And yet she
was far indeed from a correct surmise. The mockery in his countenance
was but a mask.
"Take no heed of my looks," he was saying. "I desire them up yonder to
think that I abuse you. Look as a man would who were being abused.
Cringe or snarl, but listen. Do you remember once when as lads we swam
together from Penarrow to Trefusis Point?"
"What do you mean?" quoth Lionel, and the natural sullenness of his mien
was all that Sakr-el-Bahr could have desired.
"I am wondering whether you could still swim as far. If so you might
find a more appetizing supper awaiting you at the end--aboard Sir John
Killigrew's ship. You had not heard? The Silver Heron is at anchor in
the bay beyond that headland. If I afford you the means, could you swim
to her do you think?"
Lionel stared at him in profoundest amazement. "Do you mock me?" he
asked at length.
"Why should I mock you on such a matter?"
"Is it not to mock me to suggest a way for my deliverance?"
Sakr-el-Bahr laughed, and he mocked now in earnest. He set his left foot
upon the rowers' stretcher, and leaned forward and down his elbow upon
his raised knee so that his face was close to Lionel's.
"For your deliverance?" said he. "God's life! Lionel, your mind was ever
one that could take in naught but your own self. 'Tis that has made a
villain of you. Your deliverance! God's wounds! Is there none but
yourself whose deliverance I might desire? Look you, now I want you to
swim to Sir John's ship and bear him word of the presence here of this
galeasse and that Rosamund is aboard it.
Pages:
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393