Their Mariposa Legend | Page 8

my heart, but she deserves them. Indian though she be, still is she, nevertheless, the loveliest woman that ever mine eyes have looked upon!"
Then, stowing the necklace carefully away in his belt, he went at once in search of the commander.
But at this point an unexpected difficulty had presented itself. He found Sir Francis in close conversation with his pilot.
"Marry, Sir, an it fit n'er so ill with thy wish," the keen-eyed old mariner was saying. "I still maintain it were a shame to lose this wind. Gift or no gift, I've sailed these latitudes before, my lord, and by heaven I swear we're not like to have such another breeze, no, not till the change of the moon, and that you know yourself, sir, is a good fortnight hence."
Sir Francis, striding back and forth within the narrow confines of the quarter deck, appeared to be weighing the old man's words with unusual care. At length, however, he turned as one who has made his decision.
"By the mass and it shall be even as you say, Jarvis," he declared. "I think myself 'twere well to push on at once. At the most they be but Indians!" The last words were spoken in a lower tone as if to himself. "'Twill matter little either way!"
It was at this point that young Harold stepped hastily forward. For, strangely enough, although on the morning of that same day such a proceeding would scarcely have appealed to him as being at all unfitting or out of the ordinary, yet now it seemed unthinkable.
"But, good sir," he interrupted, "you would not so belie your promise! To do as Jarvis here advises, - by heaven, 'twould be neither truthful nor honorable! 'Tis not like you, Sir Francis!"
Drake shot at him a surprised glance from under his bushy eyebrows, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Prate not to me, my lord, of truth or honor amongst these savages," he replied. "Did not their chief himself but even now lie to me? Well knew the rascally heathen where the Spaniard hides! The truth indeed! They know not the meaning of such words."
In vain the younger man petitioned to be allowed to deliver the promised gift with the aid of his own retinue.
"Thou can'st not get under way for two hours at best, sir," he pleaded, "and well within that time I will be back. 'Tis but a stone's throw to the shore!"
But Drake first scoffed at his rashness, then, finally losing patience, as commander of the expedition he sternly forbade him or any of his men to leave the ship.
"We dare not lose the wind," he finished emphatically, "and are like to start at any minute." Then, turning on his heel, he strode away to his cabin and shut the door behind him.
Left in this unceremonious fashion, young Harold considered a moment, glancing with anxious eyes at the dim line of the coast just visible in the darkness. For some minutes he leaned upon the rail, lost in thought.
"The old man will e'en have to bear his disappointment," he muttered at length, "but, an' heaven help me, the maid shall not!"
Then he, too, left the deck to seek out his favorite retainer, the dark, swarthy man who had sat that morning in the prow of the long boat. To him he explained his difficulty, adding grimly:
"And so thou see'st, Mortimer, that I have work cut out for thee!"
He threw an arm about the other's shoulders and in this familiar fashion the two men paced the deck together, conversing in low tones.
"And besides," observed the nobleman as they paused a moment before parting, "would'st know the truth about the matter? For all old Jarvis' prating, the Golden Hind is not like to sail before the dawn, no, nor even then! Jarvis is ever the man to make a show of much hurry, but - " he snapped his fingers scornfully, "only aid me now, unseen by anyone, to launch the Zephir, and by our virgin queen herself I swear, when once again we see the shores of Merry England, thou shalt find 'twas well worth thy trouble."
His companion smiled even while, with the trained servility of the retainer, he doffed his cap.
"Aye, truly, my lord," he answered, "but, since it were an impossible feat to get so much as a colt into the Zephir, methinks thou hast a gift of thine own to bestow on yonder pretty Indian maid!"
The blood leaped to Sir Harry's cheek. With a quick gesture he placed his hand upon his sword.
"Presume not upon my favor, Mortimer, or by heaven! - " he began angrily, but stopped suddenly as, with a fearless laugh, the man beside him pushed the half-drawn weapon back into its place.
"Nay then, not so fast, my lord," he chuckled gaily. "Hearkee, my master. I