“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.