Across the deck came Don Juan de Narvaez, stately even in defeat. He bowed low to Don Manuel, lower still to Doña Dominica, and ignored Beauvallet. “Señor, the boat waits. Permit me to escort you.”
“Get you aboard, Señor Punctilio,” said Sir Nicholas. “Don Manuel sails with me.”
“No!” said Dominica. But it is very certain that she meant yes.
“I have no desire to jest with you, señor,” Don Juan said coldly. “Don Manuel de Rada naturally sails with me.”
A long finger beckoned to Don Juan’s guard. “Escort Don Juan to the long boat,” said Sir Nicholas.
“I do not stir from here without Don Manuel and his daughter,” said Narvaez, and struck an attitude.
“Take him away,” said Sir Nicholas, bored. “God speed you, señor.” Narvaez was led away, protesting. “Señora, be pleased to go aboard the Venture. Diccon, have their traps conveyed at once.”
Dominica braved him, to see what might come of it. “I will not go!” She clenched the dagger. “Constrain me at your peril!”
“A challenge?” inquired Beauvallet. “Oh, rash! I told you that I never refused a challenge.” He bore down upon her, and dodged, laughing, the dagger’s point. He caught her wrist, and had his other arm firmly clipped about her waist. “Cry peace, sweetheart,” he said, and took the dagger from her, and restored it to its sheath. “Come!” he said, tossed her up in his arms, and strode off with her to the quarterdeck.
Dominica forbore resistance. It would be useless, she knew, and her dignity would suffer. She permitted herself to be carried off, and liked the manner of it. They did not use such ready methods in Spain. There was great strength in the arm that upheld her, and the very carelessness of the man intrigued one. A strange, mad fellow, with an odd directness. One would know more of him.
She was carried down the companion into the waist, where the men were busy with the treasure—China silks, and linen-cloths, ingots of gold, bars of silver, and spices from the islands. “Robber!” said Dominica softly.
He chuckled. It was annoying. To the bulwarks he went, and she wondered how he would manage now. But he did it easily enough, with a hand on the shrouds, and a leap up. He stood poised a moment. “Welcome aboard the Venture, sweetheart!” he said audaciously, and climbed down with her safe tucked in his arm to his own poop-deck below.
She was set on her feet, ruffled and speechless, and saw her father being helped carefully down the side of the tall galleon. Don Manuel appeared to be both bewildered and amused.
“See them well bestowed, Diccon,” Beauvallet bade the fair youth, and went back the way he had come.
“Will it please you to come below, señora?” Dangerfield said shyly, and bowed to them both. “Your chests will be here anon.”
Don Manuel smiled a little wryly. “I think the man is either mad—or else—an odd, whimsical fellow, my daughter,” he remarked. “We shall doubtless learn which in time.”
II
Doña Dominica was escorted below decks, and led to a fair cabin which she guessed to be the home of Master Dangerfield, hurriedly evicted. She was left there alone, while Master Dangerfield took her father on to yet another cabin. She took stock of her surroundings, and was pleased to approve. There were mellow walls, oak-panelled, a cushioned seat under the porthole, a table with carved legs, a joint-stool, a fine Flanders chest, a cupboard against the bulkhead, and the bunk.
There was presently a discreet scratching on the door. She bade enter, and a small man with an inquisitive nose and very bravely curling mustachios insinuated his head into the room. Doña Dominica regarded him in silence. A pair of shrewd grey eyes smiled deprecatingly. “Permit that I bring your chests, señora,” said the newcomer in perfect Spanish. “Also your ladyship’s woman.”
“Maria!” called out Dominica joyfully.
The door was opened further to admit a plump creature who flew to her, and sobbed, and laughed. “Señorita! They have not harmed you!” She fell to patting Dominica’s hands, and kissing them.
“But where were you all this time?” Dominica asked.
“They locked me in the cabin, señorita! Miguel de Vasso it was! Serve him right that he took a grievous knock on the head! But you?”
“I am safe,” Dominica answered. “But what will happen to us I know not. The world’s upside down, I believe.”
The man with the mustachios came into the room and revealed a spare figure garbed in sober brown fustian. “Have no fear, señora,” said this worthy cheerfully. “You sail upon the Venture, and we do not harm women. Faith of an Englishman!”
“Who are you?” Dominica asked.
“I,” said the thin man, puffing out his chest, “am no less a person, señora, than Sir Nicholas Beauvallet’s own familiar servant, Joshua Dimmock, at your orders. Ho, there! bring on the baggage!” This was addressed to someone without. In a moment two younkers appeared laden, and dumped down their burdens upon the floor. They lingered, gaping at the lady, but Joshua waved his hands at them. “Hence, get hence, numskulls!” He hustled them out, and shut the door upon them. “Please you, noble lady, I will dispose.” He looked upon the mountain of baggage, laid a finger to his nose, skipped to the cupboard, and flung it open. The raiment of Master Dangerfield was exposed to Maria’s titters. Joshua swooped, came away with an armful of doublets and hose, and cast them into the alleyway outside the cabin. “Ho there! Avoid me these trappings!” he commanded, and the two women heard footsteps coming quickly in obedience to the summons. Joshua returned to the cupboard and swept it bare, flung out the boots and the pantoffles that stood ranged upon its floor, and stepped back to observe with pride the barrenness of his creating. “So!” The chest caught his eye; he went to it in
