"There is a demon spirit within her," whispered Dalton to himself; "the
sight of her sends me wild again. Devil that she is! so beautiful! so
well proportioned! Talk of the beauty of woman!--But I'll look to her no
more--I'll think of her no more!"
He again applied himself to the oar, and was pulling steadily towards
the ship, when his eye rested upon something black and round in the
water. Again he paused in his exertions, and lay-to: the substance
floated towards him. He would have shouted, but--no sailor is ever free
from superstitious qualms of one sort or another--he remained silent,
fixing his eye steadily upon the object. At last it came close, quite
close to the boat; and in another instant, Springall was seated in the
prow.
"Good God! Spring, what's the matter? are you mad? Has anything occurred
yonder?" exclaimed Dalton, somewhat alarmed.
"Hush!" replied the panting youth; "I can hardly breathe yet." The
Skipper was going to pull towards the ship; but the youth laid his hand
on that of his master, and ejaculated, "Wait!"
Dalton complied, and when Springall could speak, he communicated what
astonished the Buccaneer in no small degree:--He said that, having
hunted about for the strange blade to no purpose, he tacked off towards
the ship, and told Jeromio his master had found that the boy was no boy,
but a girl in disguise; that he therefore desired Jeromio to tell him
who she really was, as he had secreted her on ship-board, knowing
perfectly well she was neither deaf nor dumb:--That Jeromio said, as the
master had fished it up, there was no use in making any bones about the
matter; for how it happened was, that when they were lying off St.
Vallery, this girl, whom he believed to be a Jewess, offered him a large
sum of money if he would secrete her on board, at all events until the
ship sailed, and if--after concealment was impossible--he would not
betray her. She stipulated to be landed upon the Kentish coast; and
Jeromio added, that he was sure she had a design upon the life of
somebody, and it might be easily guessed who, as she prevailed on him to
show her the use and management of fire-arms, and had, besides, a
dagger, which she usually carried in her bosom:--That, as she wrote
English very imperfectly, she had bribed him to write a letter to
Mistress Cecil, saying that, before God, she was the wife of Sir
Willmott Burrell, and that if she (Mistress Cecil) persisted in marrying
him, she would be revenged!--That he (Jeromio) kept back this letter,
because he feared his hand-writing might eventually lead to a discovery
that he had been the means of bringing her to England.--Springall
detailed this intelligence in much less time than it has occupied us to
repeat it; and then pausing, added,-"But the worst is yet to come. Jeromio--Master, I was right about that
fellow!--had hardly finished this account, when a boat hove out, and, at
first, we thought it was you, but presently who should come on board but
Sir Willmott Burrell, as large as life! Well, Jeromio was precious
frightened, as you may suppose, and said it was to inquire after the
Jewess; but he took the Italian into your cabin, and--I can't but own I
was vastly anxious to know what they were saying----"