But though the Bold Adventuress rolled thus helplessly becalmed, upon her lofty poop paced Absalom Troy, sword in fist, leisured of step, serene though watchful of eye: behind her stout bulwarks crouched desperate men who gripped ready steel, eager for battle; amidships stood their grim-faced officers glancing now at the oncoming foe and now up at that slow-pacing, glittering figure on the poop, awaiting his expected signal.
From the galleys, now rapidly approaching, came a sudden, wild clamour of voices, a ferocious howling,—upon the Bold Adventuress was no sound except the rattle of blocks and flapping of useless canvas; then the enemy's fierce hubbub was lost in the roar of their artillery followed by instant crash of splintering timbers ... a man screamed, leapt afoot, staggered blindly across the deck spattering blood and so fell, and lay dreadfully motionless and silent.
"Oh God ... of mercy!" gasped Antonia. "Is that ... death?"
"Ay, I fear so," answered Adam. "Come, let us begone."
"Oh ... but whither?"
Adam, glancing up, saw Absalom lift his sword, heard Smy's harsh voice cry "Fire!"—heard Bo'sun Ned's answering bellow.... Then from the ship's high, embattled side gushed smoke and flame with thunderous roar, shaking the stout vessel from stem to stern, and the foremost galley, smitten by this point-blank broadside, checked and broached to,—her lofty sail was swept away in flappy ruin, and as the powder-smoke blotted her out, rose a joyous, full-throated English cheer drowned in the crashing salvo of the second galley that smote the Adventuress forward and with deadly effect, for from the forecastle came screams and savage cries drowned by another rousing cheer and rattle of musketry fire.
"Come!" shouted Adam, above the increasing din. "Come, Antonia!" Seizing her hand, he urged her across quivering deck, down the wide companion and through the choking reek of dim gun-deck where by light of the battle lanthorns misted in swirling smoke, half-naked men were reloading the great pieces while little powder boys pattered to and fro. Amid all this seeming confusion Adam led the way, pausing only to snatch down one of the lanthorns, and, lighted by this flickering beam, went on—down to the orlop and thence down yet again into the comparative quiet of the great hold piled high with cargo of all sorts, lashed and battened trimly against the ship's rolling. Here, reaching a kind of small embayment amid this stowage, Adam paused to set the lanthorn very carefully in place of safety and so, to look at Antonia and she at him, while above them the battle clamoured ever louder, a tumultuous, never-ceasing uproar pierced now and then by the splintering shock of shot-riven timbers, hoarse cries, thin wailings or the deafening thunder of John Fenn's crashing broadsides. At last, leaning near, she spoke:
"Adam, shall you fight?"
"Can you doubt it, Antonia?"
"No. But why are we here?"
"I bring you to safety."
"And lose your labour, my foolish Adam, for I am no more in love with safety than are you, or ... Absalom Troy, and so will share all perils with you."
"Nay now," sighed Adam, looking on her lovely, resolute face but listening to that dreadful clamour above them, "no woman should front such dangers."
"Howbeit, my Adam, since I must needs seem a man I'll act like a man and fight."
"Not so, Antonia, you will, as I trust, remain here,—'tis Absalom's command."
"Oh! Well, now, his commands shall never bind me, for I despise the man. And besides——"
"Ay and besides, Anthony, I ask this of thee also."
"Then no to you, Adam, because you are my very dear and only friend and I had liefer die beside you to-day, since die I surely must someday, than bide here and you be killed and I left desolate. Indeed, I fear death no more than you,—for what have I to live for? I am but a poor waif of the wind to be blown hither and yon! What hath life for wretched me that I should fear to lose it?"
"Love!" he answered. "Wife and motherhood! Twas for this God made thee, Antonia, and 'tis for this you should cherish life. And 'tis for this I now beseech you from my heart to bide safe here and suffer that I now go to my duty doing my poor best, the best I may, against our enemies, leaving the hereafter to God. So now will you promise me to stay here in safety, will you on your honour pledge me this?"
"Yes," she answered in weeping tones, "yes, I promise thee, Adam. Go to thy duty and 'stead of me, I pray God shall go beside thee, dear Adam. Give me thy hand."
"My dear ... ah no ..." he gasped for, seizing his hand, she was kissing it. "Nay.... Oh, Antonia——" For now she was kissing his brow, his mouth—lips that kissed her again ... arms that, for a moment, clasped and held her close. Then he drew away, but in his bright eyes a new and very joyous brightness.
