CHAPTER XXII. HOSTILITIES
In the great harbour of Port Royal, spacious enough to have givenmoorings to all the ships of all the navies of the world, the Arabellarode at anchor. Almost she had the air of a prisoner, for a quarter of amile ahead, to starboard, rose the lofty, massive single round towerof the fort, whilst a couple of cables'-length astern, and to larboard,rode the six men-of-war that composed the Jamaica squadron.
Abeam with the Arabella, across the harbour, were the flat-fronted whitebuildings of that imposing city that came down to the very water's edge.Behind these the red roofs rose like terraces, marking the gentle slopeupon which the city was built, dominated here by a turret, there by aspire, and behind these again a range of green hills with for ultimatebackground a sky that was like a dome of polished steel.
On a cane day-bed that had been set for him on the quarter-deck,sheltered from the dazzling, blistering sunshine by an improvised awningof brown sailcloth, lounged Peter Blood, a calf-bound, well-thumbed copyof Horace's Odes neglected in his hands.
From immediately below him came the swish of mops and the gurgle ofwater in the scuppers, for it was still early morning, and under thedirections of Hayton, the bo'sun, the swabbers were at work in thewaist and forecastle. Despite the heat and the stagnant air, one of thetoilers found breath to croak a ribald buccaneering ditty:
"For we laid her board and board, And we put her to the sword, And we sank her in the deep blue sea. So It's heigh-ho, and heave-a-ho! Who'll sail for the Main with me?"
Blood fetched a sigh, and the ghost of a smile played over his lean,sun-tanned face. Then the black brows came together above the vividblue eyes, and thought swiftly closed the door upon his immediatesurroundings.
Things had not sped at all well with him in the past fortnight since hisacceptance of the King's commission. There had been trouble with Bishopfrom the moment of landing. As Blood and Lord Julian had stepped ashoretogether, they had been met by a man who took no pains to dissemble hischagrin at the turn of events and his determination to change it. Heawaited them on the mole, supported by a group of officers.
"You are Lord Julian Wade, I understand," was his truculent greeting.For Blood at the moment he had nothing beyond a malignant glance.
Lord Julian bowed. "I take it I have the honour to address ColonelBishop, Deputy-Governor of Jamaica." It was almost as if his lordshipwere giving the Colonel a lesson in deportment. The Colonel accepted it,and belatedly bowed, removing his broad hat. Then he plunged on.
"You have granted, I am told, the King's commission to this man." Hisvery tone betrayed the bitterness of his rancour. "Your motives wereno doubt worthy... your gratitude to him for delivering you from theSpaniards. But the thing itself is unthinkable, my lord. The commissionmust be cancelled."
"I don't think I understand," said Lord Julian distantly.
"To be sure you don't, or you'd never ha' done it. The fellow's bubbledyou. Why, he's first a rebel, then an escaped slave, and lastly a bloodypirate. I've been hunting him this year past."
"I assure you, sir, that I was fully informed of all. I do not grant theKing's commission lightly."
"Don't you, by God! And what else do you call this? But as His Majesty'sDeputy-Governor of Jamaica, I'll take leave to correct your mistake inmy own way."
"Ah! And what way may that be?"
"There's a gallows waiting for this rascal in Port Royal."
Blood would have intervened at that, but Lord Julian forestalled him.
"I see, sir, that you do not yet quite apprehend the circumstances. Ifit is a mistake to grant Captain Blood a commission, the mistake is notmine. I am acting upon the instructions of my Lord Sunderland; and witha full knowledge of all the facts, his lordship expressly designatedCaptain Blood for this commission if Captain Blood could be persuaded toaccept it."
Colonel Bishop's mouth fell open in surprise and dismay.
"Lord Sunderland designated him?" he asked, amazed.
"Expressly."
His lordship waited a moment for a reply. None coming from thespeechless Deputy-Governor, he asked a question: "Would you stillventure to describe the matter as a mistake, sir? And dare you take therisk of correcting it?"
"I... I had not dreamed...."
"I understand, sir. Let me present Captain Blood."
Perforce Bishop must put on the best face he could command. But that itwas no more than a mask for his fury and his venom was plain to all.
From that unpromising beginning matters had not improved; rather hadthey grown worse.
