CAPTAIN BLOOD by Rafael Sabatini

CHAPTER XXIV
WAR
Five miles out at sea from Port Royal, whence the details of the
coast of Jamaica were losing their sharpness, the Arabella hove to,
and the sloop she had been towing was warped alongside.
Captain Blood escorted his compulsory guest to the head of the
ladder. Colonel Bishop, who for two hours and more had been in a
state of mortal anxiety, breathed freely at last; and as the tide
of his fears receded, so that of his deep-rooted hate of this
audacious buccaneer resumed its normal flow. But he practised
circumspection. If in his heart he vowed that once back in Port
Royal there was no effort he would spare, no nerve he would not
strain, to bring Peter Blood to final moorings in Execution Dock,
at least he kept that vow strictly to himself.
Peter Blood had no illusions. He was not, and never would be, the
complete pirate. There was not another buccaneer in all the
Caribbean who would have denied himself the pleasure of stringing
Colonel Bishop from the yardarm, and by thus finally stifling the
vindictive planter's hatred have increased his own security. But
Blood was not of these. Moreover, in the case of Colonel Bishop
there was a particular reason for restraint. Because he was Arabella
Bishop's uncle, his life must remain sacred to Captain Blood.
And so the Captain smiled into the sallow, bloated face and the
little eyes that fixed him with a malevolence not to be dissembled.
"A safe voyage home to you, Colonel, darling," said he in
valediction, and from his easy, smiling manner you would never have
dreamt of the pain he carried in his breast. "It's the second time
ye've served me for a hostage. Ye'll be well advised to avoid a
third. I'm not lucky to you, Colonel, as you should be perceiving."
Jeremy Pitt, the master, lounging at Blood's elbow, looked darkly
upon the departure of the Deputy-Governor. Behind them a little
mob of grim, stalwart, sun-tanned buccaneers were restrained from
cracking Bishop like a flea only by their submission to the dominant
will of their leader. They had learnt from Pitt while yet in Port
Royal of their Captain's danger, and whilst as ready as he to throw
over the King's service which had been thrust upon them, yet they
resented the manner in which this had been rendered necessary, and
they marvelled now at Blood's restraint where Bishop was concerned.
The Deputy-Governor looked round and met the lowering hostile
glances of those fierce eyes. Instinct warned him that his life at
that moment was held precariously, that an injudicious word might
precipitate an explosion of hatred from which no human power could
save him. Therefore he said nothing. He inclined his head in
silence to the Captain, and went blundering and stumbling in his
haste down that ladder to the sloop and its waiting negro crew.
They pushed off the craft from the red hull of the Arabella, bent
to their sweeps, then, hoisting sail, headed back for Port Royal,
intent upon reaching it before darkness should come down upon them.
And Bishop, the great bulk of him huddled in the stem sheets, sat
silent, his black brows knitted, his coarse lips pursed, malevolence
and vindictiveness so whelming now his recent panic that he forgot
his near escape of the yardarm and the running noose.
On the mole at Port Royal, under the low, embattled wall of the fort,
Major Mallard and Lord Julian waited to receive him, and it was with
infinite relief that they assisted him from the sloop.
Major Mallard was disposed to be apologetic.
"Glad to see you safe, sir," said he. "I'd have sunk Blood's ship
in spite of your excellency's being aboard but for your own orders
by Lord Julian, and his lordship's assurance that he had Blood's
word for it that no harm should come to you so that no harm came to
him. I'll confess I thought it rash of his lordship to accept the
word of a damned pirate...."
"I have found it as good as another's," said his lordship, cropping
the Major's too eager eloquence. He spoke with an unusual degree
of that frosty dignity he could assume upon occasion. The fact is
that his lordship was in an exceedingly bad humour. Having written
jubilantly home to the Secretary of State that his mission had
succeeded, he was now faced with the necessity of writing again to
confess that this success had been ephemeral. And because Major
Mallard's crisp mostachios were lifted by a sneer at the notion of
a buccaneer's word being acceptable, he added still more sharply:
"My justification is here in the person of Colonel Bishop safely
returned. As against that, sir, your opinion does not weigh for
very much. You should realize it."
"Oh, as your lordship says." Major Mallard's manner was tinged with
irony. "To be sure, here is the Colonel safe and sound. And out
yonder is Captain Blood, also safe and sound, to begin his piratical
ravages all over again."
"I do not propose to discuss the reasons with you, Major Mallard."
"And, anyway, it's not for long," growled the Colonel, finding
speech at last. "No, by....." He emphasized the assurance by an
unprintable oath. "If I spend the last shilling of my fortune and
the last ship of the Jamaica fleet, I'll have that rascal in a
hempen necktie before I rest. And I'll not be long about it." He
had empurpled in his angry vehemence, and the veins of his forehead
stood out like whipcord. Then he checked.
"You did well to follow Lord Julian's instructions," he commended
the Major. With that he turned from him, and took his lordship by
the arm. "Come, my lord. We must take order about this, you and I."
They went off together, skirting the redoubt, and so through
courtyard and garden to the house where Arabella waited anxiously.
The sight of her uncle brought her infinite relief, not only on his
own account, but on account also of Captain Blood.
"You took a great risk, sir," she gravely told Lord Julian after
the ordinary greetings had been exchanged.
But Lord Julian answered her as he had answered Major Mallard.
"There was no risk, ma'am."
She looked at him in some astonishment. His long, aristocratic
face wore a more melancholy, pensive air than usual. He answered
the enquiry in her glance:
"So that Blood's ship were allowed to pass the fort, no harm could
come to Colonel Bishop. Blood pledged me his word for that."
A faint smile broke the set of her lips, which hitherto had been
wistful, and a little colour tinged her cheeks. She would have
pursued the subject, but the Deputy-Governor's mood did not permit
it. He sneered and snorted at the notion of Blood's word being good
for anything, forgetting that he owed to it his own preservation at
that moment.
At supper, and for long thereafter he talked of nothing but Blood
- of how he would lay him by the heels, and what hideous things he
would perform upon his body. And as he drank heavily the while, his
speech became increasingly gross and his threats increasingly
horrible; until in the end Arabella withdrew, white-faced and almost
on the verge of tears. It was not often that Bishop revealed
himself to his niece. Oddly enough, this coarse, overbearing planter
went in a certain awe of that slim girl. It was as if she had
inherited from her father the respect in which he had always been
held by his brother.
Lord Julian, who began to find Bishop disgusting beyond endurance,
excused himself soon after, and went in quest of the lady. He had
yet to deliver the message from Captain Blood, and this, he thought,
would be his opportunity. But Miss Bishop had retired for the
night, and Lord Julian must curb his impatience - it amounted by
now to nothing less - until the morrow.
Very early next morning, before the heat of the day came to render
the open intolerable to his lordship, he espied her from his window
moving amid the azaleas in the garden. It was a fitting setting
for one who was still as much a delightful novelty to him in
womanhood as was the azalea among flowers. He hurried forth to
join her, and when, aroused from her pensiveness, she had given
him a good-morrow, smiling and frank, he explained himself by the
announcement that he bore her a message from Captain Blood.
He observed her little start and the slight quiver of her lips,
and observed thereafter not only her pallor and the shadowy rings
about her eyes, but also that unusually wistful air which last night
had escaped his notice.
They moved out of the open to one of the terraces, where a pergola
of orange-trees provided a shaded sauntering space that was at once
cool and fragrant. As they went, he considered her admiringly, and
marvelled at himself that it should have taken him so long fully
to realize her slim, unusual grace, and to find her, as he now did,
so entirely desirable, a woman whose charm must irradiate all the
life of a man, and touch its commonplaces into magic.
He noted the sheen of her red-brown hair, and how gracefully one
of its heavy ringlets coiled upon her slender, milk-white neck.
She wore a gown of shimmering grey silk, and a scarlet rose,
fresh-gathered, was pinned at her breast like a splash of blood.
Always thereafter when he thought of her it was as he saw her at
that moment, as never, I think, until that moment had he seen her.
In silence they paced on a little way into the green shade. Then
she paused and faced him.
"You said something of a message, sir," she reminded him, thus
betraying some of her impatience.
He fingered the ringlets of his periwig, a little embarrassed how
to deliver himself, considering how he should begin. "He desired
me," he said at last, "to give you a message that should prove to
you that there is still something left in him of the unfortunate
gentleman that... that.., for which once you knew him."
"That is not now necessary," said she very gravely. He misunderstood
her, of course, knowing nothing of the enlightenment that yesterday
had come to her.
"I think..., nay, I know that you do him an injustice," said he.
Her hazel eyes continued to regard him.
"If you will deliver the message, it may enable me to judge."
To him, this was confusing. He did not immediately answer. He
found that he had not sufficiently considered the terms he should
employ, and the matter, after all, was of an exceeding delicacy,
demanding delicate handling. It was not so much that he was
concerned to deliver a message as to render it a vehicle by which
to plead his own cause. Lord Julian, well versed in the lore of
womankind and usually at his ease with ladies of the beau-monde,
found himself oddly constrained before this frank and unsophisticated
niece of a colonial planter.
They moved on in silence and as if by common consent towards the
brilliant sunshine where the pergola was intersected by the avenue
leading upwards to the house. Across this patch of light fluttered
a gorgeous butterfly, that was like black and scarlet velvet and
large as a man's hand. His lordship's brooding eyes followed it
out of sight before he answered.
"It is not easy. Stab me, it is not. He was a man who deserved
well. And amongst us we have marred his chances: your uncle, because
he could not forget his rancour; you, because... because having told
him that in the King's service he would find his redemption of what
was past, you would not afterwards admit to him that he was so
redeemed. And this, although concern to rescue you was the chief
motive of his embracing that same service.
She had turned her shoulder to him so that he should not see her face.
"I know. I know now," she said softly. Then after a pause she added
the question: "And you? What part has your lordship had in this -
that you should incriminate yourself with us?"
"My part?" Again he hesitated, then plunged recklessly on, as men
do when determined to perform a thing they fear. "If I understood
him aright, if he understood aright, himself, my part, though
entirely passive, was none the less effective. I implore you to
observe that I but report his own words. I say nothing for myself."
His lordship's unusual nervousness was steadily increasing. "He
thought, then - so he told me - that my presence here had contributed
to his inability to redeem himself in your sight; and unless he were
so redeemed, then was redemption nothing."
She faced him fully, a frown of perplexity bringing her brows
together above her troubled eyes.
"He thought that you had contributed?" she echoed. It was clear
she asked for enlightenment. He plunged on to afford it her, his
glance a little scared, his cheeks flushing.
"Aye, and he said so in terms which told me something that I hope
above all things, and yet dare not believe, for, God knows, I am no
coxcomb, Arabella. He said... but first let me tell you how I was
placed. I had gone aboard his ship to demand the instant surrender
of your uncle whom he held captive. He laughed at me. Colonel
Bishop should be a hostage for his safety. By rashly venturing
aboard his ship, I afforded him in my own person yet another hostage
as valuable at least as Colonel Bishop. Yet he bade me depart; not
from the fear of consequences, for he is above fear, nor from any
personal esteem for me whom he confessed that he had come to find
detestable; and this for the very reason that made him concerned
for my safety."
"I do not understand," she said, as he paused. "Is not that a
contradiction in itself?"
"It seems so only. The fact is, Arabella, this unfortunate man has
the... the temerity to love you."
She cried out at that, and clutched her breast whose calm was
suddenly disturbed. Her eyes dilated as she stared at him.
"I... I've startled you," said he, with concern. "I feared I should.
But it was necessary so that you may understand."
"Go on," she bade him.

"Well, then: he saw in me one who made it impossible that he should
win you - so he said. Therefore he could with satisfaction have
killed me. But because my death might cause you pain, because your
happiness was the thing that above all things he desired, he
surrendered that part of his guarantee of safety which my person
afforded him. If his departure should be hindered, and I should
lose my life in what might follow, there was the risk that... that
you might mourn me. That risk he would not take. Him you deemed
a thief and a pirate, he said, and added that - I am giving you his
own words always - if in choosing between us two, your choice, as
he believed, would fall on me, then were you in his opinion choosing
wisely. Because of that he bade me leave his ship, and had me put
ashore."
She looked at him with eyes that were aswim with tears. He took a
step towards her, a catch in his breath, his hand held out.
"Was he right, Arabella? My life's happiness hangs upon your answer."
