CHAPTER XVII

THE SIGN

I was left alone with Jenny, and found her glaring at me white with anger. I was startled and fell back from her, for it seemed for a moment as though her father's madness had descended upon her, and that I was to be whirled into another storm of frenzy. But as she gazed at me, her fierce eyes blazing, I soon came to realize that nothing worse than anger possessed her, and I wasn't long in learning the cause of it.

"You would kill my daddy," she said with sharp emphasis, still fixing me with her gaze.

"Jenny!" I answered weakly.

"Yes, you would shoot my daddy," she continued relentlessly, "you would shoot him: and he loves you."

What was I to say? I advanced towards her, but she stepped back, and said fiercely, "I hate you!"

I stood still, my mind in a maze. It seemed so utterly unreasonable. Surely she knew I had been in danger of my life? I began to stammer something to that effect, but she stamped her foot and cried, "I hate you, I hate you!"

"Then I shall shoot myself," I answered, holding the pistol at my heart.

She watched me without a word, and at last as I still delayed said, "Well, when?"

I think I was as near death at that moment as I have ever been, for a sudden rage welled up in my heart, a rage of self-pity at Jenny's unreasonable reproach, and my finger had tightened on the trigger; but whether I really heard it, or whether it was an idle illusion, I can't say, but from far away I thought I heard the faintest echo of a whistle, and I recognized a few notes of a sailor's chantey such as my father had used to sing. The pistol dropped to my side, and I stood listening. I hardly heard Jenny saying, "You see, you daren't." For the moment my mind was elsewhere; but the sound had gone.

I turned again to Jenny. "Good-bye," I said, and made towards the door.

"Tommy," she cried after me in her imperious way, "where are you going?"

"Away," I answered.

"Where?"

"A long way away. I shall never see you again."

"Tommy!"

I was at the door, and had no intention of turning back, but the sudden change of tone from anger to tearful appeal swung me round against my will, and before I knew what I was doing I was at her side.

"What?" I asked.

"Are you going to leave me, Tommy?" she said; and her voice was gentle enough now.

I realized I had been fooled, and answered shortly; "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you hate me." I couldn't resist the retort.

"I don't hate you," she declared.

"You said you did," I threw back, not meaning to be easily appeased, and itching, moreover, to be away after that summoning whistle.

"Only if you hate daddy," she said.

"He...." I began in self-justification; but she wouldn't listen.

"He loves you," she cut in. "And it's only the bad man who makes him like that." Then she seemed fired by a sudden inspiration. "Tommy," she cried, "you find the bad man."

"Then I'll kill him," I declared easily.

"Promise?" she said, gazing up eagerly into my eyes.

"I'll start now," I answered, and walked out of the room. And as soon as I was out of the house I raced at full speed to where I thought I had heard the whistle. But though I searched for an hour or more, whistling odd snatches of melody which I knew my father would recognize if he were near, yet I saw no one, except indeed one immense fellow swinging up the shadowy road towards Rancey Bridge. But he was too huge to have been my father. I watched him pass on into the night; and then I thought I heard the whistling begin again. I listened, but it was merely the stranger who had just passed me. I felt a sinking of heart, for I thought I had been tricked by a mischievous spirit.

I walked back slowly to the great dark house, feeling lonely and miserable; for though I knew the Captain was fond of me, yet I never felt safe in his presence; and Jenny was stupidly unreasonable, blaming me for defending myself against a madman. I knew now that I wanted my father; for the sudden hope of seeing him again had been cruelly dashed, and my heart was left bleeding as though from a wound.

I crept upstairs to my room, a little chamber next to Jenny's which had been fitted up for me, intending to sleep till the first of the morning, and then to steal away from that accursed house and make tracks for the _Dolphin_. But Jenny had heard me return; and I heard my door opened, and her voice whispering to me through the dark, for I hadn't lit my candle: "Tommy, did you find him?"

"No," I said.

"But you will find him?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

I thought she had gone, but she had glided silently up to me where I lay on my bed still dressed; and I felt her lips pressed passionately to mine, murmuring, "There, I don't hate you, Tommy."

I was in no mood for kissing. Indeed these sudden whims of quarrelling and caressing, unaccountable hate melting into unaccountable tenderness, baffled me. It was perplexing; it savoured of madness. It seemed to me that the Captain's blood ran very freely in Jenny's veins. I was bewildered by her moods and transformations, and began to wish for the fresher atmosphere of my father's companionship.

I merely said, "Very well," and turned on my side.

She left me, and I thought I heard a faint whimper. What now, I wondered. But the handle turned and the latch clicked; she had gone.

