The sloops were soon filled. I walked to one side and met Lucille. Our parting was brief, for wind and tide served, and we must shortly lift anchor. The last words were spoken, and then, with a final embrace, I left her. I boarded the vessel and the sails were run up. They filled, and we began to gather headway. I stood in the stern, whence I could take a last look at the little town and the people on the shores. Amid the crowd I saw Lucille. She was looking earnestly after us, and when I waved my helmet in a good bye her hand signaled an answer. We were fairly off to the wars at last.
Suddenly, coming along the road at a furious gallop, I saw a single horseman. He waved over his head a paper. Even at the distance I knew him for the same man I had seen in the Governor’s room the day I received my commission, and for the messenger who had come from Sir William a few nights before. But it was too late to turn back now. The horseman spurred on to the beach and waved the paper frantically. It might be some message from Sir William, but, if it was important, a boat could be sent to overtake us. I snatched up a ship’s glass and turned it toward the shore.
“In the King’s name!” cried the horseman, leaping violently from the saddle.
“But I am away in the King’s name,” I called back.
Then, while I was watching through the glass, I saw the horseman turn about. Lucille had advanced from the crowd and stood, shading her eyes, to see the last of us.
As the man caught sight of her, I could see a cruel smile curl the corners of his mouth. Lucille suddenly shrank back, as she had that night when she saw the messenger in the hallway of her home, and she seemed frozen with fear, like unto the day the snake of the glen was in her path.
My heart misgave me, and I was half minded to turn back. Would that I had been of a whole mind! For, had I been, I would have leaped into the sea and gone to her. But I knew not, until afterward, who I left behind me there on the sea sands. Of the deadly enemy he was; who caused me to strike many a fierce blow for Lucille and for myself ere I conquered. And the warfare was not alone that of the sword.
And so I stood, watching the shore fade away, seeing the crowd grow smaller, while, as long as I could, I held the glass to my eyes, to catch the last glimpse of Lucille.
Then, with no very cheerful heart, I set to work to get matters arranged in soldierly fashion.