Martin Conisby

"Avast, Dick!" said he, smiting himself on ragged breast. "This bean't poor Jerry--poor Jerry ain't half his size--a little man be Jeremy, not so big as Sir Adam--"

"Who!" cried I and, dropping my gun, I caught him by his ragged sleeve, whereupon he grinned foolishly, then as suddenly scowled and wrenched free. "Speak, man!" said I in passionate pleading. "Is it Sir Adam Penfeather you mean--Captain Penfeather?"

"Maybe I do an' maybe I don't, so all's one!" said he. "Howsomever, 'tis Jerry I'm arter--my mate Jeremy as went adrift from me--my mate Jerry as could sing so true, but I was the lad to dance!" And here he must needs fall a-dancing in his rags, singing hoarsely: "Heave-ho, lads, and here's my ditty! Saw ye e'er in town or city A lass to kiss so sweet an' pretty As Bess o' Bednall Green.

"Heave-ho, lads, she's one to please ye Bess will kiss an' Bess will--"

"Oho, Jerry--Jeremy--ahoy--haul your wind, lad; bear up, Jerry, an' let Dick come 'longside ye, lad--!" and here the poor wretch, from singing and dancing, falls to doleful wailing with gush of tears and bitter sobs.

"Tell me," said I as gently as I might and laying a hand on his hairy shoulder, "who are you--the name of your ship--who was your captain?"

But all I got was a scowl, a sudden buffet of his fist, and away he sped, raising again his hoarse and plaintive cry: "Ahoy, Jerry--Jeremy, ho!"

And thus, my mind in a ferment, I must needs watch him go, torn at by briars, tripped by unseen obstacles, running and leaping like the poor, mad thing he was.

Long I stood thus in painful perplexity, when I heard a sudden dreadful screaming at no great distance: "Oh, Jerry--Oh, Jerry, lad--what ha' they done to thee--Oh, Christ Jesus!"

Then came a ringing shot, and guessing what this was I turned away, "Atlamatzin," said I, taking up my musket, "you spake truth--verily this place is accursed--come, let us begone!"

For long hours I strode on, scarce heeding my silent companion or aught else, my mind pondering the mention this poor, mad wretch had made of "Sir Adam," and ever my trouble grew, for if he and the dead man Jeremy were indeed of Adam's company (the which I suspected) how should they come thus lost in the wild, except Adam had met with some disaster, and were this truly so indeed, then what of my dear and gentle lady? And now I must needs picture to myself Adam slain, his men scattered and, for Joan, such horrors that it was great wonder I did not run mad like this poor, lost mariner. Tormented thus of my doubts and most horrid speculations, I went at furious speed, yet ever my fears grew the more passionate until it grew beyond enduring and I sighed and groaned, insomuch that my Indian comrade stood off, eyeing me askance where I had cast myself miserably beside the way.