"Antonia," said he, raising her hand to his lips, "in this hour ... with death all about us, it is but honourable I should tell how that ... Absalom loves thee also."
"He?" she repeated, in strange, breathless manner, "Absalom? Oh!" And shrinking back, she covered her face between quick hands. But in this face, this murmurous cry, Adam read the very truth and stood awhile rigid and dumb.
"Now God keep you," he muttered, at last. "God bless you ... both of you!"
Then Adam turned from her and stumbled away into the darkness.
CHAPTER XVIII
TELLS HOW THEY FOUGHT
Up to the battle, to baleful roar and tumult went Adam, going slowly, heavy burdened by this sudden knowledge of irreparable loss and a grief far beyond words, and one indeed that never must be spoken; and, mingled with this pain, a fierce envy of Absalom for his bodily strength and comely, all-conquering manhood.
So came Adam to the gundeck thick with smoke, to slip in blood that fouled the littered planks, to stumble over prone shapes that writhed groaning, or lay dreadfully still and mute. But presently amid the eddying smoke he glimpsed a face he knew despite blood and grime of battle, and cried aloud:
"Ho, John ... John Fenn! Canst use me, John?"
"Ay, I can, sir, I can," answered the Master Gunner, wiping sweat from his eyes. "Number Four is short-handed ... Frant's gun, forrard yonder. Martin'll show ye what to do—if he's yet alive. 'Tis pretty hot, sir, pretty hot."
Forward to Number Four went Adam, crying above the furious clamour:
"Frant.... Oh, Martin Frant, show me what I must do to help you." And a grim shape black with powder, answered cheerily:
"What, is 't you, Mast'r Adam! Lord love ee now here's a ploy. Lay on to this yere tackle, sir, and heave. My lads be all down but two, and she's a heavy piece is Number four. Heave now ... heave all and cheerily—yo—ho—ho!"
Thus Adam hove and wrought and laboured with Martin and his two remaining men at Number Four until he gasped and sweated in his heavy corselet and yearned to be rid of it, but found no time to loose and unbuckle.
"Martin, where's ... little Smidge?"
"Dunno, sir. He was hereabout, but now,—I dunno."
Smoke and thunderous roar of guns ... shivering crash and shock of shot-riven timbers ... shouts and cries ... groans and a dreadful screaming. A vision of Martin calmly altering his gun's elevation ... blowing on his match ... giving fire ... smoke and flame and thunder. A glimpse of Martin peering out and down through reeking gun-port ... turning hand at mouth to haiclass="underline"
"Ahoy, Master Fenn, they'm below us, sir ... out o' range. They'm alongside. Ho, Master Fenn, they'm boarding of us!" And then John Fenn's answering haiclass="underline"
"Gunners, stand by! In guns all! Close and bar all ports! Is 't done, lads?"
"Ay, ay, sir! All 's fast and snug, sir."
"Then pikes and cutlasses! Aloft to repel boarders. Follow me!"
A coughing scramble amid the smoke; a trampling of hasty feet; a surge of eager, half-naked bodies up the wide companion, up from smoke and gloom, out into blinding sunglare, to pause a moment with dazzled eyes and then to behold a dreadful sight of prone bodies trampled on blood-spattered deck by men who fought desperately, thrusting and hewing at wild figures that swarmed the bulwarks, a howling fury of attack. And into this merciless battle leapt John Fenn followed by his smoke-grimed gun crews, and with them Adam.... Cut and parry and darting thrust, blow on blow until arm wearied and breath failed.
Somewhere in the reeling press Adam heard Bo'sun Ned's hoarse bellow, and fighting thitherward, glimpsed him at last, a ghastly figure of slaughter plying great axe with terrible effect. Cut and parry and darting thrust until, loud above the raving din, rose Absalom's breathless but right jubilant cry:
"By God ... we have 'em! To it, lads ... at 'em, old seadogs, point and edge ... sa-ha!"
A breathless cheer ... clash of random steel ... a vision of Sir Benjamin's plump visage pale now and agonized ... a tall figure that choked horridly and went down.... Then Adam was hurled backwards ... was kicked, trampled, felt pain, felt sickness ... felt—nothing.