The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane

First of all I chose the longer of the cords, and made two loops in it to serve me as stirrups; then, taking a piece of the net, I rolled it into a hard ball, about as big as I might thrust through the rift; and, having bound this about with another cord, I fastened it securely to my stirrups, with length enough, as I judged, to allow the ball to pass through to the outer edge of the wall, where I hoped it would hitch.

When I had done this to my satisfaction, I began to cast about how I was to get it through the rift, which was a difficulty I had not foreseen.

"If I had only a pole," says I to myself – "a pole about two yards long!" But, Lord! while I was about it I might just as well have wished for a step-ladder of three yards to carry me at once into the cock-loft. However, growing a little desperate to find myself thus baulked for want of a stick, I made a spring upward, and, getting my hand in the rift, I contrived to hang there some while; but as to dragging myself up so that I could get my knot through with my other hand, that I could not do, strive as I might; nor do I think it possible that any man, though he were lusty as Samson, could have compassed that business.

Now was I pretty well at my wits' end; yet, being of a stubborn nature, I would not allow myself to be beaten, and still clung to the notion of scaling the wall with my precious rope stirrups. But it was clear that I could do nothing without some sort of hold for my foot to rest on as I hung from the rift, and so once more I began to feel about the wall for a hole to set my toes in.

There was a joint in the stonework about four feet from the ground, where the mortar gave way under my nail, but the crack was not as wide as my finger. However, I had a clasp-knife in my pocket, which Dom Sebastian had given me (for the Portugals do never go about without such weapons for their defense), and with this I determined to cut away the stone if I might. So at it I went without more ado.

I had scarcely begun this toil when I heard some one ascending the stairs that led to my prison.

"Now," thinks I, "am I undone. For if they come in here and see my knotted rope, they will certainly take it from me, and there will be an end of my only hope."

The steps came nearer and stopped; then I heard the bar being taken down. Upon this, with the hope of exciting fear, I set up a most violent shout, as if I were beside myself with rage, and rushing to the door beat it furiously with my fists and feet, whereupon there was a silence outside, as if the fellow was considering whether he had not best leave me alone for the present; and that he had come to this conclusion was made evident presently by his clapping up the bar again. After this I heard a shuffling on the ground, and the next minute his steps, as he descended the stairs.

I was mightily pleased with myself at the success of my stratagem, and, going back to the wall, set to work again at cutting the stone with my knife.

I ground and scraped till the blade of my knife was as hot as fire, but when I examined the stone with my finger, to see if the hole were anything like big enough yet, I found that I had made no perceptible difference in it whatever, which did so vex me that I was ready to tear my hair, or commit any other extravagance. Then, casting my eyes at the wall where the light from the rift fell, I was terrified to observe how the shadow had shifted since I first began, so that I concluded it must be getting towards sundown, by which I reckoned I must have been four or five hours at this business, and was pretty near as far as ever from making my escape. Whereupon I was beset with a kind of rage, and, accusing myself of indolence, cut again at the stone with redoubled energy. The result of this mad haste was that the blade of my knife snapped in half before I had worked a couple of minutes. Then I flung it down on the ground, and, resting my arm against the wall, I laid my face there, and could have wept for vexation.

But this was not to be endured for any time. Glancing again at the wall, it seemed to me the shadow had traveled a foot further.

"Every moment," says I to myself, "puts my lady further from me. Coward or fool! are you content to do nothing? Will you give up the hope of saving her because of a trifle? Have you no more heart and hardihood than this?"

With this, I picked up my knife again, and finding yet a couple of inches left of the blade, I once more set to work, but with more prudence. Yet every now and then would I turn to watch the shadow, saying to myself, "Now she is a league further away – she has been carried a full mile since last I looked," etc.

Sometimes my heart would grow heavy as stone with despair, as I noted the little effect I made; and then, that I might not lose courage, I would not feel what progress I had made, but ground on steadily, like the movement of a clock. But, though I did not tax my strength, the sweat streamed down my face and body, so that my shirt clung cold to my body with the wet from my skin, by reason of my anxiety.