But she continued silently to regard him with those tear-laden eyes,
without speaking, and until she spoke he dared not advance farther.
A doubt, a tormenting doubt beset him. When presently she spoke,
he saw how true had been the instinct of which that doubt was born,
for her words revealed the fact that of all that he had said the
only thing that had touched her consciousness and absorbed it from
all other considerations was Blood's conduct as it regarded herself.
"He said that!" she cried. "He did that! Oh!" She turned away,
and through the slender, clustering trunks of the bordering
orange-trees she looked out across the glittering waters of the
great harbour to the distant hills. Thus for a little while, my
lord standing stiffly, fearfully, waiting for fuller revelation of
her mind. At last it came, slowly, deliberately, in a voice that
at moments was half suffocated. "Last night when my uncle displayed
his rancour and his evil rage, it began to be borne in upon me that
such vindictiveness can belong only to those who have wronged. It is
the frenzy into which men whip themselves to justify an evil passion.
I must have known then, if I had not already learnt it, that I had
been too credulous of all the unspeakable things attributed to Peter
Blood. Yesterday I had his own explanation of that tale of Levasseur
that you heard in St. Nicholas. And now this... this but gives me
confirmation of his truth and worth. To a scoundrel such as I was
too readily brought to believe him, the act of which you have just
told me would have been impossible."
"That is my own opinion," said his lordship gently.
"It must be. But even if it were not, that would now weigh for
nothing. What weighs - oh, so heavily and bitterly - is the thought
that but for the words in which yesterday I repelled him, he might
have been saved. If only I could have spoken to him again before
he went! I waited for him; but my uncle was with him, and I had no
suspicion that he was going away again. And now he is lost - back
at his outlawry and piracy, in which ultimately he will be taken
and destroyed. And the fault is mine - mine!"
"What are you saying? The only agents were your uncle's hostility
and his own obstinacy which would not study compromise. You must
not blame yourself for anything."
She swung to him with some impatience, her eyes aswim in tears. "You
can say that, and in spite of his message, which in itself tells how
much I was to blame! It was my treatment of him, the epithets I cast
at him that drove him. So much he has told you. I know it to be
true."
"You have no cause for shame," said he. "As for your sorrow - why,
if it will afford you solace - you may still count on me to do what
man can to rescue him from this position."
She caught her breath.
"You will do that!" she cried with sudden eager hopefulness. "You
promise?" She held out her hand to him impulsively. He took it in
both his own.
"I promise," he answered her. And then, retaining still the hand
she had surrendered to him - "Arabella," he said very gently, "there
is still this other matter upon which you have not answered me."
"This other matter?" Was he mad, she wondered.
Could any other matter signify in such a moment.
"This matter that concerns myself; and all my future, oh, so very
closely. This thing that Blood believed, that prompted him..., that
... that you are not indifferent to me." He saw the fair face change
colour and grow troubled once more.
"Indifferent to you?" said she. "Why, no. We have been good
friends; we shall continue so, I hope, my lord."
"Friends! Good friends?" He was between dismay and bitterness.
"It is not your friendship only that I ask, Arabella. You heard
what I said, what I reported. You will not say that Peter Blood was
wrong?"
Gently she sought to disengage her hand, the trouble in her face
increasing. A moment he resisted; then, realizing what he did, he
set her free.
"Arabella!" he cried on a note of sudden pain.
"I have friendship for you, my lord. But only friendship." His
castle of hopes came clattering down about him, leaving him a little
stunned. As he had said, he was no coxcomb. Yet there was something
that he did not understand. She confessed to friendship, and it was
in his power to offer her a great position, one to which she, a
colonial planter's niece, however wealthy, could never have aspired
even in her dreams. This she rejected, yet spoke of friendship.
Peter Blood had been mistaken, then. How far had he been mistaken?
Had he been as mistaken in her feelings towards himself as he
obviously was in her feelings towards his lordship? In that case
... His reflections broke short. To speculate was to wound himself
in vain. He must know. Therefore he asked her with grim frankness:
"Is it Peter Blood?"
"Peter Blood?" she echoed. At first she did not understand the
purport of his question. When understanding came, a flush suffused
her face.
"I do not know," she said, faltering a little.
This was hardly a truthful answer. For, as if an obscuring veil had
suddenly been rent that morning, she was permitted at last to see
Peter Blood in his true relations to other men, and that sight,
vouchsafed her twenty-four hours too late, filled her with pity and
regret and yearning.
Lord Julian knew enough of women to be left in no further doubt.
He bowed his head so that she might not see the anger in his eyes,
for as a man of honour he took shame in that anger which as a human
being he could not repress.
And because Nature in him was stronger - as it is in most of us -
than training, Lord Julian from that moment began, almost in spite
of himself, to practise something that was akin to villainy. I
regret to chronicle it of one for whom - if I have done him any sort
of justice - you should have been conceiving some esteem. But the
truth is that the lingering remains of the regard in which he had
held Peter Blood were choked by the desire *****pplant and destroy
a rival. He had passed his word to Arabella that he would use his
powerful influence on Blood's behalf. I deplore to set it down that
not only did he forget his pledge, but secretly set himself to aid
and abet Arabella's uncle in the plans he laid for the trapping and
undoing of the buccaneer. He might reasonably have urged - had he
been taxed with it - that he conducted himself precisely as his duty
demanded. But to that he might have been answered that duty with him
was but the slave of jealousy in this.
When the Jamaica fleet put to sea some few days later, Lord Julian
sailed with Colonel Bishop in Vice-Admiral Craufurd's flagship.
Not only was there no need for either of them to go, but the
Deputy-Governor's duties actually demanded that he should remain
ashore, whilst Lord Julian, as we know, was a useless man aboard a
ship. Yet both set out to hunt Captain Blood, each making of his
duty a pretext for the satisfaction of personal aims; and that
common purpose became a link between them, binding them in a sort
of friendship that must otherwise have been impossible between men
so dissimilar in breeding and in aspirations.
The hunt was up. They cruised awhile off Hispaniola, watching the
Windward Passage, and suffering the discomforts of the rainy season
which had now set in. But they cruised in vain, and after a month
of it, returned empty-handed to Port Royal, there to find awaiting
them the most disquieting news from the Old World.
The megalomania of Louis XIV had set Europe in a blaze of war.
The French legionaries were ravaging the Rhine provinces, and Spain
had joined the nations leagued to defend themselves from the wild
ambitions of the King of France. And there was worse than this:
there were rumours of civil war in England, where the people had
grown weary of the bigoted tyranny of King James. It was reported
that William of Orange had been invited to come over.
Weeks passed, and every ship from home brought ad***ional news.
William had crossed to England, and in March of that year 1689
they learnt in Jamaica that he had accepted the crown and that
James had thrown himself into the arms of France for rehabilitation.
To a kinsman of Sunderland's this was disquieting news, indeed.
It was followed by letters from King William's Secretary of State
informing Colonel Bishop that there was war with France, and that
in view of its effect upon the Colonies a Governor-General was
coming out to the West Indies in the person of Lord Willoughby,
and that with him came a squadron under the command of Admiral van
der Kuylen to reenforce the Jamaica fleet against eventualities.
Bishop realized that this must mean the end of his supreme authority,
even though he should continue in Port Royal as Deputy-Governor.
Lord Julian, in the lack of direct news to himself, did not know
what it might mean to him. But he had been very close and
confidential with Colonel Bishop regarding his hopes of Arabella,
and Colonel Bishop more than ever, now that political events put him
in danger of being retired, was anxious to enjoy the advantages of
having a man of Lord Julian's eminence for his relative.
They came to a complete understanding in the matter, and Lord Julian
disclosed all that he knew.
"There is one obstacle in our path," said he. "Captain Blood. The
girl is in love with him."
"Ye're surely mad!" cried Bishop, when he had recovered speech.
"You are justified of the assumption," said his lordship dolefully.
"But I happen to be sane, and to speak with knowledge."
"With knowledge?"
"Arabella herself has confessed it to me."
"The brazen baggage! By God, I'll bring her to her senses. It was
the slave-driver speaking, the man who governed with a whip."
"Don't be a fool, Bishop." His lordship's contempt did more than
any argument to calm the Colonel. "That's not the way with a girl
of Arabella's spirit. Unless you want to wreck my chances for all
time, you'll hold your tongue, and not interfere at all."
"Not interfere? My God, what, then?"
"Listen, man. She has a constant mind. I don't think you know
your niece. As long as Blood lives, she will wait for him."
"Then with Blood dead, perhaps she will come to her silly senses."
"Now you begin to show intelligence," Lord Julian commended him.
"That is the first essential step."
"And here is our chance to take it." Bishop warmed to a sort of
enthusiasm. "This war with France removes all restrictions in the
matter of Tortuga. We are free to invest it in the service of the
Crown. A victory there and we establish ourselves in the favour
of this new government."
"Ah!" said Lord Julian, and he pulled thoughtfully at his lip.
"I see that you understand," Bishop laughed coarsely. "Two birds
with one stone, eh? We'll hunt this rascal in his lair, right under
the beard of the King of France, and we'll take him this time, if
we reduce Tortuga to a heap of ashes."
On that expe***ion they sailed two days later - which would be some
three months after Blood's departure - taking every ship of the
fleet, and several lesser vessels as auxiliaries. To Arabella and
the world in general it was given out that they were going to raid
French Hispaniola, which was really the only expe***ion that could
have afforded Colonel Bishop any sort of justification for leaving
Jamaica at all at such a time. His sense of duty, indeed, should
have kept him fast in Port Royal; but his sense of duty was smothered
in hatred - that most fruitless and corruptive of all the emotions.
In the great cabin of Vice-Admiral Craufurd's flagship, the
Imperator, the Deputy-Governor got drunk that night to celebrate his
conviction that the sands of Captain Blood's career were running out.

CHAPTER XXV
THE SERVICE OF KING LOUIS
Meanwhile, some three months before Colonel Bishop set out to reduce
Tortuga, Captain Blood, bearing hell in his soul, had blown into
its rockbound harbour ahead of the winter gales, and two days ahead
of the frigate in which Wolverstone had sailed from Port Royal a day
before him.
In that snug anchorage he found his fleet awaiting him - the four
ships which had been separated in that gale off the Lesser Antilles,
and some seven hundred men composing their crews. Because they had
been beginning to grow anxious on his behalf, they gave him the
greater welcome. Guns were fired in his honour and the ships made
themselves gay with bunting. The town, aroused by all this noise in
the harbour, emptied itself upon the jetty, and a vast crowd of men
and women of all creeds and nationalities collected there to be
present at the coming ashore of the great buccaneer.
Ashore he went, probably for no other reason than to obey the general
expectation. His mood was taciturn; his face grim and sneering. Let
Wolverstone arrive, as presently he would, and all this hero-worship
would turn to execration.
His captains, Hagthorpe, Christian, and Yberville, were on the jetty
to receive him, and with them were some hundreds of his buccaneers.
He cut short their greetings, and when they plagued him with questions
of where he had tarried, he bade them await the coming of Wolverstone,
who would satisfy their curiosity to a surfeit. On that he shook
them off, and shouldered his way through that heterogeneous throng
that was composed of bustling traders of several nations - English,
French, and Dutch - of planters and of seamen of various degrees, of
buccaneers who were fruit-selling half-castes, negro slaves, some
doll-tearsheets and dunghill-queans from the Old World, and all the
other types of the human family that converted the quays of Cayona
into a disreputable image of Babel.
Winning clear at last, and after difficulties, Captain Blood took
his way alone to the fine house of M. d'Ogeron, there to pay his
respects to his friends, the Governor and the Governor's family.
At first the buccaneers jumped to the conclusion that Wolverstone
was following with some rare prize of war, but gradually from the
reduced crew of the Arabella a very different tale leaked out to
stem their satisfaction and convert it into perplexity. Partly out
of loyalty to their captain, partly because they perceived that if
he was guilty of defection they were guilty with him, and partly
because being simple, sturdy men of their hands, they were themselves
in the main a little confused as to what really had happened, the
crew of the Arabella practised reticence with their brethren in
Tortuga during those two days before Wolverstone's arrival. But
they were not reticent enough to prevent the circulation of certain
uneasy rumours and extravagant stories of discre***able adventures
- discre***able, that is, from the buccaneering point of view - of
which Captain Blood had been guilty.
