killed that father. Sheilafelt if she were normal she ought to feel abhorrence against Dyck; yetshe felt none at all, and his saving them had given a new colour totheir relations. If he had killed her father, the traitor, he had savedthemselves from death or freed them from a shameful captivity which mighthave ended in black disaster. She kept herself in hand, and did not showconfusion. 

"We had not heard of the rising of the Maroons, " she said. "The governorwas at Salem yesterday and a message came from his staff to say would hecome at once. His staff were not at Salem, but at the next plantationnearer to Spanish Town. Lord Mallow went. If he suspected the realtrouble he said naught, but was gone before you could realize it. Thehours went by, night came and passed, then my mother and I, this morning, resolved to ride to the monastery, and then round by the road youtravelled back to Salem. "

"There are Maroons now on that hill above your place. They were inambush when we passed, but we took no notice. It was not wise to invitetrouble. Some of us would have been killed, but--"

He then told what had been in his mind, and what might be the outcome--the killing or capture of the whole group, and safety for all at Salem. 

When he had finished, she continued her story. "We rode for an hourunchallenged, and then came the Maroons. At first I knew not what to do. We were surrounded before we could act. I had my pistol ready, and therewas the chance of escape--the faint chance--if we drove our horses on;but there was also the danger of being fired at from behind! So we satstill on our horses, and I asked them how they dared attack white ladies. I asked them if they had never thought what vengeance the governor wouldtake. They did not understand my words, but they grasped the meaning, and one of them, the leader, who understood English, was inclined to havereason. As it was, we stopped what might have been our murder by sayingit would be wiser to hold us as hostages, and that we were Americans. That man was killed--by you. A shot from your pistol brought him down ashe rushed forward to enter the ruins. But he took care of us as we wentforward, and when I shot one of his followers for laying his hand upon mein the saddle--he caught me by the leg under my skirt--he would allow noretaliation. I knew boldness was the safe part to play. 

"But in the end we were bound with ropes as you found us, while theywaited for more of their people to come, those, no doubt, you foundambushed on the hill. As we lay, bound as you saw us, the leader said tous we should be safe if he could have his way, but there were badelements among the Maroons, and he could not guarantee it. Yet he knewthe government would pay for our release, would perhaps give the land forwhich they had asked with no avail. We must, therefore, remainprisoners. If we made no efforts to escape, it would be better in theend. "Keep your head steady, missy, try no tricks, and all may go well;but I have bad lot, and they may fly at you. " That was the way he spoke. It made our blood run cold, for he was one man, with fair mind, and hehad around him men, savage and irresponsible. Black and ruthless, theywould stop at nothing except the sword at their throats or the teeth intheir flesh. "

"The teeth in their flesh!" said Dyck with a grim smile. "Yes, that isthe only way with them. Naught can put the fear of God into them exceptbloodhounds, and that Lord Mallow will not have. He has been set againstit until now. But this business will teach him. He may change his mindnow, since what he cares for is in danger--his place and his ladies!"

Mrs. Llyn roused herself to say: "No, no, Mr. Calhoun, you must not saythat of him. His place may be in danger, but not his ladies. He has nopromise of that. . . . And see, Mr. Calhoun, I want to say that, inany case, you have paid your debt, if you owe one to us. For a lifetaken you have given two lives--to me and my girl. I speak as one whohas a right to say it! Erris Boyne was naught to me at all, but he wasmy daughter's father, and that made everything difficult. I could makehim cease to be my husband, and I did; but I could not make him cease tobe her father. "

"I had no love for Erris Boyne, " said Sheila. Misery was heavy on her. "None at all, but he was my father. "

"See, all's well still at Salem, " said Dyck waving a hand as though tochange the talk. "All's as we left it. "

There in the near distance lay Salem, serene. All tropical life aboutseemed throbbing with life and soaking with leisure. 

"We were in time, " he added. "The Maroons are still in ambush. The sunis beginning to set though, and the trouble may begin. We shall getthere about sundown--safe, thank God!"

"Safe, thank God--and you, " said Sheila's mother. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE CLASH OF RACE

In the King's House at Spanish Town the governor was troubled. All hisplans and prophecies had come to naught. He had been sure there would beno rebellion of the Maroons, and he was equally sure that his careerwould be made hugely successful by marriage with Sheila Llyn--but theMaroons had revolted, and the marriage was not settled!

Messages had been coming from the provost-marshal-general of reports fromthe counties of Middlesex and Cornwall, that the Maroons were ravagingeverywhere and that bands of slaves had joined them with seriousdisasters to the plantation people. Planters, their wives and childrenhad been murdered, and in some districts the natives were in fullpossession and had destroyed, robbed and ravaged. He had summoned hiscommander of the militia forces, had created special constables, andarmed them, and had sent a ship to the Bahamas to summon a small Britishfleet there. He had also mapped out a campaign against the Maroons, which had one grave demerit--it was planned on a basis of ordinarywarfare and not with Jamaica conditions in mind. The provost-marshalwarned him of the futility of these plans, but he had persisted in them. He had later been shocked, however, by news that the best of his colonelshad been ambushed and killed, and that others had been made prisoners andtreated with barbarity. From everywhere, except one, had come eithernews of defeat or set-back. 

One good thing he immediately did: he threw open King's House to thewounded, and set the surgeons to work, thereby checking bitter criticismand blocking the movement rising against him. For it was well known hehad rejected all warnings, had persisted in his view that trust in theMaroons and fair treatment of themselves and the slaves were all that wasneeded. 

As he walked in the great salon or hall of audience where the woundedlay--over seventy feet long and thirty wide, with great height, to whichbeds and conveniences had been hastily brought--it seemed to him that hewas saving, if barely saving, his name and career. Standing beside oneof the Doric pillars which divided the salon from an upper and lowergallery of communications, he received the Custos of Kingston. As theCustos told his news the governor's eyes were running along the line ofbusts of ancient and modern philosophers on the gilt brackets between theDoric pilasters. They were all in bronze, and his mind had the dolefulimagination of brown slave heroes placed there in honour for servicesgiven to the country. The doors at the south end of the great salonopened now and then into the council chambers beyond, and he could seethe surgeons operating on the cases returned from the plantations. 

"Your honour, " said the Custos, "things have suddenly improved. Thehounds have come from Cuba and in the charge of ten men--ten men withsixty hounds. That is the situation at the moment. All the people atKingston are overjoyed. They see the end of the revolt. "

"The hounds!" exclaimed the governor. "What hounds?"

"The hounds sent for by Dyck Calhoun--surely your honour remembers!"