Blood's thoughts were upon this and other things as he lounged there onthe day-bed. He had been a fortnight in Port Royal, his ship virtuallya unit now in the Jamaica squadron. And when the news of it reachedTortuga and the buccaneers who awaited his return, the name of CaptainBlood, which had stood so high among the Brethren of the Coast, wouldbecome a byword, a thing of execration, and before all was done his lifemight pay forfeit for what would be accounted a treacherous defection.And for what had he placed himself in this position? For the sake ofa girl who avoided him so persistently and intentionally that he mustassume that she still regarded him with aversion. He had scarcely beenvouchsafed a glimpse of her in all this fortnight, although with that inview for his main object he had daily haunted her uncle's residence, anddaily braved the unmasked hostility and baffled rancour in which ColonelBishop held him. Nor was that the worst of it. He was allowed plainlyto perceive that it was the graceful, elegant young trifler from St.James's, Lord Julian Wade, to whom her every moment was devoted. Andwhat chance had he, a desperate adventurer with a record of outlawry,against such a rival as that, a man of parts, moreover, as he was boundto admit?
You conceive the bitterness of his soul. He beheld himself to be as thedog in the fable that had dropped the substance to snatch at a delusiveshadow.
He sought comfort in a line on the open page before him:
"levius fit patientia quicquid corrigere est nefas."
Sought it, but hardly found it.
A boat that had approached unnoticed from the shore came scraping andbumping against the great red hull of the Arabella, and a raucous voicesent up a hailing shout. From the ship's belfry two silvery notes rangclear and sharp, and a moment or two later the bo'sun's whistle shrilleda long wail.
The sounds disturbed Captain Blood from his disgruntled musings. Herose, tall, active, and arrestingly elegant in a scarlet, gold-lacedcoat that advertised his new position, and slipping the slender volumeinto his pocket, advanced to the carved rail of the quarter-deck, justas Jeremy Pitt was setting foot upon the companion.
"A note for you from the Deputy-Governor," said the master shortly, ashe proffered a folded sheet.
Blood broke the seal, and read. Pitt, loosely clad in shirt andbreeches, leaned against the rail the while and watched him,unmistakable concern imprinted on his fair, frank countenance.
Blood uttered a short laugh, and curled his lip. "It is a veryperemptory summons," he said, and passed the note to his friend.
The young master's grey eyes skimmed it. Thoughtfully he stroked hisgolden beard.
"You'll not go?" he said, between question and assertion.
"Why not? Haven't I been a daily visitor at the fort...?"
"But it'll be about the Old Wolf that he wants to see you. It gives hima grievance at last. You know, Peter, that it is Lord Julian alone hasstood between Bishop and his hate of you. If now he can show that...."
"What if he can?" Blood interrupted carelessly. "Shall I be in greaterdanger ashore than aboard, now that we've but fifty men left, and theylukewarm rogues who would as soon serve the King as me? Jeremy, dearlad, the Arabella's a prisoner here, bedad, 'twixt the fort there andthe fleet yonder. Don't be forgetting that."
Jeremy clenched his hands. "Why did ye let Wolverstone and the othersgo?" he cried, with a touch of bitterness. "You should have seen thedanger."
"How could I in honesty have detained them? It was in the bargain.Besides, how
could their staying have helped me?" And as Pitt did notanswer him: "Ye see?" he said, and shrugged. "I'll be getting my hat andcane and sword, and go ashore in the cock-boat. See it manned for me."
"Ye're going to deliver yourself into Bishop's hands," Pitt warned him.
"Well, well, maybe he'll not find me quite so easy to grasp as heimagines. There's a thorn or two left on me." And with a laugh Blooddeparted to his cabin.
Jeremy Pitt answered the laugh with an oath. A moment he stoodirresolute where Blood had left him. Then slowly, reluctance draggingat his feet, he went down the companion to give the order for thecock-boat.
"If anything should happen to you, Peter," he said, as Blood was goingover the side, "Colonel Bishop had better look to himself. These fiftylads may be lukewarm at present, as you say, but--sink me!--they'll beanything but lukewarm if there's a breach of faith."
"And what should be happening to me, Jeremy? Sure, now, I'll be back fordinner, so I will."
Blood climbed down into the waiting boat. But laugh though he might, heknew as well as Pitt that in going ashore that morning he carriedhis life in his hands. Because of this, it may have been that when hestepped on to the narrow mole, in the shadow of the shallow outer wallof the fort through whose crenels were thrust the black noses of itsheavy guns, he gave order that the boat should stay for him at thatspot. He realized that he might have to retreat in a hurry.
Walking leisurely, he skirted the embattled wall, and passed through thegreat gates into the courtyard. Half-a-dozen soldiers lounged there,and in the shadow cast by the wall, Major Mallard, the Commandant, wasslowly pacing. He stopped short at sight of Captain Blood, and salutedhim, as was his due, but the smile that lifted the officer's stiffmostachios was grimly sardonic. Peter Blood's attention, however, waselsewhere.
On his right stretched a spacious garden, beyond which rose the whitehouse that was the residence of the Deputy-Governor. In that garden'smain avenue, that was fringed with palm and sandalwood, he had caughtsight of Miss Bishop alone. He crossed the courtyard with suddenlylengthened stride.
