The Lady and the Pirate by Emerson Hough (best new books to read txt) 📕

remarked L’Olonnois at the breakfast table the next morning, “and where is the captive maiden?”

“I do not know,” was my answer. “Better go find out, Jimmy.”

He departed, but presently, returned somewhat troubled.

“My Auntie Helen,” said he, “I mean the captive maid, why, she says she’s got a headache and don’t want no breakfast.”

“Not even a grapefruit and a cup of coffee?” I demanded, anxiously and, it must be admitted, somewhat guiltily; for I knew that the soul of Helena was grieved and whatever the trouble, the fault was my own. Surely I had placed the poor captive in a most difficult position, and loving her as I did, how could I continue to give her discomfort? My resolution almost weakened. I was considerably disturbed.

And yet as I faced the alternative of setting her free, and once more taking up the aimless and unhappy life I had led these last three years without sight of her, something—I suppose the great selfishness which lies under love—rose up and said me nay; and I began to make excuses in favor of my desire, as that, surely, soon she would come to a more reasonable way of thought. And in one thing, at least, I was honest with myself, deceitful as are lovers with themselves, and arguing ever in their own favor—I did not know why Helena had wept, and it was perhaps my right to know.

One selfishness with another, I resolved to go on with this matter, though knowing full well how difficult would be my battle with her, how unequal; for I was armed only with a great love, backed by no art at all, whereas, she merely would continue to unmask against me new batteries of defense—severe politeness, formality with me; laughter and scornfulness of me; anger, pitifulness, at last even tears; and always the dread assault of her eyes, and the scent of her hair and the sweet wistfulness of her mouth,—all, all the charms of all women united in her one self, to attack, to assail, to harass, and to make wholly wretched the man who loved her more than anything in life, and who was driven almost to using any means, so only that she might not be away, not be out of sense and sight; as out of mind and out of heart she never more might be. So that, all in all, it were, indeed, hard question whether she or I were the more wretched. Surely grapefruit and toast and coffee seemed to me but inventions of the powers of darkness at that breakfast.

Not so my hardy mates, however, who ate with the keen appetite of youth, from fruit through bacon and toast and back again, both talking all the while. Nor, as the event proved, altogether unwisely. Indeed, it was stout Jean Lafitte who resolved my doubts, and by suggesting the simple medicine of action rather than meditation, sufficed for the removal of one of my two minds.

“What ho! Black Bart,” said he, after his third helping of bacon, “why does our good ship lie here idle at her anchor?” Question direct, like Jean himself, and demanding direct answer.

“Ask Captain Peterson,” said I. “He perhaps can tell where we can get more gasoline.”

“No, he can’t. I asked him this morning.”

“Then ’twould seem we must lie here all winter, unless discovered by some relief expedition.”

“Why don’t we start a relief expedition of our own?” demanded he.

“And how?”

“Why, me and Willy, the deck-hand, we’ll take the long boat an’ go out an’ explore this region roundabout. Somebody may have gasoline somewhere, and if so, we can git it, can’t we?”

“Your idea is excellent, Jean Lafitte,” said I. “Within the hour you shall set forth to see whether or not there is any settlement on this bayou. And that you may not need use violence when secrecy is our wish, here is a fat purse for our stores. And hasten, for of a truth, Jean Lafitte, I am most aweary of this very morning, and I long to see the white seas roll once more.”

It was determined, therefore, that we should fare onward—in case we could fare at all—with our ship’s company as it now was; for, of course, none but myself knew what was afoot between Black Bart and his captive. And well enough I knew that in keeping Helena Emory thus close to me, I was breeding sleepless nights and anxious days.

This day itself was anxious enough, nor could all of Epictetus teach me calm philosophy, distracted as I was over this situation, complex as it was. As to the fortune of the long boat, we knew nothing until, at three of the afternoon, I saw a white speck of a sail round the bend of our bayou, and saw that was hoisted, spirit fashion, over our boat, which now, with following wind, rapidly drew in toward us.

“It’s all right,” called out Jean Lafitte, when he came within hail; and I saw now that he, indeed, had a boat’s load of gasoline in tanks, cans and all manner of receptacles.

“Town and a store, down there five miles,” he explained as I caught his gunwale with boat hook. “You can git anything there. Now, the Giants an’ the Cubs, why, they tied in the ’leventh inning yesterday. An’ say——”

“Enough,” said I, “let me hear nothing of the cursed Giants or the yet more accursed Cubs, for I have more serious work afoot! Tell me, is there a bar cutting off the other end of the bayou; and how long is the bayou?”

“Sixteen miles,” answered the useful Lafitte, “an’ she seems like good water all the way. They say there’s seven foot on the bar, and the wood boats run in and out.”

“Good! And did you tell them who you were, and why you wanted gasoline?”

