For Faith and Freedom

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER XLIV.

  A SCARE.

  There is between the condition of the mind and that of the body aninterdependence which cannot but be recognised by every physician.So greatly has this connection affected some of the modernphysicians, as to cause doubts in their minds whether there be anylife at all hereafter, or if, when the pulse ceases to beat, thewhole man should become a dead and senseless lump of clay. In this,they confuse the immortal soul with the perishable instruments ofbrain and body, through which in life it manifests its being andbetrays its true nature, whether of good or ill.

  Thus, the condition in which Robin now lay clearly corresponded, asI now understand, with the state of his mind induced by the newsthat Alice, to save his life, had been betrayed into marrying hiscousin. For at the hearing of that dreadful news he was seized withsuch a transport of rage (not against that poor innocent victim,but against his cousin) as threatened to throw him into madness;and on recovering from this access, he presently fell into a kindof despair, in which he languished during the whole voyage. So alsoin a corresponding manner, after a fever, the violence of whichwas like to have torn him to pieces, he fell into a lethargy, inwhich, though his fever left him, he continued to wander in hismind, and grew, as I could not fail to mark, daily weaker in hisbody, refusing to eat, though Alice brought him dainty broth ofchicken, delicate panadas of bread and butter, fruit boiled withsugar, and other things fit to tempt a sick man's appetite, providedby the goodness of Madam. This lady was in religion a Romanist; bybirth she was a Spanish Quadroon. To escape the slavery to whichthe colour of her grandmother doomed her, she escaped from Cuba andfound her way to Jamaica, where she met with our master. And whethershe was lawfully married unto him I will not, after her kindness toAlice and her faithfulness to myself as regards Robin, so much asask.

  Robin, therefore, though the fever left him, did not mend. On thecontrary, as I have said, he grew daily weaker; so that I marvelledat his lasting so long, and looked to see him die, as so many die,in the early morning, when there is a sharpness or eagerness in theair, and the body is exhausted by long sleep. Yet he died not.

  And now you shall hear how, through the Duke of Monmouth's ring, weescaped from our servitude. 'God grant,' said the Duke, 'that itbring thee good luck!' This was a light and unconsidered prayer,forgotten as soon as uttered, meant only to please the ear of achild. And yet, in a manner most marvellous to consider, it provedthe salvation of us all. What better luck could that ring cause thanthat we should escape from the land of Egypt--the House of Bondage?

  'I have disposed of the ring,' Barnaby told me a few days later.'That is to say, John Nuthall has secretly pledged it with amerchant for twenty guineas. He said that the ring belongs to aconvict; but many of them have brought such precious things withthem in order to buy their freedom. He owns that the stones arefine, and very willingly gave the money on their security.'

  'Then nothing remains,' I said, 'but to get away.'

  'John Nuthall has bought provisions and all we want, little bylittle, so as to excite no suspicion. They are secretly and safelybestowed, and half the money still remains in his hands. How goesRobin?'

  'He draws daily nearer to his grave. We cannot depart until eitherhe mends or dies. 'Tis another disaster, Barnaby.'

  'Ay; but of disaster we must not think. Robin will die. Yet our owncase may be as bad if it comes to scuttling the ship. Cheer up,lads; many men die, but the world goes on. Poor Robin! Every man forhimself and the Lord for us all. Sis will cry; but even if Robinrecovers he cannot marry her: a consideration which ought to comforther. And for him--since nothing else will serve him--it is best thathe should die. Better make an end at once than go all his life withhanging head for the sake of a woman, as if there are not plentywomen in the world to serve his turn.'

  'I know not what ails him that he does not get better. The air istoo hot for him; he hath lost his appetite. Barnaby,' I cried,moved to a sudden passion of pity such as would often seize me atthat time, 'saw one ever ruin more complete than ours? Had we beenfighting for Spain and the accursed Inquisition we could not havebeen more heavily punished. And we were fighting on the Lord's side!'

  'We were--Dad was with us too. And see how he was served! TheLord, it seems, doth not provide His servants with arms, or withammunition, or with commanders. Otherwise, the Duke this day wouldbe in St. James's Palace wearing his father's crown, and you wouldbe a Court physician with a great wig and a velvet coat, instead ofa Monmouth cap and a canvas shirt. And I should be an admiral. Butwhat doth it profit to ask why and wherefore? Let us first get clearof the wreck. Well; I wish we were to take Robin with us. 'Twill bea poor business going back to Bradford Orcas without him.'

  We waited, therefore, day after day, for Robin either to get betteror to die, and still he lingered, seemingly in a waste or decline,but such as I had never before seen; and I know not what would havehappened to him, whether he would have lived or died, but then therehappened a thing which caused us to wait no longer. It was this.

