Captain Blood (Penguin Classics)

by Rafael Sabatini

  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 honorable 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 honor 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 honorable 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 unfavorable 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 bandits placed him upon what he accounted a dishonoring 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 color. 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 a 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 labor 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 instruction 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 eno
ugh; 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 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 condition 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 honor 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 heat 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 honor.”

  “Not in honor, sir? To the devil with your insolence! Do you imply that any course that were not in honor 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 colored 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 somber 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 Atropos, 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 officers, 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 favor 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 that 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.”