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The Greatest Historical Novels. Rafael SabatiniЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Greatest Historical Novels - Rafael Sabatini


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House, and with unseeing eyes that were laden with pain and anger, stared out across the great harbour of Port Royal to the green hills rising from the farther shore and the ridge of the Blue Mountains beyond, showing hazily through the quivering heat.

      He was aroused by the return of the negro who had gone to announce him, and following now this slave, he made his way through the house to the wide piazza behind it, in whose shade Colonel Bishop and my Lord Julian Wade took what little air there was.

      “So ye’ve come,” the Deputy-Governor hailed him, and followed the greeting by a series of grunts of vague but apparently ill-humoured import.

      He did not trouble to rise, not even when Lord Julian, obeying the instincts of finer breeding, set him the example. From under scowling brows the wealthy Barbados planter considered his sometime slave, who, hat in hand, leaning lightly upon his long beribboned cane, revealed nothing in his countenance of the anger which was being steadily nourished by this cavalier reception.

      At last, with scowling brow and in self-sufficient tones, Colonel Bishop delivered himself.

      “I have sent for you, Captain Blood, because of certain news that has just reached me. I am informed that yesterday evening a frigate left the harbour having on board your associate Wolverstone and a hundred men of the hundred and fifty that were serving under you. His lordship and I shall be glad to have your explanation of how you came to permit that departure.”

      “Permit?” quoth Blood. “I ordered it.”

      The answer left Bishop speechless for a moment. Then:

      “You ordered it?” he said in accents of unbelief, whilst Lord Julian raised his eyebrows. “‘Swounds! Perhaps you’ll explain yourself? Whither has Wolverstone gone?”

      “To Tortuga. He’s gone with a message to the officers commanding the other four ships of the fleet that is awaiting me there, telling them what’s happened and why they are no longer to expect me.”

      Bishop’s great face seemed to swell and its high colour to deepen. He swung to Lord Julian.

      “You hear that, my lord? Deliberately he has let Wolverstone loose upon the seas again—Wolverstone, the worst of all that gang of pirates after himself. I hope your lordship begins at last to perceive the folly of granting the King’s commission to such a man as this against all my counsels. Why, this thing is... it’s just mutiny... treason! By God! It’s matter for a court-martial.”

      “Will you cease your blather of mutiny and treason and courts-martial?” Blood put on his hat, and sat down unbidden. “I have sent Wolverstone to inform Hagthorpe and Christian and Yberville and the rest of my lads that they’ve one clear month in which to follow my example, quit piracy, and get back to their boucans or their logwood, or else sail out of the Caribbean Sea. That’s what I’ve done.”

      “But the men?” his lordship interposed in his level, cultured voice. “This hundred men that Wolverstone has taken with him?”

      “They are those of my crew who have no taste for King James’s service, and have preferred to seek work of other kinds. It was in our compact, my lord, that there should be no constraining of my men.”

      “I don’t remember it,” said his lordship, with sincerity.

      Blood looked at him in surprise. Then he shrugged. “Faith, I’m not to blame for your lordship’s poor memory. I say that it was so; and I don’t lie. I’ve never found it necessary. In any case ye couldn’t have supposed that I should consent to anything different.”

      And then the Deputy-Governor exploded.

      “You have given those damned rascals in Tortuga this warning so that they may escape! That is what you have done. That is how you abuse the commission that has saved your own neck!”

      Peter Blood considered him steadily, his face impassive. “I will remind you,” he said at last, very quietly, “that the object in view was—leaving out of account your own appetites which, as every one knows, are just those of a hangman—to rid the Caribbean of buccaneers. Now, I’ve taken the most effective way of accomplishing that object. The knowledge that I’ve entered the King’s service should in itself go far towards disbanding the fleet of which I was until lately the admiral.”

      “I see!” sneered the Deputy-Governor malevolently. “And if it does not?”

      “It will be time enough then to consider what else is to be done.”

      Lord Julian forestalled a fresh outburst on the part of Bishop.

      “It is possible,” he said, “that my Lord Sunderland will be satisfied, provided that the solution is such as you promise.”

      It was a courteous, conciliatory speech. Urged by friendliness towards Blood and understanding of the difficult position in which the buccaneer found himself, his lordship was disposed to take his stand upon the letter of his instructions. Therefore he now held out a friendly hand to help him over the latest and most difficult obstacle which Blood himself had enabled Bishop to place in the way of his redemption. Unfortunately the last person from whom Peter Blood desired assistance at that moment was this young nobleman, whom he regarded with the jaundiced eyes of jealousy.

      “Anyway,” he answered, with a suggestion of defiance and more than a suggestion of a sneer, “it’s the most ye should expect from me, and certainly it’s the most ye’ll get.”

      His lordship frowned, and dabbed his lips with a handkerchief.

      “I don’t think that I quite like the way you put it. Indeed, upon reflection, Captain Blood, I am sure that I do not.”

      “I am sorry for that, so I am,” said Blood impudently. “But there it is. I’m not on that account concerned to modify it.”

      His lordship’s pale eyes opened a little wider. Languidly he raised his eyebrows.

      “Ah!” he said. “You’re a prodigiously uncivil fellow. You disappoint me, sir. I had formed the notion that you might be a gentleman.”

      “And that’s not your lordship’s only mistake,” Bishop cut in. “You made a worse when you gave him the King’s commission, and so sheltered the rascal from the gallows I had prepared for him in Port Royal.”

      “Aye—but the worst mistake of all in this matter of commissions,” said Blood to his lordship, “was the one that trade this greasy slaver Deputy-Governor of Jamaica instead of its hangman, which is the office for which he’s by nature fitted.”

      “Captain Blood!” said his lordship sharply in reproof. “Upon my soul and honour, sir, you go much too far. You are....”

      But here Bishop interrupted him. He had heaved himself to his feet, at last, and was venting his fury in unprintable abuse. Captain Blood, who had also risen, stood apparently impassive, for the storm to spend itself. When at last this happened, he addressed himself quietly to Lord Julian, as if Colonel Bishop had not spoken.

      “Your lordship was about to say?” he asked, with challenging smoothness.

      But his lordship had by now recovered his habitual composure, and was again disposed to be conciliatory. He laughed and shrugged.

      “Faith! here’s a deal of unnecessary heat,” said he. “And God knows this plaguey climate provides enough of that. Perhaps, Colonel Bishop, you are a little uncompromising; and you, sir, are certainly a deal too peppery. I have said, speaking on behalf of my Lord Sunderland, that I am content to await the result of your experiment.”

      But Bishop’s fury had by now reached a stage in which it was not to be restrained.

      “Are you, indeed?” he roared. “Well, then, I am not. This is a matter in which your lordship must allow me to be the better judge. And, anyhow, I’ll take the risk of acting on my own responsibility.”

      Lord Julian abandoned the struggle. He smiled wearily, shrugged, and waved a hand in implied resignation. The Deputy-Governor stormed on.


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