After a while, when the light was sensibly fading, a faintness came upon me, and I felt dried up with thirst. Resting for strength to come, I bethought me that perhaps my jailer had no intention but to give me food when he came to the door. Then the hope led me to think that perhaps he had come back softly, and, hearing no sound, had ventured to open the door quietly, and slip a pitcher of water within for my comfort.

I went to the door, and, groping on the ground (for in that part it was very dark), I laid my hand on a loose piece of paper. It occurred to me in an instant (so quickly do our wishes summon conjecture) that Lady Biddy had found means to send me a message, and that the man who was charged with it, fearing to enter, had slid it beneath the door, which explained the shuffling sound I had heard before he went down.

I rushed back with the precious treasure, and, holding it as near the light from the rift as I could, read the inscription on the outside: "To my dear Cousin Benet."

And then, laughing like a fool for joy, I claps it to my mouth and kisses it.

CHAPTER XXXIX

HOW I WAS LED ON BY PASSION TO CUT A MAN'S THROAT

As soon as I had got the better of my ecstasy, I held the letter again up to the light, yet could not make out one word of it, for the tears of gladness in my eyes. However, I brushed these away with my hand impatiently, and so held the letter up again, but still with the knife in my hand, for I was now more eager than ever to accomplish my design and overtake my lady, who, I doubted not, had writ me some comforting words to let me know how I might best come at her. And now, my eyes being clear, I read her letter, which I can repeat word for word; for, sure, I read it a hundred times, and each word did engrave itself into my memory.

"We are overtaken," the letter began, "by soldiers charged to carry us back to Castello Lagos, and surrender us into the hands of Rodrigues. To save me from such a fate, which was worse than death tenfold, Senhor de Pino has offered to convey me to Caracas. I have tried, but in vain, to obtain the same favor for you; but he dare not venture upon it. Indeed, he endangers his own life in saving me, wherefore I look to you to support the story he has given out to account for not obeying the governor's orders to the letter – to wit, that I have perished by the way. I know you are too reasonable and too generous to bear me ill-will for abandoning you, for sure you will own I have no choice but to do so. Farewell, Benet. Oh, may Providence be merciful to you!"

When I had came to the end, and turned it about, to see if there was not some little kind word that I had overlooked and could find none, the knife dropped from my hand; and truly all vigor and power seemed gone from my body, so that my limbs trembled under me as if I had just risen from a bed of sickness.

Then I could not believe I had read aright, and so went through it again and again and again; after that, pondering each word, to see if I could not make it appear a little better than it looked.

At last, when I could no longer see the writing for want of light, I flung myself prone on the ground, and gave myself up to the most miserable reflections ever man endured. It was as if a miser had suddenly discovered all his gold turned to fine ashes; for no miser ever prized his pieces for their true ring and bright lustre more than I valued Lady Biddy for her loyalty, and generous, loving disposition; and now I could find nothing but heartless ingratitude and careless cruelty in her nature, to abandon me thus, without a word of regret or comfort. It seemed to me as if her chief end in writing was to obtain security for herself and Lewis de Pino, by persuading me to support the story of her death; and with such a cold, cruel heart, to invoke the mercy of Providence towards me was nothing but hypocrisy, with a taint of blasphemy.

"Had she studied to crush the love out of my heart she could not have writ more unkindly," says I to myself. Then it came to my mind that this cruelty was studied to that end, in order that my passion might not give me the power to escape and rejoin her. And the more I thought of this, the more likely it appeared. "She has Lewis de Pino," says I, grinding my teeth in rage, "and has no further need of me."

