“No,� she said, “you must not leave me. Go to sleep here on the deck where I can call you if necessary.�
I tumbled down on the mattress I had fixed for her and almost before I could draw the blanket over me I was asleep. I say it to my shame and her glory that she let me sleep the long night through, for it was the sunlight that awakened me, and when I opened my eyes, there she stood, erect and dauntless, matchless, holding the wheel.
CHAPTER XXI
AND LOVE ROUNDS OUT THE TALE
THERE is little more to tell. One day was like another. For once that ocean which I had always thought ill-called Pacific, did not belie its name. The wind blew us steadily and gently toward the haven we wished to reach. It was hard work but we equally divided watches and duties, I attending to all the trimming of the yards, my mistress doing the cooking, and after that first night we honorably kept watch and watch at night. I do not know what would have happened if it had come on to blow, for I never could have reefed or furled those sails, but the same Providence which had watched over us kept us in recollection still. Indeed, save for a certain nervous strain, I was never better in my life, and my mistress also.
After many days’ sailing we approached the South American coast and there were lucky enough to fall in with a Spanish frigate. Her commander, Don Antonio Recaldé, came aboard when he heard from the officer whom he had sent off to us something of our story. He was incredulous at first and not until we showed him some of the jewels did he believe us. There was a great risk, perhaps, in showing an ordinary man such a valuable treasure, but we were both agreed, my lady and I, that Don Antonio was to be trusted absolutely.
Indeed, he proved himself a royal fellow in that he took the three mutineers on his own ship and sent a lieutenant and a dozen seamen aboard The Rose of Devon, and as he was cruising on a roving commission he convoyed us into Valparaiso. The prisoners we turned over to the English representative, to be tried for piracy and murder. A trading ship bound through the Straits of Magellan for Buenos Ayres offered us an opportunity to return to the Atlantic. We took advantage of this, disposing of The Rose of Devon to a firm of Spanish merchants at Valparaiso for a good price which provided us with more than enough money for our return voyage, and which relieved us of the necessity for offering some of the jewels for sale which would have involved explanations and possibly delay and confiscation.
We did press upon Don Antonio an emerald of great size and brilliancy which, generous seaman that he was, he was loath to take but which my mistress insisted upon, in addition to which he received a certain percentage of the proceeds of the sale of The Rose of Devon as salvage, so that he and his men were well rewarded for their kindness to us.
From Buenos Ayres, which we reached without mishap, we took a coasting vessel, the only one that served, for Rio de Janeiro, the capital of the Portuguese possessions in the Brazils. There we were lucky enough to find a large Portuguese man-of-war frigate homeward bound to Lisbon, whose captain obligingly received us as passengers, being moved thereto, I more than suspect, by the beauty of my lady. From Lisbon by roundabout ways we finally landed in Plymouth Harbor, whence we had set forth more than a twelvemonth before. How good it was to set foot on English ground once more! Yet I was sadder that morning than I had been during all our far voyaging. I hired a private coach and by nightfall we ended all our long journey at Master Ficklin’s door. He, with that worthy kindly woman his sister, greeted us as if we had risen from the dead, and greatly rejoicing in my lady’s good fortune, gave us the warmest of welcomes.
That night I had what I expected would be my last interview with her. We had been thrown constantly together during the six months that had elapsed since our great adventure on the Island of the Stairs and our arrival in England. We had discussed everything else, I think, but I had said naught of my love. Indeed, each league of sea over which we passed on our way homeward seemed to remove her farther from me. Although she was tender, she was considerate, she was inviting, she was intimate, when she was not arch, I could not bring myself to a declaration.
We were alone. Good Mistress Ficklin had given us her parlor for the evening. I took from my pockets the canvas pouch filled with her treasure which I had detached from my belt as I had dressed that morning, and laid it on the table.