Surely his honour did, and recalled also that he forbade the importationof the hounds; but he could not press that prohibition now. "Themutineer and murderer, Dyck Calhoun!" he exclaimed. "And they havecome!"

"Yes, your honour, and gone with Calhoun's man, Michael Clones, toSalem. "

"To Salem--why Salem?"

"Because Calhoun is there fighting the Maroons in that district. TheMaroons first captured the ladies of Salem as they rode in the woods. They were beaten at that game by Calhoun and four men; the ladies thenwere freed and taken back to Salem. Then the storm burst on Salem--burst, but did not overwhelm. Calhoun saved the situation there; andwhen his hounds arrive at Salem he will range over the whole country. It is against the ideas of the people of England, but it does our workin Jamaica as nothing else could. It was a stroke of genius, the hounds, your honour!"

Lord Mallow was at once relieved and nonplussed. No doubt the policy ofthe hounds was useful, and it might save his own goose, but it was, in asense, un-English to hunt the wild man with hounds. Yet was it un-English? What was the difference between a sword and a good sharp toothsave that the sword struck and let go and the tooth struck and held on?It had been said in England that to hunt negroes with hounds wasbarbarous and cowardly; but criminals were hunted with bloodhoundsin all civilized countries; and as for cowardice, the man who had sentfor these hounds was as brave as any old crusader! No, Dyck Calhouncould not be charged with cowardice, and his policy of the hounds mightsave the island and the administration in the end. They had arrived inthe very hour of Jamaica's and Lord Mallow's greatest peril. They hadgone on to the man who had been sane enough to send for them. 

"Tell me about the landing of the hounds, " said Lord Mallow. 

"It was last night about dusk that word came from the pilot's stationat Port Royal that the vessel Vincent was making for port, and that she. Came from Cuba. Presently Michael Clones, the servant of Dyck Calhoun, came also to say that the Vincent was the ship bringing Calhoun's houndsfrom Cuba, and asking permit for delivery. This he did because hethought you were opposed to the landing. In the light of our positionhere, we granted the delivery. 

"When the vessel came to anchor, the hounds with their drivers werelanded. The landing was the signal for a great display on the part ofthe people and the militia--yes, the militia shared in the applause, yourhonour! They had had a taste of war with the Maroons and the slaves, andthey were well inclined to let the hounds have their chance. Resolutionswere then passed to approach your honour and ask that full powers begiven to Calhoun to pursue the war without thought of military precedentor of Calhoun's position. He has no official place in the public lifehere, but he is powerful with the masses. It is rumoured you have anorder to confine him to his plantation; but to apply it would bringrevolution in Jamaica. There are great numbers of people who love hiscourage, what he did for the King's navy, and for his commercial successhere, and they would resent harsh treatment of him. They are aware, yourhonour, that he and you knew each other in Ireland, and they think youare hard on him. People judge not from all the facts, but from what theysee and hear. "

During the Custos' narrative, Lord Mallow was perturbed. He had thecommon sense to know that Dyck Calhoun, ex-convict and mutineer as hewas, had personal power in the island, which he as governor had not beenable to get, and Dyck had not abused that power. He realized that Dyck'spremonition of an outbreak and sending for the hounds was a strokeof genius. He recalled with anger Dyck's appearance, in spite ofregulations, in trousers at the King's ball and his dancing with a blackwoman, and he also realized that it was a cool insult to himself. It wasthen he had given the home authorities information which would poisontheir mind against Dyck, and from that had come the order to confine himto his plantation. 

Yet he felt the time had come when he might use Dyck for his ownpurposes. That Dyck should be at Salem was a bitter dose, but that couldamount to nothing, for Sheila could never marry the man who had killedher father, however bad and mad her father was. Yet it gravelled hissoul that Dyck should be doing service for the lady to whom he hadoffered his own hand and heart, and from whom he had had no word ofassent. It angered him against himself that he had not at once sentsoldiers to Salem to protect it. He wished to set himself right withSheila and with the island people, and how to do so was the question. 

First, clearly, he must not apply the order to confine Dyck to hisplantation; also he must give Dyck authority to use the hounds inhunting down the Maroons and slaves who were committing awful crimes. He forthwith decided to write, asking Dyck to send him outline of hisscheme against the rebels. That he must do, for the game was with Dyck. 

"How long will it take the hounds to get to Salem?" he asked the Custospresently in his office, with deepset lines in his face and a determinedlook in his eyes. He was an arrogant man, but he was not insane, and hewished to succeed. It could only be success if he dragged Jamaica out ofthis rebellion with flying colours, and his one possible weapon was theman whom he detested. 

"Why, your honour, as we sent them by wagons and good horses they shouldbe in Dyck Calhoun's hands this evening. They should be there by nowalmost, for they've been going for hours, and the distance is not great. "

The governor nodded, and began to write. A halfhour later he handed tothe Custos what he had written. 

"See what you think of that, Custos, " he said. "Does it, in your mind, cover the ground as it should?"

The Custos read it all over slowly and carefully, weighing every word. Presently he handed back the paper. "Your honour, it is complete andmasterly, " he said. "It puts the crushing of the revolt into the handsof Mr. Calhoun, and nothing could be wiser. He has the gifts of aleader, and he will do the job with no mistake, and in a time of crisislike this, that is essential. You have given him the right to order themilitia to obey him, and nothing could be better. He will organize likea master. We haven't forgotten his fight on the Ariadne. Didn't theadmiral tell the story at the dinner we gave him of how this ex-convictand mutineer, by sheer genius, broke the power of the French at thecritical moment and saved our fleet, though it was only three-fourthsthat of the French?"

"You don't think the French will get us some day?" asked the governorwith a smile. 

"I certainly don't since our defences have been improved. Look at thesixty big cannon on Fort Augusta! They'd be knocked to smithereensbefore they could get into the quiet waters of the harbour. Don't forgetthe narrows, your honour. Then there's the Apostle's Battery with itshuge shot, and the guns of Fort Royal would give them a cross-fire thatwould make them sick. Besides, we could stop them within the shoals andreefs and narrow channels before they got near the inner circle. Itwould only be the hand of God that would get them in, and it doesn't workfor Frenchmen these days, I observe. No, this place is safe, and King'sHouse will be the home of British governors for many a century. "

"Ah, that's your gallant faith, and no doubt you are right, but go onwith your tale of the hounds, " said Lord Mallow. 