Then I cursed her for a cruel, unkind jade, and would try to think I was well rid of such a baggage – that all women were false alike for fools and boys to love, and fit only to be treated as men like Rodrigues treated them. "They make sport," says I, "of those who are fond enough to love them, and kiss the hand of a cruel, hardened wretch like Lewis de Pino. 'Tis the trick of a dog who snaps at loving children who would caress it, and cringes before the tyrant who spurns it with his foot. Fear not that I shall seek to separate you from your lord – no, not though I saw him lift the whip to flog you as he would another slave. I trust no woman again; the friendship of Rodrigues is more stanch and loyal. I have done all a man could do in proportion to his means for the love of a woman; but I have come to an end of my folly. My body shall shed its blood no more for you – no, nor my heart a tear. And yet," thinks I, my rage abating as I perceived how dreary and barren my life must henceforth be, which seemed, as I looked back on it, to be all strewn with flowers and gladdened with sunshine – "yet, in truth, I do wish you had died before you writ that letter. Would that I could yet treasure that tender joy of love for you that has made a fool of me! Ay, would that you had died ere I knew you worthless, while I yet thought you all that was beautiful and good and kind! 'Twould have broke my heart to have lost you then; but better 'tis to live with ever-abiding sorrow for such loss than to find nothing in the world to weep for."

In this fashion did I pass from one fit to another – from rage to regret, from bitter hate to tender grief – till the stars shone brightly through the rifts above; but they came into sight and passed away, marking the growing hours, without my heeding any longer the increasing distance between Lady Biddy and me; nor did I once think to make my escape. She was gone from me forever, and with her all my hopes and anxiety. I gave no thought as to what would happen on the morrow, or what my fate would be when Rodrigues got me again into his hands. If I had thought of it I should have welcomed the prospect of death itself even by the worst torture his cruel nature could devise.

Lady Biddy had appealed to my generosity and reason, but I had neither one nor the other, else had I perhaps brought myself to see that, after all, she had done no more than I should have bid her do if her fate had been in my hands. Could I have consented to her being carried back with me to Rodrigues? No! not though the alternative was to yield her to the mercy of Lewis de Pino. Then why was I so put about because she had done that which I would have had her do? Simply because she had not paid me the compliment to ask my advice? There may have been no time to appeal to my decision; she may, as she said, have depended on my good judgment to accept what was inevitable. These and many other arguments I could urge, never occurred to me then, for my reason was undone.

As I lay there on the ground with that passionate turmoil in my breast, with my eyes turned away from the stars that seemed to look down on me through the night with a sweet, still sorrow that made my pain the more hard to endure, I saw a streak of light between the door and the footsill, and presently heard the bar being taken down very carefully, but after a pause, as if assurance were being made that I was not astir.

"They are come to murder me in my sleep," thinks I; "is this the mercy she prayed Providence to bestow on me, or did she pray that mercy of Lewis de Pino?"

The bar being down, first one bolt grated slowly in the socket, and then the other.

"Now," thinks I, "will they come upon me cautiously, or will they do it with a sudden rush?"

But so little count did I make of my life that I did not stir nor take my arm from under my head.

The door creaked slowly on its hinges, and I saw the wall beyond through the widening opening, and a lantern set upon the ground. Then a great shock head came athwart the opening, dark against the light on the wall; and after peering in for a minute or so without seeing anything (for I lay far back in the dark), or hearing any movement, the man ventured in a little further, so that his figure blocked out the light still more; and thus he stood another minute, turning his head this way and that, as if to make sure I was not hidden against the wall, ready to spring on him. Then he draws back and picks up something which stood behind the door with his left hand, and then the lantern with his right, and, stepping sideways and very gingerly past the door, he comes into my chamber, so that I could see he carried in his left hand a pitcher, and under that arm a little bundle.

"So," thinks I, "it is to bring my food, and not to murder me, the fellow has come. 'Tis all the same to me. I would as soon have his knife as his food in me."

Setting down the pitcher and the bundle, he lifts the lantern high and looks about; but not seeing me for the shadow where I lay, and the feeble light of his candle, he puts up his hand, and, shoving his hat on one side, scratches his head, as if perplexed to know where I had got to. Then moving a couple of steps forward on his toes, he holds up the lantern again and peers around, and then, getting a glimpse of me, gives a nod of satisfaction, as much as to say, "Oh, you're there after all, are you?" and so he comes forward again towards me, but very cautiously setting down the lantern and turning the door of it towards me, that the light might not fall upon my eyes.