But that Wolverstone came when he did, it is possible that there
would have been an explosion. When, however, the Old Wolf cast
anchor in the bay two days later, it was to him all turned for the
explanation they were about to demand of Blood.
Now Wolverstone had only one eye; but he saw a deal more with that
one eye than do most men with two; and despite his grizzled head
- so picturesquely swathed in a green and scarlet turban - he had
the sound heart of a boy, and in that heart much love for Peter
Blood.
The sight of the Arabella at anchor in the bay had at first amazed
him as he sailed round the rocky headland that bore the fort. He
rubbed his single eye clear of any deceiving film and looked again.
Still he could not believe what it saw. And then a voice at his
elbow - the voice of Dyke, who had elected to sail with him -
assured him that he was not singular in his bewilderment.
"In the name of Heaven, is that the Arabella or is it the ghost of
her?"
The Old Wolf rolled his single eye over Dyke, and opened his mouth
to speak. Then he closed it again without having spoken; closed it
tightly. He had a great gift of caution, especially in matters that
he did not understand. That this was the Arabella he could no longer
doubt. That being so, he must think before he spoke. What the devil
should the Arabella be doing here, when he had left her in Jamaica?
And was Captain Blood aboard and in command, or had the remainder of
her hands made off with her, leaving the Captain in Port Royal?
Dyke repeated his question. This time Wolverstone answered him.
"Ye've two eyes to see with, and ye ask me, who's only got one,
what it is ye see!"
"But I see the Arabella."
"Of course, since there she rides. What else was you expecting?"
"Expecting?" Dyke stared at him, open-mouthed. "Was you expecting
to find the Arabella here?"
Wolverstone looked him over in contempt, then laughed and spoke
loud enough to be heard by all around him. "Of course. What else?"
And he laughed again, a laugh that seemed to Dyke to be calling him
a fool. On that Wolverstone turned to give his attention to the
operation of anchoring.
Anon when ashore he was beset by questioning buccaneers, it was
from their very questions that he gathered exactly how matters
stood, and perceived that either from lack of courage or other
motive Blood, himself, had refused to render any account of his
doings since the Arabella had separated from her sister ships.
Wolverstone congratulated himself upon the discretion he had used
with Dyke.
"The Captain was ever a modest man," he explained to Hagthorpe and
those others who came crowding round him. "It's not his way to be
sounding his own praises. Why, it was like this. We fell in with
old Don Miguel, and when we'd scuttled him we took aboard a London
pimp sent out by the Secretary of State to offer the Captain the
King's commission if so be him'd quit piracy and be o' good
behaviour. The Captain damned his soul to hell for answer. And then
we fell in wi' the Jamaica fleet and that grey old devil Bishop in
command, and there was a sure end to Captain Blood and to every
mother's son of us all. So I goes to him, and 'accept this poxy
commission,' says I; 'turn King's man and save your neck and ours.'
He took me at my word, and the London pimp gave him the King's
commission on the spot, and Bishop all but choked hisself with rage
when he was told of it. But happened it had, and he was forced to
swallow it. We were King's men all, and so into Port Royal we
sailed along o' Bishop. But Bishop didn't trust us. He knew too
much. But for his lordship, the fellow from London, he'd ha' hanged
the Captain, King's commission and all. Blood would ha' slipped
out o' Port Royal again that same night. But that hound Bishop
had passed the word, and the fort kept a sharp lookout. In the end,
though it took a fortnight, Blood bubbled him. He sent me and most
o' the men off in a frigate that I bought for the voyage. His game
- as he'd secretly told me - was to follow and give chase. Whether
that's the game he played or not I can't tell ye; but here he is
afore me as I'd expected he would be."
There was a great historian lost in Wolverstone. He had the right
imagination that knows just how far it is safe to stray from the
truth and just how far to colour it so as to change its shape for
his own purposes.
Having delivered himself of his decoction of fact and falsehood,
and thereby added one more to the exploits of Peter Blood, he
enquired where the Captain might be found. Being informed that he
kept his ship, Wolverstone stepped into a boat and went aboard, to
report himself, as he put it.
In the great cabin of the Arabella he found Peter Blood alone and
very far gone in drink - a con***ion in which no man ever before
remembered to have seen him. As Wolverstone came in, the Captain
raised bloodshot eyes to consider him. A moment they sharpened in
their gaze as he brought his visitor into focus. Then he laughed,
a loose, idiot laugh, that yet somehow was half a sneer.
"Ah! The Old Wolf!" said he. "Got here at last, eh? And whatcher
gonnerdo wi' me, eh?" He hiccoughed resoundingly, and sagged back
loosely in his chair.
Old Wolverstone stared at him in sombre silence. He had looked
with untroubled eye upon many a hell of devilment in his time, but
the sight of Captain Blood in this con***ion filled him with sudden
grief. To express it he loosed an oath. It was his only expression
for emotion of all kinds. Then he rolled forward, and dropped into
a chair at the table, facing the Captain.
"My God, Peter, what's this?"
"Rum," said Peter. "Rum, from Jamaica." He pushed bottle and glass
towards Wolverstone.
Wolverstone disregarded them.
"I'm asking you what ails you?" he bawled.
"Rum," said Captain Blood again, and smiled. "Jus' rum. I answer
all your queshons. Why donjerr answer mine? Whatcher gonerdo wi'
me?"
"I've done it," said Wolverstone. "Thank God, ye had the sense to
hold your tongue till I came. Are ye sober enough to understand me?"
"Drunk or sober, allus 'derstand you."
"Then listen." And out came the tale that Wolverstone had told.
The Captain steadied himself to grasp it.
"It'll do as well asertruth," said he when Wolverstone had finished.
"And... oh, no marrer! Much obliged to ye, Old Wolf - faithful
Old Wolf! But was it worthertrouble? I'm norrer pirate now; never
a pirate again. 'S finished'" He banged the table, his eyes
suddenly fierce.
"I'll come and talk to you again when there's less rum in your wits,"
said Wolverstone, rising. "Meanwhile ye'll please to remember the
tale I've told, and say nothing that'll make me out a liar. They all
believes me, even the men as sailed wi' me from Port Royal. I've made
'em. If they thought as how you'd taken the King's commission in
earnest, and for the purpose o' doing as Morgan did, ye guess what
would follow."
"Hell would follow," said the Captain. "An' tha's all I'm fit for."
"Ye're maudlin," Wolverstone growled. "We'll talk again to-morrow."
They did; but to little purpose, either that day or on any day
thereafter while the rains - which set in that night - endured.
Soon the shrewd Wolverstone discovered that rum was not what ailed
Blood. Rum was in itself an effect, and not by any means the cause
of the Captain's listless apathy. There was a canker eating at his
heart, and the Old Wolf knew enough to make a shrewd guess of its
nature. He cursed all things that daggled petticoats, and, knowing
his world, waited for the sickness to pass.

But it did not pass. When Blood was not dicing or drinking in the
taverns of Tortuga, keeping company that in his saner days he had
loathed, he was shut up in his cabin aboard the Arabella, alone and
uncommunicative. His friends at Government House, bewildered at
this change in him, sought to reclaim him. Mademoiselle d'Ogeron,
particularly distressed, sent him almost daily invitations, to few
of which he responded.
Later, as the rainy season approached its end, he was sought by his
captains with proposals of remunerative raids on Spanish settlements.
But to all he manifested an indifference which, as the weeks passed
and the weather became settled, begot first impatience and then
exasperation.
Christian, who commanded the Clotho, came storming to him one day,
upbraiding him for his inaction, and demanding that he should take
order about what was to do.
"Go to the devil!" Blood said, when he had heard him out. Christian
departed fuming, and on the morrow the Clotho weighed anchor and
sailed away, setting an example of desertion from which the loyalty
of Blood's other captains would soon be unable to restrain their men.
Sometimes Blood asked himself why had he come back to Tortuga at all.
Held fast in bondage by the thought of Arabella and her scorn of him
for a thief and a pirate, he had sworn that he had done with
buccaneering. Why, then, was he here? That question he would answer
with another: Where else was he to go? Neither backward nor forward
could he move, it seemed.
He was degenerating visibly, under the eyes of all. He had entirely
lost the almost foppish concern for his appearance, and was grown
careless and slovenly in his dress. He allowed a black beard to
grow on cheeks that had ever been so carefully shaven; and the long,
thick black hair, once so sedulously curled, hung now in a lank,
untidy mane about a face that was changing from its vigorous
swarthiness to an unhealthy sallow, whilst the blue eyes, that had
been so vivid and compelling, were now dull and lacklustre.
Wolverstone, the only one who held the clue to this degeneration,
ventured once - and once only - to beard him frankly about it.
"Lord, Peter! Is there never to be no end to this?" the giant had
growled. "Will you spend your days moping and swilling 'cause a
white-faced ninny in Port Royal'll have none o' ye? 'Sblood and
'ounds! If ye wants the wench, why the plague doesn't ye go and
fetch her?"
The blue eyes glared at him from under the jet-black eyebrows,
and something of their old fire began to kindle in them. But
Wolverstone went on heedlessly.
"I'll be nice wi' a wench as long as niceness be the key to her
favour. But sink me now if I'd rot myself in rum on account of
anything that wears a petticoat. That's not the Old Wolf's way.
If there's no other expe***ion'll tempt you, why not Port Royal?
What a plague do it matter if it is an English settlement? It's
commanded by Colonel Bishop, and there's no lack of rascals in your
company'd follow you to hell if it meant getting Colonel Bishop by
the throat. It could be done, I tell you. We've but to spy the
chance when the Jamaica fleet is away. There's enough plunder in
the town to tempt the lads, and there's the wench for you. Shall
I sound them on 't?"
Blood was on his feet, his eyes blazing, his livid face distorted.
"Ye'll leave my cabin this minute, so ye will, or, by Heaven, it's
your corpse'll be carried out of it. Ye mangy hound, d'ye dare
come to me with such proposals?"
He fell to cursing his faithful officer with a virulence the like
of which he had never yet been known to use. And Wolverstone, in
terror before that fury, went out without another word. The subject
was not raised again, and Captain Blood was left to his idle
abstraction.
But at last, as his buccaneers were growing desperate, something
happened, brought about by the Captain's friend M. d'Ogeron. One
sunny morning the Governor of Tortuga came aboard the Arabella,
accompanied by a chubby little gentleman, amiable of countenance,
amiable and self-sufficient of manner.
"My Captain," M. d'Ogeron delivered himself, "I bring you M. de
Cussy, the Governor of French Hispaniola, who desires a word with
you."
Out of consideration for his friend, Captain Blood pulled the pipe
from his mouth, shook some of the rum out of his wits, and rose
and made a leg to M. de Cussy.
"Serviteur!" said he.
M. de Cussy returned the bow and accepted a seat on the locker under
the stem windows.
"You have a good force here under your command, my Captain," said he.
"Some eight hundred men."
"And I understand they grow restive in idleness."
"They may go to the devil when they please."
M. de Cussy took snuff delicately. "I have something better than
that to propose," said he.
"Propose it, then," said Blood, without interest.
M. de Cussy looked at M. d'Ogeron, and raised his eyebrows a little.
He did not find Captain Blood encouraging. But M. d'Ogeron nodded
vigorously with pursed lips, and the Governor of Hispaniola
propounded his business.
"News has reached us from France that there is war with Spain."
"That is news, is it?" growled Blood.
"I am speaking officially, my Captain. I am not alluding to
unofficial skirmishes, and unofficial predatory measures which we
have condoned out here. There is war - formally war - between
France and Spain in Europe. It is the intention of France that
this war shall be carried into the New World. A fleet is coming
out from Brest under the command of M. le Baron de Rivarol for
that purpose. I have letters from him desiring me to equip a
supplementary squadron and raise a body of not less than a thousand
men to reenforce him on his arrival. What I have come to propose
to you, my Captain, at the suggestion of our good friend M. d'Ogeron,
is, in brief, that you enroll your ships and your force under M. de
Rivarol's flag."
Blood looked at him with a faint kindling of interest. "You are
offering to take us into the French service?" he asked. "On what
terms, monsieur?"
"With the rank of Capitaine de Vaisseau for yourself, and suitable
ranks for the officers serving under you. You will enjoy the pay
of that rank, and you will be entitled, together with your men,
to one-tenth share in all prizes taken."
