"One that doth hate you!" Here she took a silver comb from her pocket and fell to smoothing her hair; and as she sat thus cross-legged upon the grass, I saw that the snowy linen at throat and bosom was spotted with great gouts of blood.
"Are ye wounded?" quoth I, pointing to these ugly stains.
"Bah! 'Tis none of mine, fool! 'Tis the blood of Cestiforo!"
"Who is he?"
"The captain of yon ship."
"How cometh his blood on you?"
"'Twas when I killed him."
"You—killed him?"
"Aye—he wearied me. So do all my lovers, soon or late."
Now as I looked on this woman, the strange, sullen beauty of her (despite her masculine apparel) as she sat thus combing her long hair and foul with a dead man's blood, I bethought me of the wild tales I had heard of female daemons, succubi and the like, so that I felt my flesh chill and therewith a great disgust and loathing of her, insomuch that, not abiding the sight of her, I turned away and thus beheld a thing the which filled me with sudden, great dismay: for there, her sails spread to the fitful wind, I saw the ship standing out to sea, bearing with her all my hopes of escape from this hated island. Thus stood I, watching deliverance fade on my sight, until the ship was no more than a speck upon the moon-bright waters and all other thoughts 'whelmed and lost in raging despair. And now I was roused by a question sudden and imperious:
"Who are you?"
"'Tis no matter."
"How came you here?"
"'Tis no matter for that, either."
"Are you alone?"
"Aye!"
"Then wherefore trouble to shave your beard?"
"'Tis a whim."
"Are you alone?"
"I was."
"And I would you were again."
"So do I."
"You are Englishman—yes?"
"I am."
"My mother was English—a poor thing that spent her days weeping and died of her tears when I was small—ah, very small, on this island."
"Here?" quoth I, staring.
"Twenty and one years agone!" said she, combing away at her glossy hair.
"My mother was English like you, but my father was a noble gentleman of
Spain and Governor of Santa Catalina, Don Esteban da Silva y Montreale, and
killed by Tressady—Black Tressady—"
"What, Roger Tressady—o' the Hook?"
"True, Señor Englishman," said she softly and glancing up at me through her hair; "he hath a hook very sharp and bright, in place of his left hand. You know him? He is your friend—yes?"
"I know him for a cursed pirate and murderer!"
"Moi aussi, mon ami!" said she, fixing me with her great eyes. "I am pirate, yes—and have used dagger and pistol ere to-day and shall again."
"And wear a woman's shape!"
"Ha—yes, yes!" cried she, gnashing her teeth. "And there's my curse—I am woman and therefore do hate all women. But my soul is a man's so do I use all men to my purpose, snare them by my woman's arts and make of 'em my slaves. See you; there is none of all my lovers but doth obey me, and so do I rule, with ships and men at my command and fearing no man—"
"And yet," said I, interrupting, "you came fleeing hither to save your life from yonder rabblement."
"Tush—these were mostly drunken rogues that knew me not, 'listed but late from a prize we took and burned. I shall watch them die yet! Soon shall come Belvedere in the Happy Despatch to my relief, or Rodriquez of the Vengeance or Rory or Sol—one or other or all shall come a-seeking me, soon or late. Meantime, I bide here and 'tis well you stayed me from killing you, for though I love not Englishmen, I love solitude less, so are you safe from me so long as we be solitary. Ah—you smile because you are fool and know me not yet! Ah, ah—mayhap you shall grow wiser anon. But now," said she, rising and putting away her comb, "bring me where I may eat, for I am famished with hunger."
"Also you are very foul of blood!" said I.
"Yes," says she soft-voiced, and glancing from me to her stained finery and back again. "Yes. And is this so great a matter?"
"To-night you murdered a man!"
"I killed him—yes. Cestiforo—he was drunk. And was this so great a matter?"
"And you—a woman!" said I, marvelling.
"Aye, to my sorrow!" said she, gnashing white teeth, "Yet am I strong as a man and bolder than most."
"God preserve me from such!" quoth I fervently.
"You—you?" cried she. "What thing are you that seeming man must blench at a little blood? Are you yourself so innocent, you that know Tressady o' the Hook?"
"Howbeit I am no murderer, woman."
"Ah—bah!" cried she, with flick of scornful fingers. "Enough of words,
Master Innocent. Bring me where I may eat and bed me till morning."
Thereupon (and mighty unwilling) I brought her into the cave and lighting two candles of my own contriving, I set before her such viands as I had, together with bread I had newly baked, and with no word of thanks this strange, fierce creature fell to eating with a voracity methought very disgusting.
Now the more I saw of her the more grew my disgust and the end of it was I determined to put the whole length of the island betwixt us and that at once. To this end I began collecting such articles as I should want, as my light hatchet, sword, pistols, etc. I was buckling on my belt when her voice arrested me, albeit she spoke me very sweetly and soft:
"You go now to your woman—your light of love—yes?"
"There is no woman but yourself," said I, frowning.
"Liar! Then what of this?" and she pointed slender finger; then I saw that tattered garment lying where I had dropped it and this woman spurning it with her foot. So I stooped forthwith, and snatching it from her desecrating touch, folded it across my arm, whereat she fell to sudden laughter very ill to bear.
"Ah—ah!" said she, softer than before and most hatefully a-smiling, "'tis for her sake your chin goeth bare and smooth—yes? She is over-nice in the matter of—"
"I tell you she is gone!" said I in fury.
"Gone—gone, is she? And you alone here, longing but for her return, through weeks and months and years waiting for her to come back to you; is not this the truth of it, yes?" Now I, knowing this for very truth, could but scowl, finding no word to say, whiles this creature nodded and flashed white teeth in her hateful smile. "You loved this woman," said she, "do love her; dead or living, rotting bones or another's delight, you do love her yet, poor, miserable fool!"
All unheeding, I folded the garment with reverent hands while she taunted me thus, until, seeing me nothing moved, she fell to rank vileness, bespattering that pure memory with tongue so shamelessly foul that I (losing all patience) turned on her at last; but in this moment she was on her feet and snatching my sword made therewith a furious pass at me, the which I contrived to parry and, catching the blade in this beloved garment, I wrenched the weapon from her. Then, pinning her in fierce grip and despite her furious struggles and writhing, I belaboured her soundly with the flat of the blade, she meanwhile swearing and cursing at me in Spanish and English as vilely as ever I had done in all my days, until her voice broke and she choked upon a great sob. Thereupon I flung her across my bed and taking such things as I needed, strode