And now the idea seized me of a sudden that I might throw this fellow down and make my escape, whilst a wicked longing for vengeance burnt up my heart. I know not what bloody design lay at the bottom of my purpose, but I made up my mind I would escape and overtake Lady Biddy, though she was in the furthest corner of the earth. So with the cunning of a villain I closed my eyes, that the fellow might not see by their glitter I was awake (yet not so close but that I could watch him well), in order that he might get near to me before I sprang at him.

He seemed to have some ill forecast of my design, for more than once he stopped betwixt the lantern and me to scratch his head and consider of his safety. However, he ventures within about a couple of feet of me, and then squatting down reaches out his arm, as if he would wake me to let me know he had brought food for my use. And though this was a kindly office, deserving of a better return (for I took no heed of it because of the devilish wickedness in my heart), I suddenly caught hold of his extended arm, and, giving it a sharp jerk, threw him on his side.

Seeing a knife in his belt, I bethought me I would cut his throat, and so save myself from pursuit, for there is no vile murder a man will stop short of when he gives up his soul to the fiend of vengeance; and this purpose came so suddenly to my mind (even as he was rolling over, and the handle of his knife caught a ray of light from the lantern) that I had no time to consider what I was about. In a moment I had sprung up, and set my knee in his flank, and grasping him by his ragged shock of hair with my left hand, so that I drew his head back between his shoulders, I whipped out his knife with my right.

Surely in another moment I should have cut his throat, but that just then, raising his voice as well as he could for his position, he cries out, in very good English —

"Lord love you, master, would you murder your own countryman?"

CHAPTER XL

I FIND AN EXCELLENT FRIEND IN PLACE OF A CRUEL ENEMY

Hearing these words, I held my hand for amazement, though the knife was within a span of his throat. In that instant it came across my mind that the letter which had so distracted me was not of Lady Biddy's writing. I had not hitherto questioned this matter; for, firstly, I knew not her hand; and, secondly, neither Lewis de Pino nor any one else we had met since our coming on these shores had comprehended one word of our language. The letter was badly writ in a large and painful hand, but that might have been owing to ill accommodation for writing; and, indeed, I had not regarded the manner of it, but only the matter. But now, hearing this fellow speak in English, it did, as I say, cross my mind that he had penned it.

This took no longer to present itself to my intelligence than a flash of a musket.

"Fellow," says I hoarsely, "was it you that wrote that letter to me."

"Ay," says he, "with a plague to it; for if I had not writ it I should not have got into this mess."

Whereupon I flung aside the knife, and, laying hold of his two hands, could have kissed him for my great delight, despite the suffering I had endured through his handiwork.

Then I covered my face with my hands for shame to think how I had wronged that pure sweet girl by leaping so quickly to an evil opinion of her; and to think she might have so fallen away from a noble condition, I burst out with tears, and sobbed like any child; and from that to think that she had not fallen away, and was still the same dear woman I had thought her, I fell to laughing; and, springing to my feet, cut a caper in the air like a very fool, and might have proceeded to further extravagances in my delirium but that my good angel (as I dubbed the fellow), laying his hands on me whispered:

"For Heaven's sake, master, contain yourself a bit, or I shan't come out of this business with a whole skin yet. I doubt but you have waked some of the cursed Portugals by your antics."

With this he creeps over to the door, and thrusting his head over the stairs stands there listening carefully a minute or two; after which, seeming satisfied that no one was astir, he closes the door gently, and creeps back to me, by which time I had come to a more sober condition, though still near choking with the bounding of my heart and the throbbing of the blood in my veins for excess of joy.

"'Tis all quiet below," says he in a whisper; "but betwixt getting my throat cut by you, and being fleaed alive by the Portugals for being here, I've had a narrow squeak. Howsomever, I suppose you bear me no ill-will?"

"Heaven forgive me for treating you as an enemy!" says I, grasping his hand again.

"As for that," says he, "I don't blame you for your intent to stick me if you thought I was one of those accursed Portugals; and how were you to know better, finding me crawling on you in their own manner. Let us drink a dram, master, to our better acquaintance; 'twill stiffen our legs and clear our heads, and mine are all of a jelly-shake with this late bout."

