Gladden stood watching, Jeffray’s money still in his palm, as the seamen cast off the ropes and the Newhaven men tugged at their oars. The hawsers tightened, and rose dripping above the water; the ship began to glide from the quay, and to move towards the narrow vista of foam-ribbed sea that showed beyond the harbor’s mouth.
Captain George had taken Bess to the state cabin under the poop, a dark den of a place whose stern windows gave a last view of the little town and the green flats that stretched beyond. Jeffray stayed with her a moment, and then went on deck, to find the Sussex Queen gliding out from the harbor’s mouth. Captain George was standing on the quarter-deck, trumpet in hand. The boatswain’s whistle piped, and the men went swarming up the rigging to loose the sails, and give the ship her wings for France.
Bess joined Jeffray on the quarter-deck, with her old scarlet cloak about her, and the hood turned forward over her coal-black hair. They stood close together, looking at the stretch of gray and white-maned sea. It was cheerless and threatening, a wild waste of waters tossing under a sullen sky. The sails were bellying out above, and the bluff bows of the brig began to plunge and buffet with the waves. Soon the Newhaven men dropped the tow-ropes, and pulled back to harbor with a faint cheer. The whistling breeze, the creaking and straining of the cordage, the salt spume flying with the wind, even these could not chill the hearts of the two who watched the white shores dwindling beyond the waves. They stood close to the bulwarks, Bess with her cloak wrapped round her and Jeffray’s arm about her body. England was sinking into the north, and the cliffs grew gray and ghostly under the hurrying sky.
Bess turned and looked into Jeffray’s eyes, wondering whether there was any sadness for him in this going forth into the unknown. He seemed to guess what was in her heart, and holding her close to him, gazed back towards England with a quiet smile.
“Bess, I am thinking that you are safe with me at last.”
“Isaac cannot follow us over the sea.”
“No, we are rid of the past. And you are not afraid?”
“No, I am very happy.”
He buttoned the red cloak close about her throat, for the wind was keen and the scud flying.
“Take a last look at England for some years,” he said.