Kate Bonnet/Chapter 10

T was truly surprising to see the change which came over the spirits of our young Kate Bonnet when she heard that the King and Queen had sailed from Kingston port. She was gay, she was talkative, she sang songs, she skipped in the paths of the garden. One might have supposed she was so happy to get rid of the young man on the brig which had sailed away. And yet, the news she might hear when that young man came back was likely to be far worse than any misgivings which had entered her mind. Kate's high spirits delighted her uncle. This child of his sister had grown more lovely than even her mother had ever been.

Now came days of delight which Kate had never dreamed of. She had not known that there were such shops in Spanish Town, which, although a youngish town, had already drawn to itself the fashion and the needs of fashion of that prosperous colony. With Dame Charter, and often also with her uncle in company, this bright young girl hovered over fair fabrics which were spread before her; circled about jewels, gems, and feathers, and revelled in tender colours as would a butterfly among the blossoms, dipping and tasting as she flew.

There were some fine folk in Spanish Town, and with this pleasant society of the capital Mr. Delaplaine renewed his previous intercourse and Kate soon learned the pleasures of a colonial social circle, whose attractions, brought from afar, had been warmed into a more cheerful glow in this bright West Indian atmosphere.

To add to the brilliancy of the new life into which Kate now entered, there came into the port an English corvette—the Badger—for refitting. From this welcome man-of-war there flitted up the river to Spanish Town gallant officers, young and older; and in their flitting they flitted into the drawing-room of the rich merchant Delaplaine, and there were some of them who soon found that there were no drawing-rooms in all the town where they could talk with, walk with, and perchance dance with such a fine girl as Mistress Kate Bonnet.

Kate greatly fancied gallant partners, whether for walking or talking or dancing, and among such, those which came from the corvette in the harbour pleased her most.

Those were not bright days for Dame Charter. Do what she would, her optimism was growing dim, and what helped to dim it was Kate's gaiety. It did not comfort her at all when Kate told her that she was so light-hearted because she knew that Dickory would bring her good news.

"Truly, too many fine young men here," thought Dame Charter, "while Dickory is away, and all of them together are not worth a curl on his head."

But, although her dreams were dimmed, she did not cease dreaming. A stout-hearted woman was Dickory's mother.

But it was not long before there were other people thereabout who began to feel that their prospects for present enjoyment were beginning to look a little dim, for Captain Christopher Vince, having met Mistress Kate Bonnet at an entertainment at the Governor's house, was greatly struck by this young lady. Each officer of the Badger who saw their captain in company with the fair one to whom their gallant attentions had been so freely offered, now felt that in love as well as in accordance with the regulations of the service, he must give place to his captain. Moreover, when that captain took upon himself, the very next day, to call at the residence of Mr. Delaplaine, and repeated the visit upon the next day and the following, the crestfallen young fellows were compelled to acknowledge that there were other houses in the town where it might be better worth their while to spend their leisure hours.

Captain Vince was not a man to be lightly interfered with, whether he happened to be engaged in the affairs of Mars or Cupid. He was of a resolute mind, and of a person more than usually agreeable to the female eye. He was about forty years of age, of an excellent English family, and with good expectations. He considered himself an admirable judge of women, but he had never met one who so thoroughly satisfied his æsthetic taste as this fair niece of the merchant Delaplaine. She had beauty, she had wit, she had culture, and the fair fabrics of Spanish Town shops gave to her attractions a setting which would have amazed and entranced Master Newcombe or our good Dickory. The soul of Captain Vince was fired, and each time he met Kate and talked with her the fire grew brighter.

He had never considered himself a marrying man, but that was because he had never met any one he had cared to marry. Now things were changed. Here was a girl he had known but for a few days, and already, in his imagination, he had placed her in the drawing-rooms of the English home he hoped soon to inherit, more beautiful and even more like a princess than any noble dame who was likely to frequent those rooms. In fancy he had seen her by his side, walking through the shaded alleys of his grand old gardens; he had looked proudly upon her as she stood by him in the assemblages of the great; in fact, he had fallen suddenly and absolutely in love with her. When he was away from her he could not quite understand this condition of things, but when he was with her again he understood it all. He loved her because it was absolutely impossible for him to do anything else.

Naturally, Captain Vince was very agreeable to Mistress Kate, for she had never seen such a handsome man, taking into consideration his uniform and his bearing, and had never talked with one who knew so well what to say and how to say it. Comparing him with the young officers who had been so fond of making their way to her uncle's house, she was glad that they had ceased to be such frequent visitors.

The soul of Mr. Delaplaine was agitated by the admiration of his niece which Captain Vince took no trouble to conceal. The worthy merchant would gladly have kept Kate with him for years and years if she would have been content to stay, but this could not be expected; and if she married, from what other quarter could come such a brilliant match as this? What his brother-in-law might think about it he did not care; if Kate should choose to wed the captain, such an eccentric and untrustworthy person should not be permitted to interfere with the destiny that now appeared to open before his daughter. These thoughts were not so idle as might have been supposed, for the captain had already said things to the merchant, in which the circumstances of the former were made plain and his hopes foreshadowed. If the captain were not prepared to leave the service, this rich merchant thought, why should not he make it possible for him to do so, for the sake of his dear niece?