"Your honour, as the hounds went away with Michael Clones there wasgreater applause than I have ever seen in the island except when Rodneydefeated De Grasse. Imagine a little sloop in the wash of the seas andthe buccaneers piling down on him, and no chance of escape, and then agreat British battleship appearing, and the situation saved--that was howwe were placed here till the hounds arrived. 

"Your honour, this morning's--this early morning's exit of the hounds waslike a procession of veterans to Walhalla. There was the sun breakingover the tops of the hills, a crimsonish, greyish, opaline touch of softsprays or mists breaking away from the onset of the sunrise; and all thetrees with night-lips wet sucking in the sun and drinking up the lightlike an overseer at a Christmas breakfast; and you know what that is. And all the shore, rocky and sandy, rough and smooth, happy and homely, shimmering in the radiance. And hundreds of Creoles and coloured folkbeating the ground in agitation, and slaves a-plenty carrying boxes tothe ships that are leaving, and white folk crowding the streets, andbugles blowing, and the tramp of the militia, and the rattle of carts onthe cobble-stones, and the voices of the officers giving orders, andturmoil everywhere. 

"Then, suddenly, the sharp sound of a long whip and a voice calling, andthere rises out of the landing place the procession--the sixty dogs inthree wagons, their ten drivers with their whips, but keeping order bythe sound of their voices, low, soft, and peculiar, and then the horsesstarting into a quick trot which presently would become a canter--and thehounds were off to Salem! There could be no fear with the hounds looseto do the hunting. "

"But suppose when they get to Salem their owner is no more. "

The Custos laughed. "Him, your honour--him no more! Isn't he the manof whom the black folk say: "Lucky buckra--morning, lucky new-comer!"If that's his reputation, and the coming of his hounds just when theisland most needed them is good proof of it, do you think he'll be killedby a lot of dirty Maroons! Ah, Calhoun's a man with the luck of thedevil, your honour! He has the pull--as sure as heaven's above he'llmake success. If you command your staff to have this posted as aproclamation throughout the island, it will do as much good as a thousandsoldiers. The military officers will not object, they know how big a manhe is, and they have had enough. The news is not good from all over theisland, for there are bad planters and bad overseers, and they'vepoisoned large fields of men in many quarters of the island, and thingsare wrong. 

"But this proclamation will put things right. It will stop the slavesfrom revolting; it will squelch the Maroons, and I'm certain sure Calhounwill have Maroons ready to fight for us, not against us, before thisthing is over. I tell you, your honour, it means the way out--that'swhat it means. So, if you'll give me your order, keeping a copy of itfor the provost-marshal, I'll see it's delivered to Dyck Calhoun beforemorning--perhaps by midnight. It's not more than a six hours' journeyin the ordinary way. "

At that moment an aide-de-camp entered, and with grave face presented tothe governor the last report from the provost-marshal-general. Then hewatched the governor read the report. 

"Ten more killed and twenty wounded!" said the governor. "It must bestopped. "

He gave the Custos the letter to Dyck Calhoun, and a few moments laterhanded the proclamation to his aide-de-camp. 

"That will settle the business, your honour, " said the aide-de-camp as heread the proclamation. 

CHAPTER XXII

SHEILA HAS HER SAY

"Then, tell me please, what you know of the story, " said the governor toSheila at King's House one afternoon two weeks later. "I only get meagrereports from the general commanding. But you close to the intimatesource of the events must know all. "

Sheila shrank at the suggestion in the governor's voice, but she did notresent it. She had purposes which she must carry out, and she steeledherself. She wanted to get from Lord Mallow a pledge concerning DyckCalhoun, and she must be patient. 

"I know nothing direct from Mr. Calhoun, your honour!" she said, "butonly through his servant, Michael Clones, who is a friend of my DariusBoland, and they have met often since the first outbreak. You know, ofcourse, what happened at Port Louise--how the Maroons seized and murderedthe garrison, how families were butchered when they armed first, howbarbarism broke loose and made all men combine to fight the rebels. Evenbefore Mr. Calhoun came they had had record of a sack of human ears, cutfrom the dead rebel-slaves, when they had been killed by faithful slaves, and good progress was made. But the revolters fixed their camps on highrocks, and by blowing of shells brought many fresh recruits to thestruggle. It was only when Mr. Calhoun came with his hounds thatanything decisive was done. For the rebels--Maroons and slaves--werehid, well entrenched and cautious, and the danger was becoming greaterevery day. On Mr. Calhoun's arrival, he was almost caught in ambush, being misled, and saved himself only by splendid markmanship. He wasattacked by six rebels of whom he killed four, and riding his woundedhorse over the other two he escaped. Then he set the hounds to work andthe rebellion in that district was soon over. "

"It was gathering strength with increasing tragedy elsewhere, " remarkedthe governor. "Some took refuge in hidden places, and came out only tosteal, rob, and murder--and worse. In one place, after a noted slave, well known for his treachery, had been killed--Khoftet was his name--his head was cut off by slaves friendly to us and his heart roasted andeaten. There is but one way to deal with these people. No gaming ordrinking must be allowed, blowing of shells or beating of drums must beforbidden, and every free negro or mulatto must wear on his arm a sign--perhaps a cross in blue or red. "

"Slavery is doomed, " said Sheila firmly. "Its end is not far off. "

"Well, they still keep slaves in the land of Washington and AlexanderHamilton. They are better off here at any rate than in their owncountry, where they were like animals among whom they lived. Here theyare safe from poverty, cared for in sickness, and have no fear of beinghanded over to the keepers of carrion, or being the food of thegallinaso. They can feed their fill on fricasees of macaca worms andsteal without punishment teal or ring-tailed pigeons and black crabs fromthe massa. "

"But they are not free. They are atoms in heaps of dust. They have norights--no liberties. "

Sheila was agitated, but she showed no excitement. 

She seemed to Lord Mallow like one who had perfect control of herself, and was not the victim of anticipation. She seemed, save for her darksearching eyes, like one who had gone through experience which haddisciplined her to control. Only her hands were demonstrative--yetquietly so. Any one watching her closely would have seen that her handswere sensitive, expressed even more markedly than her eyes or lips whatwere her feelings. Her tragedy had altered her in one sense. She waspaler and thinner than ever she had been, but there was enough of her, and that delicately made, which gave the governor a thrill of desire tomake her his own for the rest of his life or hers. He had also gonethrough much since they had last met, and he had seen his own position inthe balance--uncertain, troubled, insecure. He realized that he had lostreputation, which had scarcely been regained by his consent to the use ofthe hounds and giving Dyck Calhoun a free hand, as temporary head of themilitia. He could not put him over the regular troops, but as thegeneral commanding was, in effect, the slave of Dyck Calhoun, there wasno need for anxiety. 

