ven
if I had been the man to draw back after going so far; and I had a still
stronger reason for standing by the others to the bitter end. I could
not leave our lady to these ruffians. On the other hand, neither could I
take her from them, for (as you know) she justly regarded me as the most
flagrant ruffian of them all. It was in me and through me that she was
deceived, insulted, humbled, and contaminated; that she should ever have
forgiven me for a moment is more than I can credit or fathom to this
hour... So there we were. She would not look at me. And I would not
leave her until death removed me. Santos had been kind enough to her
hitherto; he had been kind enough (I understand) to her mother before
her. It was only in the execution of his plans that he showed his
Napoleonic disregard for human life; and it was precisely herein that
I began to fear for the girl I still dared to love. She took up an
attitude as dangerous to her safety as to our own. She demanded to be
set free when we came to land. Her demand was refused. God forgive me,
it had no bitterer opponent than myself! And all we did was to harden
her resolution; that mere child threatened us to our faces, never shall
I forget the scene! You know her spirit: if we would not set her free,
she would tell all when we landed. And you remember how Santos used to
shrug? That was all he did then. It was enough for me who knew him. For
days I never left them alone together. Night after night I watched her
cabin door. And she hated me the more for never leaving her alone! I had
to resign myself to that.

"The night we anchored in Falmouth Bay, thinking then of taking our gold
straight to the Bank of England, as eccentric lucky diggers--that night
I thought would be the last for one or other of us. He locked her in
her cabin. He posted himself outside on the settee. I sat watching him
across the table. Each had a hand in his pocket, each had a pistol in
that hand, and there we sat, with our four eyes locked, while Harris
went ashore for papers. He came back in great excitement. What with
stopping at Madeira, and calms, and the very few knots we could knock
out of the schooner at the best of times, we had made a seven or eight
weeks' voyage of it from Ascension--where, by the way, I had arrived
only a couple of days before the Lady Jermyn, though I had nearly a
month's start of her. Well, Harris came back in the highest state of
excitement: and well he might: the paper