With these high ambitions in his mind, the happily agitated Mr. Delaplaine did not hesitate to say some playful words to Kate concerning the captain of the Badger; and these having been received quietly, he was emboldened to go on and say some other words more serious.

Then Kate looked at him very steadfastly and remarked: "But, uncle, you have forgotten Master Newcombe."

The good Delaplaine made no answer, for his emotions made it impossible for him to do so, but, rising, he went out, and at a little distance from the house he damned Master Newcombe.

Days passed on and the captain's attentions did not wane. Mr. Delaplaine, who was a man of honour expecting it in others, made up his mind that something decisive must soon be said; while Kate began greatly to fear that something decisive might soon be said. She was in a difficult position. She was not engaged to Martin Newcombe, but had believed she might be. The whole affair involved a question which she did not want to consider. And still the captain came every day, generally in the afternoon or evening.

But one morning he made his appearance, coming to the house quite abruptly.

"I am glad to find you by yourself," said he, "for I have some awkward news."

Kate looked at him surprised.

"I have just been ordered on duty," he continued, "and the order is most unwelcome. A brig came in last night and brought letters, and the Governor sent for me this morning. I have just left him. The cruise I am about to take may not be a long one, but I cannot leave port without coming here to you and speaking to you of something which is nearer to my heart than any thought of service, or in fact of anything else."

"Speaking to my uncle, you mean," said Kate, now much disturbed, for she saw in the captain's eyes what he wished to talk of.

"Away with uncles!" he exclaimed; "we can speak with them by-and-bye; now my words are for you. You may think me hasty, but we gentlemen serving the king cannot afford to wait; and so, without other pause, I say, sweet Mistress Kate, I love you, better than I have ever loved woman; better than I can ever love another. Nay, do not answer; I must tell you everything before you reply." And to the pale girl he spoke of his family, his prospects, and his hopes. In the warmest colours he laid before her the life and love he would give her. Then he went quickly on: "This is but a little matter which is given to my charge, and it may not engage me long; I am going out in search of a pirate, and I shall make short work of him. The shorter, having such good reason to get quickly back.

"In fact, he is not a real pirate anyway, being but a country gentleman tiring of his rural life and liking better to rob, burn, and murder on the high seas. He has already done so much damage, that if his evil career be not soon put an end to good people will be afraid to voyage in these waters. So I am to sail in haste after this fellow Bonnet; but before——"

Kate's face had grown so white that it seemed to recede from her great eyes. "He is my father," said she, "but I had not heard until now that he is a pirate!"

The captain started from his chair. "What!" he cried, "your father? Yes, I see. It did not strike me until this instant that the names are the same."

Kate rose, and as she spoke her voice was not full and clear as it was wont to be. "He is my father," she said, "but he sailed away without telling me his errand; but now that I know everything, I must—" If she had intended to say she must go, she changed her mind, and even came closer to the still astounded captain. "You say that you will make short work of his vessel; do you mean that you will destroy it, and will you kill him?"

Captain Vince looked down upon her, his face filled with the liveliest emotions. "My dear young lady," he said, and then he stopped as if not knowing what words to use. But as he looked into her eyes fixed upon his own and waiting for his answer, his love for her took possession of him and banished all else. "Kill him," he exclaimed, "never! He shall be as safe in my hands as if he were walking in his own fields. Kill your father, dearest? Loving you as I do, that would be impossible. I may take the rascals who are with him, I may string them up to the yard-arm, or I may sink their pirate ship with all of them in it, but your father shall be safe. Trust me for that; he shall come to no harm from me."

She stepped a little way from him, and some of her colour came back. For some moments she looked at him without speaking, as if she did not exactly comprehend what he had said.

"Yes, my dear," he continued, "I must crush out that piratical crew, for such is my duty as well as my wish, but your father I shall take under my protection; so have no fear about him, I beg you. With his ship and his gang of scoundrels taken away from him, he can no longer be a pirate, and you and I will determine what we shall do with him."

"You mean," said Kate, speaking slowly, "that for my sake you will shield my father from the punishment which will be dealt out to his companions?"

He smiled, and his face beamed upon her. "What blessed words," he exclaimed. "Yes, for your sake, for your sweet, dear sake I will do anything; and as for this matter, I assure you there are so many ways——"

"You mean," she interrupted, "that for my sake you will break your oath of office, that you will be a traitor to your service and your king? That for my sake you will favour the fortunes of a pirate whom you are sent out to destroy? Mean it if you please, but you will not do it. I love my father, and would fain do anything to save him and myself from this great calamity, but I tell you, sir, that for my sake no man shall do himself dishonour!"

Without power to say another word, nor to keep back for another second the anguish which raged within her, she fled like a bird and was gone.

The captain stretched out his arms as if he would seize her; he rushed to the door through which she had passed, but she was gone. He followed her, shouting to the startled servants who came; he swore, and demanded to see their mistress; he rushed through rooms and corridors, and even made as if he would mount the stairs. Presently a woman came to him, and told him that under no circumstances could Mistress Bonnet now be seen.