Dyck Calhoun had smashed the rebellion, had quieted the island, hadrisen above all the dark disturbances of revolt like a master. He hadestablished barracks and forts at many points in the island, and hadstationed troops in them; he had subdued Maroons and slaves by thehounds. Yet he had punished only the chief of those who had been inactual rebellion, and had repressed the violent punishments of theearlier part of the conflict. He had forbidden any one to be burnedalive, and had ordered that no one should be executed without his firstjudging--with the consent of the governor!--the facts of the case. 

Dyck had built up for himself a reputation as no one in all the historyof the island had been able to do. He commanded by more than officialauthority--by personality and achievement. There was no one in theisland but knew they had been saved by his prudence, foresight and skill. It was to their minds stupendous and romantic. Fortunately they showedno strong feeling against Lord Mallow. By placing King's House atdisposal as a hospital, and by gifts of food and money to wives andchildren of soldiers and civilians, the governor had a little eradicatedhis record of neglect. 

Lord Mallow had a way with him when he chose to use it. He was notwithout the gift for popularity, and he saw now that he could best attainit by treating Dyck Calhoun well. He saw troops come and go, he listenedto grievances, he corrected abuses, he devised a scheme for nursing, heplanned security for the future, he gave permission for buccaneer tradingwith the United States, he had by legislative order given the Creoles abetter place in the civic organism. This was a time for broad policy--for distribution of cassavi bread, yams and papaws, for big, and mayberough, display of power and generosity. He was not blind to the factthat he might by discreet courses impress favourably his visitor. All hedid was affected by that thought. He could not but think that Sheilawould judge of him by what he did as much as by what he said. 

He looked at her now with interest and longing. He loved to hear hertalk, and she had information which was no doubt truer than most hereceived--was closer to the brine, as it were. 

"What more can you tell me of Mr. Calhoun and his doings?" he askedpresently. "He is lucky in having so perfect a narrator of hishistories--yet so unexpected a narrator. "

A flush stole slowly up Sheila's face, and gave a glow even to the rootsof her hair. She could not endure these references to the dark gulfbetween her and Dyck Calhoun. 

"My lord, " she said sharply, "it is not meet that you should say suchthings. Mr. Calhoun was jailed for killing my father--let it be at that. The last time you saw me you offered me your hand and heart. Well, doyou know I had almost made up my mind to accept your hand, when the newsof this trouble was brought to you, and you left us--to ourselves and ourdangers!"

The governor started. "You are as unfriendly as a 'terral garamighty, 'you make me draw my breath thick as the blackamoors, as they say. I didwhat I thought best, " he said. "I did not think you would be in anydanger. I had not heard of the Maroons being so far south as Salem. "

"Yet it is the man who foresees chances that succeeds, as you should knowby now, your honour. I was greatly touched by the offer you made me--indeed, yes, " she added, seeing the rapt eager look in his face. "I hadbeen told what had upset me, that Dyck Calhoun was guilty of killing myfather, and all the world seemed dreadful. Yes, in the reaction, it wasalmost on my tongue to say yes to you, for you are a good talker, you hadskill in much that you did, and with honest advice from a wife might domuch more. So I was in a mind to say yes. I had had much to try me, indeed, so very much. Ever since I first saw Dyck Calhoun he had beenthe one man who had ever influenced me. He was for ever in my mind evenwhen he was in prison--oh, what is prison, what is guilt even to a girlwhen she loves! Yes, I loved him. There it was. He was ever in mymind, and I came here to Jamaica--he was here--for what else? Salemcould have been restored by Darius Boland or others, or I could have soldit. I came to Jamaica to find him here--unwomanly, perhaps, you willsay. "

"Unusual only with a genius--like you. "

"Then you do not speak what is in your mind, your honour. You say whatyou feel is the right thing to say--the slave of circumstances. I willbe wholly frank with you. I came here to see Dyck Calhoun, for I knew hewould not come to see me. Yes, there it was, a real thing in his heart. If he had been a lesser man than he is, he would have come to Americawhen he was freed from prison. But he did not, would not, come. He knewhe had been found guilty of killing my father, and that for him and methere could be no marriage--indeed he never asked me to marry him. 

"Yet I know he would have done so if he could. When I came to knowwhat he was jailed for doing, I felt there was no place for him and metogether in the world. Yet my heart kept crying out to him, and I feltthere was but one thing left for me to do, and that was to make itimpossible for me to think of him even, or for him to think of me. Thenyou came and offered me your hand. It was a hand most women might havebeen glad to accept from the standpoint of material things. And you wereIrish like myself, and like the boy I loved. I was sick of the robberiesof life and time, and I wanted to be out of it all in some secure place. What place so secure from the sorrow that was eating at my heart asmarriage! It said no to every stir of feeling that was vexing me, toevery show of love or remembrance. So I listened to you. It was notbecause you were a governor or a peer--no, not that! For even inVirginia I had offers from one higher than yourself--and younger, and apeer also. No, it was not material things that influenced me, but yourown intellectual eminence; for you have more brains than most men, as youknow so well. "

The governor interrupted her with a gesture. "No, no, I am not so vainas you think. If I were I should have seen at Salem that you meant tosay yes. "

"Yet you know well you have gifts, though you have made sad mistakeshere. Do not think it was your personality, your looks that induced meto think of you, to listen to you. When Mr. Calhoun told me the truth, and gave me a letter he had written to me--"

"A letter--to you?"

There was surprise in the governor's voice--surprise and chagrin, for thething had moved him powerfully. "Yes, a letter to me which he nevermeant me to have. It was a kind of diary of his heart, and it waswritten even while I was landing on the island on Christmas Day. It wasthe most terribly truthful thing, opening his whole soul to the girl whomhe had always loved, but from whom he was separated by a thing not theless tragical because it was merely technical. He gave it me to read, and when I read it I saw there was no place for me in the world excepta convent or marriage. The convent could not be, for I was no Catholic, and marriage seemed the only thing possible. That day you came I sawonly one thing to do--one mad, hopeless thing to do. "

"Mad and hopeless!" burst out Lord Mallow. "How so? Your very reasonshows that it was sane, well founded in the philosophy of the heart. "

He was eager to win her yet, and he did not see the end at which sheaimed. He felt he must tell her all the passion and love he felt. Buther look gave no encouragement, her eyes were uninviting. 

