I Saw Three Ships | Page 9

horn lanterns dangled from a row of
pegs above them. She caught down one, lit it, and throwing the shawl
over her head, stepped out into the night.
The wind was dying down and seemed almost warm upon her face. A
young moon fought gallantly, giving the massed clouds just enough
light to sail by; but in the lane it was dark as pitch. This did not so
much matter, as the rain had poured down it like a sluice, washing the
flints clean. Ruby's lantern swung to and fro, casting a yellow glare on
the tall hedges, drawing queer gleams from the holly-bushes, and
flinging an ugly, amorphous shadow behind, that dogged her like an
enemy.
At the foot of the lane she could clearly distinguish the songs, shouts,
and shrill laughter, above the hollow roar of the breakers.
"They're playin' kiss-i'-the-ring. That's Modesty Prowse's laugh. I
wonder how any man can kiss a mouth like Modesty Prowse's!"
She turned down the sands towards the bonfire, grasping as she went
all the details of the scene.
In the glow of the dying fire sat a semicircle of men--Jim Lewarne,
sunk in a drunken slumber, Calvin Oke bawling in his ear, Old Zeb on
hands and knees, scraping the embers together, Toby Lewarne (Jim's
elder brother) thumping a pannikin on his knee and bellowing a carol,
and a dozen others--in stages varying from qualified sobriety to stark
and shameless intoxication--peering across the fire at the game in
progress between them and the faint line that marked where sand ended
and sea began.
"Zeb's turn!" roared out Toby Lewarne, breaking off The Third Good
Joy midway, in his excitement.
"Have a care--have a care, my son!" Old Zeb looked up to shout.

"Thee'rt so good as wed already; so do thy wedded man's duty, an' kiss
th' hugliest!"
It was true. Ruby, halting with her lantern a pace or two behind the
dark semicircle of backs, saw her perfidious Zeb moving from right to
left slowly round the circle of men and maids that, with joined hands
and screams of laughter, danced as slowly in the other direction. She
saw him pause once--twice, feign to throw the kerchief over one, then
still pass on, calling out over the racket:--
"I sent a letter to my love, I carried water in my glove, An' on the way I
dropped it--dropped it--dropped it--"
He dropped the kerchief over Modesty Prowse.
"Zeb!"
Young Zeb whipped the kerchief off Modesty's neck, and spun round
as it shot.
The dancers looked; the few sober men by the fire turned and looked
also.
"'Tis Ruby Tresidder!" cried one of the girls; "'Wudn' be i' thy shoon,
Young Zeb, for summatt."
Zeb shook his wits together and dashed off towards the spot, twenty
yards away, where Ruby stood holding the lantern high, its ray full on
her face. As she started she kicked off her clogs, turned, and ran for her
life.
Then, in an instant, a new game began upon the sands. Young Zeb,
waving his kerchief and pursuing the flying lantern, was turned, baffled,
intercepted--here, there, and everywhere--by the dancers, who scattered
over the beach with shouts and peals of laughter, slipping in between
him and his quarry. The elders by the fire held their sides and cheered
the sport. Twice Zeb was tripped up by a mischievous boot, floundered
and went sprawling; and the roar was loud and long. Twice he picked

himself up and started again after the lantern, that zigzagged now along
the fringe of the waves, now up towards the bonfire, now off along the
dark shadow of the cliffs.
Ruby could hardly sift her emotions when she found herself panting
and doubling in flight. The chase had started without her will or dissent;
had suddenly sprung, as it were, out of the ground. She only knew that
she was very angry with Zeb; that she longed desperately to elude him;
and that he must catch her soon, for her breath and strength were
ebbing.
What happened in the end she kept in her dreams till she died.
Somehow she had dropped the lantern and was running up from the sea
towards the fire, with Zeb's feet pounding behind her, and her soul
possessed with the dread to feel his grasp upon her shoulders. As it fell,
Old Zeb leapt up to his feet with excitement, and opened his mouth
wide to cheer.
But no voice came for three seconds: and when he spoke this was what
he said--
"Good Lord, deliver us!"
She saw his gaze pass over her shoulder; and then heard these words
come slowly, one by one, like dropping stones. His face was like a
ghost's in the bonfire's light, and he muttered again--"From battle and
murder, and from sudden