"Where is my cousin?" I asked him, as he was drinking from the jar.

"That's good," says he, taking the jar from his mouth and handing it to me. "Take a pull at it – asking your pardon for drinking first, but I've lost my good manners with twelve years of slavery."

"My cousin," says I – "the lady in whose name you wrote that letter?"

"Drink," says he. "We've got no time to lose if, as I do hope, you're minded to get away from this."

"Ay," says I; "but my cousin?"

"Drink," says he.

Seeing he was of a persistent sort, I lifted the jar to my lips to cut the matter short.

"The female," says he, "went on with De Pino and his train about ten minutes after you were brought up here. De Pino made her believe you had gone on ahead, being in a strange dull humor, and she, to overtake you, hurried away. Drink," he adds, seeing me still with the jar a little from my lips. So I drank; but betwixt two gulps I said:

"They are still gone on the road to Caracas?"

"Caracas!" says he. "Lord love you, master!" (an exclamation with which he larded his sentences continually), "when they get to their journey's end they won't be within a hundred leagues of Caracas."

"Whither is he carrying her, then, in Heaven's name?"

"To Quito, where De Pino spends his time when he is not trafficking. Lord love you, master, don't spare the liquor."

I drank deeply to satisfy him, and that we might come more quickly to the matter I had a greater thirst for.

"Now," says I, "tell me how you came to write that letter."

He took the jar out of my hand and drank again in silence. At length he put it from his lips with a gasp.

"Have another turn; we may not have a taste of wine for many a long day hence," says he.

"I can drink no more. Would to Heaven I could get you to answer my questions!"

"Time enough for that," says he, "when we get where we can talk above a pig's whisper with no fear of being heard. Now, master, if you can drink no more, we'll set about getting out of this. We shall be all right if we tread light, and don't bungle till we get to the foot of the stairs. There I must put out the lantern. But you lay hold of my shoulder and get ready for a bolt if needs be. Are you got a knife?"

"No," says I.

"Then I must manage to get you one when we are below. A couple of swords won't be an inconvenience to us, neither. You won't have another dram?"

"No," says I; "and you have had enough."

"That's as may be," says he. "I could drink a tun of it. Howsomever, I'll take it you're right, so far as our safety is concerned. Now, master, you take my knife and follow close. Keep your questions till we get a league on our way. I'll carry the lantern and this bag of victuals, and if I'd got another hand, hang me if I'd leave the jar behind. Here goes, master. Remember, if we are caught we shall be fleaed alive. Now, then – softly does it! Not a word!"

CHAPTER XLI

A DISCOURSE WITH MY NEW-FOUND FRIEND MATTHEW PENNYFARDEN

When we got to the foot of the stairs my comrade put out the light, and I, laying my hand on his shoulder, as he bade me, followed softly at his heels in the dark for some paces, when we came to a door that stood ajar. Here he paused and peered out carefully; then, pushing the door open, he passed out into the open.

He gave me the bag of food to hold, lifted up his finger as a sign to me to wait there, and then entered the tower again by another door in that part where the guard lay; and so I stood, with the drawn knife in my hand and my eyes on the lookout for a foe, till he returned with a sword in each hand and a knife stuck in his belt. He seemed to have been gone an age, but I believe he was no more than ten minutes at the outside; but I was consumed with impatience.

He put one of the swords in my hand, and signed to me to follow. Then we threaded our way betwixt the tower and the huts, and coming to the end of a little alley he again peers out into the space beyond, first to the right and then to the left, very carefully, and seeing no one (for the Portugals here lay within doors because there was no turf, as in the other stations, but only hard, rocky ground), he nudged me with his elbow and struck out pretty briskly to the gate he had previously set ajar, which we passed, and so got out without discovery, to our great comfort.

Our road lay up the hills on the other side of the valley, and a rough and troublesome way it was by reason of the loose stones and deep holes which in certain parts, where the rocks shut out the light of the stars on either hand, were like so many pitfalls. Yet I was too light of heart to heed the bruising of my shins a farthing, though my comrade did curse prodigiously, spite of his saying he would not speak for a league, as I have told.