Sheila smiled painfully. "Yes, mad and hopeless, for be sure of this: wecannot kill in one day the growth of years. I could not cure myself ofloving him by marrying you. There had to be some other cure for that. I never knew and never loved my father. But he was my father, and ifMr. Calhoun killed him, I could not marry him. But at last I came toknow that your love and affection could not make me forget him--no, never. I realize that now. He and I can never come together, but I owe him so much--I owe him my life, for he saved it; he must everhave a place in my heart, be to me more than any one else can be. I wantyou to do something for him. "

"What do you wish?"

"I want you to have removed from him the sentence of the BritishGovernment. I want him to be free to come and go anywhere in the world--to return to England if he wishes it, to be a free man, and not avictim Off Outlawry. I want that, and you ought to give it to him. "

"Why?"

Indignation filled her eyes. "You ask why. He has saved youradministration and the island from defeat and horrible loss. He hasprevented most of the slaves from revolting, and he conquered theMaroons. The empire is his debtor. Will you do this for one who hasdone so much for you?"

Lord Mallow was disconcerted, but he did not show it. "I can do no morethan I have done. I have not confined him to his plantation as theGovernment commanded; I cannot go beyond that. "

"You can put his case from the standpoint of a patriot. "

For a moment the governor hesitated, then he said: "Because you ask me--"

"I want it done for his sake, not for mine, " she returned with decision. "You owe it to yourself to see that it is done. Gratitude is not dead inyou, is it?"

Lord Mallow flushed. "You press his case too hard. You forget what heis--a mutineer and a murderer, and no one should remember that as youshould. "

"He has atoned for both, and you know it well. Besides, he was not amurderer. Even the courts did not say he was. They only said he wasguilty of manslaughter. Oh, your honour, be as gallant as your name andplace warrant. "

He looked at her for a moment with strange feelings in his heart. Thenhe said: "I will give you an answer in twenty-four hours. Will that do, sweet persuader?"

"It might do, " she answered, and, strange to say, she had a sure feelingthat he would say yes, in spite of her knowledge that, in his heart ofhearts, he hated Calhoun. 

As she left the room, Lord Mallow stood for a moment looking after her. 

"She loves the rogue in spite of all!" he said bitterly. "But she mustcome with me. They are apart as the poles. Yet I shall do as she wishesif I am to win her. "

CHAPTER XXIII

THE COMING OF NOREEN

The next day came a new element in the situation: a ship arrived fromEngland. On it was one who had come to Jamaica to act as governess totwo children of the officer commanding the regular troops in the island. She had been ill for a week before nearing Kingston, and when the Regentreached the harbour she was in a bad way. The ship's doctor wasdespondent about her; but he was a second-rate man, and felt that perhapsan island doctor might give her some hope. When she was carried ashoreshe was at once removed to the home of the general commanding at SpanishTown, and there a local doctor saw her. 

"What is her history?" he asked, after he had seen the haggard face ofthe woman. 

The ship's doctor did not know; and the general commanding was in theinterior at the head of his troops. There was no wife in the general'shouse, as he was a widower; and his daughters, of twelve and fourteen, under a faithful old housekeeper, had no knowledge of the woman's life. 

When she was taken to the general's house she was in great dejection, andher face had a look of ennui and despair. She was thin and worn, and hereyes only told of the struggle going on between life and death. 

"What is her name?" asked the resident doctor. "Noreen Balfe, " was thereply of the ship's doctor. 

"A good old Irish name, though you can see she comes of the lower ranksof life. "

"Married?"

The ship's doctor pointed to her hand which had a wedding-ring. "Ah, yes, certainly . . . What hope have you of her?"

"I don't know what to say. The fever is high. She isn't trying to live;she's got some mental trouble, I believe. But you and I would be of nouse in that kind of thing. "

"I don't take to new-fangled ideas of mental cure, " said the ship'sdoctor. "Cure the body and the mind will cure itself. "

A cold smile stole to the lips of the resident doctor. Those were daysof little scientific medical skill, and no West Indian doctor hadknowledge enough to control a discussion of the kind. "But I'd like tosee some one with brains take an interest in her, " he remarked. 

"I leave her in your hands, " was the reply. "I'm a ship's medico, andshe's now ashore. "

"It's a pity, " said the resident doctor reflectively, as he watched aservant doing necessary work at the bedside. "She hasn't long to go asshe is, yet I've seen such cases recover. "

As they left the room together they met Sheila and one of the daughtersof the house. "I've come to see the sick woman from the ship, if I may, "Sheila said. "I've just heard about her, and I'd like to be of use. "

The resident doctor looked at her with admiration. She was the mostconspicuous figure in the island, and her beauty was a fine support toher wealth and reputation. It was like her to be kind in this frank way. 

"You can be of great use if you will, " he said. "The fever is notinfectious, I'm glad to say. So you need have no fear of being with her--on account of others. "

"I have no fear, " responded Sheila with a friendly smile, "and I will goto her now--no, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to go alone, " she added asshe saw the doctor was coming with her. 

The other bowed and nodded approvingly. "The fewer the better, " he said. "I think you ought to go in alone--quite alone, " he said with gentlefirmness, for he saw the girl with Sheila was also going with her. 

So it was that Sheila entered alone, and came to the bed and looked atthe woman in the extreme depression of fever. "Prepare some lime-juice, please, " she said to the servant on the other side of the bed. "Keep italways beside the bed--I know what these cases are. "

The servant disappeared, and the eyes of the sick woman opened and lookedat Sheila. There shot into them a look of horror and relief in one, ifsuch a thing might be. A sudden energy inspired her, and she drewherself up in bed, her face gone ghastly. 

"You are Sheila Boyne, aren't you?" she asked in a low half-gutturalnote. 

"I am Sheila Llyn, " was the astonished reply. "It's the same thing, "came the response. "You are the daughter of Erris Boyne. "

Sheila turned pale. Who was this woman that knew her and her history?

"What is your name?" she asked--"your real name--what is it?"

"My name is Noreen Balfe; it was Noreen Boyne. " For a moment Sheilacould not get her bearings. The heavy scent of the flowers coming in atthe window almost suffocated her. She seemed to lose a grip of herself. Presently she made an effort at composure. "Noreen Boyne! You were thenthe second wife of Erris Boyne?"

"I was his second wife. His first wife was your mother--you are likeyour mother!" Noreen said in agitation. 

The meaning was clear. Sheila laid a sharp hand on herself. "Don't getexcited, " she urged with kindly feeling. "He is dead and gone. "

"Yes, he is dead and gone. "

For a moment Noreen seemed to fight for mastery of her emotion, andSheila said: "Lie still. It is all over. He cannot hurt us now. "

The other shook her head in protest. "I came here to forget, and I findyou--his daughter. "

"You find more than his daughter; you find his first wife, and you findthe one that killed him. "

"The one that killed him!" said the woman greatly troubled. "How didyou know that?"

