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
bandits 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 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 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 to submit 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 expedition, 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.