The Pagan Madonna Part 38

"Well, now!" said Cleigh, falling into the old New England vernacular which was his birthright. "I brought you on board merely to lure him after you. I wanted you both on board so I could observe you. I intended to carry you both off on a cruise. I watched you from the door that night while you two were dining. I saw by his face and his gestures that he would follow you anywhere."

"But I--I am only a professional nurse. I'm n.o.body! I haven't anything!"

"Good Lord, will you listen to that?" cried the pirate, with a touch of his old banter. "n.o.body and nothing?"

Neither Jane nor Cleigh apparently heard this interpolation.

"Why did you maltreat him?"

"Otherwise he would have thought I was offering my hand, that I had weakened."

"And you expected him to fall on your shoulder and ask your pardon after that? Mr. Cleigh, for a man of your intellectual attainments, your stand is the biggest piece of stupidity I ever heard of! How in the world was he to know what your thoughts were?"

"I was giving him his chance," declared Cleigh, stubbornly.

"A yacht? It's a madhouse," gibed Cunningham. "And this is a convention of fools!"

"How do you want me to act?" asked Cleigh, surrendering absolutely.

"When he comes to, take his hand. You don't have to say anything else."

"All right."

From Dennison's lips came a deep, long sigh. Jane leaned over.

"Denny?" she whispered.

The lids of Dennison's eyes rolled back heavily.

"Jane--all right?" he asked, quickly.

"Yes. How do you feel?"

He reached out a hand whence her voice came. She met the hand with hers, and that seemed to be all he wanted just then.

"You'd better get your bathrobe, Mr. Cleigh," she suggested.

Cleigh became conscious for the first time of the condition of his pyjama jacket. It hung upon his torso in mere ribbons. He became conscious also of the fact that his body ached variously and substantially.

"Thirty-odd years since I was in a racket like this. I'm getting along."

"And on the way," put in Cunningham, "you might call Cleve. I'd feel better--stretched out."

"Oh, I had forgotten!" cried Jane, reproaching herself. Weakened as he was, and sitting in a chair!

"And don't forget, Cleigh, that I'm master of the _Wanderer_ until I leave it. I sympathize deeply," Cunningham went on, ironically, "but I have some active troubles of my own."

"And G.o.d send they abide with you always!" was Cleigh's retort.

"They will--if that will give you any comfort. Do you know what? You will always have me to thank for this. That will be my comforting thought. The G.o.d in the car!"

Later, when Cleve helped Cunningham into his bunk, the latter asked about the crew.

"Scared stiff. They realize that it was a close shave. I've put the fools in irons. They're best there until we leave. But we can't do anything but forget the racket when we board the Dutchman. Where's that man Flint? We can't find him anywhere. He's at the bottom of it. I knew that sooner or later there'd be the devil to pay with a woman on board. Probably the fool's hiding in the bunkers. I'll give every rat hole a look-see. Pretty nearly got you."

"Flint was out of luck--and so was I! I thought in pistols, and forgot that there might be a knife or two. I'll be on my feet in the morning.

Little weak, that's all. n.o.body and nothing!" said Cunningham, addressing the remark to the crossbeam above his head.

"What's that?" asked Cleve.

"I was thinking out loud. Get back to the chart house. Old Newton may play us some trick if he isn't watched. And don't bother to search for Flint. I know where he is."

Something in Cunningham's tone coldly touched Cleve's spine. He went out, closing the door quietly; and there was reason for the sudden sweat in his palms.

Chance! A wry smile stirred one corner of Cunningham's mouth. He had boasted that he had left nothing to chance, with this result! Burning up!

Inward and outward fires! Love beads! Well, what were they if not that?

But that she would trust him when everything about him should have repelled her! Was there a nugget of forgotten gold in his cosmos, and had she discovered it? She still trusted him, for he had sensed it in the quick but tender touch of her hands upon his throbbing wounds.

To learn, after all these years, that he had been a coward! To have run away from misfortune instead of facing it and beating it down!

Pearls! All he had left! And when he found them, what then? Turn them into money he no longer cared to spend? Or was this an interlude--a mocking interlude, and would to-morrow see his conscience relegated to the dustbin out of which it had so oddly emerged?

When Dennison opened his eyes again Jane was still holding his hand. Upon beholding his father Dennison held out his free hand.

"Will you take it, Father? I'm sorry."

"Of course I'll take it, Denny. I was an old fool."

"And I was a young one."

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Cleigh asked, eagerly.

"If it won't be too much trouble."

"No trouble at all."

A hand pressure, a few inconsequent phrases, that is always enough for two strong characters in the hour of reconciliation.

Cleigh out of the way, Jane tried to disengage her hand, but Dennison only tightened his grip.

"No"--a pause--"it's different now. The old boy will find some kind of a job for me. Will you marry me, Jane? I did not speak before, because I hadn't anything to offer."

"No?"

"I couldn't offer marriage until I had a job."

"But supposing your father doesn't give you one?"