shoulder, motionless and silent, and for the first time since she had started on the adventure she was aware of a tiny prick of misgiving, a feminine chill of fear. She was Dona St. Columb, wife of an English landowner and baronet, and because of impulsive madness she had thrown in her lot with a pack of Bretons, of whom she knew nothing but that they were pirates and outlaws, unscrupulous and dangerous, led by a man who had never told her anything of himself, whom she loved ridiculously without rhyme or reason, a thing which-if she stayed to consider it in cold blood- would make her hot with shame. It might be that the plan would fail, that he and his men would be captured, and she with them, and the whole band of them would be brought ignominiously to justice, and then it would not be long before her identity would be established, Harry brought hotfoot from London. She could see in a flash the whole story blazed over the country, the horror and the scandal it would cause. A sordid tarnished air would cling upon it, there would be smutty laughter in London amongst Harry's friends, and Harry himself would probably blow his brains out, and the children be orphaned, forbidden to speak her name, their mother who had run away after a French pirate like a kitchen-maid after a groom. The thoughts chased themselves round her head, as she gazed down at the silent crew of La Mouette, seeing, in her mind, her comfortable bed at Navron, the peaceful garden, the safety and normality of life with the children. And then, looking up, she saw that the Frenchman was standing beside her, and she wondered how much he could read in her face.
'Come below,' he said quietly, and she followed him, feeling subdued suddenly like a pupil who was to receive chastisement from his master, and she wondered how she would answer him should he chide her for her fear. It was dark in the cabin, two candles gave a feeble glow, and he sat down on the edge of the table considering her, while she stood in front of him, her hands behind her back.
'You have remembered that you are Dona St. Columb,' he said.
'Yes,' she answered.
'And you have been wishing, up there on the deck, that you were safe home again, and had never set eyes on La Mouette.'
There was no reply to this, the first part of his sentence might be true, but the last could never be. There was silence between them for a moment, and she wondered if all women, when in love, were torn between two impulses, a longing to throw modesty and reserve to the winds and confess everything, and an equal determination to conceal the love forever, to be cool, aloof, utterly detached, to die rather than admit a thing so personal, so intimate.
She wished she were someone else, whistling carelessly, hands stuck into breeches pockets, discussing with the captain of the ship the schemes and possibilities of the coming night, or that he was different, another personality, someone for whom she felt no concern, instead of being the one man in the world she loved and wanted.
And there was a flame of anger in her suddenly, that she, who had laughed at love and scorned the sentimental, should be brought, in so few weeks, to such shaming degradation, to such despicable weakness. He got up from the table and opened the locker in the bulkhead, and brought out a bottle and two glasses.
'It is always unwise,' he said, 'to set forth upon an adventure with a cold heart and an empty stomach, that is, if one is untrained to adventure.' He poured the wine into a glass, leaving the other empty, and gave the full one to her.
'I shall drink afterwards,' he said, 'when we return.'
She noticed, for the first time, that there was a tray on the sideboard by the door, covered with a napkin, and he went now and brought this to the table. There was cold meat, and bread upon it, and a slice of cheese. 'This is for you,' he said, 'eat it quickly, for time is getting short.' He turned his back on her, busying himself with a chart on the side table, and she began to eat and drink, despising herself already for the reluctance that had come upon her on the deck, and when she had eaten some of the meat, and cut herself a slice of bread and cheese, and had finished the glass of wine he had poured for her, she felt that the doubts and fears would not return, they had been, after all, the outcome of chilled feet and an empty stomach, and he had realised this from the beginning, understanding her mood in his strange incalculable way.
She pushed back her chair, and he turned, hearing the sound, and he was smiling at her, and she laughed at him in return, flushing guiltily, like a spoilt child. 'That is better, is it not?' he said. 'Yes,' she answered, 'how did you know?'
'Because the master of a ship makes it his business to know these things,' he said, 'and a cabin-boy must be broken in to piracy rather more gently than the rest of my crew. And now to business.' He picked up the chart he had been studying and she saw that it was a plan of Fowey Haven, and he placed it before her on the table.
'The main anchorage is there, in deep water, opposite the town,' he said, putting his finger on the plan, 'and Rashleigh's vessel will be lying about here, where his vessels always lie, moored to a buoy at the entrance of this creek.'
There was a cross in red upon the plan to indicate the buoy.
'I am leaving part of the crew on board La Mouette' he said, 'and if you wish to, you know, you can stay here with them.'
'No,' she said, 'a quarter of an hour ago I should have said yes, but not now, not any more.'
'Are you certain about that?'
'I have never been more certain about anything in my life.'
He looked down at her in the flickering candle-light, and she felt gay suddenly, and absurdly light-hearted, as though nothing mattered, nothing at all, and even if they were caught and brought to justice and both hanged from the tallest tree in Godolphin's park, it would be worth it, for first there would be this adventure they would have together.
'So Lady St. Columb has returned to her sick-bed?' he said.
'Yes,' said Dona, and she looked away from him, down to the plan of Fowey Haven.
'You will remark,' he said, 'there is a fort at the entrance of the haven, which is manned, and there are two castles, one on either side of the channel, but these will not be guarded. In spite of the dark night it would be unwise to attempt the passage by boat. Although I have a fair knowledge of your Cornishman by now, and he is a great fellow for sleeping, I cannot guarantee that every man within the fort will have his eyes shut for my benefit. So there is nothing for it but to go overland.'
He paused, and fell to whistling under his breath, considering the plan as he did so. 'This is where we are lying,' he said, pointing to a small bay a mile or so to the eastward of the haven, 'and I propose going ashore here, on this beach. There is a rough path up the cliffs, and then we strike in-shore and come to a creek-something similar to the creek we have left at Helford but possibly less enchanting-and at the entrance to the creek, in the face of the town of Fowey, we shall find Rashleigh's ship.'
'You are very sure of yourself,' she said.
'I could not be a pirate if I were not. Can you climb cliffs?' he said.
'If you would lend me a pair of your breeches I could climb better,' she said.
'That is what I thought,' he told her, 'there is a pair belonging to Pierre Blanc on the bunk there, he keeps them for Saints' days and confession, so they should be clean enough. You can try them on directly. He can lend you a shirt too and stockings and shoes. You will not need a jacket, the night is too warm.'
'Shall I cut off my hair with a pair of scissors?' she said.
'You would look more like a cabin-boy perhaps, but I would rather risk capture than have you do it,' he answered.
She said nothing for a moment, for he was looking at her, and then, 'When we reach the shores of the creek, how do we get to the ship?' she asked.
'We will get to the creek first and then I will tell you,' he said.
He reached down for the plan, and folded it up, throwing it back in the locker, and she saw he was smiling to himself in his secret way.
'How long will it take you to change your clothes?' he asked.
'Five minutes or longer,' she said.
'I will leave you then. Come up on deck when you are ready. You will want something to tie up those ringlets.' He opened a locker drawer, and ruffling there a moment, drew out the crimson sash he had worn round his waist the night he had supped with her at Navron. 'Lady St. Columb becomes a highwayman and a mountebank for the second time in her life,' he said, 'but this time there won't be any old lady for you to frighten.'
Then he went out of the cabin, shutting the door behind him. When she joined him, some ten minutes later,
