I close my eyes, and I see the sunshine
hot and bright, the blue of the skies, the sheen of the river. The
sails are white again upon boats long lost; the Santa Teresa, sunk
in a fight with an Algerine rover two years afterward, rides at
anchor there forever in the James, her crew in the waist and the
rigging, her master and his mates on the poop, above them the
flag. I see the plain at our feet and the crowd beyond, all staring
with upturned faces; and standing out from the group of perplexed
and wondering dignitaries a man in black and scarlet, one hand
busy at his mouth, the other clenched upon the newly restored and
unsheathed sword. And I see, standing on the green hillock, hand
in hand, us two, myself and the woman so near to me, and yet so
far away that a common enemy seemed our only tie.
We turned and descended to the green lane and the deserted
houses. When we were quite hidden from those we had left on the
bank below the fort, she dropped my hand and moved to the other
side of the lane; and thus, with never a word to spare, we walked
sedately on until we reached the minister's house.
CHAPTER IX IN WHICH TWO DRINK OF ONE CUP
WAITING for us in the doorway we found Master Jeremy
Sparrow, relieved of his battered armor, his face wreathed with
hospitable smiles, and a posy in his hand.
"When the Spaniard turned out to be only the King's minion, I
slipped away to see that all was in order," he said genially.
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