“There are some spirits in my flask in the saddle bags,” I remarked, motioning to where I had tethered Kit.
“Will you get the flask?” he asked, “unless, mayhap, you fear to leave her alone with me while you go. Though she was long enough with me in the Eagle.”
The words were not out of his mouth ere I stood beside him, and my hands were at his throat.
“Recall that last,” I said, “or I will give you no chance to stand before me with sword in hand. Recall your words, my lord.”
“I do,” he snarled, and he fell to rubbing his neck when I let go. As I turned to get the brandy a man came running down the sands. It was Simon.
“There is no need for either of us to go,” remarked Sir George. “Simon will get the flask if you tell him where it is.”
I directed the sailor where to come upon Kit, and then fell to chafing Lucille’s hands, as did Sir George, and this we were at when Simon returned, neither of us speaking a word, though deep in our hearts were many things that might have found utterance.
CHAPTER XX.
A WATCH IN THE NIGHT.
I was able to get a little of the brandy between Lucille’s lips, and she revived somewhat, opening her eyes. She caught sight of Sir George, and then she seemed to sleep again. When she awoke a second time and saw me standing near her, fright struggled with surprise in her look, so that I could not see whether she realized where she was.
She murmured that she was cold. I called to Simon and had him get my tinder box from my coat. With the flint and steel I kindled the burnt linen to a glow, and soon was blowing to a flame some dry sticks. Then Sir George, Simon and I set about gathering driftwood, verily like three school boys at a bonfire, until we had a goodly pile on the sand, sending out a genial warmth. It was a welcome heat, for we were chilled by the water, and Lucille was trembling as one with ague. We carried her to the blaze, and I wrapped my dry jacket about her, so that with the comfort of the fire, some color returned to her cheeks.