Black Bartlemys Treasure by Jeffrey Farnol

Author:Jeffrey Farnol [Farnol, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-02-05T21:49:53+00:00

"Martin," says she, mighty doleful, "I have lost my comb and all my hairpins."

"I will fashion you others."

"Aye, but the boat, Martin, our dear, brave boat!"

"To-morrow I will seek what remains of her."

"And our stores--all lost, Martin!"

"I can find more."

"Where?"

"Among the rocks and on the trees. There should be no lack of fruit and fish according to Adam."

"Nay but," sighed she, shaking woeful head, "even though we contrive to live thus, yet here must we 'bide far from our kind with small hopes of relief and destitute of all things to our comfort."

"Why look now," says I, "here in my pocket is a tinder box, the which is a very comfortable thing, here in my belt a good, stout, knife, which is another comfortable thing, and yonder is a cave, dry and airy, shall make you a goodly chamber; so take comfort to-night, at least." And drawing my knife I betook me to whetting the blade on the sole of my damp shoe. Glancing up at last I found my companion regarding me with strange expression.

"Methinks you are greatly changed!" says she.

"How changed?"

"In the boat you did nought but cry out and rail 'gainst fortune, but now, Martin--"

"Now," says I, "the sun is low and night cometh apace in these latitudes, let me know you sheltered ere it be dark!" and sheathing my knife I rose. Then seeing what effort she made to come to her knees, I reached her my hand aiding her up to her feet. So she takes a step and, stifling a cry of pain, would have fallen but for my arm.

"O Martin," says she, with rueful shake of the head, "I fear I cannot walk."

"Lean on me--"

"'Tis vain," says she, catching her breath, "I cannot set this foot to ground."

"Have you any bones broke?"

"Nay, 'tis none so bad as that--"

"Where's your hurt?"

"My knee--my ankle! And I'm direly bruised, Martin."

But you cannot sleep out here!"

"I needs must. The sand is warm and soft to my bed."

"There is a better waiting you in the cave yonder."

"But--if I cannot walk, Martin--"

"Why then," says I, "why then you must suffer that I carry you."

"I fear I am--greatly heavy, Martin!"

"As to that--" says I, and lifting her as gently as I might, began to bear her across the beach. And after we had gone thus some way she spoke:

"I fear me I am vastly heavy!"

"No!" says I, keeping my gaze before me.

"Yet you go very slowly."

"'Tis that I would not jostle you."

"And the sand is ill-going, belike, Martin?"

"Most true!" says I, pretending to stumble.

"Why then, I pray you take your time." At this I ventured to glance down at her, but saw no more than the curve of a cheek and the tip of a little ear; and staring at this came very near blundering into a rock. So I bore her into the rocky cleft already full of shadow, taking due heed in my going yet mighty conscious of all the yielding softness of her none the less.

"Your clothes are very damp!" says I.

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