"My men will hardly account it generous. They will tell you that
they can sail out of here to-morrow, disembowel a Spanish settlement,
and keep the whole of the plunder."
"Ah, yes, but with the risks attaching to acts of piracy. With us
your position will be regular and official, and considering the
powerful fleet by which M. de Rivarol is backed, the enterprises
to be undertaken will be on a much vaster scale than anything you
could attempt on your own account. So that the one tenth in this
case may be equal to more than the whole in the other."
Captain Blood considered. This, after all, was not piracy that was
being proposed. It was honourable employment in the service of the
King of France.
"I will consult my officers," he said; and he sent for them.
They came and the matter was laid before them by M. de Cussy himself.
Hagthorpe announced at once that the proposal was opportune. The
men were grumbling at their protracted inaction, and would no doubt
be ready to accept the service which M. de Cussy offered on behalf
of France. Hagthorpe looked at Blood as he spoke. Blood nodded
gloomy agreement. Emboldened by this, they went on to discuss the
terms. Yberville, the young French filibuster, had the honour to
point out to M. de Cussy that the share offered was too small. For
one fifth of the prizes, the officers would answer for their men;
not for less.
M. de Cussy was distressed. He had his instructions. It was taking
a deal upon himself to exceed them. The buccaneers were firm.
Unless M. de Cussy could make it one fifth there was no more to be
said. M. de Cussy finally consenting to exceed his instructions,
the articles were drawn up and signed that very day. The buccaneers
were to be at Petit Goave by the end of January, when M. de Rivarol
had announced that he might be expected.
After that followed days of activity in Tortuga, refitting the ships,
boucanning meat, laying in stores. In these matters which once
would have engaged all Captain Blood's attention, he now took no
part. He continued listless and aloof. If he had given his consent
to the undertaking, or, rather, allowed himself to be swept into it
by the wishes of his officers - it was only because the service
offered was of a regular and honourable kind, nowise connected with
piracy, with which he swore in his heart that he had done for ever.
But his consent remained passive. The service entered awoke no zeal
in him. He was perfectly indifferent - as he told Hagthorpe, who
ventured once to offer a remonstrance - whether they went to Petit
Goave or to Hades, and whether they entered the service of Louis XIV
or of Satan.

CHAPTER XXVI
M. de RIVAROL
Captain Blood was still in that disgruntled mood when he sailed from
Tortuga, and still in that mood when he came to his moorings in the
bay of Petit Goave. In that same mood he greeted M. le Baron de
Rivarol when this nobleman with his fleet of five men-of-war at last
dropped anchor alongside the buccaneer ships, in the middle of
February. The Frenchman had been six weeks on the voyage, he
announced, delayed by unfavourable weather.
Summoned to wait on him, Captain Blood repaired to the Castle of
Petit Goave, where the interview was to take place. The Baron,
a tall, hawk-faced man of forty, very cold and distant of manner,
measured Captain Blood with an eye of obvious disapproval. Of
Hagthorpe, Yberville, and Wolverstone who stood ranged behind
their captain, he took no heed whatever. M. de Cussy offered
Captain Blood a chair.
"A moment, M. de Cussy. I do not think M. le Baron has observed
that I am not alone. Let me present to you, sir, my companions:
Captain Hagthorpe of the Elizabeth, Captain Wolverstone of the
Atropos, and Captain Yberville of the Lachesis."
The Baron stared hard and haughtily at Captain Blood, then very
distantly and barely perceptibly inclined his head to each of the
other three. His manner implied plainly that he despised them and
that he desired them at once to understand it. It had a curious
effect upon Captain Blood. It awoke the devil in him, and it awoke
at the same time his self-respect which of late had been slumbering.
A sudden shame of his disordered, ill-kempt appearance made him
perhaps the more defiant. There was almost a significance in the
way he hitched his sword-belt round, so that the wrought hilt of
his very serviceable rapier was brought into fuller view. He waved
his captains to the chairs that stood about.
"Draw up to the table, lads. We are keeping the Baron waiting."
They obeyed him, Wolverstone with a grin that was full of
understanding. Haughtier grew the stare of M. de Rivarol. To
sit at table with these ban***s placed him upon what he accounted
a dishonouring equality. It had been his notion that - with the
possible exception of Captain Blood - they should take his
instructions standing, as became men of their quality in the
presence of a man of his. He did the only thing remaining to
mark a distinction between himself and them. He put on his hat.
"Ye're very wise now," said Blood amiably. "I feel the draught
myself." And he covered himself with his plumed castor.
M. de Rivarol changed colour. He quivered visibly with anger, and
was a moment controlling himself before venturing to speak. M. de
Cussy was obviously very ill at ease.
"Sir," said the Baron frostily, "you compel me to remind you that
the rank you hold is that of Capitaine de Vaisseau, and that you
are in the presence of the General of the Armies of France by Sea
and Land in America. You compel me to remind you further that
there is a deference due from your rank to mine."
"I am happy to assure you," said Captain Blood, "that the reminder
is unnecessary. I am by way of accounting myself a gentleman,
little though I may look like one at present; and I should not
account myself that were I capable of anything but deference to
those whom nature or fortune may have placed above me, or to those
who being placed beneath me in rank may labour under a disability
to resent my lack of it." It was a neatly intangible rebuke. M.
de Rivarol bit his lip. Captain Blood swept on without giving
him time to reply: "Thus much being clear, shall we come to
business?"
M. de Rivarol's hard eyes considered him a moment. "Perhaps it will
be best," said he. He took up a paper. "I have here a copy of the
articles into which you entered with M. de Cussy. Before going
further, I have to observe that M. de Cussy has exceeded his
instructions in admitting you to one fifth of the prizes taken.
His authority did not warrant his going beyond one tenth."
"That is a matter between yourself and M. de Cussy, my General."
"Oh, no. It is a matter between myself and you."
"Your pardon, my General. The articles are signed. So far as we
are concerned, the matter is closed. Also out of regard for M. de
Cussy, we should not desire to be witnesses of the rebukes you may
consider that he deserves."
"What I may have to say to M. de Cussy is no concern of yours."
"That is what I am telling you, my General."
"But - nom de Dieu! - it is your concern, I suppose, that we cannot
award you more than one tenth share." M. de Rivarol smote the table
in exasperation. This pirate was too infernally skillful a fencer.
"You are quite certain of that, M. le Baron - that you cannot?"
"I am quite certain that I will not."
Captain Blood shrugged, and looked down his nose. "In that case,"
said he, "it but remains for me to present my little account for
our disbursement, and to fix the sum at which we should be
compensated for our loss of time and derangement in coming hither.
That settled, we can part friends, M. le Baron. No harm has been
done."
"What the devil do you mean?" The Baron was on his feet, leaning
forward across the table.
"Is it possible that I am obscure? My French, perhaps, is not of
the purest, but...."
"Oh, your French is fluent enough; too fluent at moments, if I
may permit myself the observation. Now, look you here, M. le
filibustier, I am not a man with whom it is safe to play the fool,
as you may very soon discover. You have accepted service of the
King of France - you and your men; you hold the rank and draw the
pay of a Capitaine de Vaisseau, and these your officers hold the
rank of lieutenants. These ranks carry obligations which you
would do well to study, and penalties for failing to discharge
them which you might study at the same time. They are something
severe. The first obligation of an officer is obedience. I
commend it to your attention. You are not to conceive yourselves,
as you appear to be doing, my allies in the enterprises I have in
view, but my subordinates. In me you behold a commander to lead
you, not a companion or an equal. You understand me, I hope."
"Oh, be sure that I understand," Captain Blood laughed. He was
recovering his normal self amazingly under the inspiring stimulus
of conflict. The only thing that marred his enjoyment was the
reflection that he had not shaved. "I forget nothing, I assure you,
my General. I do not forget, for instance, as you appear to be
doing, that the articles we signed are the con***ion of our service;
and the articles provide that we receive one-fifth share. Refuse us
that, and you cancel the articles; cancel the articles, and you
cancel our services with them. From that moment we cease to have
the honour to hold rank in the navies of the King of France."
There was more than a murmur of approval from his three captains.
Rivarol glared at them, checkmated.
"In effect..." M. de Cussy was beginning timidly.
"In effect, monsieur, this is your doing," the Baron flashed on him,
glad to have some one upon whom he could fasten the sharp fangs of
his irritation. "You should be broke for it. You bring the King's
service into disrepute; you force me, His Majesty's representative,
into an impossible position."
"Is it impossible to award us the one-fifth share?" quoth Captain
Blood silkily. "In that case, there is no need for beat or for
injuries to M. de Cussy. M. de Cussy knows that we would not have
come for less. We depart again upon your assurance that you cannot
award us more. And things are as they would have been if M. de
Cussy had adhered rigidly to his instructions. I have proved, I
hope, to your satisfaction, M. le Baron, that if you repudiate the
articles you can neither claim our services nor hinder our departure
- not in honour."
"Not in honour, sir? To the devil with your insolence! Do you imply
that any course that were not in honour would be possible to me?"
"I do not imply it, because it would not be possible," said Captain
Blood. "We should see to that. It is, my General, for you to say
whether the articles are repudiated."
The Baron sat down. "I will consider the matter," he said sullenly.
"You shall be advised of my resolve."
Captain Blood rose, his officers rose with him. Captain Blood bowed.
"M. le Baron!" said he.
Then he and his buccaneers removed themselves from the August and
irate presence of the General of the King's Armies by Land and Sea
in America.
You conceive that there followed for M. de Cussy an extremely bad
quarter of an hour. M. de Cussy, in fact, deserves your sympathy.
His self-sufficiency was blown from him by the haughty M. de
Rivarol, as down from a thistle by the winds of autumn. The General
of the King's Armies abused him - this man who was Governor of
Hispaniola - as if he were a lackey. M. de Cussy defended himself
by urging the thing that Captain Blood had so admirably urged
already on his behalf - that if the terms he had made with the
buccaneers were not confirmed there was no harm done. M. de Rivarol
bullied and browbeat him into silence.
Having exhausted abuse, the Baron proceeded to indignities. Since
he accounted that M. de Cussy had proved himself unworthy of the post
he held, M. de Rivarol took over the responsibilities of that post
for as long as he might remain in Hispaniola, and to give effect to
this he began by bringing soldiers from his ships, and setting his
own guard in M. de Cussy's castle.
Out of this, trouble followed quickly. Wolverstone coming ashore
next morning in the picturesque garb that he affected, his head
swathed in a coloured handkerchief, was jeered at by an officer
of the newly landed French troops. Not accustomed to derision,
Wolverstone replied in kind and with interest. The officer passed
to insult, and Wolverstone struck him a blow that felled him, and
left him only the half of his poor senses. Within the hour the
matter was reported to M. de Rivarol, and before noon, by M. de
Rivarol's orders, Wolverstone was under arrest in the castle.
The Baron had just sat down to dinner with M. de Cussy when the
negro who waited on them announced Captain Blood. Peevishly M.
de Rivarol bade him be admitted, and there entered now into his
presence a spruce and modish gentleman, dressed with care and
sombre richness in black and silver, his swarthy, clear-cut face
scrupulously shaven, his long black hair in ringlets that fell to
a collar of fine point. In his right hand the gentleman carried a
broad black hat with a scarlet ostrich-plume, in his left hand an
ebony cane. His stockings were of silk, a bunch of ribbons masked
his garters, and the black rosettes on his shoes were finely
edged with gold.
For a moment M. de Rivarol did not recognize him. For Blood looked
younger by ten years than yesterday. But the vivid blue eyes under
their level black brows were not to be forgotten, and they
proclaimed him for the man announced even before he had spoken.
His resurrected pride had demanded that he should put himself on an
equality with the baron and advertise that equality by his exterior.
"I come inopportunely," he courteously excused himself. "My
apologies. My business could not wait. It concerns, M. de Cussy,
Captain Wolverstone of the Lachesis, whom you have placed under
arrest."
"It was I who placed him under arrest," said M. de Rivarol.
"Indeed! But I thought that M. de Cussy was Governor of
Hispaniola."
"Whilst I am here, monsieur, I am the supreme authority. It is as
well that you should understand it."
"Perfectly. But it is not possible that you are aware of the
mistake that has been made."
"Mistake, do you say?"
"I say mistake. On the whole, it is polite of me to use that word.
