Black Bartlemy's Treasure Part 42

"Indeed yes, Martin," she sighs, "yet a very comfortable animal, and though strong and fierce and woefully trying at times, a very gentle animal to such as know you."

"And do you know me so well?"

"Better than you think, O a great deal better! Because I am a woman.

And now are we friends again?"

"Yes!" says I heartily, "Yes!" And away she goes to her cooking and I mighty glad I had not destroyed her hairpin, the which (my knife being sharp) I began to ornament with all sorts of elaborations. Presently back she comes, spoon in one hand, stool in the other, and sits to watch me at work.

"What do you make now, Martin?"

"A pin for your hair."

"Why, 'tis beautiful!"

"'Tis scarce begun yet!"

Here she must needs lavish all manner of praises on my skill until I came nigh cutting myself.

"How many will you make me, Martin?"

"As many as you will."

"Three should suffice."

"Why, you have a prodigious lot of hair."

"Do you think so, Martin?" says she, glancing down at the two great braids that fell over her bosom well-nigh to her waist. "'Twas well enough in England, but here 'tis greatly in my way and hampers me in my work. I had thought of cutting it off."

"Then don't!"

"Why not, Martin?"

"Well," says I, glancing at the nearest braid that showed coppery lights where the setting sun caught it. "Well, because--" and finding nought else to say I fell to my carving again and away she goes to her cooking.

"Martin," says she at last, "what do you know of Master Penfeather?

Where did you fall in with him, and why is his life so threatened?"

"All by reason of Black Bartlemy's treasure!"

"Treasure!" says she; and back she comes and onto her stool, all in a moment. "Tell me of it, Martin!"

"'Tis a great treasure of gold and jewels in such."

"And who is Black Bartlemy?"

"A foul rogue of a pirate that was killed by a poor Spanish lady, and lieth buried with her under the great pimento tree on the beach yonder."

"O Martin!" says she, getting up that she might behold the tree, "O Martin, I knew, I knew 'twas an evil place! And the poor lady died too?"

"He killed her after she had stabbed him!"

"How do you know of this?"

"Adam Penfeather told me, he saw it done!" Hereupon she sits down and is silent awhile.

"And where is this great treasure?"

"On this island!"

"Here?" says she, starting to her feet again, "Here, Martin?"

"Aye, 'twas this I was despatched to secure, after I had been rapped over the head with a pistol-b.u.t.t!"

"And how must you find it?"

"I never shall, the secret of it was in the packet I tossed overboard.

Adam may find it himself an he will."

"And you have no desire for this treasure?"

"None in the world." And now (at her earnest solicitation) I told her all my a.s.sociation with Adam, of my haunted days and nights aboard s.h.i.+p and my suspicions of Tressady; only I spoke nothing of Adam's avowed intent to steal the "Faithful Friend" to his own purposes.

"O wonderful!" says she, when I had done, and then again, "O wonderful!

So this was why we were cut adrift. Truly Master Penfeather hath quick and subtle wits."

"A guileful rogue--and very wily!" says I, clenching my fist.

"But wherein is he rogue, Martin?"

"How!" quoth I, "was it not a wicked, vile and most roguish act to set you adrift thus, to run the peril of sea and a desolate island--"

"What other could he do, Martin, and the s.h.i.+p good as taken by the mutineers? I heard them shouting--for me!" and here she s.h.i.+vered.

"True, we have faced perils, have lost all our stores, but at least here am I--safe with you, Martin!" Saying which she rose and presently summoned me to our evening meal.

Having supped, I took beneath my arm my rusty sword (the which I had sharpened and burnished as well as I might) being minded to fetch what remained of our goat: but now she comes very earnest to go with me, and I agreeing readily enough, we set out together forthwith.

CHAPTER XXIX

OF MY ENCOUNTER BENEATH BARTLEMY'S TREE

The moon was very bright, casting great, black shadows athwart our way, and now, once our familiar surroundings were left behind, we fell silent or spake only in low voices, awed by the universal hush of all things; for the night was very still and hot and breathless, not a leaf stirred and no sound to hear save the unceasing roar of the surf.

"Martin," says she, very softly, "here is a night of such infinite quiet that I grow almost afraid--"

"Of what?" I demanded, pausing to look down on her where she limped beside me. And then, 'twixt my teeth, "Is it me you fear?"

"Ah no, no!" cries she, slipping her hand within my arm, "Never, never that, you foolish Martin!" And here she looks at me with such a smile that I must needs glance otherwhere, yet methought her cheeks showed pale in the moonlight.