My Troubles Begin

"'Tis no matter."

"How came you here?"

"'Tis no matter for that, either."

"Are you alone?"

"Aye!"

"Then wherefore trouble to shave your beard?"

"'Tis a whim."

"Are you alone?"

"I was."

"And I would you were again."

"So do I."

"You are Englishman--yes?"

"I am."

"My mother was English--a poor thing that spent her days weeping and died of her tears when I was small--ah, very small, on this island."

"Here?" quoth I, staring.

"Twenty and one years agone!" said she, combing away at her glossy hair. "My mother was English like you, but my father was a noble gentleman of Spain and Governor of Santa Catalina, Don Esteban da Silva y Montreale, and killed by Tressady--Black Tressady--"

"What, Roger Tressady--o' the Hook?"

"True, Señor Englishman," said she softly and glancing up at me through her hair; "he hath a hook very sharp and bright, in place of his left hand. You know him? He is your friend--yes?"

"I know him for a cursed pirate and murderer!"

"Moi aussi, mon ami!" said she, fixing me with her great eyes. "I am pirate, yes--and have used dagger and pistol ere to-day and shall again."

"And wear a woman's shape!"

"Ha--yes, yes!" cried she, gnashing her teeth. "And there's my curse--I am woman and therefore do hate all women. But my soul is a man's so do I use all men to my purpose, snare them by my woman's arts and make of 'em my slaves. See you; there is none of all my lovers but doth obey me, and so do I rule, with ships and men at my command and fearing no man--"