The Rafael Sabatini Megapack. Rafael Sabatini
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. “O ’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