CHAPTER XXI.
I MAKE A VOW TO SLAY MY LADY BIDDY, IF NEEDS BE.
About noon Rodrigues came into the cabin where my Lady Biddy sat, withhis hair combed, rings on his fingers, and rigged out in a new suit ofclothes--as fine as any popinjay. Taking off his hat with a low salute,he observed that the heavy rain was past, and fairer weather might nowbe expected, and so seated himself with easy insolence near Lady Biddy,who thereupon rose to her feet, and stood calmly waiting for him toannounce his business there.
"I have come," says he, "to know if I can add anything to yourconvenience or comfort here during the stay which, as I pointed outyesterday, circumstances have necessitated."
"You can make my captivity less intolerable," replies Lady Biddy, "byletting me know at once when it is to end."
"If this breeze continues we may fairly expect to be at our journey'send in four days," says he.
"And what do you intend to do with me then?" asks Lady Biddy.
"Rather let me ask you, madam," says he, with a hideous smile, "what youintend to do with me?"
"I do not understand what you mean by that," replies Lady Biddy.
"It is for you to command," says he, "and for me to obey in anythingthat is possible."
"If I demand my freedom--liberty to return to my friends!" says she,perplexed by his sophistry, for she knew full well that this seemingcompliance was but a mask and a snare.
"Certainly," says he, still with that hideous smile, "nothing can bemore reasonable; and if it will give you happiness and promote thatbetter opinion of me, which I hope one day you will entertain, I shalldo my utmost to help you to find your friends."
Lady Biddy knew not what response to make to this fine speech, hispromises being far too good to accept for his true intent; so shewaited, looking at him to continue, but with much disgust and loathing,for there was lust in his face and devilish wickedness in his eyes, asleaning back on the sofett he surveyed her person from head to foot, andagain brought his gaze slowly up to her face.
"Pardon me," says he, "your beauty distracts my thoughts from thesubject of our conversation. Where was I? Ah, yes. Santiago de Leon deCaracas, whither we are now sailing, is an agreeable place. I havefriends there. You must know that I am a Spanish gentleman by birth.There is a palace on the side of a hill facing the sea which I thinkwill prove to your taste. You who have lived always in England can haveno idea of the beauty of the country. I am sure you will be enchantedwith it."
"What is this country or its palaces to me?" cries Lady Biddy, beginningto see his drift.
"You must have a roof to shelter you, and I could offer nothing lessthan a palace."
"I ask but my liberty that I may return to my friends in England."
"As you please," says he, airily. "I think you will change your mindwhen you see what a lovely place I propose for your home. However, if,after seeing it, you are still minded to return to England, to Englandyou shall return. It will not be far out of that course to run round bythe mouth of the Oronoque and take up poor Sir Harry Smidmore, if he bestill on the island where the mutineers left him. Nor is there anyreason why you should not cruise about in search of your uncle, SirBartlemy Pengilly. Thus would your pleasure in going home be unmarred byany anxiety on account of absent friends."
Once more did he pause to gloat on the perplexity and trouble in thatdear face, which I warrant was become deadly pale with dreadfulapprehension. His delight in her torture was like nothing but thepleasure of some cat that plays with a poor mouse before tearing it withcruel talons. Nay, I have observed that some men of the baser sort dostrangely mingle cruelty with that sort of love they cherish, so thatyou will see such fellows take pleasure in making women weep.
"For my own part," continues this Rodrigues, with cool audacity, "it isno matter whether I live in the Indies or in Cornwall, so that I be inyour company."
Thus did this wicked cynic so reveal his intent that Lady Biddy could nolonger doubt what was behind. Yet did she strive to control herindignation, with the faint hope that she misjudged his meaning.
"I do not ask you to go to England," says she. "All I beg is that youset me ashore, and let me make my way home as God shall please to guideme."
"That is impossible, and I should be unworthy of your respect if Iconsented to such a course. Beauty such as yours is too rare at Santiagoto be set light store by. Believe me, you would never be suffered toleave that city if once you set foot in it. You would become the slaveand property of the first who could lay his hand on you. I myself shouldnot dare to take you on shore till a priest had given me a legal rightto possess you."
