Captain Blood, Rafael Sabatini [book reader for pc .TXT] 📗

colour suddenly departed, the Deputy-Governor was swaying on unsteady legs. Peter Blood considered him with a grimness that increased his panic.

“I marvel that I don’t pistol you without more ado, ye fat blackguard. If I don’t, it’s for the same reason that once before I gave ye your life when it was forfeit. Ye’re not aware of the reason, to be sure; but it may comfort ye to know that it exists. At the same time I’ll warn ye not to put too heavy a strain on my generosity, which resides at the moment in my trigger-finger. Ye mean to hang me, and since that’s the worst that can happen to me anyway, you’ll realize that I’ll not boggle at increasing the account by spilling your nasty blood.” He cast his cane from him, thus disengaging his left hand. “Be good enough to give me your arm, Colonel Bishop. Come, come, man, your arm.”

Under the compulsion of that sharp tone, those resolute eyes, and that gleaming pistol, Bishop obeyed without demur. His recent foul volubility was stemmed. He could not trust himself to speak. Captain Blood tucked his left arm through the Deputy-Governor’s proffered right. Then he thrust his own right hand with its pistol back into the breast of his doublet.

“Though invisible, it’s aiming at ye none the less, and I give you my word of honour that I’ll shoot ye dead upon the very least provocation, whether that provocation is yours or another’s. Ye’ll bear that in mind, Lord Julian. And now, ye greasy hangman, step out as brisk and lively as ye can, and behave as naturally as ye may, or it’s the black stream of Cocytus ye’ll be contemplating.” Arm in arm they passed through the house, and down the garden, where Arabella lingered, awaiting Peter Blood’s return.

Consideration of his parting words had brought her first turmoil of mind, then a clear perception of what might be indeed the truth of the death of Levasseur. She perceived that the particular inference drawn from it might similarly have been drawn from Blood’s deliverance of Mary Traill. When a man so risks his life for a woman, the rest is easily assumed. For the men who will take such risks without hope of personal gain are few. Blood was of those few, as he had proved in the case of Mary Traill.

It needed no further assurances of his to convince her that she had done him a monstrous injustice. She remembered words he had used - words overheard aboard his ship (which he had named the Arabella) on the night of her deliverance from the Spanish admiral; words he had uttered when she had approved his acceptance of the King’s commission; the words he had spoken to her that very morning, which had but served to move her indignation. All these assumed a fresh meaning in her mind, delivered now from its unwarranted preconceptions.

Therefore she lingered there in the garden, awaiting his return that she might make amends; that she might set a term to all misunderstanding. In impatience she awaited him. Yet her patience, it seemed, was to be tested further. For when at last he came, it was in company - unusually close and intimate company - with her uncle. In vexation she realized that explanations must be postponed. Could she have guessed the extent of that postponement, vexation would have been changed into despair.

He passed, with his companion, from that fragrant garden into the courtyard of the fort. Here the Commandant, who had been instructed to hold himself in readiness with the necessary men against the need to effect the arrest of Captain Blood, was amazed by the curious spectacle of the Deputy-Governor of Jamaica strolling forth arm in arm and apparently on the friendliest terms with the intended prisoner. For as they went, Blood was chatting and laughing briskly.

They passed out of the gates unchallenged, and so came to the mole where the cock-boat from the Arabella was waiting. They took their places side by side in the stern sheets, and were pulled away together, always very close and friendly, to the great red ship where Jeremy Pitt so anxiously awaited news.

You conceive the master’s amazement to see the Deputy-Governor come toiling up the entrance ladder, with Blood following very close behind him.

“Sure, I walked into a trap, as ye feared, Jeremy,” Blood hailed him. “But I walked out again, and fetched the trapper with me. He loves his life, does this fat rascal.”

Colonel Bishop stood in the waist, his great face blenched to the colour of clay, his mouth loose, almost afraid to look at the sturdy ruffians who lounged about the shot-rack on the main hatch.

Blood shouted an order to the bo’sun, who was leaning against the forecastle bulkhead.

“Throw me a rope with a running noose over the yardarm there, against the need of it. Now, don’t be alarming yourself, Colonel, darling. It’s no more than a provision against your being unreasonable, which I am sure ye’ll not be. We’ll talk the matter over whiles we are dining, for I trust ye’ll not refuse to honour my table by your company.”

He led away the will-less, cowed bully to the great cabin. Benjamin, the negro steward, in white drawers and cotton shirt, made haste by his command to serve dinner.

Colonel Bishop collapsed on the locker under the stern ports, and spoke now for the first time.

“May I ask wha… what are your intentions?” he quavered.

“Why, nothing sinister, Colonel. Although ye deserve nothing less than that same rope and yardarm, I assure you that it’s to be employed only as a last resource. Ye’ve said his lordship made a mistake when he handed me the commission which the Secretary of State did me the honour to design for me. I’m disposed to agree with you; so I’ll take to the sea again. Cras ingens iterabimus aequor. It’s the fine Latin scholar ye’ll be when I’ve done with ye. I’ll be getting back to Tortuga and my buccaneers, who at least are honest, decent fellows. So I’ve fetched ye aboard as a hostage.”