Also it is expedient. It will save discussions. Your people have
arrested the wrong man, M. de Rivarol. Instead of the French
officer, who used the grossest provocation, they have arrested
Captain Wolverstone. It is a matter which I beg you to reverse
without delay."
M. de Rivarol's hawk-face flamed scarlet. His dark eyes bulged.
"Sir, you... you are insolent! But of an insolence that is
intolerable!" Normally a man of the utmost self-possession
he was so rudely shaken now that he actually stammered.
"M. le Baron, you waste words. This is the New World. It is not
merely new; it is novel to one reared amid the superstitions of the
Old. That novelty you have not yet had time, perhaps, to realize;
therefore I overlook the offensive epithet you have used. But
justice is justice in the New World as in the Old, and injustice as
intolerable here as there. Now justice demands the enlargement of
my officer and the arrest and punishment of yours. That justice
I invite you, with submission, to administer."
"With submission?" snorted the Baron in furious scorn.
"With the utmost submission, monsieur. But at the same time I will
remind M. le Baron that my buccaneers number eight hundred; your
troops five hundred; and M. de Cussy will inform you of the
interesting fact that any one buccaneer is equal in action to at
least three soldiers of the line. I am perfectly frank with you,
monsieur, to save time and hard words. Either Captain Wolverstone
is instantly set at liberty, or we must take measures to set him at
liberty ourselves. The consequences may be appalling. But it is
as you please, M. le Baron. You are the supreme authority. It is
for you to say."
M. de Rivarol was white to the lips. In all his life he had never
been so bearded and defied. But he controlled himself.

"You will do me the favour to wait in the ante-room, M. le Capitaine.
I desire a word with M. de Cussy. You shall presently be informed
of my decision."
When the door had closed, the baron loosed his fury upon the head
of M. de Cussy.
"So, these are the men you have enlisted in the King's service,
the men who are to serve under me - men who do not serve, but
dictate, and this before the enterprise that has brought me from
France is even under way! What explanations do you offer me, M.
de Cussy? I warn you that I am not pleased with you. I am, in
fact, as you may perceive, exceedingly angry."
The Governor seemed to shed his chubbiness. He drew himself
stiffly erect.
"Your rank, monsieur, does not give you the right to rebuke me; nor
do the facts. I have enlisted for you the men that you desired me
to enlist. It is not my fault if you do not know how to handle them
better. As Captain Blood has told you, this is the New World."
"So, so!" M. de Rivarol smiled malignantly. "Not only do you offer
no explanation, but you venture to put me in the wrong. Almost I
admire your temerity. But there!" he waved the matter aside. He
was supremely sardonic. "It is, you tell me, the New World, and
- new worlds, new manners, I suppose. In time I may conform my
ideas to this new world, or I may conform this new world to my ideas."
He was menacing on that. "For the moment I must accept what I find.
It remains for you, monsieur, who have experience of these savage
by-ways, to advise me out of that experience how to act."
"M. le Baron, it was a folly to have arrested the buccaneer captain.
It would be madness to persist. We have not the forces to meet
force."
"In that case, monsieur, perhaps you will tell me what we are to
do with regard to the future. Am I *****bmit at every turn to the
dictates of this man Blood? Is the enterprise upon which we are
embarked to be conducted as he decrees? Am I, in short, the King's
representative in America, to be at the mercy of these rascals?"
"Oh, by no means. I am enrolling volunteers here in Hispaniola,
and I am raising a corps of negroes. I compute that when this is
done we shall have a force of a thousand men, the buccaneers apart."
"But in that case why not dispense with them?"
"Because they will always remain the sharp edge of any weapon that
we forge. In the class of warfare that lies before us they are so
skilled that what Captain Blood has just said is not an overstatement.
A buccaneer is equal to three soldiers of the line. At the same
time we shall have a sufficient force to keep them in control. For
the rest, monsieur, they have certain notions of honour. They will
stand by their articles, and so that we deal justly with them, they
will deal justly with us, and give no trouble. I have experience
of them, and I pledge you my word for that."
M. de Rivarol condescended to be mollified. It was necessary that
he should save his face, and in a degree the Governor afforded him
the means to do so, as well as a certain guarantee for the future
in the further force he was raising.
"Very well," he said. "Be so good as to recall this Captain Blood."
The Captain came in, assured and very dignified. M. de Rivarol
found him detestable; but dissembled it.
"M. le Capitaine, I have taken counsel with M. le Gouverneur. From
what he tells me, it is possible that a mistake has been committed.
Justice, you may be sure, shall be done. To ensure it, I shall
myself preside over a council to be composed of two of my senior
officers, yourself and an officer of yours. This council shall
hold at once an impartial investigation into the affair, and the
offender, the man guilty of having given provocation, shall be
punished."
Captain Blood bowed. It was not his wish to be extreme. "Perfectly,
M. le Baron. And now, sir, you have had the night for reflection
in this matter of the articles. Am I to understand that you confirm
or that you repudiate them?"
M. de Rivarol's eyes narrowed. His mind was full of what M. de Cussy
had said - that these buccaneers must prove the sharp edge of any
weapon he might forge. He could not dispense with them. He
perceived that he had blundered tactically in attempting to reduce
the agreed share. Withdrawal from a position of that kind is ever
fraught with loss of dignity. But there were those volunteers that
M. de Cussy was enrolling to strengthen the hand of the King's
General. Their presence might admit anon of the reopening of this
question. Meanwhile he must retire in the best order possible.
"I have considered that, too," he announced. "And whilst my opinion
remains unaltered, I must confess that since M. de Cussy has pledged
us, it is for us to fulfil the pledges. The articles are confirmed,
sir."
Captain Blood bowed again. In vain M. de Rivarol looked searchingly
for the least trace of a smile of triumph on those firm lips. The
buccaneer's face remained of the utmost gravity.
Wolverstone was set at liberty that afternoon, and his assailant
sentenced to two months' detention. Thus harmony was restored.
But it had been an unpromising beginning, and there was more to
follow shortly of a similar discordant kind.
Blood and his officers were summoned a week later to a council which
sat to determine their operations against Spain. M. de Rivarol laid
before them a project for a raid upon the wealthy Spanish town of
Cartagena. Captain Blood professed astonishment. Sourly invited by
M. de Rivarol to state his grounds for it, he did so with the utmost
frankness.
"Were I General of the King's Armies in America," said he, "I should
have no doubt or hesitation as to the best way in which to serve my
Royal master and the French nation. That which I think will be
obvious to M. de Cussy, as it is to me, is that we should at once
invade Spanish Hispaniola and reduce the whole of this fruitful and
splendid island into the possession of the King of France."
"That may follow," said M. de Rivarol. "It is my wish that we begin
with Cartagena."
"You mean, sir, that we are to sail across the Caribbean on an
adventurous expe***ion, neglecting that which lies here at our very
door. In our absence, a Spanish invasion of French Hispaniola is
possible. If we begin by reducing the Spaniards here, that
possibility will be removed. We shall have added to the Crown of
France the most coveted possession in the West Indies. The
enterprise offers no particular difficulty; it may be speedily
accomplished, and once accomplished, it would be time to look
farther afield. That would seem the logical order in which this
campaign should proceed."
He ceased, and there was silence. M. de Rivarol sat back in his
chair, the feathered end of a quill between his teeth. Presently
he cleared his throat and asked a question.
"Is there anybody else who shares Captain Blood's opinion?"
None answered him. His own officers were overawed by him; Blood's
followers naturally preferred Cartagena, because offering the
greater chance of loot. Loyalty to their leader kept them silent.
"You seem to be alone in your opinion," said the Baron with his
vinegary smile.
Captain Blood laughed outright. He had suddenly read the Baron's
mind. His airs and graces and haughtiness had so imposed upon Blood
that it was only now that at last he saw through them, into the
fellow's peddling spirit. Therefore he laughed; there was really
nothing else to do. But his laughter was charged with more anger
even than contempt. He had been deluding himself that he had done
with piracy. The conviction that this French service was free of
any taint of that was the only consideration that had induced him
to accept it. Yet here was this haughty, supercilious gentleman,
who dubbed himself General of the Armies of France, proposing a
plundering, thieving raid which, when stripped of its mean,
transparent mask of legitimate warfare, was revealed as piracy of
the most flagrant.
M. de Rivarol, intrigued by his mirth, scowled upon him
disapprovingly.
"Why do you laugh, monsieur?"
"Because I discover here an irony that is supremely droll. You, M.
le Baron, General of the King's Armies by Land and Sea in America,
propose an enterprise of a purely buccaneering character; whilst
I, the buccaneer, am urging one that is more concerned with upholding
the honour of France. You perceive how droll it is."
M. de Rivarol perceived nothing of the kind. M. de Rivarol in fact
was extremely angry. He bounded to his feet, and every man in the
room rose with him - save only M. de Cussy, who sat on with a grim
smile on his lips. He, too, now read the Baron like an open book,
and reading him despised him.
"M. le filibustier," cried Rivarol in a thick voice, "it seems that
I must again remind you that I am your superior officer."
"My superior officer! You! Lord of the World! Why, you are just
a common pirate! But you shall hear the truth for once, and that
before all these gentlemen who have the honour to serve the King
of France. It is for me, a buccaneer, a sea-robber, to stand here
and tell you what is in the interest of French honour and the
French Crown. Whilst you, the French King's appointed General,
neglecting this, are for spending the King's resources against an
outlying settlement of no account, shedding French blood in seizing
a place that cannot be held, only because it has been reported to
you that there is much gold in Cartagena, and that the plunder of
it will enrich you. It is worthy of the huckster who sought to
haggle with us about our share, and to beat us down after the
articles pledging you were already signed. If I am wrong - let
M. de Cussy say so. If I am wrong, let me be proven wrong, and I
will beg your pardon. Meanwhile, monsieur, I withdraw from this
council. I will have no further part in your deliberations. I
accepted the service of the King of France with intent to honour
that service. I cannot honour that service by lending countenance
to a waste of life and resources in raids upon unimportant
settlements, with plunder for their only object. The responsibility
for such decisions must rest with you, and with you alone. I desire
M. de Cussy to report me to the Ministers of France. For the rest,
monsieur, it merely remains for you to give me your orders. I await
them aboard my ship - and anything else, of a personal nature, that
you may feel I have provoked by the terms I have felt compelled to
use in this council. M. le Baron, I have the honour to wish you
good-day.
He stalked out, and his three captains - although they thought him
mad - rolled after him in loyal silence.
M. de Rivarol was gasping like a landed fish. The stark truth had
robbed him of speech. When he recovered, it was to thank Heaven
vigorously that the council was relieved by Captain Blood's own act
of that gentleman's further participation in its deliberations.
Inwardly M. de Rivarol burned with shame and rage. The mask had been
plucked from him, and he had been held up to scorn - he, the General
of the King's Armies by Sea and Land in America.
Nevertheless, it was to Cartagena that they sailed in the middle of
March. Volunteers and negroes had brought up the forces directly
under M. de Rivarol to twelve hundred men. With these he thought
he could keep the buccaneer contingent in order and submissive.
They made up an imposing fleet, led by M. de Rivarol's flagship, the
Victorieuse, a mighty vessel of eighty guns. Each of the four other
French ships was at least as powerful as Blood's Arabella, which
was of forty guns. Followed the lesser buccaneer vessels, the
Elizabeth, Lachesis, and Atropos, and a dozen frigates laden with
stores, besides canoes and small craft in tow.
Narrowly they missed the Jamaica fleet with Colonel Bishop, which
sailed north for Tortuga two days after the Baron de Rivarol's
southward passage.

CHAPTER XXVII
CARTAGENA
Having crossed the Caribbean in the teeth of contrary winds, it was
not until the early days of April that the French fleet hove in sight
of Cartagena, and M. de Rivarol summoned a council aboard his
flagship to determine the method of assault.
"It is of importance, messieurs," he told them, "that we take the
city by surprise, not only before it can put itself into a state of
defence; but before it can remove its treasures inland. I propose
to land a force sufficient to achieve this to the north of the city
to-night after dark." And he explained in detail the scheme upon
which his wits had laboured.
He was heard respectfully and approvingly by his officers, scornfully
by Captain Blood, and indifferently by the other buccaneer captains
present. For it must be understood that Blood's refusal to attend
councils had related only to those concerned with determining the
nature of the enterprise to he undertaken.
Captain Blood was the only one amongst them who knew exactly what
lay ahead. Two years ago he had himself considered a raid upon the
place, and he had actually made a survey of it in circumstances
which he was presently to disclose.