“No. I only said our automobeel was broke down, an’ we wanted the baseball scores. That was all. They ast who was we. I said you was John Doe—you see, I didn’t want to tell your real name, so I didn’t say Black Bart.”

“And you didn’t mention our boat?”

“Of course not! Whose business is it what pirates does? They strike hardest when least expected. To-night we can run in an’ rob the store, easy.”

“Jean!” I cried, horrified, “what do you mean? Let me hear no more such talk, or by my halidom! back you go to your home by first train. I’ll not be responsible for the ruin of any boy’s morals in this way.”

“Well what do you think about that, Jimmy!” said Jean, somewhat cast down and much mystified. “Ain’t we pirates, an’ don’t pirates live on booty?”

“Booty enough you have in your boat, Jean,” said I, “and let us get it aboard and in our tanks, for to-night we sail.”

“For to rob the store?” anxiously.

“No, once more for the Spanish Main, my hearties! I seek a greater treasure; and plenty of danger, believe me, lies between here and there.”

“When’ll we start?” queried L’Olonnois eagerly.

“To-night, at six bells. Make all ready,” was my reply.

And that very night, with our search-light half covered, and at slow speed and with the sounding lead going, Peterson felt his way out from our moorings and along the full length of Henry’s Bayou, silently as he might. We saw few signs of life beyond now and then a distant light in some negro cabin, and with all the lights doused we swept by like a ghost in the night, along the front of the plantation at whose store my men had got their gasoline. At last we broke open the lower end of the bayou, which, coming in from the main stream in a long open reach, showed like a lane of faint light in the forest; and to my great relief presently, felt the current of the great stream pick us up, and saw the channel lights ahead, so that we knew we might for a time, at least, advance in safety.

In all this work, my two faithful lieutenants were awake and alert; but I saw nothing of Helena that day, nor had message either from her or her aunt in the full round of twenty-four hours since last we met. Had she sought deliberately to repay me for the grief I caused her, Helena could have devised no better plan than her silence and her absence from my sight, after what time I had seen her weep.

Suddenly a thought of more practical sort came to my mind. “Jimmy,” I called.

“Aye, aye, Sir;” and L’Olonnois saluted.

“You remember all those bottles floating around in the bayou—did you take them all up?”

“Aye, aye, Sir, an’ she throwed a lot more in, out o’ the cabin window. I was shootin’ at ’em with the twenty-two, an’ busted some.”

“But not all?”

“Oh, no, some was left.”

“And we sailed away, leaving there, no doubt, the full story of our voyage.”

“Like enough,” said L’Olonnois. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Nor I. For once, the vigilance of Black Bart faltered, L’Olonnois, and he must yet, mayhap, make better amends for his fault. Full speed ahead, now, Peterson,” I added later as I went forward. “Run for New Orleans and with all you can get out of her.”

“Very good, Mr. Harry,” said the old man; and I could feel the throb of her whole superstructure, from stack to keelson, when he called on the double-sixties of the Belle Helène for all their power. Nor did any seek to stay us in our swift rush down the river.

CHAPTER XXII IN WHICH I WALK AND TALK WITH HELENA

IT was nine of as fine a winter morning as the South ever saw when at last, having passed without pause all intervening ports, we found ourselves at the city of New Orleans. Rather, in the vicinity of that city; for when we reached the railway ferry above the town, I ran alongshore and we made fast the Belle Helène at a somewhat precarious landing place. I now called Peterson to me.

“It’s a fine morning, Peterson,” said I.

“Yes, sir, but I think ’tis going to rain.” (Peterson was always gloomy.)

“You must go down-town, Peterson,” said I. “The through train from the West is late and just now is coming into the ferry. You can take it easily. We have got to have still more gasoline, for there is a long trip ahead of us, and I am not sure what may be the chance for supplies below the city.”

“Are you going into the Gulf, Mr. Harry?”

“Yes, Peterson. You will continue to navigate the boat; and, meantime, you may be quartermaster also. I shall be obliged to remain here until you return.”

The old man touched his cap. “Very good, sir, but I’m almost sure not to return.”

“Listen, Peterson,” I went on, well used to his customary depression of soul, “go to the ship’s furnisher, Lavallier and Thibodeau, toward the Old Market. Tell them to have all our supplies at slip K, below the railway warehouses, not later than nine this evening. We want four drums of gasoline. Also, get two thousand rounds of ammunition for the twelve gages, ducking loads, for we may want to do some shooting. We also want two or three cases of grapefruit and oranges, and any good fresh vegetables in market. All these things must be ready on the levee at nine, without fail. Here is my letter of credit, and a bank draft, signed against it—I think you will find they know me still.”

The old man touched his cap again but hesitated. “I’m sure to be asked something,” he said somewhat nervously.

“Say nothing about any change of ownership of this boat, Peterson, and don’t even give the boat’s name, unless you must. Just say we will meet their shipping