ird and beast the savages, uncouth
and terrible,--for a moment I saw my world as the woman at my feet must
see it, strange, wild, and menacing, an evil land, the other side of the
moon. A thing that I had forgotten came to my mind: how that, after our
landing at Jamestown, years before, a boy whom we had with us did each
night fill with cries and lamentations the hut where he lay with my
cousin Percy, Gosnold, and myself, nor would cease though we tried both
crying shame and a rope's end. It was not for homesickness, for he
had no mother or kin or home; and at length Master Hunt brought him to
confess that it was but pure panic terror of the land itself,--not of
the Indians or of our hardships, both of which he faced bravely enough,
but of the strange trees and the high and long roofs of vine, of
the black sliding earth and the white mist, of the fireflies and the
whippoorwills,--a sick fear of primeval Nature and her tragic mask.

This was a woman, young, alone, and friendless, unless I, who had sworn
to cherish and protect her, should prove myself her friend. Wherefore,
when, a few minutes later, I bent over her, it was with all gentleness
that I touched and spoke to her.

"Our journey is over," I said. "This is home, my dear."

She let me help her to her feet, and up the wet and slippery steps to
the level of the wharf. It was now quite dark, there being no moon, and
thin clouds obscuring the stars. The touch of her hand, which I perforce
held since I must guide her over the long, narrow, and unrailed trestle,
chilled me, and her breathing was hurried, but she moved by my side
through the gross darkness unfalteringly enough. Arrived at the gate of
the palisade, I beat upon it with the hilt of my sword, and shouted to
my men to open to us. A moment, and a dozen torches came flaring down
the bank. Diccon shot back the bolts, and we entered. The men drew
up and saluted; for I held my manor a camp, my servants soldiers, and
myself their captain.

I have seen worse favored companies, but doubtless the woman beside
me had not. Perhaps, too, the red light of the torches, now flaring
brightly, now sunk before the wind, gave their countenances a more
villainous cast than usual. They were not all bad. Diccon had the
virtue of fidelity, if none other; there were a brace of Puritans, and
a handful of honest fools, who, if they drilled badly, yet abhorred
mutiny. But the half dozen I had taken off Argall's hands; the Dutchmen