"All the world knows it. He was in prison four years, and since then hehas been a mutineer, a treasure-hunter, a planter, and a saviour of theseislands!"

The sick woman fell back in exhaustion. At that moment the servantentered with a pitcher of lime-juice. Sheila took it from her andmotioned her out of the room; then she held a glass of the liquid to thestark lips. 

"Drink, " she said in a low, kind voice, and she poured slowly into thepatient's mouth the cooling draught. A moment later Noreen raisedherself up again. 

"Mr. Dyck Calhoun is here?" she asked. 

"He is here, and none to-day holds so high a place in the minds of allwho live here. He has saved the island. "

"All are here that matter, " said Noreen. "And I came to forget!"

"What do you remember?" asked Sheila. "I remember all--how he died!"

Suddenly Sheila had a desire to shriek aloud. This woman--did this womanthen see Erris Boyne die? Was she present when the deed was done? Ifso, why was she not called to give evidence at the trial. But yes, shewas called to give evidence. She remembered it now, and the evidence hadbeen that she was in her own home when the killing took place. 

"How did he die?" she asked in a whisper. 

"One stroke did it--only one, and he fell like a log. " She made a motionas of striking, and shuddered, covering her eyes with trembling hands. 

"You tell me you saw Dyck Calhoun do this to an undefended man--you tellme this!"

Sheila's anger was justified in her mind. That Dyck Calhoun should

"I did not see Dyck Calhoun strike him, " gasped the woman. "I did notsay that. Dyck Calhoun did not kill Erris Boyne!"

"My God!--oh, my God!" said Sheila with ashen lips, but a great lightbreaking in her eyes. "Dyck Calhoun did not kill Erris Boyne! Then whokilled him?"

There was a moment's pause, then--"I killed him, " said the woman inagony. "I killed him. "

A terrible repugnance seized Sheila. After a moment she said inagitation: "You killed him--you struck him down! Yet you let an innocentman go to prison, and be kept there for years, and his father go to hisgrave with shame, with estates ruined and home lost--and you were theguilty one--you--all the time. "

"It was part of my madness. I was a coward and I thought then there werereasons why I should feel no pity for Dyck Calhoun. His father injuredmine--oh, badly! But I was a coward, and I've paid the price. "

A kinder feeling now took hold of Sheila. After all, what this woman haddone gave happiness into her--Sheila's-hands. It relieved Dyck Calhounof shame and disgrace. A jail-bird he was still, but an innocent jail-bird. He had not killed Erris Boyne. Besides, it wiped out forever thebarrier between them. All her blind devotion to the man was nowjustified. His name and fame were clear. Her repugnance of the womanwas as nothing beside her splendid feeling of relief. It was as thoughthe gates of hell had been closed and the curtains of heaven drawn forthe eyes to see. Six years of horrible shame wiped out, and a new worldwas before her eyes. 

This woman who had killed Erris Boyne must now suffer. She must bear theignominy which had been heaped upon Dyck Calhoun's head. Yet all at oncethere came to her mind a softening feeling. Erris Boyne had been rightlykilled by a woman he had wronged, for he was a traitor as well as anadulterer--one who could use no woman well, who broke faith with allcivilized tradition, and reverted to the savage. Surely the woman'scrime was not a dark one; it was injured innocence smiting depravity, tyranny and lust. 

Suddenly, as she looked at the woman who had done this thing, she, whosehand had rid the world of a traitor and a beast, fell back on the pillowin a faint. With an exclamation Sheila lifted up the head. If the womanwas dead, then there was no hope for Dyck Calhoun; any story that she--Sheila--might tell would be of no use. Yet she was no longer agitated inher body. Hands and fingers were steady, and she felt for the heart withfirm fingers. Yes, the heart was still beating, and the pulse wasslightly drumming. Thank God, the woman was alive! She rang a bell andlifted up the head of the sick woman. 

A moment later the servant was in the room. Sheila gave her ordersquickly, and snatched up a pencil from the table. Then, on a piece ofpaper, she wrote the words: "I, not Dyck Calhoun, killed Erris Boyne. "

A few moments later, Noreen's eyes opened, and Sheila spoke to her. "I have written these words. Here they are--see them. Sign them. "

She read the words, and put a pencil in the trembling fingers, and, onthe cover of a book Noreen's fingers traced her name slowly but clearly. Then Sheila thrust the paper in her bosom, and an instant later a nurse, sent by the resident doctor, entered. 

"They cannot hang me or banish me, for my end has come, " whispered Noreenbefore Sheila left. 

In the street of Spanish Town almost the first person Sheila saw wasDyck Calhoun. With pale, radiant look she went to him. He gazed at herstrangely, for there was that in her face he could not understand. Therewas in it all the faith of years, all the truth of womanhood, all thesplendour of discovery, all that which a man can see but once in a humanface and be himself. 

"Come with me, " she said, and she moved towards King's House. He obeyed. For some moments they walked in silence, then all at once under amagnolia tree she stopped. 

"I want you to read what a woman wrote who has just arrived in the islandfrom England. She is ill at the house of the general commanding. "

Taking from her breast the slip of paper, she handed it to him. He readit with eyes and senses that at first could hardly understand. 

"God in heaven--oh, merciful God!" he said in great emotion, yet with astrange physical quiet. 

"This woman was his wife, " Sheila said. 

He handed the paper back. He conquered his agitation. The years ofsuffering rolled away. "They'll put her in jail, " he said with a strangeregret. He had a great heart. 

"No, I think not, " was the reply. Yet she was touched by his compassionand thoughtfulness. 

"Why?"

"Because she is going to die--and there is no time to lose. Come, wewill go to Lord Mallow. "

"Mallow!" A look of bitter triumph came into Dyck's face. "Mallow--atlast!" he said. 

CHAPTER XXIV

WITH THE GOVERNOR

Lord Mallow frowned on his secretary. "Mr. Calhoun to see me! What'shis business?"

"One can guess, your honour. He's been fighting for the island. "

"Why should he see me? There is the general commanding. "

The secretary did not reply, he knew his chief; and, after a moment, LordMallow said: "Show him in. " When Dyck Calhoun entered the governor gavehim a wintry smile of welcome, but did not offer to shake hands. "Willyou sit down?" he said, with a slow gesture. 

