Havers and Moon had let go his arms. They had stepped back and he faced Cavendish alone. He saw the first blow coming, and he put his arm up to ward it off, but Cavendish's left fist struck him clean between the ribs, and the next blow knocked him backward.
He was still on his feet. The ruthless anger he faced made him wonder if Cavendish would kill him. Two smashing blows to his face, coming right on top of each other, drove him back into the rail, and he hooked his arm over it and stood again.
In a second he was knocked down, parallel to the rail. He got up slowly; Cavendish was not bothering with strategy; he was driving a rain of steadv, calculated blows to David's face. David took
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succession of them, swaying, until the last one, to the side of the jaw, crumpled him up at Cavendish's feet.
Cavendish stepped aside as David fell. Blood marked the well-scrubbed deck. David lay prone, face down, and Cavendish turned his head to see Havers.
"Captain Havers," he said.
"Aye, sir," Havers said steadily, his square face somber.
Cavendish looked down at David. "Double irons," he said, and then he started away. David's sword and belt lay on the deck. Cavendish leaned down and picked them up.
"Will you hand me his jacket, sir?" he asked Moon.
Hastily, Moon came forward with the jacket.
Cavendish took it. "Thank you," he said, and he walked aft, into the crowded poop, carrying David's jacket and the sword with its dangling belt.
Chapter XV
Lola's eyes were dark and huge, "they're going to hang him?" she said levelly.
Catherine faced her. "No, they will not."
"They will," said Lola, her breathing quick. "Everyone says it, señora." She made a sudden helpless gesture, losing the poise that she had tried to keep. "Dios 7 señora.' Do you think I want to believe it!"
Catherine said, "You are sure it's true? That David—"
Lola said, only, "It is quite true. It happened this morning, and it is now three o'clock. I have come to you."
Catherine was dressed in a thin white shift. Her hair was loose; on her feet were heelless slippers.
"You find it difficult to believe, señora?" Lola said. "I wakened you. I do not know what you can do, señora, but I came because you are the only one to help. I will help you dress."
"You do not need to," Catherine said, unsteadily.
Lola said, "You wear this dress? This white lace? And these petticoats? Here." She lifted one up and slipped it over Catherine's head. "Now this one, señora," she said. "I fasten it."
"Thank you, Lola," Catherine said.
Lola fastened the second petticoat. Standing in front of Catherine, she said, "And certainly you know what I want, señora. You do, no?"
Catherine nodded. Her bright head made assent.
"You are the one," Lola said. "Only you."
Catherine, struggling with two main currents of thought, exclaimed, "Lola, you do not understand him! I do."
Lola picked up the dress.
"Even, Lola, if he should come, the Captain, and talk to me, even then, with him it is no use to plead for David!"
Lola said evenly, "It is better than nothing. Now we do nothing."
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Catherine said, "It is no better than nothing, for you are forgetting that David is his own brother."
"Your dress, señora," Lola said.
"Madre de dios; I tell you it is folly!" She flung her hands out. "It will only make him the more angry!"
"Listen!" Lola said. "Perhaps you accomplish nothing. Let it be so. At least you can learn what the Captain intends, and if David is to die, then learn when."
"I'll write to the Captain," Catherine said.
Lola looked over her shoulder as she wrote a single sentence, in charcoaclass="underline" "Sir, I would wish to speak with you on a matter of gravest importance." She signed her initials, folded the paper, and Lola took it.
"I shall return," she said, as she left the tent. "Dress, señora, for he will come."
Catherine picked up her dress and put it over her head. She brushed her hair and secured it on the top of her head with a few polished wooden pins. Tiny curling tendrils of hair escaped the heavy silken mass. She used no powder; her skin was a golden tan. She changed her slippers for flatheeled sandals of China silk.
Perhaps he would come. But if he did there was little to say. This minute, almost, he would be reading the note, the few words, standing in his cabin or on his high deck. Would he come?
She paced to the crude doorway; its flap was tied back with knotted rope. The Desire rode near. She saw Lola coming, running toward her from the beach. But Lola would know nothing yet. Still Catherine waited for her, tense.
"I sent the note," Lola said. She came into the tent and looked at Catherine. "He will have it now."
"Oh," said Catherine.
"He will come," Lola said. "Last night I see him look for you always with his eyes, while he was on the beach. I think he wanted you to know he was not with the Señorita Arabella."
Catherine sank down into her hammock, but she couldn't stay there and she got up again.
"Señora, learn what you can."
"That is all I can do," Catherine said. "Lola, tonight is the celebration. If we could get aboard, would you go?"
u Si," said Lola. "How?"
"With Cosmos," Catherine said. "He would take me. After dark."
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Lola could not answer because this was more than she dared hope.
"There will be hardly a man aboard," Catherine said. "We might —Lola, we might even free David!"
Lola said instantly, "You forget David when you say that. You forget him."
"Why?"
"Because, señora, he is a very stubborn man, and he may not want to be freed. He may—"
She had gone to the tent flap. Across the beach, a man was striding fast. Lola whirled.
"He comes!"
"Run!" said Catherine. "Quick! I'm going to tell him you are ill!"
"Si," said Lola. She fled like a shadow, around the corner of the tent. Cavendish was walking fast, toward the tent, and Catherine turned from the open flap; she turned her back and waited.
It was only a minute before she knew he was standing in the doorway. Slowly she turned; he took a step forward.
"Buenos dias, señora," he said.
He had come, then. He was here. The blue eyes were just as blue; there was a red welt on the side of his face where David had struck him. It made Catherine realize anew that David himself would not walk into the tent today, that probably he would never come again, and that she would never see him again unless Cosmos could help her tonight. But even the thought of David was not as compelling as the fact that she and Cavendish were together again.
"You came," she said, low.
"You wanted me to," he said. "You wrote me."
"I know. But I didn't know you would come."
He hesitated. "Perhaps you were justified to doubt."
"I learned about David this afternoon."
"Did you?" His tone warned her.
She saw the badly bruised knuckles of his right hand; she raised her eyes to his face and was afraid to ask him if David was badly hurt.
"So it is all true?" she whispered.
"Quite true," he said.
"It is done?"
"Done, señora."
She was breathing lightly between parted lips. She spoke what
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was the truth because she understood him so well. "You cannot save him now?"
"No," he said.
"But when?" Catherine asked. "Not—today?"
"No, not today."
"Tomorrow, then?"
The blue eyes looked straight back at her. "Why do you ask?"