The Baron's proposal was one to be expected from a commander whose
knowledge of Cartagena was only such as might be derived from maps.
Geographically and strategically considered, it is a curious place.
It stands almost four-square, screened east and north by hills, and
it may be said to face south upon the inner of two harbours by which
it is normally approached. The entrance to the outer harbour, which
is in reality a lagoon some three miles across, lies through a neck
known as the Boca Chica - or Little Mouth - and defended by a fort.
A long strip of densely wooded land to westward acts here as a
natural breakwater, and as the inner harbour is approached, another
strip of land thrusts across at right angles from the first, towards
the mainland on the east. Just short of this it ceases, leaving a
deep but very narrow channel, a veritable gateway, into the secure
and sheltered inner harbour. Another fort defends this second
passage. East and north of Cartagena lies the mainland, which may
be left out of account. But to the west and northwest this city,
so well guarded on every other side, lies directly open to the sea.
It stands back beyond a half-mile of beach, and besides this and
the stout Walls which fortify it, would appear to have no other
defences. But those appearances are deceptive, and they had
utterly deceived M. de Rivarol, when he devised his plan.
It remained for Captain Blood to explain the difficulties when M.
de Rivarol informed him that the honour of opening the assault in
the manner which he prescribed was to be accorded to the buccaneers.
Captain Blood smiled sardonic appreciation of the honour reserved
for his men. It was precisely what he would have expected. For
the buccaneers the dangers; for M. de Rivarol the honour, glory and
profit of the enterprise.
"It is an honour which I must decline," said he quite coldly.
Wolverstone grunted approval and Hagthorpe nodded. Yberville, who
as much as any of them resented the superciliousness of his noble
compatriot, never wavered in loyalty to Captain Blood. The French
officers - there were six of them present - stared their haughty
surprise at the buccaneer leader, whilst the Baron challengingly
fired a question at him.
"How? You decline it, 'sir? You decline to obey orders, do you say?"
"I understood, M. le Baron, that you summoned us to deliberate upon
the means to be adopted."
"Then you understood amiss, M. le Capitaine. You are here to receive
my commands. I have already deliberated, and I have decided. I hope
you understand."
"Oh, I understand," laughed Blood. "But, I ask myself, do you?"
And without giving the Baron time to set the angry question that
was bubbling to his lips, he swept on: "You have deliberated, you
say, and you have decided. But unless your decision rests upon a
wish to destroy my buccaneers, you will alter it when I tell you
something of which I have knowledge. This city of Cartagena looks
very vulnerable on the northern side, all open to the sea as it
apparently stands. Ask yourself, M. le Baron, how came the Spaniards
who built it where it is to have been at such trouble to fortify it
to the south, if from the north it is so easily assailable."
That gave M. de Rivarol pause.
"The Spaniards," Blood pursued, "are not quite the fools you are
supposing them. Let me tell you, messieurs, that two years ago I made
a survey of Cartagena as a preliminary to raiding it. I came hither
with some friendly trading Indians, myself disguised as an Indian,
and in that guise I spent a week in the city and studied carefully
all its approaches. On the side of the sea where it looks so
temptingly open to assault, there is shoal water for over half a
mile out - far enough out, I assure you, to ensure that no ship
shall come within bombarding range of it. It is not safe to venture
nearer land than three quarters of a mile."
"But our landing will be effected in canoes and piraguas and open
boats," cried an officer impatiently.
"In the calmest season of the year, the surf will hinder any such
operation. And you will also bear in mind that if landing were
possible as you are suggesting, that landing could not be covered by
the ships' guns. In fact, it is the landing parties would be in
danger from their own artillery."
"If the attack is made by night, as I propose, covering will be
unnecessary. You should be ashore in force before the Spaniards are
aware of the intent."
"You are assuming that Cartagena is a city of the blind, that at
this very moment they are not conning our sails and asking themselves
who we are and what we intend."
"But if they feel themselves secure from the north, as you suggest,"
cried the Baron impatiently, "that very security will lull them."
"Perhaps. But, then, they are secure. Any attempt to land on this
side is doomed to failure at the hands of Nature."
"Nevertheless, we make the attempt," said the obstinate Baron, whose
haughtiness would not allow him to yield before his officers.
"If you still choose to do so after what I have said, you are,
of course, the person to decide. But I do not lead my men into
fruitless danger."
"If I command you..." the Baron was beginning. But Blood
unceremoniously interrupted him.
"M. le Baron, when M. de Cussy engaged us on your behalf, it was as
much on account of our knowledge and experience of this class of
warfare as on account of our strength. I have placed my own
knowledge and experience in this particular matter at your disposal.
I will add that I abandoned my own project of raiding Cartagena, not
being in sufficient strength at the time to force the entrance of the
harbour, which is the only way into the city. The strength which you
now command is ample for that purpose."
"But whilst we are doing that, the Spaniards will have time to
remove great part of the wealth this city holds. We must take them
by surprise."
Captain Blood shrugged. "If this is a mere pirating raid, that, of
course, is a prime consideration. It was with me. But if you are
concerned to abate the pride of Spain and plant the Lilies of France
on the forts of this settlement, the loss of some treasure should
not really weigh for much."
M. de Rivarol bit his lip in chagrin. His gloomy eye smouldered as
it considered the self-contained buccaneer.
"But if I command you to go - to make the attempt?" he asked.
"Answer me, monsieur, let us know once for all where we stand,
and who commands this expe***ion."
"Positively, I find you tiresome," said Captain Blood, and he
swung to M. de Cussy, who sat there gnawing his lip, intensely
uncomfortable. "I appeal to you, monsieur, to justify me to the
General."
M. de Cussy started out of his gloomy abstraction. He cleared his
throat. He was extremely nervous.
"In view of what Captain Blood has submitted...."
"Oh, to the devil with that!" snapped Rivarol. "It seems that I am
followed by poltroons. Look you, M. le Capitaine, since you are
afraid to undertake this thing, I will myself undertake it. The
weather is calm, and I count upon making good my landing. If I do
so, I shall have proved you wrong, and I shall have a word to say to
you to-morrow which you may not like. I am being very generous with
you, sir. He waved his hand regally. "You have leave to go."
It was sheer obstinacy and empty pride that drove him, and he
received the lesson he deserved. The fleet stood in during the
afternoon to within a mile of the coast, and under cover of darkness
three hundred men, of whom two hundred were negroes - the whole of
the negro contingent having been pressed into the undertaking - were
pulled away for the shore in the canoes, piraguas, and ships' boats.
Rivarol's pride compelled him, however much he may have disliked
the venture, to lead them in person.
The first six boats were caught in the surf, and pounded into
fragments before their occupants could extricate themselves. The
thunder of the breakers and the cries of the shipwrecked warned
those who followed, and thereby saved them from sharing the same
fate. By the Baron's urgent orders they pulled away again out of
danger, and stood about to pick up such survivors as contrived to
battle towards them. Close upon fifty lives were lost in the
adventure, together with half-a-dozen boats stored with ammunition
and light guns.
The Baron went back to his flagship an infuriated, but by no means
a wiser man. Wisdom - not even the pungent wisdom experience
thrusts upon us - is not for such as M. de Rivarol. His anger
embraced all things, but focussed chiefly upon Captain Blood.
In some warped process of reasoning he held the buccaneer chiefly
responsible for this misadventure. He went to bed considering
furiously what he should say to Captain Blood upon the morrow.

EBDBDBD - "That's all, folks" ​

He was awakened at dawn by the rolling thunder of guns. Emerging
upon the poop in nightcap and slippers, he beheld a sight that
increased his unreasonable and unreasoning fury. The four buccaneer
ships under canvas were going through extraordinary manoeuvre half
a mile off the Boca Chica and little more than half a mile away
from the remainder of the fleet, and from their flanks flame and
smoke were belching each time they swung broadside to the great
round fort that guarded that narrow entrance. The fort was
returning the fire vigorously and viciously. But the buccaneers
timed their broadsides with extraordinary judgment to catch the
defending ordnance reloading; then as they drew the Spaniards'
fire, they swung away again not only taking care to be ever moving
targets, but, further, to present no more than bow or stern to the
fort, their masts in line, when the heaviest cannonades were to be
expected.
Gibbering and cursing, M. de Rivarol stood there and watched this
action, so presumptuously undertaken by Blood on his own
responsibility. The officers of the Victorieuse crowded round him,
but it was not until M. de Cussy came to join the group that he
opened the sluices of his rage. And M. de Cussy himself invited the
deluge that now caught him. He had come up rubbing his hands and
taking a proper satisfaction in the energy of the men whom he had
enlisted.
"Aha, M. de Rivarol!" he laughed. "He understands his business, eh,
this Captain Blood. He'll plant the Lilies of France on that fort
before breakfast."
The Baron swung upon him snarling. "He understands his business,
eh? His business, let me tell you, M. de Cussy, is to obey my
orders, and I have not ordered this. Par la Mordieu! When this
is over I'll deal with him for his damned insubordination."
"Surely, M. le Baron, he will have justified it if he succeeds."
"Justified it! Ah, parbleu! Can a soldier ever justify acting
without orders?" He raved on furiously, his officers supporting
him out of their detestation of Captain Blood.
Meanwhile the fight went merrily on. The fort was suffering badly.
Yet for all their manoeuvring the buccaneers were not escaping
punishment. The starboard gunwale of the Atropos had been hammered
into splinters, and a shot had caught her astern in the coach. The
Elizabeth was badly battered about the forecastle, and the Arabella's
maintop had been shot away, whilst' towards the end of that
engagement the Lachesis came reeling out of the fight with a
shattered rudder, steering herself by sweeps.
The absurd Baron's fierce eyes positively gleamed with satisfaction.
"I pray Heaven they may sink all his infernal ships!" he cried in
his frenzy.
But Heaven didn't hear him. Scarcely had he spoken than there was
a terrific explosion, and half the fort went up in fragments. A
lucky shot from the buccaneers had found the powder magazine.
It may have been a couple of hours later, when Captain Blood, as
spruce and cool as if he had just come from a levee, stepped upon
the quarter-deck of the Victoriense, to confront M. de Rivarol,
still in bedgown and nightcap.
"I have to report, M. le Baron, that we are in possession of the
fort on Boca Chica. The standard of France is flying from what
remains of its tower, and the way into the outer harbour is open
to your fleet."
M. de Rivarol was compelled to swallow his fury, though it choked
him. The jubilation among his officers had been such that he could
not continue as he had begun. Yet his eyes were malevolent, his
face pale with anger.
"You are fortunate, M. Blood, that you succeeded," he said. "It
would have gone very ill with you had you failed. Another time be
so good as to await my orders, lest you should afterwards lack the
justification which your good fortune has procured you this morning."
Blood smiled with a flash of white teeth, and bowed. "I shall be
glad of your orders now, General, for pursuing our advantage. You
realize that speed in striking is the first essential."
Rivarol was left gaping a moment. Absorbed in his ridiculous anger,
he had considered nothing. But he made a quick recovery. "To my
cabin, if you please," he commanded peremptorily, and was turning
to lead the way, when Blood arrested him.
"With submission, my General, we shall be better here. You behold
there the scene of our coming action. It is spread before you like
a map." He waved his hand towards the lagoon, the country flanking
it and the considerable city standing back from the beach. "If it
is not a presumption in me to offer a suggestion...." He paused.
M. de Rivarol looked at him sharply, suspecting irony. But the
swarthy face was bland, the keen eyes steady.
"Let us hear your suggestion," he consented.
Blood pointed out the fort at the mouth of the inner harbour, which
was just barely visible above the waving palms on the intervening
tongue of land. He announced that its armament was less formidable
than that of the outer fort, which they had reduced; but on the
other hand, the passage was very much narrower than the Boca Chica,
and before they could attempt to make it in any case, they must
dispose of those defences. He proposed that the French ships should
enter the outer harbour, and proceed at once to bombardment.
