CHAPTER XLI
OF THE VOICE THAT SANG ON DELIVERANCE SANDS
If clothes be the outward and visible (albeit silent) expression of aman, his tastes and certain attitudes of his mind, yet have they ofthemselves a mighty influence on their wearer, being, as it were, aninspiration to him in degree more or less.
And this is truth I will maintain let say who will to the contrary,since 'tis so my experience teacheth me.
Hitherto my ragged shirt, my rough leathern jerkin and open-kneedsailor's breeches had been a constant reminder of the poor, desperaterogue I had become, my wild hair and shaggy beard evidences ofslavedom. Thus I had been indeed what I had seemed in looks, a rude,ungentle creature expectant of scorns and ill-usage and therefore veryprone to fight and quarrel, harsh-tongued, bitter of speech, and in allcircumstances sullen, ungoverned and very desperate.
But now, seeing myself thus gently dight, my wild hair tamed by comband scissors, there grew within me a new respect for my manhood, sothat, little by little, those evils that slavery had wrought slippedfrom me. Thus, though I still laboured at my carpentry and suchbusiness as was to do, yet the fine linen rolled high above my scarredand knotted arm put me to the thought that I was no longer the poor,wild wretch full of despairing rage against Fate her cruel dealings,but rather a man gently born and therefore one who must endure allthings as uncomplainingly as might be, and one moreover who, to greateror less degree, was master of his own fate.
And now came Hope, that most blessed and beneficent spirit that lifteththe fallen from the slough, that bindeth up the broken heart, thatcheereth the sad and downcast and maketh the oft-defeated bold andcourageous to attempt Fortune yet again.
O thou that we call Hope, thou sweet, bright angel of God! Without theelife were an evil unendurable, with thee for companion gloomy Doubt,sullen Fear and dark Despair flee utterly away, and we, bold-hearted,patient and undismayed by any dangers or difficulties, may realise ourdreams at last. O sweet, strong angel of God, with thee to companionus all things are possible!
Thus every morning came Hope to greet me on my waking, and I,forgetting the futile past, began to look forward to a future moreglorious than I had ever dreamed; so I, from a sullen rogue full ofblack humours, grew to know again the joy of laughter and put off myungracious speech and ways with my rough attire. Though how much thechange thus wrought in me was the work of my sweet comrade these pages,I do think, will show.
As for my lady she, very quick to mark this change, grew ever the morekind and trusting, sharing with me all her doubts and perplexities;thus, did some problem vex her, she must come to me, biting her prettylips and her slender brows wrinkled, to ask my advice.
At this time (and at her suggestion) I builded a fireplace and ovenwithin our third or inmost cave (that was by turns her larder,stillroom, dairy and kitchen) and with a chimney to carry off the smokethe which I formed of clay and large pebbles, and found it answer verywell. Thus, what with those things I contrived and others she broughtfrom her treasure-house (the secret whereof she kept mighty close) welacked for nothing to our comfort, even as Adam had promised in hisletter. Moreover, I was very well armed both for offence and defence,for, one by one, she brought me the following pieces, viz., a Spanishhelmet, inlaid with gold and very cumbersome; a back and breast of finesteel of proof; four wheel-lock arquebuses, curiously chased andgilded, with shot and powder for the same; three brace of pistols,gold-mounted and very accurate; and what with these, my sword, axe, andtrusty knife, I felt myself capable to drive away any should daremolest us, be he Indian, buccaneer or pirate, as I told her.
"Aye but," says she, "whiles you fought for our lives what must I bedoing?"
"Lying secure within your secret treasure-house."
"Never!" says she, setting her chin at me, "O never, Martin; since I amyour comrade my place must be beside you."
"'Twould but distress me and spoil my shooting."
"Why then, my aim should be truer, Martin. Come now, teach me how touse gun and pistol."
So then and there I fetched a pistol and one of the arquebuses andshowed her their manage, namely--how to hold them, to level, sight,etc. Next I taught her how to charge them, how to wad powder and thenshot lest the ball roll out of the barrel; how having primed she mustbe careful ever to close the pan against the priming being blown away.All of the which she was mighty quick to apprehend. Moreover, I tookcare to keep all my firearms cleaned and loaded, that I might be readyfor any disturbers of our peace.
So the days sped, each with its meed of work, but each full-charged ofjoy. And dear to me beyond expressing is the memory of those dayswhenas I, labouring with my new tools, had but to lift my head tobehold my dear comrade (herself busy as I). Truly how dear, howthrice-blessed the memory of it all! A memory this, indeed, that wasto become for me sacred beyond all others; for now came Happiness witharms outstretched to me and I (poor, blind wretch) suffered it to pleadin vain and pass me by, as you shall hear.
It was a night of splendour with a full moon uprising in majesty tofill the world with her soft radiance; a night very warm and still andwe silent, I think because of the tender beauty of the night.
"Martin," says my companion softly at last, "here is another day sped--"
"Alas, and more's the pity!" quoth I.
"O?" says she, looking at me askance.
"Our days fly all too fast, Damaris, here is a time I fain would lingerupon, an I might."
"It hath been a very wonderful time truly, Martin, and hath taught mevery much. We are both the better for it, I think, and you--"
"What of me, comrade?" I questioned as she paused.
"You are grown so much gentler since your sickness, so much more mydear friend and companion."
"Why, 'tis all your doing, Damaris."
"I am glad--O very glad!" says she almost in a whisper.