“My God!” groaned the Deputy-Governor. “Ye… ye never mean that ye’ll carry me to Tortuga!”

Blood laughed outright. “Oh, I’d never serve ye such a bad turn as that. No, no. All I want is that ye ensure my safe departure from Port Royal. And, if ye’re reasonable, I’ll not even trouble you to swim for it this time. Ye’ve given certain orders to your Harbour-Master, and others to the Commandant of your plaguey fort. Ye’ll be so good as to send for them both aboard here, and inform them in my presence that the Arabella is leaving this afternoon on the King’s service and is to pass out unmolested. And so as to make quite sure of their obedience, they shall go a little voyage with us, themselves. Here’s what you require. Now write - unless you prefer the yardarm.”

Colonel Bishop heaved himself up in a pet. “You constrain me with violence…” he was beginning.

Blood smoothly interrupted him.

“Sure, now, I am not constraining you at all. I’m giving you a perfectly free choice between the pen and the rope. It’s a matter for yourself entirely.”

Bishop glared at him; then shrugging heavily, he took up the pen and sat down at the table. In an unsteady hand he wrote that summons to his officers. Blood despatched it ashore; and then bade his unwilling guest to table.

“I trust, Colonel, your appetite is as stout as usual.”

The wretched Bishop took the seat to which he was commanded. As for eating, however, that was not easy to a man in his position; nor did Blood press him. The Captain, himself, fell to with a good appetite. But before he was midway through the meal came Hayton to inform him that Lord Julian Wade had just come aboard, and was asking to see him instantly.

“I was expecting him,” said Blood. “Fetch him in.”

Lord Julian came. He was very stem and dignified. His eyes took in the situation at a glance, as Captain Blood rose to greet him.

“It’s mighty friendly of you to have joined us, my lord.”

“Captain Blood,” said his lordship with asperity, “I find your humour a little forced. I don’t know what may be your intentions; but I wonder do you realize the risks you are running.”

“And I wonder does your lordship realize the risk to yourself in following us aboard as I had counted that you would.”

“What shall that mean, sir?”

Blood signalled to Benjamin, who was standing behind Bishop.

“Set a chair for his lordship. Hayton, send his lordship’s boat ashore. Tell them he’ll not be returning yet awhile.”

“What’s that?” cried his lordship. “Blister me! D’ye mean to detain me? Are ye mad?”

“Better wait, Hayton, in case his lordship should turn violent,” said Blood. “You, Benjamin, you heard the message. Deliver it.”

“Will you tell me what you intend, sir?” demanded his lordship, quivering with anger.

“Just to make myself and my lads here safe from Colonel Bishop’s gallows. I’ve said that I trusted to your gallantry not to leave him in the lurch, but to follow him hither, and there’s a note from his hand gone ashore to summon the Harbour-Master and the Commandant of the fort. Once they are aboard, I shall have all the hostages I need for our safety.”

“You scoundrel!” said his lordship through his teeth.

“Sure, now, that’s entirely a matter of the point of view,” said Blood. “Ordinarily it isn’t the kind of name I could suffer any man to apply to me. Still, considering that ye willingly did me a service once, and that ye’re likely unwillingly to do me another now, I’ll overlook your discourtesy, so I will.”

His lordship laughed. “You fool,” he said. “Do you dream that I came aboard your pirate ship without taking my measures? I informed the Commandant of exactly how you had compelled Colonel Bishop to accompany you. Judge now whether he or the Harbour-Master will obey the summons, or whether you will be allowed to depart as you imagine.”

Blood’s face became grave. “I’m sorry for that,” said he.

I thought you would be, answered his lordship.

“Oh, but not on my own account. It’s the Deputy-Governor there I’m sorry for. D’ye know what Ye’ve done? Sure, now, ye’ve very likely hanged him.”

“My God!” cried Bishop in a sudden increase of panic.

“If they so much as put a shot across my bows, up goes their Deputy-Governor to the yardarm. Your only hope, Colonel, lies in the fact that I shall send them word of that intention. And so that you may mend as far as you can the harm you have done, it’s yourself shall bear them the message, my lord.”

“I’ll see you damned before I do,” fumed his lordship.

“Why, that’s unreasonable and unreasoning. But if ye insist, why, another messenger will do as well, and another hostage aboard - as I had originally intended - will make my hand the stronger.”

Lord Julian stared at him, realizing exactly what he had refused.

“You’ll think better of it now that ye understand?” quoth Blood.

“Aye, in God’s name, go, my lord,” spluttered Bishop, “and make yourself obeyed. This damned pirate has me by the throat.”

His lordship surveyed him with an eye that was not by any means admiring. “Why, if that is your wish…” he began. Then he shrugged, and turned again to Blood.

“I suppose I can trust you that no harm will come to Colonel Bishop if you are allowed to sail?”

“You have my word for it,” said Blood. “And also that I shall put him safely ashore again without delay.”

Lord Julian bowed stiffly to the cowering Deputy-Governor. “You understand, sir, that I do as you