Wolves of the Sea | Page 9

my imagination took me in spirit across the leagues of water.
I was still standing there absorbed, unaware even that the mate had

departed, when a voice, soft-spoken and feminine, broke the silence.
"May I speak with you?"
I turned instantly, so thoroughly surprised, my voice faltered as I gazed
into the upturned face of the questioner. She stood directly beside me,
with only the rope barrier stretched between us, her head uncovered,
the contour of her face softened by the twilight. Instantly my cap was
off, and I was bowing courteously.
"Most certainly," with a quick side glance toward the guard, "but I am a
prisoner."
"Of course I know that," in smiling confidence. "Only you see I am
rather a privileged character on board. No one expects me to obey rules.
Still that does not apply to you, does it?" hesitating slightly. "Perhaps
you may be punished if you talk with me--is that what you meant?"
"I am more than willing to assume the risk. Punishment is no new
experience to me; besides just now I am on sick leave, and privileged.
That accounts for my being still on deck."
"And I chanced to find you here alone. You have been ill?"
"Not seriously, but confined to the berth for a couple of days. And now
the doctor prescribes fresh air. This meeting with you, I imagine, may
prove even of greater benefit than that."
"With me? Oh, you mean as a relief from loneliness."
"Partly--yes. The voyage has certainly proven lonely enough. I have
made few friends forward, and am even bold enough to say that I have
longed for a word with you ever since I first saw you aboard."
"Why especially with me?"
"Rather a hard question to answer at the very beginning," I smiled back
at her. "Yet not so difficult as the one I shall ask you. Except for a fat
matron, and a colored maid, you chance to be the only woman on board.

Can you consider it unnatural that I should feel an interest? On the
other hand I am only one of fifty prisoners, scarcely cleaner or more
reputable looking than any of my mates. Yet surely you have not
sought speech with these others?"
"No."
"Then why especially with me?" Even in the growing dusk I could
mark a red flush mount into the clear cheeks at this insistent question,
and for an instant her eyes wavered. But she possessed the courage of
pride, and her hesitancy was short.
"You imagine I cannot answer; indeed that I have no worthy reason,"
she exclaimed. "Oh, but I have; I know who you are; my uncle pointed
you out to me."
"Your uncle--the planter in the gray coat?"
"Yes; I am traveling home with him to Maryland. I am Dorothy
Fairfax."
"But even with that explanation I scarcely understand," I insisted rather
stubbornly. "You say he pointed me out to you. Really I was not aware
that I was a distinguished character of any kind. How did he happen to
know me?"
"Because he was present at your trial before Lord Jeffries. He merely
chanced to be there when you were first brought up, but became
interested in the case, and so returned to hear you sentenced. You are
Geoffry Carlyle, in command of the ship that brought Monmouth to
England. I heard it all."
"All? What else, pray?"
Her eyes opened widely in sudden surprise and she clasped and
unclasped her hands nervously.
"Do you really not know? Have you never been told what happened?"

"Only that I was roughly forbidden to speak, called every foul name the
learned Judge could think of, and then sentenced to twenty years penal
servitude beyond seas," I answered soberly. "Following that I was
dragged from the dock, and flung into a cell. Was there anything else?"
"Why you should have known. Lord Jeffries sentenced you to death;
the decree was signed, to be executed immediately. Then influence was
brought to bear--some nobleman in Northumberland made direct appeal
to the King. That was what angered Jeffries so."
"An appeal! For me? Good God! not Bucclough--was it he, the Duke?"
"Yes; it was whispered about that the King was in his debt--some word
of honor, and dare not refuse. The word of mercy came just in time,
ordering Jeffries to commute your sentence. At first he swore he'd hang
you, King or no King, but his nerve failed. My uncle said he roared like
a bull. This Bucclough; is he not your friend?"
I hesitated for an instant of indecision, looking into her face, but the
truth would not be denied.
"Scarcely that," I said soberly. "Nor can I solve entirely his purpose. He
is my brother, and I am the next in line. We are not even