"Why, 'tis you who have taught me to--to love all good, sweet things,to rule myself that I--I may some day, mayhap, be a little more worthyof--of--" here, beginning to flounder, I came to sudden halt, andcasting about in my mind for a likely phrase, saw her regarding me, thedimple in her cheek, but her eyes all compassionate and ineffablytender.
"Dear man!" says she, and reached me her hand.
"Damaris," says I heavily and looking down at these slender fingers,yet not daring to kiss them lest my passion sweep me away, "you knowthat I do love you?"
"Yes, Martin."
"And that, my love, be it what it may, is yet an honest love?"
"Yes, dear Martin."
Here was silence a while, she looking up at the moon, and I at her.
"I broke my oath to you once," says I, "nor will I swear again, but,dear my lady, know this: though I do hunger and thirst for you, yetmine is such reverent love that should we live thus together longyears--aye, until the end of our lives, I will school myself topatience and wait ever upon your will. Though 'twill be hard!" says I'twixt my teeth, thrilling to the sudden clasp of her fingers.
"But, Martin," says she softly, "how if our days together here shouldall suddenly end--"
"End?" cries I, starting, "Wherefore end? When? Why end?" And Itrembled in a sick panic at the mere possibility. "End?" quoth Iagain, "Would you have an end?"
"No--ah no!" says she leaning to me that I could look down into hereyes.
"Doth this--O Damaris, can this mean that you are happy with me in thissolitude--content--?"
"So happy, Martin, so content that I do fear lest it may all suddenlyend and vanish like some loved dream."
"Damaris--O Damaris!" says I, kissing her sweet fingers, "Look now,there is question hath oft been on my lips yet one I have it dared toask."
"Ask me now, Martin."
"'Tis this ... could it ... might it perchance be possible you shouldlearn with time ... mayhap ... to love me a little? Nay, not a little,not gently nor with reason, but fiercely, mightily, beyond the crampingbounds of all reason?"
Now here she laughed, a small, sad laugh wit
h no mirth in it, andleaned her brow against my arm as one very weary.
"O foolish Martin!" she sighed. "How little you have seen, how littleguessed--how little you know the real me! For I am a woman, Martin, asyou are a man and joy in it. All these months I have watched yougrowing back to your nobler self, I have seen you strive with yourselffor my sake and gloried in your victories, though ... sometimes I have... tempted you ... just a little, Martin. Nay, wait, dear Martin.Oft-times at night I have known you steal forth, and hearkened to yourstep going to and fro out in the dark, and getting to my knees havethanked God for you, Martin."
"'Twas not all in vain, then!" says I, hoarsely, bethinking me of theagony of those sleepless nights.
"Vain?" she cried, "Vain? 'Tis for this I do honour you--"
"Honour--me?" says I, wincing.
"Above all men, Martin. 'Tis for this I--"
"Wait!" says I, fronting her all shamefaced. "I do love you so greatlyI would not have you dream me better than I am! So now must I tell youthis ... I stole to you once ... at midnight ... you were asleep, themoonlight all about you and looked like an angel of God."
And now it was my turn to stare up at the moon whiles I waitedmiserably enough for her answer.
"And when you went away, Martin," says she at last, "when I heard youstriding to and fro, out here beneath God's stars, I knew that yourswas the greatest, noblest love in all the world."
"You--saw me?"
"Yes, Martin!"
"Yet your eyes were fast shut."
"Yes, but not--not all the time. And, O Martin, dear, dear Martin, Isaw your great, strong arms reach out to take me--but they didn't, theydidn't because true love is ever greatly merciful! And your triumphwas mine also, Martin! And so it is I love you--worship you, and needsmust all my days."
And now we were on our feet, her hands in mine, eyes staring into eyesand never award to speak.
"Is it true?" says I at last, "God, Damaris--is it true?"
"Seems it so wonderful, dear Martin? Why, this love of mine reachethback through the years to Sir Martin, my little knight-errant, and hathgrown with the years till now it filleth me and the universe about me.Have you forgot 'twas your picture hung opposite my bed at home, yoursword I kept bright because it had been yours? And often, Martin, hereon our dear island I have wept sometimes for love of you because itpained me so! Nay, wait, beloved, first let me speak, though I doyearn for your kisses! But this night is the greatest ever was ormayhap ever shall be, and we, alone here in the wild, do lie beyond allhuman laws soever save those of our great love--and, O Martin, you--youdo love me?"
Now when I would have answered I could not, so I sank to my knees andstooping ere she knew, clasped and kissed the pretty feet of her.
"No, Martin--beloved, ah no!" cries she as it were pain to her, andkneeling before me, set her soft arms about my neck. "Martin," saysshe, "as we kneel thus in this wilderness alone with God, here and now,before your lips touch mine, before your dear strong hands take me tohave and hold forever, so great and trusting is my love I ask of you nopledge but this: Swear now in God's sight to renounce and put away allthought of vengeance now and for ever, swear this, Martin!"
Now I, all bemused by words so unexpected, all dazzled as it were bythe pleading, passionate beauty of her, closed my eyes that I mightthink:
"Give me until to-morrow--" I groaned.
"'Twill be too late! Choose now, Martin."
"Let me think--"
"'Tis no time for thought! Choose, Martin! This hour shall never comeagain, so, Martin--speak now or--"
The words died on her lip, her eyes opened in sudden dreadful amaze,and thus we remained, kneeling rigid in one another's arms, for, awayacross Deliverance, deep and full and clear a voice was singing:
"There are two at the fore, At the main are three more, Dead men that swing all in a row; Here's fine dainty meat For the fishes to eat: Black Bartlemy--Bartlemy ho!"