Calhoun made a dissenting motion. "I prefer to stand, your honour. "

This was the first time the two men had met alone since Dyck had arrivedin Jamaica, or since his trial. Calhoun was dressed in planter'scostume, and the governor was in an officer's uniform. They were instriking contrast in face and figure--the governor long, lanky, asceticin appearance, very intellectual save for the riotous mouth, and veryspick and span--as though he had just stepped out of Almack's; whileCalhoun was tough and virile, and with the air of a thorough outdoor man. There was in his face the firm fighting look of one who had done thingsand could tackle big affairs--and something more; there was in it quietexultation. Here he was now at last alone with the man who had done himgreat harm, and for whom he had done so much; who had sought to wipe himoff the slate of life and being; who had tried to win the girl from whomhe himself had been parted. 

In spite of it all--of his life in jail, of his stark mutiny, of theoppression of the governor, he had not been beaten down, but hadprospered in spite of all. He had by his will, wisdom and militaryskill, saved the island in its hour of peril, saved its governor fromcondemnation; and here he was facing the worst enemy of his life with thecards of success in his hands. 

"You have done the island and England great service, Mr. Calhoun, " saidthe governor at last. 

"It is the least I could do for the land where I have made my home, whereI have reaped more than I have sown. "

"We know your merit, sir. "

A sharp satirical look came into Calhoun's face and his voice rang outwith vigour. "And because you knew my merit you advised the crown toconfine me to my estate, and you would have had me shot if you could. I am what I am because there was a juster man than yourself in Jamaica. Through him I got away and found treasure, and I bought land and havehelped to save this island and your place. What do I owe you, yourhonour? Nothing that I can see--nothing at all. "

"You are a mutineer, and but that you showed your courage would have beenhung at the yard-arm, as many of your comrades in England were. "

A cold smile played at Calhoun's lips. "My luck was as great as mycourage, I know. I have the luck of Enniscorthy!"

At the last words the governor winced, for it was by that touch Calhounhad defeated him in the duel long ago. It galled him that this man whomhe detested could say such things to him with truth. Yet in his heart ofhearts he had for Calhoun a great respect. Calhoun's invincible will hadconquered the worst in Mallow's nature, had, in spite of himself, createda new feeling in him. There was in Mallow the glimmer of greatness, andonly his supreme selfishness had made him what he was. He laid a hand onhimself now, though it was not easy to do so. 

"It was not the luck of Enniscorthy that sent Erris Boyne to his doom, "he said, however, with anger in his mind, for Dyck's calm boldnessstirred the worst in him. He thought he saw in him an exultancy whichcould only come from his late experiences in the field. It was as thoughhe had come to triumph over the governor. Mallow said what he had saidwith malice. He looked to see rage in the face of Dyck Calhoun, and wasnonplussed to find that it had only a stern sort of pleasure. The eyesof Calhoun met his with no trace of gloom, but with a valour worthy of ahigh cause--their clear blue facing his own with a constant penetration. Their intense sincerity gave him a feeling which did not belong toauthority. It was not the look of a criminal, whatever the man might be--mutineer and murderer. As for mutineer, all that Calhoun had fought forhad been at last admitted by the British Government, and reforms had beenmade that were due to the mutiny at the Nore. Only the technical crimehad been done by Calhoun, and he had won pardon by his bravery in thebattle at sea. Yes, he was a man of mark, even though a murderer. 

Calhoun spoke slowly. "Your honour, you have said what you have a rightto say to a man who killed Erris Boyne. But this man you accuse did notdo it. " The governor smiled, for the assumption was ridiculous. Heshrugged a shoulder and a sardonic curl came to his lip. 

"Who did it then?"

"If you will come to the house of the general commanding you will see. "

The governor was in a great quandary. He gasped. "The generalcommanding--did he kill Erris Boyne, then?"

"Not he, yet the person that did it is in this house. Listen, yourhonour. I have borne the name of killing Erris Boyne, and I ought tohave killed him, for he was a traitor. I had proofs of it; but I did notkill him, and I did not betray him, for he had alive a wife and daughter, and something was due to them. He was a traitor, and was in league withthe French. It does not matter that I tell you now, for his daughterknows the truth. I ought to have told it long ago, and if I had I shouldnot have been imprisoned. "

"You were a brave man, but a fool--always a fool, " said the governorsharply. 

"Not so great a fool that I can't recover from it, " was the calm reply. "Perhaps it was the best thing that ever happened to me, for now I canlook the world in the face. It's made a man of me. It was a womankilled him, " was Calhoun's added comment. "Will your honour come with meand see her?"

The governor was thunderstruck. "Where is she?"

"As I have told you-in the house of the general commanding. "

The governor rose abashed. "Well, I can go there now. Come. "

"Perhaps you would prefer I should not go with you in the street. Theworld knows me as a mutineer, thinks of me as a murderer! Is it fair toyour honour?"

Something in Calhoun's voice roused the rage of Lord Mallow, but hecontrolled it, and said calmly: "Don't talk nonsense, sir; we shall walktogether, if you will. "

At the entrance to the house of the general, the man to whom this visitmeant so much stopped and took a piece of paper from his pocket. "Yourhonour, here is the name of the slayer of Erris Boyne. I give it to younow to see, so you may not be astonished when you see her. "

The governor stared at the paper. "Boyne's wife, eh?" he said in astrange mood. "Boyne's wife--what is she doing here?"

Calhoun told him briefly as he took the paper back, and added: "It wasaccident that brought us all together here, your honour, but the hand ofGod is in it. "

"Is she very ill?"

"She will not live, I think. "

"To whom did she tell her story?"

"To Miss Sheila Llyn. "

The governor was nettled. 

"Oh, to Miss Llyn When did you see her?"

"Just before I came to you. "

"What did the woman look like--this Noreen Boyne?"

"I do not know; I have not seen her. "

"Then how came you by the paper with her signature?"

"Miss Llyn gave it to me. "

Anger filled Lord Mallow's mind. Sheila--why now the way would be opento Calhoun to win--to marry her! It angered him, but he held himselfsteadily. 

"Where is Miss Llyn?"

"She is here, I think. She came back when she left me at your door. "

"Oh, she left you at my door, did she? . . . But let me see the womanthat's come so far to put the world right. "

A few moments later they stood in the bedroom of Noreen Boyne, they twoand Sheila Llyn, the nurse having been sent out. 

Lord Mallow looked down on the haggard, dying woman with no emotion. Only a sense of duty moved him. 

"What is it you wished to say to me?" he asked the patient. 

"Who are you?" came the response in a frayed tone. 

