“She has not been very obedient so far,” said the skipper with a laugh. “You have not received much encouragement.”
“What do I want encouragement for,” growled Martin, “from her?”
“Perhaps the encouragement of Mees Norah, her maid, has been enough for you. But I warn you, my young lady will not travel so easily by land as by sea. You will need a troop of horse to take her to the Carmelites, I expect.”
This was said with a sneer at Martin’s qualifications as a squire of dames which that gentleman did not enjoy.
“I can manage my own business,” said he in an unpleasant voice. “I shall take her there in a carriage, and if she resists she will have to find out she is not her own mistress.”
“As you will,” said the skipper. “I thank my stars I have not the task.”
Indeed, I came to learn later on that he had good reason for so wishing. For Miss Kit, as soon as ever she discovered the vile plot which had been practised on her, had retired to her cabin, and held every one on board the Scheldt at arm’s-length except her maid, refusing to see Martin, of the skipper, or any one, and fortifying herself like a beleaguered garrison. Her cabin had a private companion ladder by which she could reach the deck without passing through the men’s quarters, and after the first day or so, the poop was yielded to her as her own territory without protest.
How was I to communicate with her now? I must if possible prevent her incarceration in the convent, from which I knew escape would be difficult.
I retired below and hastily scrawled on a piece of paper the following note:—
“Miss Kit,—The half-drowned man who was taken on board yesterday was he who writes this, and who is ready to die for you. You are to be carried in a coach to-night to the Convent of the Carmelite Nuns. Make all the delay possible before you consent to go, and so give me time to get beforehand on the road, where I will find means to take you to a place of safety.—Your devoted—