She put her hand on his arm, and they began to walk back. Davenant made way for them with a bow not quite of the perfect polish he had usually displayed.
Chapter XIII
CAPTAIN DUPONT was arranging the guests for what he announced as a "contredanse."
"It's nothing more than a Virginia reel, sir," said Hubbard, sidelong to his captain whom he found at his side; Hubbard's wary glances were darting up and down the line and observing everything, quick to make deductions. Hubbard had no intention whatever of being betrayed into any uncouthness or of displaying provincial ignorance.
Peabody really did not know how he had come to be in that file of dancers, or how he had come to be opposite the pretty girl who was his partner. Anne was farther down the line, with a glow on her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes. Craning his neck Peabody could see that she was opposite the red-coated British Marine officer, and as to how that had come about he was just as ignorant. All about him there was a babble of chatter, French and English intermixed, and some of the English he heard was strange enough. Not only was there the London accent of the naval officers, but there was the West Indian accent of the residents, which was far more difficult; and Peabody guessed that the Martinique French which was being spoken around him was just as marked a dialect as West Indian English. Captain Dupont was performing prodigies, calling the figures first in French and then in English.
Peabody recaptured all the lightheartedness of the earlier part of the evening as the dance progressed. He felt no twinge of jealousy when he saw Anne's hand in the Marine's; everything was extraordinarily natural as well as being merry. Once or twice she caught his eye — she was smiling already, but that did not detract from the smile she had for him; and when in the chain her hand touched his he was conscious of a message whose good fellowship surprised him. He had always thought that a love affair would contain a certain bitterness, or a certain remorse, which was certainly not the case at present.
The dance ended, and Peabody found himself in the supper room with his new partner. The latter fell upon the food provided with a healthy appetite — over and over again Peabody had to intercept one of the numerous footmen who were circulating through the crowd and relieve his tray of something which had caught his partner's eye. Peabody himself found the food not so interesting. There were only made dishes to be had, things so fluffed up and maltreated as to be unrecognizable. There were little pies, whose crust was so fragile as to be unsatisfactorily ephemeral; they contained a couple of mouthfuls of some meat or other so minced and muddled as to be completely distasteful. There were stews of one sort or another, and Peabody took one look at them and decided not to venture further — just anything could be concealed in them, and Peabody would rather have tried a stew produced in a ship six months out, which at its worst could hold nothing more than the rats and cockroaches to which he was accustomed. There were piles of fruit; his partner, dismayed at his lack of appetite, tried to press some on him, and secured for him a dish of some dismal pulp extracted from something like a vast orange — a "shaddock," his partner called it, otherwise known as the "grape fruit," rather inconsequentially. She even went on to explain that learned men had come to the conclusion that this thing was the veritable forbidden fruit which Eve had given to Adam, and yet Peabody did not find it attractive. Despite the damp heat he was hungry, but there was nothing to take his fancy, no honest roasts or grills, not even a dish of beans.
Corks were popping incessantly, and the footmen bore trays loaded with wide glasses filled with a golden wine; the bottles were cooled by being wrapped in wet cloths and hung in the draught, so the girl explained, her eyes looking at him over the rim of her glass. There was something enchanting about that wine, as Peabody admitted on tasting it. It was bubbling merrily as he drank, just like the sparkling water which Dr. Townsend Speakman had for sale in Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. The light-heartedness of that wine re-echoed his own — the lamentable supper had done nothing to damp his spirits.
Davenant entered the supper room at that moment, his eyes meeting Peabody's as though the pair of them were crossing swords. Each of the two instantly decided to look away again and not risk a further interchange of glances. Peabody's eyes traveled round the room; wherever he looked he could see the blue and gold and white of the British Navy, as well as the red coat of the Marine officer who was offering refreshments to Anne. Evidently the British Navy followed the same practice as the American, of leaving the watch in harbor in the charge of the master and the master's mates so as to free the lieutenants; most of the lieutenants, at least, who could be serving in the three British ships must be present.
It was when he had formed that conclusion that Peabody decided on a new plan. It was so simple that he wondered why he had not thought of it before — except that all simple plans are exceedingly hard to think of. At one moment his mind had been void of ideas; at the next he had the whole scheme ready in his mind, its advantages and disadvantages balanced against each other, and his decision was taken for action. Quite without thinking he rose to his feet, rather to his partner's surprise, so that he sat down again. The essence of the plan lay in his not calling attention to himself, in his awaiting his opportunity to act unnoticed. He looked across at Hubbard, conversing in a lively group of mature females with all his Southern courtesy, and at Howard who was blushingly supping with Madame Clair. Murray was just in sight at the far end of the room, but Atwell was nowhere to be seen; Peabody wondered with extraordinary tolerance whether he was forgetting, somewhere out on one of the wide porches, the existence of that wife of his in New London. The four of them would be surprised when they knew what he had done.
"I don't think you heard what I said, Captain," said his partner, a little tartly, breaking into his thoughts.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Peabody hastily. "I can't think what came over me."
"I can guess the cause of your distraction," she said. "It was either war or a woman."
"Maybe so," smiled Peabody.
He did his best to be conversational and natural, but the spell was broken, and his attention was not on the present. His partner was a trifle mortified, for here she had secured what was perhaps the greatest prize of the evening, in supping with the American captain, only to find she had no chance whatever of conquest. It occurred to her that it was still not too late to try again to see whether any of the lieutenants were not more susceptible, on the principle of a lieutenant in the hand being better than a captain in the bush.
"I think, Captain," she said, "that I had better be going back to Mother."
Peabody did his best to express regret, though only half-convincingly. He escorted her out of the room and to her mother's side, and he forced himself to make the conventional remark and to bow leisurely when he left them — anything rather than allow anyone to guess that he was in a hurry. He did not look back over his shoulder as he left the ballroom, for he knew that would be the surest way of calling attention to himself. He walked slowly down the deserted staircase, and slowly out to the main door. The colored footman there addressed some remark to him in island French which he did not understand.
"Oh yes," he replied with a drawl. "I guess so."
He was through the main door now; the fact that his cloak was still in the house ought to persuade the footman that he was only intending to be absent a short time. He would have to abandon the cloak, just as he was abandoning his four lieutenants. A miracle might bring them back to him, but otherwise he would have to get along without them as best he could. There were some other capable midshipmen who might make useful acting lieutenants, and his master's mates were all of them experienced seamen. The Delaware might not be so efficient, but at least she would be free — if he got her out of the harbor tonight the British ships would be compelled to stay for another twenty-four hours, and he would have a whole day to forestall pursuit. There would be an outcry among the British, he could guess. They would condemn his action as a slick Yankee trick, without a doubt. Let them. He had made no promises, he had passed no parole, nor had he made any appearance of doing so. This was war; Davenant would be court-martialed and broke when it came out that he was at a ball when his enemy gave him the slip — that was hard luck on Davenant, but war always meant hard luck for somebody.