"Good-morning to ye, ma'am," was his greeting as he overtook her; andhat in hand now, he added on a note of protest: "Sure, it's nothing lessthan uncharitable to make me run in this heat."
"Why do you run, then?" she asked him coolly, standing slim and straightbefore him, all in white and very maidenly save in her unnaturalcomposure. "I am pressed," she informed him. "So you will forgive me ifI do not stay."
"You were none so pressed until I came," he protested, and if his thinlips smiled, his blue eyes were oddly hard.
"Since you perceive it, sir, I wonder that you trouble to be soinsistent."
That crossed the swords between them, and it was against Blood'sinstincts to avoid an engagement.
"Faith, you explain yourself after a fashion," said he. "But since itwas more or less in your service that I donned the King's coat, youshould suffer it to cover the thief and pirate."
She shrugged and turned aside, in some resentment and some regret.Fearing to betray the latter, she took refuge in the former. "I do mybest," said she.
"So that ye can be charitable in some ways!" He laughed softly. "Glorybe, now, I should be thankful for so much. Maybe I'm presumptuous. ButI can't forget that when I was no better than a slave in your uncle'shousehold in Barbados, ye used me with a certain kindness."
"Why not? In those days you had some claim upon my kindness. You werejust an unfortunate gentleman then."
"And what else would you be calling me now?"
"Hardly unfortunate. We have heard of your good fortune on the seas--howyour luck has passed into a byword. And we have heard other things: ofyour good fortune in other directions."
She spoke hastily, the thought of Mademoiselle d'Ogeron in her mind.And instantly would have recalled the words had she been able. But PeterBlood swept them lightly aside, reading into them none of her meaning,as she feared he would.
"Aye--a deal of lies, devil a doubt, as I could prove to you."
"I cannot think why you should trouble to put yourself on your defence,"she discouraged him.
"So that ye may think less badly of me than you do."
"What I think of you can be a very little matter to you, sir."
This was a disarming stroke. He abandoned combat for expostulation.
"Can ye say that now? Can ye say that, beholding me in this livery of aservice I despise? Didn't ye tell me that I might redeem the past? It'slittle enough I am concerned to redeem the past save only in your eyes.In my own I've done nothing at all that I am ashamed of, considering theprovocation I received."
Her glance faltered, and fell away before his own that was so intent.
"I... I can't think why you should speak to me like this," she said,with less than her earlier assurance.
"Ah, now, can't ye, indeed?" he cried. "Sure, then, I'll be telling ye."
"Oh, please." There was real alarm in her voice. "I realize fully whatyou did, and I realize that partly, at least, you may have been urged byconsideration for myself. Believe me, I am very grateful. I shall alwaysbe grateful."
"But if it's also your intention always to think of me as a thief and apirate, faith, ye may keep your gratitude for all the good it's like todo me."
A livelier colour crept into her cheeks. There was a perceptible heaveof the slight breast that faintly swelled the flimsy bodice of whitesilk. But if she resented his tone and his words, she stifled herresentment. She realized that perhaps she had, herself, provoked hisanger. She honestly desired to make amends.
"You are mistaken," she began. "It isn't that."
But they were fated to misunderstand each other.
Jealousy, that troubler of reason, had been over-busy with his wits asit had with hers.
"What is it, then?" quoth he, and added the question: "Lord Julian?"
She started, and stared at him blankly indignant now.
"Och, be frank with me," he urged her, unpardonably. "'Twill be akindness, so it will."
For a moment she stood before him with quickened breathing, the colourebbing and flowing in her cheeks. Then she looked past him, and tiltedher chin forward.
"You... you are quite insufferable," she said. "I beg that you will letme pass."
He stepped aside, and with the broad feathered hat which he still heldin his hand, he waved her on towards the house.
"I'll not be detaining you any longer, ma'am. After all, the cursedthing I did for nothing can be undone. Ye'll remember afterwards that itwas your hardness drove me."
She moved to depart, then checked, and faced him again. It was she nowwho was on her defence, her voice quivering with indignation.
"You take that tone! You dare to take that tone!" she cried, astoundinghim by her sudden vehemence. "You have the effrontery to upbraid mebecause I will not take your hands when I know how they are stained;when I know you for a murderer and worse?"
He stared at her open-mouthed.
"A murderer--I?" he said at last.
"Must I name your victims? Did you not murder Levasseur?"
"Levasseur?" He smiled a little. "So they've told you about that!"
"Do you deny it?"
"I killed him, it is true. I can remember killing another man incircumstances that were very similar. That was in Bridgetown on thenight of the Spanish raid. Mary Traill would tell you of it. She waspresent."
He clapped his hat on his head with a certain abrupt fierceness, andstrode angrily away, before she could answer or even grasp the fullsignificance of what he had said.
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