"I am the governor of the island--Lord Mallow. "

"Then I want to tell you that I killed Erris Boyne--with this hand Ikilled him. " She raised her skinny hand up, and her eyes became glazed. "He had used me vilely and I struck him down. He was a bad man. "

"You let an innocent man bear punishment, you struck at one who did youno harm, and you spoiled his life for him. You can see that, can't you?"

The woman's eyes sought the face of Dyck Calhoun, and Calhoun said: "No, you did not spoil my life, Noreen Boyne. You have made it. Not that Ishould have chosen the way of making it, but there it is, as God's inheaven, I forgive you. "

Noreen's face lost some of its gloom. "That makes it easier, " she saidbrokenly. "I can't atone by any word or act, but I'm sorry. I've keptyou from being happy, and you were born to be happy. Your father hadhurt mine, had turned him out of our house for debt, and I tried to payit all back. When they suspected you I held my peace. I was a coward;I could not say you were innocent without telling the truth, and that Icould not do then. But now I'll tell it--I think I'd have told itwhether I was dying or not, though. Yes, if I'd seen you here I'd havetold it, I'm sure. I'm not all bad. "

Sheila leaned over the bed. "Never mind about the past. You can help aman back to the good opinion of the world now. "

"I hurt you too, " said Noreen with hopeless pain. "You were his friend. "

"I believed in him always--even when he did not deny the crime, " was thequiet reply. 

"There's no good going on with that, " said the governor sharply. "Wemust take down her statement in writing, and then--"

"Look, she is sinking!" said Calhoun sharply. The woman's head haddropped forward, her chin was on her breast, and her hands becameclenched. 

"The doctor at once-bring in the nurse, " said Calhoun. "She's dying. "

An instant later, the nurse entered with Sheila, and in a short time thedoctor came. 

When later the doctor saw Lord Mallow alone he said: "She can't live morethan two days. "

"That's good for her in a way, " answered the governor, and in reply tothe doctor's question why, he said: "Because she'd be in prison. "

"In prison--has she broken the law?"

"She is now under arrest, though she doesn't know it. 

"What was her crime, your honour?"

"She killed a man. "

"What man?"

"Him for whom Dyck Calhoun was sent to prison--Erris Boyne. "

"Mr. Calhoun was not guilty, then?"

"No. As soon as the woman is dead, I mean to announce the truth. "

"Not till then, your honour?"

"Not till then. "

"It's hard on Calhoun. "

"Is it? It's years since he was tried and condemned. Two days cannotmatter now. "

"Perhaps not. Last night the woman said to me: 'I'm glad I'm going todie. '" Then he added: "Calhoun will be more popular than ever now. "

The governor winced. 

CHAPTER XXV

THEN WHAT HAPPENED

An hour after Noreen Boyne had been laid in her grave, there was aspecial issue of the principal paper telling all the true facts of thedeath of Erris Boyne. Thus the people of Jamaica came to know that DyckCalhoun was innocent of the crime of killing Erris Boyne, and he was madethe object of splashing admiration, and was almost mobbed by admirers inthe street. It all vexed Lord Mallow; but he steeled himself tourbanity, and he played his part well. He was clever enough to see itwould pay him to be outwardly gracious to Calhoun. So it was he made aspeech in the capital on the return of the general commanding and thetroops from subduing the Maroons, in which he said: "No one in all theKing's dominions had showed greater patriotism and military skill thantheir friend Mr. Dyck Calhoun, who had been harshly treated by a mistakenGovernment. "

A few hours later, in the sweet garden of the house where Sheila and hermother lodged, Calhoun came upon the girl whose gentle dignity and beautyseemed to glow. 

At first all she said to him was, "Welcome, old friend, " and at last shesaid, "Now you can come to the United States, Dyck, and make a new lifethere. "

Presently he said: "I ought to go where you wish me to go, for you cameto me here when I was rejected of men. I owe you whatever I am that'sworth while, if anything I am is worth while. Your faith kept me alivein my darkest days--even when I thought I had wronged you. "

"Then you will come to Virginia with me--as my husband, Dyck?" Sheblushed and laughed. "You see I have to propose to you, for you've neverasked me to marry you. I'm throwing myself at your head, sir, youobserve!"

He gave an honest smile of adoration. "I came to-day to ask you to bemy wife--for that reason only. I could not do it till the governor haddeclared my innocence. The earth is sweeter to-day than it has beensince time began. "

He held out his arms, and an instant later the flowers she carried werecrushed to her breast, with her lips given to his. 

A little later she drew from her pocket a letter. "You must read that, "she said. "It is from the great Alexander Hamilton--yes, he will begreat, he will play a wondrous part in the life of my new country. Read it Dyck. "

After he had read it, he said: "He was born a British subject here inthese islands, and he goes to help Americans live according to Britishprinciples. With all my sane fellow-countrymen I am glad the Americanssucceeded. Do you go to your Virginia, and I will come as soon as I haveput my affairs in order. "

"I will not go without you--no, I will not go, " she persisted. 

"Then we shall be married at once, " he declared. And so it was, and allthe island was en fete, and when Sheila came to Dyck's plantation thevery earth seemed to rejoice. The slaves went wild with joy, and ateand drank their fill, and from every field there came the song:

 "Hold up yo hands, Hold up yo hands, Bress de Lord for de milk and honey! De big bees is a singin', My heart is held up and de bells is a ringin'; Hold up yo hands, Hold up yo hands!"

And sweetly solitary the two lived their lives, till one day, threemonths later, there came to the plantation the governor and his suite. 

When they had dismounted, Lord Mallow said: "I bring you the pay of theBritish Government for something of what you have suffered, sir, and whatwill give your lady pleasure too, I hope. I come with a baronetcy givenby the King. News of it came to me only this morning. "

Calhoun smiled. "Your honour, I can take no title, receive no honour. I have ended my life under the British flag. I go to live under theStars and Stripes. "

The governor was astounded. "Your lady, sir, do you forget your lady?"

But Sheila answered: "The life of the new world has honours which havenaught to do with titles. "

"I sail for Virginia by the first ship that goes, " said Calhoun. "It isgood here, but I shall go to a place where things are better, and where Ishall have work to do. I must decline the baronetcy, your honour. I goto a land where the field of life is larger, where Britain shall remakeherself. "

"It will take some time, " said the governor tartly. "They'll be longapart. "

"But they will come together at last--for the world's sake. "

There was silence for a moment, and through it came the joy-chant fromthe fields:

 "Hold up yo hands, Hold up yo hands, Bress de Lord for de milk and honey. "

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