"What!" cries she, losing control of her temper; "do you think I willever consent to become your wife?"
"Yes," he replies, "I think you will when you consider the mattercalmly."
And with that he rose, as if to give her opportunity for reflection. Butnow, her spirit terribly moved with righteous anger, she stopped him.
"Villain," says she, "do you refuse to give me my liberty?"
"If you mean do I refuse to abandon you to such a fate as would be yoursin being set alone on shore at Caracas, I reply yes," says he, with lesshypocrisy and plainer than he had yet spoken. "If you refuse to be thewife of a Spanish gentleman you shall certainly not become the slave ofa mongrel peasant."
"You intend to keep me an unwilling prisoner on board this ship?"
"I do," says he, "in the hope--nay, in the firm belief--that you willwillingly agree to be my wife by the time we reach England."
"In England there are gallows for such rascal pirates as you."
"No," says he, catching hold of her arm ere she could escape his touch,and holding her firmly--"not when they have friends to protect them, andhave the wit to close the mouths of enemies. No one will bring disgraceon Lady Biddy by hanging her husband and the father of her children. Formy sake, to save me from the gallows, you will consent to become mywife. If that be not sufficient reason, then you will marry me for yourown sake. The wife of Don Sanchez Rodrigues de Arevalo may hold up herhead in the King's court; but the mistress of Rodrigues, the pirate,flung ashore at Plymouth, dare not crawl to show her face at Falmouth.You will see," adds he, freeing her arm, and with a return to his formerhypocritical fair seeming--"you will see that what I propose is entirelyto your advantage, and inevitable as the setting of the sun."
Thereupon he makes her another low obeisance, turns on his heel, andstruts out of the cabin.
All these particulars did Lady Biddy lay before me when she had boltedthe door after Rodrigues' departure and come into the next chamber,which she could well do at that time without arousing suspicion. Manytimes she paused and could not speak for indignation and offended pride;nay, I think she would have kept this matter to herself, but that Ipressed her to tell all for my better guidance. Tears she had not one,for passion held them back.
"Does he think," says she, with scorn that scarce permitted her to bateher voice--"does he think that ever I will live to be his slave? I couldcut this arm off because his foul hand has touched it. I will die athousand deaths rather than submit to such injury. Promise me, Benet,that if you hear me cry for help--"
"Fear not," says I, interrupting her. "My knife was drawn, and I stoodready by the little door all the time I heard the muttering of his voicein there. So will I stand prepared when next he comes, and be assured Iwill have his life if you cry to me."
"Nay," says she; "take my life first and his after, for I would notoutlive my shame."
I tried to sooth her mind, which was overmuch exalted, and bade her notthink of death while any hope remained, but rather trust to my abilityto effect our escape when we came to that port he had spoken of.
"And now," says I, "do pray go back, and seem to make light of thismatter; for I fear that if he be undeceived in his hopes he may bringthe business to an extremity before we get near land. Remember, my lady,'tis not your own honor alone you have to consider, though that beparamount to all, but the peace of Sir Bartlemy and," ad
ds I, with aneffort, "your poor lover, Sir Harry. Wherefore, for their sakes, must wefight this villain with his own weapons--meeting subtlety with subtlety;and for some little while, if you may subdue your proud spirit, it willbe well to let him opine you will in time come round to his way ofthinking."
"I understand you, Benet," says she calmly. "You fear if he thinks myresolution invincible he may"--she paused, covering her face with herhands, and added, leaving a blank where she could not utter herthought--"before we reach Caracas."
"Yes, that is what I do fear," says I.
"I will do my best, Benet," says she, "to follow your guidance, which Isee is wise and good. Yet, if I fail--if--if--"
"Nay, I know what you would say; and here," says I, dropping on my kneesbeside her--"here I swear that at your cry for help I will slay both himand you."
"And with equal sincerity, Benet, I promise you I will not give thatsignal for my death until it is needed."
There was no need to explain these words more fully. We both understoodthat her dishonor was alone to call for this sole remedy. And, still onmy knees, I vowed that I also would not live to bear the memory of herfate.