But I am galloping ahead of my story. Drop back across the years—'tis no more of an effort than it was for us to slide down the cable over the bow of the Walrus that night off Savannah—to the settle on the porch of the tavern in Charleston. Ben Gunn was disposed of; our plans were made for the northward journey along the seaboard. All that remained to be done was to come by a priest to wed Moira and me; and that, it seemed, was impossible short of Baltimore, in Maryland. Yet at the last our luck held, for the day we were to start turned stormy and we delayed our departure; and that afternoon a French West Indiaman put into the harbor under stress of the weather. Among her company was a kindly Franciscan, and he readily agreed to perform the ceremony.
For the rest, we rode into New York about four of the clock on the afternoon of April the 24th, in the year 1755. My father was in the counting-room of our house in Pearl Street, and he came to the door at the sound of the horses' hoofs on the cobbles. The sun was sloping out of the west full into his eyes; and for the time that it took me to dismount and swing Moira down from her saddle he stood dazed, fearful lest the dazzling light was playing tricks with him.
"Is it truly you, Robert?" he cried. "But it must be, for there are Peter and Darby."
"Yes, father," I answered. "And I have brought home another."
He opened his arms with an eager smile.
"There's room here for two of you, boy. Certes, you have but followed in my footsteps and fetched home a wife from your adventures."
"She is the little Irish maid I——"
"Whoever she is, she's more than welcome. But come in, come in, the pair of you. Safe and well—and with a wife! Robert, I can scarce credit it. After a whole year! Peter, God bless you! I knew with you he'd come to no harm. Ah, Darby, you have more sense in that red noddle of yours than when you left here; and if you stuck by Master Robert y'are forgiven. What a tale you'll all have to tell!"
That night as I lay in the upper room I had occupied since childhood I was aroused by a distant clatter and jangling which became louder and louder. At the corner it broke off with a heavy clang, and a pompous voice proclaimed:
"Past twelve o'clock of a fine, bright night, and Master Robert Ormerod is home from his captivity amongst the West Injin pirates. God save the King and the worshipful magistrates of New York!"