Captain Blood, Rafael Sabatini [e manga reader TXT] 📗

pleasant, seeming to echo some of the mockery that had invested Levasseur’s, that question floated over their heads.

Startled, Levasseur and his officers looked up and round. On the crest of the dunes behind them, in sharp silhouette against the deep cobalt of the sky, they beheld a tall, lean figure scrupulously dressed in black with silver lace, a crimson ostrich plume curled about the broad brim of his hat affording the only touch of colour. Under that hat was the tawny face of Captain Blood.

Levasseur gathered himself up with an oath of amazement. He had conceived Captain Blood by now well below the horizon, on his way to Tortuga, assuming him to have been so fortunate as to have weathered last night’s storm.

Launching himself upon the yielding sand, into which he sank to the level of the calves of his fine boots of Spanish leather, Captain Blood came sliding erect to the beach. He was followed by Wolverstone, and a dozen others. As he came to a standstill, he doffed his hat, with a flourish, to the lady. Then he turned to Levasseur.

“Good morning, my Captain,” said he, and proceeded to explain his presence. “It was last night’s hurricane compelled our return. We had no choice but to ride before it with stripped poles, and it drove us back the way we had gone. Moreover⁠—as the devil would have it!⁠—the Santiago sprang her mainmast; and so I was glad to put into a cove on the west of the island a couple of miles away, and we’ve walked across to stretch our legs, and to give you good day. But who are these?” And he designated the man and the woman.

Cahusac shrugged his shoulders, and tossed his long arms to heaven.

“Voilà!” said he, pregnantly, to the firmament.

Levasseur gnawed his lip, and changed colour. But he controlled himself to answer civilly:

“As you see, two prisoners.”

“Ah! Washed ashore in last night’s gale, eh?”

“Not so.” Levasseur contained himself with difficulty before that irony. “They were in the Dutch brig.”

“I don’t remember that you mentioned them before.”

“I did not. They are prisoners of my own⁠—a personal matter. They are French.”

“French!” Captain Blood’s light eyes stabbed at Levasseur, then at the prisoners.

M. d’Ogeron stood tense and braced as before, but the grey horror had left his face. Hope had leapt within him at this interruption, obviously as little expected by his tormentor as by himself. His sister, moved by a similar intuition, was leaning forward with parted lips and gaping eyes.

Captain Blood fingered his lip, and frowned thoughtfully upon Levasseur.

“Yesterday you surprised me by making war upon the friendly Dutch. But now it seems that not even your own countrymen are safe from you.”

“Have I not said that these⁠ ⁠… that this is a matter personal to me?”

“Ah! And their names?”

Captain Blood’s crisp, authoritative, faintly disdainful manner stirred Levasseur’s quick anger. The blood crept slowly back into his blenched face, and his glance grew in insolence, almost in menace. Meanwhile the prisoner answered for him.

“I am Henri d’Ogeron, and this is my sister.”

“D’Ogeron?” Captain Blood stared. “Are you related by chance to my good friend the Governor of Tortuga?”

“He is my father.”

Levasseur swung aside with an imprecation. In Captain Blood, amazement for the moment quenched every other emotion.

“The saints preserve us now! Are you quite mad, Levasseur? First you molest the Dutch, who are our friends; next you take prisoners two persons that are French, your own countrymen; and now, faith, they’re no less than the children of the Governor of Tortuga, which is the one safe place of shelter that we enjoy in these islands⁠ ⁠…”

Levasseur broke in angrily:

“Must I tell you again that it is a matter personal to me? I make myself alone responsible to the Governor of Tortuga.”

“And the twenty thousand pieces of eight? Is that also a matter personal to you?”

“It is.”

“Now I don’t agree with you at all.” Captain Blood sat down on the cask that Levasseur had lately occupied, and looked up blandly. “I may inform you, to save time, that I heard the entire proposal that you made to this lady and this gentleman, and I’ll also remind you that we sail under articles that admit no ambiguities. You have fixed their ransom at twenty thousand pieces of eight. That sum then belongs to your crews and mine in the proportions by the articles established. You’ll hardly wish to dispute it. But what is far more grave is that you have concealed from me this part of the prizes taken on your last cruise, and for such an offence as that the articles provide certain penalties that are something severe in character.”

“Ho, ho!” laughed Levasseur unpleasantly. Then added: “If you dislike my conduct we can dissolve the association.”

“That is my intention. But we’ll dissolve it when and in the manner that I choose, and that will be as soon as you have satisfied the articles under which we sailed upon this cruise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll be as short as I can,” said Captain Blood. “I’ll waive for the moment the unseemliness of making war upon the Dutch, of taking French prisoners, and of provoking the anger of the Governor of Tortuga. I’ll accept the situation as I find it. Yourself you’ve fixed the ransom of this couple at twenty thousand pieces, and, as I gather, the lady is to be your perquisite. But why should she be your perquisite more than another’s, seeing that she belongs by the articles to all of us, as a prize of war?”

Black as thunder grew the brow of Levasseur.

“However,” added Captain Blood, “I’ll not dispute her to you if you are prepared to buy her.”

“Buy her?”

“At the price you have set upon her.”

Levasseur contained his rage, that he might reason with the Irishman. “That is the ransom of the man. It is to be paid for him by the Governor of Tortuga.”

“No, no. Ye’ve parcelled the twain together⁠—very oddly, I confess. Ye’ve set their value at twenty thousand pieces, and for that