She lowered her pistol and stood looking at him, alone, helpless, unprotected. So he had seen her in imagination many times. So he had vowed he would have no mercy. Now she had shown mercy. She had held his life in her hand, and had spared it. This was the worst of all the wrongs she had done him. The thought galled him beyond endurance. Quick as lightning, he raised his pistol and fired, then covered his eyes with his arm. God forgive the wretch! He loved this woman still.
When he looked again the vision stood there yet, the eyes still dominating him, a cool smile on the haughty lips.
"Coward!" was all she said; but it was enough. Ingle, the redoubtable, the terror of the seas, the conqueror in fifty combats with desperate men, turned and ran as though the fiends were after him. The groups of his men that he passed, seeing a sight never before witnessed,--their leader fleeing with a look of terror on his face,--joined in the retreat toward the steps which led down the bluff, crying as they went, "To the ships! to the ships! Ingle! Ingle!"
Cornwaleys, who had hastily gathered a band of followers from neighboring plantations, came rushing after and fancied that it was he and his men who had routed Ingle. So he told the story afterward at the tavern. So the villagers all believed.
"Put me down! Put me down!" screamed Cecil.
"I put thee down? I'll see thee roasted first!"
"Very like; but wait, thou little imp, till I have thee safe in the ship!"
"In St. Michael's name!" cried the child, and beat Ralph Ingle lustily about the head; but Ingle swept down his chubby arms as though they had been gnats, and ran on toward the nearest gate.
When he reached the Governor's Spring, he noticed that the waters ran red with blood. By its margin two men were cutting and thrusting with sword and cutlass, while a third with hand clasped to his throat lay along the curb, his head hanging lifeless over the water.
"Help, Ralph!" came in Claiborne's voice from the group.
As he called out he retreated a step, that he might free the weapon which his adversary held engaged.
His opponent, who fought with his back to Ingle, took advantage of the retreat, and making a lunge forward, drove his sword into Claiborne's side, crying out,--