But he would not leave the house. He called for writing materials, but in an instant threw down the pen. Again he called a servant and sent a message, which was of no avail. Dame Charter would have gone down to him, but Kate was in her arms. For several minutes the furious officer stood by the chair in which Kate had been sitting; he could not comprehend the fact that this girl had discarded and had scorned him. And yet her scorn had not in the least dampened the violence of his love. As she stood and spoke her last bitter words, the grandeur of her beauty had made him speechless to defend himself.

He seized his hat and rushed from the house; hot, and with blazing eyes, he appeared in the counting-room of Mr. Delaplaine, and there, to that astounded merchant, he told, with brutal cruelty, of his orders to destroy the pirate Bonnet, his niece's father; and then he related the details of his interview with that niece herself.

Mr. Delaplaine's countenance, at first shocked and pained, grew gradually sterner and colder. Presently he spoke. "I will hear no more such words, Captain Vince," he said, "regarding the members of my family. You say my niece knows not what fortune she trifles with; I think she does. And when she told you she would not accept the offer of your dishonour, I commend her every word."

Captain Vince frowned black as night, and clapped his hand to his sword-hilt; but the pale merchant made no movement of defence, and the captain, striking his clinched fist against the table, dashed from the room. Before he reached his ship he had sworn a solemn oath: he vowed that he would follow that pirate ship; he would kill, burn, destroy, annihilate, but out of the storm and the fire he would pick unharmed the father of the girl who had entranced him and had spurned him. He laughed savagely as he thought of it. With that dolt of a father in his hands, a man wearing always around his neck the hangman's noose, he would hold the card which would give him the game. What Mistress Kate Bonnet might say or do; what she might like or might not like; what her ideas about honour might be or might not be, it would be a very different thing when he, her imperious lover, should hold the end of that noose in his hand. She might weep, she might rave, but come what would, she was the man's daughter, and she would be Lady Vince.

So he went on board the Badger, and he cursed and he commanded and he raged; and his officers and his men, when the hurried violence of his commands gave them a chance to speak to each other, muttered that they pitied that pirate and his crew when the Badger came up with them.

Clouds settled down upon the home of Mr. Delaplaine. There were no visitors, there was no music, there seemed to be no sunshine. The beautiful fabrics, the jewels, and the feathers were seen no more. It was Kate of the broken heart who wandered under the trees and among the blossoms, and knew not that there existed such things as cooling shade and sweet fragrance. She could not be comforted, for, although her uncle told her that he had had information that her father's ship had sailed northward, and that it was, therefore, likely that the corvette would not overtake him, she could not forget that, whatever of good or evil befell that father, he was a pirate, and he had deserted her.

So they said but little, the uncle and the niece, who sorrowed quietly.

Dame Charter was in a strange state of mind. During the frequent visits of Captain Vince she had been apprehensive and troubled, and her only comfort was that the Badger had merely touched at this port to refit, and that she must soon sail away and take with her her captain. The good woman had begun to expect and to hope for the return of Dickory, but later she had blessed her stars that he was not there. He was a fiery boy, her brave son, but it would have been a terrible thing for him to become involved with an officer in the navy, a man with a long, keen sword.

Now that the captain had raged himself away from the Delaplaine house her spirits rose, and her great fear was that the corvette might not leave port before the brig came in. If Dickory should hear of the things that captain had said—but she banished such thoughts from her mind, she could not bear them.

After some days the corvette sailed, and the Governor spoke well of the diligence and ardour which had urged Captain Vince to so quickly set out upon his path of duty.

"When Dickory comes back," said Dame Charter to Kate, "he may bring some news to cheer your poor heart, things get so twisted in the telling."

Kate shook her head. "Dickory cannot tell me anything now," she said, "that I care to know, knowing so much. My father is a pirate, and a king's ship has gone out to destroy him, and what could Dickory tell me that would cheer me?"

But Dame Charter's optimism was beginning to take heart again and to spread its wings.

"Ah, my dear, you don't know what good things do in this life continually crop up. A letter from your father, possibly withheld by that wicked Madam Bonnet—which is what Dickory and I both think—or some good words from the town that your father has sold his ship, and is on his way home. Nobody knows what good news that Dickory may bring with him."

The poor girl actually smiled. She was young, and in the heart of youth there is always room for some good news, or for the hope of them.

But the smile vanished altogether when she went to her room and wrote a letter to Martin Newcombe. In this letter, which was a long one, she told her lover how troubled she had been. That she had nothing now to ask him about the bad news he had, in his kindness, forborne to tell her, and that when he saw Dickory Charter he might say to him from her that there was no need to make any further inquiries about her father; she knew enough, and far too much—more, most likely, than any one in Bridgetown knew. Then she told him of Captain Vince and the dreadful errand of the corvette Badger.

Having done this, Kate became as brave as any captain of a British man-of-war, and she told her lover that he must think no more of her; it was not for him to pay court to the daughter of a pirate. And so, she blessed him and bade him farewell.

When she had signed and sealed this letter she felt as if she had torn out a chapter of her young life and thrown it upon the fire.