Father. It had had a new addition built onto it, and it was freshly painted. The ship the man left was two-masted, but the second mast had been snapped off a third of its length from the deck, and a spar lashed to the stump. The rest of the ship was sadly battered also; there were gaps in her railing, hasty patches on her sides and her deck; most of the forward cabin had been torn away, and canvas sheeting turned the remains into a sort of tent. The men who manned her were ragged and hollow-eyed, nor were there many of them; but they stood to attention with a pride that showed in their faces and in their bearing. Several men from the shore came hurrying up to the one who had just stepped off the ship. They made a curious contrast: These men were stout and healthy, and well-dressed. The man they confronted was much taller than they, but thin and pale as if he had been very ill recently and had not yet fully recovered. His black hair was streaked with white.
“Please excuse me, masters,” he said; “we lost both our skiffs over the side during storms. I thought it would be best to tie up at the dock rather than trust to luck in hailing another ship in the harbour. You see,” he added with a grin, “I’m afraid we’ve lost our anchor also, and the old tub is leaking so fast that I thought it would be well that my men be near enough to leap ashore when the time comes. We’re not fit for much swimming.”
I recognized the grin when I hadn’t recognized the man. It was Robbie.
“But who are you, sir?” said one of the men who approached him.
“My name is Robert Tucker, and my ship—what’s left of her—is the White Raven. I sail—or I used to—for Roderick Huston. I set out six years ago with three other ships: the Stalwart, the Windfleet, and the Fortune’s Chance. I’m afraid we ran into rather more trouble than we were expecting.” I couldn’t see the faces of the men he was talking to. One young lad, dressed like an office boy, detached himself from the group and ran off to spread the news. After a pause, Robbie went on: “Can you tell me what’s become of the other three? We lost track of them entirely, four years ago, during a storm—the first storm,” he said wryly. “And where might I find Mr. Huston? Things have changed, I see, since we’ve been gone,” and he nodded towards the warehouse I had noticed. “He must have written us off long since. We’ve not been anywhere that we could well send a message from. I tried, once or twice, but I don’t suppose they ever arrived.”
And then the mist obliterated the picture once again, and I found myself staring at the top of a table in a dark room in the Beast’s castle, “Robbie,” I said. “He’s come home—he’s alive! And Grace doesn’t know—oh dear—Beast,” I said, turning to him, “is what I’m seeing happening now? Has Robbie only just docked? And Grace only just had her conversation with Hope?”
The Beast nodded.
“Then it’s not too late,” I said. “Yet. Oh dear. If Robbie sets out for Blue Hill today it’ll take him nearly two months—and he wouldn’t, besides: He’ll stay and see to the ship, and his men. And he’s not well—you can see that just by looking at him. I wonder if he’ll even send a message. You can never tell with these desperately honour-bound people; he may think he has to put it off for some reason. Oh dear,” I said. I walked away from the table, and paced up and down the room several times. The Beast wiped a cloth carefully over the table and then sat down in the big chair near it, but I was preoccupied and paid him little attention. “Grace must be told. If she gets herself engaged to that young minister—if she even feels that she’s encouraged him to believe that she would accept his suit—she’ll go through with it. She’ll feel she must, Robbie or no Robbie.
“Beast—could you send her a dream—telling her about Robbie?”
He shifted in his chair. “I could try, but I doubt that I would be successful. And even if I were, she would not believe it.”
“Why? Father believes.”
“Yes, but he wants to—and there are the roses that remind him that there is some magic at work. Grace often dreams that Robbie is safely home. She knows that the dreams are wraiths of her own love, and so she has trained herself not to believe. She would not believe any dream I sent. And—well—both your sisters’ minds are strongly pragmatic; I’m not sure I could send them anything at all. Your father is different—so is Ger, for that matter; so is Mercy. But neither your father nor Ger would mention dreaming of Robbie, you know, to save your sister pain; and Mercy is too young.”
I paused in my pacing. “You know a great deal about my family.”
“I have watched them many hours, since your father rode home alone. They have grown very dear to me, perhaps for your sake; and I have watched to see that they were well.”
“Then let me go home—just for a day—an hour—to tell Grace. She mustn’t marry Lawrey—she’ll be miserable for the rest of her life, after she finds out that her heart was right about Robbie. And then they’ll know too that I’m all right, that I’m happy here, that they needn’t worry about me anymore. And then I’ll come back. And I’ll never ask to leave again. Please, Beast. Please.” I knelt down in front of him and put my hands on his knees. The room was still dark, the curtains unopened, and his face was hidden in the darker shadows of the wing chair; all I could see was a glitter of eyes. There was a long silence, while I could hear nothing but the quick heave of my own breathing.
“I can deny you nothing,” he said at last, “if you truly want it. Even if it should cost me my life.” He took a deep breath; it seemed that he would suck in all the air in the room. “Go home, then. I can give you a week.” He leaned forwards. There was a bowl of roses on a what-not at his elbow; he lifted out a great red one, like the one Father had brought home nearly eight months ago. “Take this.” I took it, the stem still wet, cool against my fingers. “For a week it will remain fresh and blooming, as it is now; but at the end of the week it will droop and die. You will know then that your faithful Beast is dying too. For I cannot live without you, Beauty.”
I looked at him, appalled, and with a little gasp and gulp I said: “Can you not send me as you send dreams? It would be much swifter. And—and you would know when to bring me back, before—anything happened.”
“I could,” he said. “But you must take Greatheart with you, and I cannot send him thus, as I have already told you; it would drive him mad.”
“He could stay here, with you,” I said.
“No; he suffers me only for love of you. You must take him with you. If you leave at once, you will be home in time for supper.”
Those words, “home in time for supper,” filled my whole world and echoed in every part of my head, and I spared no further thought for any of my scruples at leaving the poor Beast. All the longing to see my family mat I had suppressed so urgently over the last few months surged and poured into me till I could scarcely breathe. I stood up, looking through the thick walls of the castle to a little house on the far side of the enchanted forest.
“Wear your ring,” said the Beast, “and remember me.”
I laughed, and my voice was shrill with excitement. “I couldn’t forget you, dear Beast,” I said, and bent down, His hands lay, fingers curled a little upwards, on his knees; I kissed the right palm, and looked into the shadows for a moment, where his eyes watched me. The glitter of them was strangely bright, as if reflected by tears; but that must have been the blur in my own vision. As I turned away, I saw his right hand close slowly.
I ran to my room, down a hallway and around the first corner, pulled out a silk scarf, and bundled a few things into it; then a loaf of bread from breakfast and a few oranges into another scarf, and knotted them hastily together. It did not occur to me, that day, to wonder why breakfast had not yet been cleared away. I grabbed my cloak and bolted downstairs. Greatheart knew at once that something was up. I fastened the rose to his headstall as I had done with another rose, when we had first followed the path that we were about to retrace. I pushed my small bundles into the saddle-bags, and mounted; Greatheart had thundered into a canter before I was settled in the saddle. I grabbed the reins.