Meanwhile, he would land three hundred buccaneers and some artillery
on the eastern side of the lagoon, beyond the fragrant garden islands
dense with richly bearing fruit-trees, and proceed simultaneously to
storm the fort in the rear. Thus beset on both sides at once, and
demoralized by the fate of the much stronger outer fort, he did not
think the Spaniards would offer a very long resistance. Then it
would be for M. de Rivarol to garrison the fort, whilst Captain
Blood would sweep on with his men, and seize the Church of Nuestra
Senora de la Poupa, plainly visible on its hill immediately eastward
of the town. Not only did that eminence afford them a valuable and
obvious strategic advantage, but it commanded the only road that
led from Cartagena to the interior, and once it were held there
would be no further question of the Spaniards attempting to remove
the wealth of the city.
That to M. de Rivarol was - as Captain Blood had judged that it
would be - the crowning argument. Supercilious until that moment,
and disposed for his own pride's sake to treat the buccaneer's
suggestions with cavalier criticism, M. de Rivarol's manner suddenly
changed. He became alert and brisk, went so far as tolerantly to
commend Captain Blood's plan, and issued orders that action might
be taken upon it at once.
It is not necessary to follow that action step by step. Blunders
on the part of the French marred its smooth execution, and the
indifferent handling of their ships led to the sinking of two of
them in the course of the afternoon by the fort's gunfire. But
by evening, owing largely to the irresistible fury with which the
buccaneers stormed the place from the landward side, the fort had
surrendered, and before dusk Blood and his men with some ordnance
hauled thither by mules dominated the city from the heights of
Nuestra Senora de la Poupa.
At noon on the morrow, shorn of defences and threatened with
bombardment, Cartagena sent offers of surrender to M. de Rivarol.
Swollen with pride by a victory for which he took the entire cre***
to himself, the Baron dictated his terms. He demanded that all
public effects and office accounts be delivered up; that the
merchants surrender all moneys and goods held by them for their
correspondents; the inhabitants could choose whether they would
remain in the city or depart; but those who went must first deliver
up all their property, and those who elected to remain must surrender
half, and become the subjects of France; religious houses and
churches should be spared, but they must render accounts of all
moneys and valuables in their possession.
Cartagena agreed, having no choice in the matter, and on the next
day, which was the 5th of April, M. de Rivarol entered the city and
proclaimed it now a French colony, appointing M. de Cussy its
Governor. Thereafter he proceeded to the Cathedral, where very
properly a Te Deum was sung in honour of the conquest. This by way
of grace, whereafter M. de Rivarol proceeded to devour the city.
The only detail in which the French conquest of Cartagena differed
from an ordinary buccaneering raid was that under the severest
penalties no soldier was to enter the house of any inhabitant.
But this apparent respect for the persons and property of the
conquered was based in reality upon M. de Rivarol's anxiety lest a
doubloon should be abstracted from all the wealth that was pouring
into the treasury opened by the Baron in the name of the King of
France. Once the golden stream had ceased, he removed all
restrictions and left the city in prey to his men, who proceeded
further to pillage it of that part of their property which the
inhabitants who became French subjects had been assured should
remain inviolate. The plunder was enormous. In the course of four
days over a hundred mules laden with gold went out of the city and
down to the boats waiting at the beach to convey the treasure aboard
the ships.

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE HONOUR OF M. DE RIVAROL
During the capitulation and for some time after, Captain Blood and
the greater portion of his buccaneers had been at their post on the
heights of Nuestra Senora de la Poupa, utterly in ignorance of what
was taking place. Blood, although the man chiefly, if not solely,
responsible for the swift reduction of the city, which was proving
a veritable treasure-house, was not even shown the consideration
of being called to the council of officers which with M. de Rivarol
determined the terms of the capitulation.
This was a slight that at another time Captain Blood would not have
borne for a moment. But at present, in his odd frame of mind, and
its divorcement from piracy, he was content to smile his utter
contempt of the French General. Not so, however, his captains, and
still less his men. Resentment smouldered amongst them for a while,
to flame out violently at the end of that week in Cartagena. It was
only by undertaking to voice their grievance to the Baron that their
captain was able for the moment to pacify them. That done, he went
at once in quest of M. de Rivarol.
He found him in the offices which the Baron had set up in the town,
with a staff of clerks to register the treasure brought in and to
cast up the surrendered account-books, with a view to ascertaining
precisely what were the sums yet to be delivered up. The Baron
sat there scrutinizing ledgers, like a city merchant, and checking
figures to make sure that all was correct to the last peso. A
choice occupation this for the General of the King's Armies by
Sea and Land. He looked up irritated by the interruption which
Captain Blood's advent occasioned.
"M. le Baron," the latter greeted him. "I must speak frankly; and
you must suffer it. My men are on the point of mutiny."
M. de Rivarol considered him with a faint lift of the eyebrows.
"Captain Blood, I, too, will speak frankly; and you, too, must
suffer it. If there is a mutiny, you and your captains shall be
held personally responsible. The mistake you make is in assuming
with me the tone of an ally, whereas I have given you clearly to
understand from the first that you are simply in the position of
having accepted service under me. Your proper apprehension of
that fact will save the waste of a deal of words."
Blood contained himself with difficulty. One of these fine days,
he felt, that for the sake of humanity he must slit the comb of
this supercilious, arrogant ****erel.
"You may define our positions as you please," said he. "But I'll
remind you that the nature of a thing is not changed by the name
you give it. I am concerned with facts; chiefly with the fact
that we entered into definite articles with you. Those articles
provide for a certain distribution of the spoil. My men demand it.
They are not satisfied."
"Of what are they not satisfied?" demanded the Baron.
"Of your honesty, M. de Rivarol."
A blow in the face could scarcely have taken the Frenchman more
aback. He stiffened, and drew himself up, his eyes blazing, his
face of a deathly pallor. The clerks at the tables laid down their
pens, and awaited the explosion in a sort of terror.
For a long moment there was silence. Then the great gentleman
delivered himself in a voice of concentrated anger. "Do you really
dare so much, you and the dirty thieves that follow you? God's
Blood! You shall answer to me for that word, though it entail
a yet worse dishonour to meet you. Faugh!"
"I will remind you," said Blood, "that I am speaking not for myself,
but for my men. It is they who are not satisfied, they who threaten
that unless satisfaction is afforded them, and promptly, they will
take it."
"Take it?" said Rivarol, trembling in his rage. "Let them attempt
it, and...."
"Now don't be rash. My men are within their rights, as you are
aware. They demand to know when this sharing of the spoil is to
take place, and when they are to receive the fifth for which their
articles provide."
"God give me patience! How can we share the spoil before it has
been completely gathered?"
"My men have reason to believe that it is gathered; and, anyway,
they view with mistrust that it should all be housed aboard your
ships, and remain in your possession. They say that hereafter
there will be no ascertaining what the spoil really amounts to."
"But - name of Heaven! - I have kept books. They are there for
all to see."
"They do not wish to see account-books. Few of them can read.
They want to view the treasure itself. They know - you compel me
to be blunt - that the accounts have been falsified. Your books
show the spoil of Cartagena to amount to some ten million livres.
The men know - and they are very skilled in these computations -
that it exceeds the enormous total of forty millions. They insist
that the treasure itself be produced and weighed in their presence,
as is the custom among the Brethren of the Coast."
"I know nothing of filibuster customs." The gentleman was
disdainful.
"But you are learning quickly."
"What do you mean, you rogue? I am a leader of armies, not of
plundering thieves."
"Oh, but of course!" Blood's irony laughed in his eyes. "Yet,
whatever you may be, I warn you that unless you yield to a demand
that I consider just and therefore uphold, you may look for trouble,
and it would not surprise me if you never leave Cartagena at all,
nor convey a single gold piece home to France."
"Ah, pardieu! Am I to understand that you are threatening me?"
"Come, come, M. le Baron! I warn you of the trouble that a little
prudence may avert. You do not know on what a volcano you are
sitting. You do not know the ways of buccaneers. If you persist,
Cartagena will be drenched in blood, and whatever the outcome the
King of France will not have been well served."
That shifted the basis of the argument to less hostile ground.
Awhile yet it continued, to be concluded at last by an ungracious
undertaking from M. de Rivarol *****bmit to the demands of the
buccaneers. He gave it with an extreme ill-grace, and only
because Blood made him realize at last that to withhold it longer
would be dangerous. In an engagement, he might conceivably defeat
Blood's followers. But conceivably he might not. And even if he
succeeded, the effort would be so costly to him in men that he
might not thereafter find himself in sufficient strength to
maintain his hold of what he had seized.
The end of it all was that he gave a promise at once to make the
necessary preparations, and if Captain Blood and his officers would
wait upon him on board the Victorieuse to-morrow morning, the
treasure should be produced, weighed in their presence, and their
fifth share surrendered there and then into their own keeping.
Among the buccaneers that night there was hilarity over the sudden
abatement of M. de Rivarol's monstrous pride. But when the next
dawn broke over Cartagena, they had the explanation of it. The
only ships to be seen in the harbour were the Arabella and the
Elizabeth riding at anchor, and the Atropos and the Lachesis
careened on the beach for repair of the damage sustained in the
bombardment. The French ships were gone. They had been quietly
and secretly warped out of the harbour under cover of night, and
three sails, faint and small, on the horizon to westward was all
that remained to be seen of them. The absconding M. de Rivarol
had gone off with the treasure, taking with him the troops and
mariners he had brought from France. He had left behind him at
Cartagena not only the empty-handed buccaneers, whom he had
swindled, but also M. de Cussy and the volunteers and negroes
from Hispaniola, whom he had swindled no less.
The two parties were fused into one by their common fury, and
before the exhibition of it the inhabitants of that ill-fated
town were stricken with deeper terror than they had yet known
since the coming of this expe***ion.
Captain Blood alone kept his head, setting a curb upon his deep
chagrin. He had promised himself that before parting from M. de
Rivarol he would present a reckoning for all the petty affronts
and insults to which that unspeakable fellow - now proved a
scoundrel - had subjected him.
"We must follow," he declared. "Follow and punish."
At first that was the general cry. Then came the consideration
that only two of the buccaneer ships were seaworthy - and these
could not accommodate the whole force, particularly being at the
moment indifferently victualled for a long voyage. The crews of
the Lachesis and Atropos and with them their captains, Wolverstone
and Yberville, renounced the intention. After all, there would be
a deal of treasure still hidden in Cartagena. They would remain
behind to extort it whilst fitting their ships for sea. Let Blood
and Hagthorpe and those who sailed with them do as they pleased.
Then only did Blood realize the rashness of his proposal, and in
attempting to draw back he almost precipitated a battle between
the two parties into which that same proposal had now divided the
buccaneers. And meanwhile those French sails on the horizon were
growing less and less. Blood was reduced to despair. If he went
off now, Heaven knew what would happen to the town, the temper of
those whom he was leaving being what it was. Yet if he remained,
it would simply mean that his own and Hagthorpe's crews would
join in the saturnalia and increase the hideousness of events now
inevitable. Unable to reach a decision, his own men and Hagthorpe's
took the matter off his hands, eager to give chase to Rivarol. Not
only was a dastardly cheat to be punished but an enormous treasure
to be won by treating as an enemy this French commander who, himself,
had so villainously broken the alliance.
When Blood, torn as he was between conflicting considerations, still
hesitated, they bore him almost by main force aboard the Arabella.
Within an hour, the water-casks at least replenished and stowed
aboard, the Arabella and the Elizabeth put to sea upon that angry
chase.
"When we were well at sea, and the Arabella's course was laid,"
writes Pitt, in his log, "I went to seek the Captain, knowing him
to be in great trouble of mind over these events. I found him
sitting alone in his cabin, his head in his hands, torment in the
eyes that stared straight before him, seeing nothing."
"What now, Peter?" cried the young Somerset mariner. "Lord, man,
what is there here to fret you? Surely 't isn't the thought of
Rivarol!"
"No," said Blood thickly. And for once he was communicative. It
may well be that he must vent the thing that oppressed him or be
driven mad by it. And Pitt, after all, was his friend and loved
him, and, so, a proper man for confidences. "But if she knew! If
she knew! 0 God! I had thought to have done with piracy; thought
to have done with it for ever. Yet here have I been committed by
this scoundrel to the worst piracy that ever I was guilty of.
Think of Cartagena! Think of the hell those devils will be making
of it now! And I must have that on my soul!"
"Nay, Peter- 't isn't on your soul; but on Rivarol's. It is that
dirty thief who has brought all this about. What could you have
done to prevent it?"
"I would have stayed if it could have availed."
"It could not, and you know it. So why repine?"
"There is more than that to it," groaned Blood. "What now? What
remains? Loyal service with the English was made impossible for me.