  The master having, according to his daily custom, gone the roundof his estate--that is to say, having seen his servants allat work under their drivers; some planting with the hoe, someweeding, some cutting the maize, some gathering yams, potatoes,cassavy, or bonavist for provisions, some attending the ingenioor the still-house--did unluckily take into his head to visit thesick-house. What was more unfortunate, this desire came upon himafter he had taken a morning dram, and that of the stiffest: not,indeed, enough to make him drunk, but enough to make him obstinateand wilful. When I saw him standing at the open door, I perceivedby the glassiness of his eyes and the unsteadiness of his shouldersthat he had already begun the day's debauch. He was now in a mostdangerous condition of mind. Later in the day, when he was moreadvanced in drink, he might be violent, but he would be much lessdangerous, because he would afterwards forget what he had said ordone in his cups.

  'So, Sir Doctor,' he said, 'I have truly a profitable pair ofservants!--one who pretends to cure everybody, and so escapes work;and your cousin, who pretends to be sick, and so will do none! Amighty bargain I made, truly, when I bought you both!'

  'With submission, sir,' I said, 'I have within the last week earnedfor your honour ten guineas' worth of fees.'

  'Well, that is as it may be. How do I know what hath gone into yourown pocket? Where is this malingering fellow? Make him sit up! Situp, I say, ye skulking dog; sit up!'

  'Sir,' I said, still speaking with the greatest humility, 'nobodybut the Lord can make this man sit up.' And, indeed, Robin did notcomprehend one word that was said.

  'I gave fifty pounds for him only a month ago. Am I to lose allthat money, I ask? Fifty pounds! because I was told that he was agentleman and would be ransomed by his family. Hark ye, Doctor, youmust either cure this man for me--or else, by the Lord! you shallhave his ransom added to your own. If he dies, I will double yourprice! Mark that!'

  I said nothing, hoping that he would depart. As for Alice, she hadturned her back upon him at his first appearance (as Madam hadordered her to do), so that he might not notice her.

  Unfortunately he did not depart, but came into the room, lookingabout him. Certainly he was not one who would suffer his servants tobe negligent, even in the smallest things.

  'Here is fine work!' he said. 'Sheets of the best--a pillow; whathath a servant to do with such luxuries?'

  'My cousin is a gentleman,' I told him, 'and accustomed to lie inlinen. The rug which is enough for him in health must have a sheetto it as well, now that he is sick.'

  'Humph! And whom have we here! Who art thou, madam, I wish to know?'

  Alice turned.

  'I am your honour's servant,' she said. 'I am employed in thissick-house when I am not in the sewing-room.'

  'A servant? Oh! madam, I humbly crave your pardon. I took you forsome fine lady. I am honoured by having such a servant. All the restof my women servants go in plain smock and petticoat. But,' herehe smiled, 'to so lovely a girl as Alice Eykin--fair Alice,
sweetAlice--we must give the bravest and daintiest. To thee, my dear,nothing can be denied. Those dainty cheeks, those white hands, werenever made to adorn a common coif. Mistress Alice, we must be betteracquainted. This is no fit place for you. Not the sick-house, butthe best room in my house shall be at thy service.'

  'Sir, I ask for nothing but to sit retired, and to render suchservice as is in my power.'

  'To sit retired? Why, that cannot be longer suffered. 'Twould bea sin to keep hidden any longer this treasure--this marvel, Isay, of beauty and grace. My servant! Nay; 'tis I--'tis the wholeisland--who are thy servants. Thou to render service! 'Tis for me,madam, to render service to thy beauty.' He took off his hat andflourished it, making a leg.

  'Then, sir,' said Alice, 'suffer me, I pray, to go about mybusiness, which is with this sick man, and not to hear compliments.'

  He caught her hand and would have kissed it, but she drew it back.

  'Nay, coy damsel,' he said; 'I swear I will not go without a kissfrom thy lips! Kiss me, my dear.'

  She started back, and I rushed between them. At that moment Madamherself appeared.

  'What do you here?' she cried, catching his arm. 'What has this girlto do with you? Come away! Come away, and leave her in peace!'

  'Go back to the house, woman!' he roared, breaking from her andflourishing his stick, so that I thought he was actually going tocudgel her. 'Go back, or it will be the worse for you. What? Am Imaster here or you? Go back, I say.'

  Then a strange thing happened. She made no reply, but she turnedupon him eyes so full of authority that she looked like a queen. Heshifted his feet, made as if he would speak, and finally obeyed, andwent out of the place to his own house with the greatest meekness,soberness, and quietness.

  Presently Madam came back.

  'I blame thee not, child,' she said. 'It is with him as I havetold thee. When he begins to drink the Devil enters into him. Dostthink he came here to see the sick man? No, but for thy fair eyes,inflamed with love as well as with drink. At such times no one canrule him but myself, and even I may fail. Keep snug, therefore.Perhaps he may forget thee again. But, indeed, I know not.'

  She sighed, and left us.