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The occupants of the boat, drenched by the rain and the seas she had shipped, shivered with cold. Regulus began to stir and mutter. "He is coming to himself," Landless cried to Darkeih. "When you see that he is conscious, make him lie still. He must not move about." "Do you know where we are?" asked Patricia. "No, madam; but I fear that the wind is driving us out into the bay." "Ah!"
Darkeih! my scarf!" A negress appeared in the doorway with a veil of tissue in her hand. Sir Charles took it from her and flung it over Patricia's golden head, then offered his arm to Mistress Lettice. The wharf was but a stone's throw from the wooden gates, and they were soon treading the long stretch of gray, weather-beaten boards.
A constant glare lit the heaving, tossing world of waters, and the air became one roar of wind, rain, and thunder. Darkeih crouched moaning at her mistress' feet. Regulus lay unconscious, breathing heavily. Suddenly, with a quick intake of his breath, Landless seized Patricia, pulled her down into the bottom of the boat, and held her there. "I see," she said in a low, awed voice. "It is Death!"
"It is coming," said Landless. Patricia looked up at him with great, despairing, courageous eyes. "I have caused your death," she said. "Forgive me." There came a vivid flash, and a loud scream from Darkeih. "De lan'! de bressed, bressed, lan'!" Landless wheeled.
Landless seated himself in the bow, and turned his face away from the group in the stern. Patricia leaned back amidst her cushions, and opened a book; Darkeih, upon the other side of the rudder, held a whispered flirtation with Regulus, squatting at her feet, the tiller in his hand.
Darkeih curled herself up in the bottom of the cart, and Landless and Regulus walked beside it. In two hours' time they were at Verney Manor, where they found none but women to greet them, Rendered uneasy by the storm, Woodson had despatched a messenger to Rosemead, who had returned with the tidings that no boat from Verney Manor had reached that plantation.
"Is there any hope for us?" Landless hesitated. "Tell me the truth," she said imperiously. "We are in desperate case, madam. The boat is half filled with water. Another such sea will sink us." "Why do you not bail the boat?" "The bucket is gone; the tiller also." She shivered, and Darkeih began to wail aloud. Landless laid a heavy hand upon the latter's shoulder. "Silence!" he said sternly. "Here!
You can send any other you choose. I shall take Darkeih with me." "You can't have Regulus, Mistress Patricia," answered the overseer positively. "He's worth any two men in the field. I can't let him go." "Let him be at the wharf in half an hour. I will be ready by then." "You can't have him, Missy." Patricia stamped her pretty foot. "Am I mistress of this plantation, or am I not, Woodson?"
"Darkeih, go down to the quarters, and tell the first man you meet to find Woodson, and send him to me." Darkeih departed, and in half an hour's time the overseer appeared at the foot of the porch steps, red and heated from his rapid walk from the Three-Mile field. "What's wrong, Mistress Patricia?" he asked quickly. Patricia opened her lovely eyes. "Nothing is wrong, Woodson. What should be?
Regulus stirred, groaned, and struggled into a sitting posture. "Lie down again!" ordered Darkeih. "We 's all on de way to Heaben, but if nigger shake de boat, we'll get dere befo' de Lawd ready for us. Lie down!" Regulus, muttering to himself, looked stupidly about him, then dropped his head back into her lap. In three minutes he was snoring.
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