Loyal service with France has led to this; and that is equally
impossible hereafter. What to live clean, I believe the only thing
is to go and offer my sword to the King of Spain."
But something remained - the last thing that he could have expected
- something towards which they were rapidly sailing over the
tropical, sunlit sea. All this against which he now inveighed so
bitterly was but a necessary stage in the shaping of his odd destiny.
Setting a course for Hispaniola, since they judged that thither
must Rivarol go to refit before attempting to cross to France,
the Arabella and the Elizabeth ploughed briskly northward with a
moderately favourable wind for two days and nights without ever
catching a glimpse of their quarry. The third dawn brought with
it a haze which circumscribed their range of vision to something
between two and three miles, and deepened their growing vexation
and their apprehension that M. de Rivarol might escape them
altogether.
Their position then - according to Pitt's log - was approximately
75 deg. 30' W. Long. by 17 deg. 45' N. Lat., so that they had Jamaica
on their larboard beam some thirty miles to westward, and, indeed,
away to the northwest, faintly visible as a bank of clouds, appeared
the great ridge of the Blue Mountains whose peaks were thrust into
the clear upper air above the low-lying haze. The wind, to which
they were sailing very close, was westerly, and it bore to their ears
a booming sound which in less experienced ears might have passed for
the breaking of surf upon a lee shore.
"Guns!" said Pitt, who stood with Blood upon the quarter-deck.
Blood nodded, listening.
"Ten miles away, perhaps fifteen - somewhere off Port Royal, I should
judge," Pitt added. Then he looked at his captain. "Does it concern
us?" he asked.
"Guns off Port Royal... that should argue Colonel Bishop at work.
And against whom should he be in action but against friends of ours
I think it may concern us. Anyway, we'll stand in to investigate.
Bid them put the helm over."
Close-hauled they tacked aweather, guided by the sound of combat,
which grew in volume and definition as they approached it. Thus
for an hour, perhaps. Then, as, telescope to his eye, Blood raked
the haze, expecting at any moment to behold the battling ships,
the guns abruptly ceased.
They held to their course, nevertheless, with all hands on deck,
eagerly, anxiously scanning the sea ahead. And presently an object
loomed into view, which soon defined itself for a great ship on
fire. As the Arabella with the Elizabeth following closely raced
nearer on their north-westerly tack, the outlines of the blazing
vessel grew clearer. Presently her masts stood out sharp and black
above the smoke and flames, and through his telescope Blood made out
plainly the pennon of St. George fluttering from her maintop.
"An English ship!" he cried.
He scanned the seas for the conqueror in the battle of which this
grim evidence was added to that of the sounds they had heard, and
when at last, as they drew closer to the doomed vessel, they made
out the shadowy outlines of three tall ships, some three or four
miles away, standing in toward Port Royal, the first and natural
assumption was that these ships must belong to the Jamaica fleet,
and that the burning vessel was a defeated buccaneer, and because
of this they sped on to pick up the three boats that were standing
away from the blazing hulk. But Pitt, who through the telescope
was examining the receding squadron, observed things apparent
only to the eye of the trained mariner, and made the incredible
announcement that the largest of these three vessels was Rivarol's
Victorieuse.
They took in sail and hove to as they came up with the drifting
boats, laden to capacity with survivors. And there were others
adrift on some of the spars and wreckage with which the sea was
strewn, who must be rescued.

CHARTER XXIX
THE SERVICE OF KING WILLIAM
One of the boats bumped alongside the Arabella, and up the entrance
ladder came first a slight, spruce little gentleman in a coat of
mulberry satin laced with gold, whose wizened, yellow, rather
peevish face was framed in a heavy black periwig. His modish and
costly apparel had nowise suffered by the adventure through which
he had passed, and he carried himself with the easy assurance of
a man of rank. Here, quite clearly, was no buccaneer. He was
closely followed by one who in every particular, save that of
age, was his physical opposite, corpulent in a brawny, vigorous
way, with a full, round, weather-beaten face whose mouth was
humourous and whose eyes were blue and twinkling. He was well
dressed without fripperies, and bore with him an air of vigorous
authority.
As the little man stepped from the ladder into the waist, whither
Captain Blood had gone to receive him, his sharp, ferrety dark
eyes swept the uncouth ranks of the assembled crew of the Arabella.
"And where the devil may I be now?" he demanded irritably. "Are you
English, or what the devil are you?"
"Myself, I have the honour to be Irish, sir. My name is Blood
- Captain Peter Blood, and this is my ship the Arabella, all very
much at your service.
"Blood!" shrilled the little man. "0 'Sblood! A pirate!" He swung
to the Colossus who followed him - "A damned pirate, van der Kuylen.
Rend my vitals, but we're come from Scylla to Charybdis."
"So?" said the other gutturally, and again, "So?" Then the humour
of it took him, and he yielded to it.
"Damme! What's to laugh at, you porpoise?" spluttered mulberry-coat.
"A fine tale this'll make at home! Admiral van der Kuylen first
loses his fleet in the night, then has his flagship fired under him
by a French squadron, and ends all by being captured by a pirate.
I'm glad you find it matter for laughter. Since for my sins I
happen to be with you, I'm damned if I do."
"There's a misapprehension, if I may make so bold as to point it
out," put in Blood quietly. "You are not captured, gentlemen; you
are rescued. When you realize it, perhaps it will occur to you to
acknowledge the hospitality I am offering you. It may be poor, but
it is the best at my disposal."
The fierce little gentleman stared at him. "Damme! Do you permit
yourself to be ironical?" he disapproved him, and possibly with a
view to correcting any such tendency, proceeded to introduce himself.
"I am Lord Willoughby, King William's Governor-General of the West
Indies, and this is Admiral van der Kuylen, commander of His
Majesty's West Indian fleet, at present mislaid somewhere in this
damned Caribbean Sea."
"King William?" quoth Blood, and he was conscious that Pitt and
Dyke, who were behind him, now came edging nearer, sharing his own
wonder. "And who may be King William, and of what may he be King?"
"What's that?" In a wonder greater than his own, Lord Willoughby
stared back at him. At last: "I am alluding to His Majesty King
William III - William of Orange - who, with Queen Mary, has been
ruling England for two months and more."
There was a moment's silence, until Blood realized what he was
being told.
"D'ye mean, sir, that they've roused themselves at home, and kicked
out that scoundrel James and his gang of ruffians?"
Admiral van der Kuylen nudged his lordship, a humourous twinkle in
his blue eyes.
"His bolitics are fery sound, I dink," he growled.
His lordship's smile brought lines like gashes into his leathery
cheeks. "'Slife! hadn't you heard? Where the devil have you
been at all?"
"Out of touch with the world for the last three months," said Blood.
"Stab me! You must have been. And in that three months the world
has undergone some changes." Briefly he added an account of them.
King James was fled to France, and living under the protection of
King Louis, wherefore, and for other reasons, England had joined
the league against her, and was now at war with France. That was
how it happened that the Dutch Admiral's flagship had been
attacked by M. de Rivarol's fleet that morning, from which it
clearly followed that in his voyage from Cartagena, the Frenchman
must have spoken some ship that gave him the news.
After that, with renewed assurances that aboard his ship they
should be honourably entreated, Captain Blood led the
Governor-General and the Admiral to his cabin, what time the work
of rescue went on. The news he had received had set Blood's mind
in a turmoil. If King James was dethroned and banished, there was
an end to his own outlawry for his alleged share in an earlier
attempt to drive out that tyrant. It became possible for him to
return home and take up his life again at the point where it was
so unfortunately interrupted four years ago. He was dazzled by
the prospect so abruptly opened out to him. The thing so filled
his mind, moved him so deeply, that he must afford it expression.
In doing so, he revealed of himself more than he knew or intended
to the astute little gentleman who watched him so keenly the while.
"Go home, if you will," said his lordship, when Blood paused.
"You may be sure that none will harass you on the score of your
piracy, considering what it was that drove you to it. But why be
in haste? We have heard of you, to be sure, and we know of what
you are capable upon the seas. Here is a great chance for you,
since you declare yourself sick of piracy. Should you choose to
serve King William out here during this war, your knowledge of
the West Indies should render you a very valuable servant to His
Majesty's Government, which you would not find ungrateful. You
should consider it. Damme, sir, I repeat: it is a great chance
you are given.
"That your lordship gives me," Blood amended, "I am very grateful.
But at the moment, I confess, I can consider nothing but this great
news. It alters the shape of the world. I must accustom myself
to view it as it now is, before I can determine my own place in it."
Pitt came in to report that the work of rescue was at an end, and
the men picked up - some forty-five in all - safe aboard the two
buccaneer ships. He asked for orders. Blood rose.
"I am negligent of your lordship's concerns in my consideration
of my own. You'll be wishing me to land you at Port Royal."
"At Port Royal?" The little man squirmed wrathfully on his seat.
Wrathfully and at length he informed Blood that they had put into
Port Royal last evening to find its Deputy-Governor absent. "He
had gone on some wild-goose chase to Tortuga after buccaneers,
taking the whole of the fleet with him."
Blood stared in surprise a moment; then yielded to laughter.
"He went, I suppose, before news reached him of the change of
government at home, and the war with France?"
"He did not," snapped Willoughby. "He was informed of both, and
also of my coming before he set out."
"Oh, impossible!"
"So I should have thought. But I have the information from a Major
Mallard whom I found in Port Royal, apparently governing in this
fool's absence."
"But is he mad, to leave his post at such a time?" Blood was amazed.
"Taking the whole fleet with him, pray remember, and leaving the
place open to French attack. That is the sort of Deputy-Governor
that the late Government thought fit to appoint: an epitome of its
misrule, damme! He leaves Port Royal unguarded save by a ramshackle
fort that can be reduced to rubble in an hour. Stab me! It's
unbelievable!"
The lingering smile faded from Blood's face. "Is Rivarol aware of
this?" he cried sharply.
It was the Dutch Admiral who answered him. "Vould he go dere if
he were not? M. de Rivarol he take some of our men prisoners.
Berhabs dey dell him. Berhabs he make dem tell. Id is a great
obbordunidy."
His lordship snarled like a mountain-cat. "That rascal Bishop shall
answer for it with his head if there's any mischief done through
this desertion of his post. What if it were deliberate, eh? What
if he is more knave than fool? What if this is his way of serving
King James, from whom he held his office?"
Captain Blood was generous. "Hardly so much. It was just
vindictiveness that urged him. It's myself he's hunting at Tortuga,
my lord. But, I'm thinking that while he's about it, I'd best be
looking after Jamaica for King William." He laughed, with more mirth
than he had used in the last two months.
"Set a course for Port Royal, Jeremy, and make all speed. We'll be
level yet with M. de Rivarol, and wipe off some other scores at the
same time."
Both Lord Willoughby and the Admiral were on their feet.
"But you are not equal to it, damme!" cried his lordship. "Any one
of the Frenchman's three ships is a match for both yours, my man."
"In guns - aye," said Blood, and he smiled. "But there's more than
guns that matter in these affairs. If your lordship would like to
see an action fought at sea as an action should be fought, this is
your opportunity."
Both stared at him. "But the odds!" his lordship insisted.
"Id is imbossible," said van der Kuylen, shaking his great head.
"Seamanship is imbordand. Bud guns is guns."
"If I can't defeat him, I can sink my own ships in the channel, and
block him in until Bishop gets back from his wild-goose chase with
his squadron, or until your own fleet turns up."
"And what good will that be, pray?" demanded Willoughby.
"I'll be after telling you. Rivarol is a fool to take this chance,
considering what he's got aboard. He carried in his hold the
treasure plundered from Cartagena, amounting to forty million
livres." They jumped at the mention of that colossal sum. "He
has gone into Port Royal with it. Whether he defeats me or not,
he doesn't come out of Port Royal with it again, and sooner or
later that treasure shall find its way into King William's coffers,
after, say, one fifth share shall have been paid to my buccaneers.
Is that agreed, Lord Willoughby?"
His lordship stood up, and shaking back the cloud of lace from his
wrist, held out a delicate white hand.
"Captain Blood, I discover greatness in you," said he.
"Sure it's your lordship has the fine sight to perceive it," laughed
the Captain.
"Yes, yes! Bud how vill you do id?" growled van der Kuylen.
"Come on deck, and it's a demonstration I'll be giving you before
the day's much older."