I was away early, snatching a bite of breakfast in the larder, and stocking my pockets with morsels for the road, for I didn't know where or how I was to get my next meal. As I left the gate I should have turned south straight away, but I knew if I turned north for a hundred yards I should have another sight of Jenny's window. I didn't stop to ask myself why I should want another sight of Jenny's window. Perhaps I rather reproached myself for my coldness to her the night before when she so evidently wanted to heal the wound she had dealt me. However that might be, the fact remains recorded against me that I yielded to the unreasoning prompting of my heart to throw a farewell kiss to her window before I started again on my travels, with our next meeting shrouded somewhere in the mists ahead.

I reached the heap of stones where I had hidden from the false-legged beggarman, and gazed back at the house. I could see Jenny's window, black among the ivied stone. But as I looked a white figure appeared there, and I knew it was Jenny. I sprang on to the pile of stones and waved my hands. She saw me, and waved in return. For a moment a strange unaccustomed thrill ran along my blood, and I thought I would go back to her for a warmer leave-taking. But she had gone; and at that moment I heard stealthy steps approach me. I looked round, to see the officers Worthing had warned me of. I sprang from the pile and ran, but there was a third who had cut off my retreat, and I was hopelessly trapped. My arms were tied behind me, and with threats and proddings I was marched away for Rancey Bridge.

The reverse from freedom to captivity was so sudden that I was numbed by it and couldn't think. It seemed like the kind of thing that happened in nightmares. I should awake soon and find it all an ugly fancy. But one consoling thought re-echoed through my mind: at least Jenny hadn't seen.

It was some time before my brain began to work again. So overwhelmed was I that the blow seemed final and irretrievable. I could see nothing beyond the cell they were haling me to, though that I could see clearly enough. And it wasn't the horror of the thing that appalled me; I could face that. The loneliness and the dark meant little to me. Rather it was the loss of my liberty that oppressed me. A moment before, and I was my own master; I was off for the _Dolphin_ and the delights of a summer-time with my father, though I hadn't considered very deeply upon what foundations my hopes had been built. Still, here I was with nothing but the prospect of four walls about me, closing me in and shutting out the wonderful air of heaven and the sound and beauty of the sea.

I remember I experienced one pang of conscience, for a voice said that this was retribution for trying to deceive Jenny. I had left her, pretending to seek for her father's foe, when in reality I was merely bent on finding my own father, and having found him I should in all probability have forgotten Jenny and her mission.

But little by little my spirit revived, and I told myself they couldn't imprison me for ever; and once free of the cells I should know well enough how to make my escape from Rancey Bridge.

We were in the village at last. There was a crowd in the street blocking up the way so that one of the officers had to push ahead to clear a passage. If my wits had been clearer I should have asked myself what could have called a crowd together at this time of the morning; for it was early, though the sun had risen. Then some one called "Hullo, Tommy!" and I saw the faces of my schoolmates about me. Of course they had been out for their morning run. I told myself that the morning run would be a good time to make my next escape. But they had stopped in their run; something had caught their attention. I heard laughter, and peering into the heart of the throng saw by glimpses a beggarman who seemed to be yarning volubly to an admiring mob. There were three rows of military decorations across his breast. An old soldier, I thought. Then he moved forward a step, and I caught the _clop_ of a wooden leg. I glanced swiftly, and recognized the one-legged impostor I had seen at his trickery.

So, I thought, a rogue like that may enjoy his liberty, while every one thinks him a hero, but I must go on my way to a cell! I don't remember having felt so bitterly in my life before. Nor was my sense of injustice appeased when he caught my eye and slowly winked at me, as though realizing full well that our places should have been reversed.

All this took but a moment's time, and the officers having cleared a path jerked me forward. I lost sight of the old humbug. But suddenly he started singing, and his words sent the blood leaping to my heart:

"'Twas at Ebb-Tide Cave by the Smugglers' Gate, At the dawn of a summer's day; And there those happy lovers met, All on the first of May."

I heard him cry merrily, "Would you like to hear the story of that, m'lads?" and the boys shouted for the narrative. I turned my face away so that no one should see my sudden emotion, but only to meet the eyes of Worthing watching me intently, while the old soldier's voice still echoed the refrain, for my benefit I knew:

"All on the first of May, My dear, All on the first of May."

Worthing's face showed no sign of comprehension; but I knew that he knew.

I began wondering what the date might be, but had no notion, except that it must be well on in April. The first of May! How could I be at Ebb-Tide Cave by the first of May?

The full meaning of my calamity was borne in upon me as by a great wave. The gripping hands of the officers seemed like chains of adamant about my arms, relentless and unbreakable.