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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Indeed, then," said Iberville, "this is a debt if you choose to call it so for which I would have no thanks no. For it would please me better to render accounts all at once some day, and get return in different form, monsieur." "Monsieur," said Gering, a little grandly, "you have come to me three times; next time I will come to you."
The priest reached a hand persuasively towards Perrot, and he was about to speak, but Perrot, coming close to the troubled wife, said: "The door is locked; they are there alone. I cannot let you in, but come with me. You have a voice it may be heard. Come." Presently all three were admitted into the dim hallway. How had it gone with Iberville and Gering?
For Phips, impatient, spent his day in a terrible cannonading, which did no great damage to the town or the cliff. It was a game of thunder, nothing worse, and Walley and Gering with their men were neglected. The fight with the ships began again at daybreak.
They had served with Nicholls in Spain, but not having eaten King Louis's bread, eyed all Frenchmen askance, and were not needlessly courteous to Iberville, whose achievements they could scarce appreciate, having done no Indian fighting. Iberville sat at the governor's end, Gering at the other.
Iberville, nodding, came to the table where stood the husband and wife, and Perrot left the room. He picked up a sword and laid it beside Gering, then waved his hand towards the door. "You are free to go, monsieur," he said. "You will have escort to your country. Go now pray, go quickly." He feared he might suddenly repent of his action, and going to the door, he held it open for them to pass.
Iberville had his man at an advantage, and was making the most of it when she came in at an angle behind the other, and the sight of her stayed his arm. It was but for a breath, but it served. Gering had not seen, and his sword ran up Iberville's arm, making a little trench in the flesh. She ran in on them from the gloom, saying in a sharp, aching voice: "Stop, stop! Oh, what madness!"
"You have saved our fortunes." The girl sighs, and then, with a little touch of that demure irony which we had seen in her years before, says: "I trust we have not lost our honour." "Why, you love him, do you not? There is no one you care for more than George Gering?" "I suppose not," is her reply, but the tone is enigmatical. While this scene is on, another appears in Cheapside, London.
There was no angrier man in all America than Colonel Richard Nicholls; there was perhaps no girl in all the world more agitated than Jessica, then a guest at Government House. Her father was there also, cheerfully awaiting her marriage with Gering, whom, since he had lost most traces of Puritanism, he liked.
When the fog cleared away there was no sign of the Bridgwater Merchant and Iberville, sure that she had made the port of Boston, and knowing that there must be English vessels searching for him, bore away to Quebec with Gering on board. He parted from his rival the day they arrived Perrot was to escort him a distance on his way to Boston. Gering thanked him for his courtesy.
But before the trial Iberville had had solitary talk with Frontenac, in which a request was repeated and a promise renewed. Gering was condemned to die. It was perhaps the bravest moment of a brave life. "Gentlemen," he said, "I have heard your sentence, but, careless of military honour as you are, you will not dare put me to death.
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