The Chronicles of Captain Blood cb-2 Read online

  Don Pedro waved a hand disdainfully. «It is no great matter, and I soon weary of talking of myself. But … if you insist … some other time. At present I am to tell you of Rodrigo. He remains a prisoner in the hands of Captain Blood. But do not be unduly alarmed.»

  There was need for his reassuring tone. Dona Hernanda, who had been hanging on his words, had turned deathly white.

  «Do not be alarmed. Rodrigo is in good health, and his life is safe. Also, from my own experience, I know that this Blood, infamous pirate though he be, is not without chivalrous ideals, and, piracy apart, he is a man of honour.»

  «Piracy apart?» Laughter exploded from Don Jayme. «On my soul, that's humorous! You deal in paradox, Don Pedro. Eh, Frey Alonso?»

  The lean friar smiled mechanically. Dona Hernanda, pale and piteous, suffered in silence the interruption. Don Pedro frowned.

  «The paradox is not in me, but in Captain Blood. An indemoniated robber, yet he practises no wanton cruelty, and he keeps his word. Therefore, I say you need have no apprehension on the score of Don Rodrigo's fate. His ransom has been agreed between himself and Captain Blood, and I have undertaken to procure it. Meanwhile, he is well and courteously entreated, and, indeed, a sort of friendship has come to exist between himself and his pirate captor.»

  «Faith, that I can believe,» cried the Governor, whilst Dona Hernanda sank back in her chair with a sigh of relief. «Rodrigo was ever ready to consort with rogues. Was he not, Hernanda?»

  «I …» She bridled indignantly; then curbed herself. «I never observed it.»

  «You never observed it! I ask myself have you ever observed anything. Well, well, and so Rodrigo's to be ransomed. At what is his ransom fixed?»

  «You desire to contribute?» cried Don Pedro, with a certain friendly eagerness.

  The Governor started as if he had been stung. His countenance became gravely blank. «Not I, by the Virgin! Not I. That is entirely a matter for the family of Queiroz.»

  Don Pedro's smile perished. He sighed. «True! True! And yet … I've a notion you'll come to contribute something before all is ended.»

  «Dismiss it,» laughed Don Jayme, «for that way lies disappointment.»

  They rose from table soon thereafter and withdrew to the noontide rest the heat made necessary.

  They did not come together again until supper, which was served in that same room, in the comparative cool of eventide and by the light of a score of candles in heavy silver branches brought from Spain.

  The Governor's satisfaction at the signal honour of which he was the recipient appeared to have grown with contemplation of it. He was increasingly jovial and facetious, but not on this account did he spare Dona Hernanda his sneers. Rather did he make her the butt of coarse humours, inviting the two men to laugh with him at the shortcomings he indicated in her. Don Pedro, however, did not laugh. He remained preternaturally grave, indeed almost compassionate as he observed the tragic patience on that long–suffering wife's sweet face.

  She looked so slight and frail in her stiff black satin gown, which rendered more dazzling by contrast the whiteness of her neck and shoulders, even as her lustrous, smoothly dressed black hair stressed the warm pallor of her gentle countenance. — A little statue in ebony and ivory she seemed to Don Pedro's fancy, and almost as lifeless until after supper he found himself alone with her in the deep jessamine–clad galleries that stood open to the cool night breezes blowing from the sea.

  His Excellency had gone off to indite a letter of grateful acknowledgment to the King, and had taken the friar to assist him. He had commended his guest to the attention of his wife, whilst commiserating with him upon the necessity. She had led Don Pedro out into the scented purple tropic night, and stepping now beside him came at last to life, and addressed him in a breathless anxiety.

  «What you told us to–day of Don Rodrigo de Queiroz, is it true? That he is a prisoner in the hands of Captain Blood, but unhurt and safe, awaiting ransom?»

  «Most scrupulously true in all particulars.»

  «You … You pledge your word for that? Your honour as a gentleman? For I must assume you a gentleman, since you bear commissions from the King.»

  «And on no other ground?» quoth he, a little taken aback.

  «Do you pledge me your word?» she insisted.

  «Unhesitatingly. My word of honour. Why should you doubt me?»

  «You give me cause. You are not truthful in all things. Why, for instance, do you say you are my cousin?»

  «You do not, then, remember me?»

  «I remember Pedro de Queiroz. The years might have given you height and slenderness; the sun might have tanned your face, and under your black periwig your hair may still be fair, though I take leave to doubt it. But what, I ask myself, could have changed the colour of your eyes? For your eyes are blue, and Pedro's were dark brown.»

  He was silent a moment, like a man considering, and she watched his stern, handsome face, made plain by the light beating upon it from the windows of the house. He did not meet her glance. Instead his eyes sought the sea, gleaming under the bright stars and reflecting the twinkling lights of ships in the roadstead, watched the fireflies flitting among the bushes in pursuit of moths, looked anywhere but at the little figure at his side.

  At last he spoke, quietly, almost humorously, in admission of the imposture. «We hoped you would have forgotten such a detail.»

  «We?» she questioned him.

  «Rodrigo and I. He is at least my friend. He was hastening to you when this thing befell him. That is how we came to be on the same ship.»

  «And he desired you to do this?»

  «He shall tell you so himself when he arrives. He will be here in a few days, depend on it. As soon as I can ransom him, which will be very soon after my departure. When I was escaping — for, unlike him, I had given no parole — he desired that if I came here, I should claim to be your cousin, so as to stand at need in his place until he comes.»

  She was thoughtful, and her bosom rose and fell in agitation. In silence they moved a little way in step.

  «You took a foolish risk,» she said, thereby showing her acceptance of his explanation.

  «A gentleman,» said he sententiously, «will always take a risk to serve a lady.»

  «Were you serving me?»

  «Does it seem to you that I could be serving myself?»

  «No. You could not have been doing that.»

  «Why question further, then? Rodrigo wished it so. He will explain his motives fully when he comes. Meanwhile, as your cousin, I am in his place. If this boorish husband burdens you overmuch …»

  «What are you saying?» Her voice rang with alarm.

  «That I am Rodrigo's deputy. So that you remember it, that is all I ask.»

  «I thank you, cousin,» she said, and left him.

  Three days Don Pedro continued as the guest of the Governor of Porto Rico, and they were much as that first day, saving that daily Don Jayme continued to increase in consciousness of his new dignity as a Knight of Saint James of Compostella, and became, consequently, daily more insufferable. Yet Don Pedro suffered him with exemplary fortitude, and at times seemed even disposed to feed the Governor's egregious vanity. Thus, on the third night at supper, Don Pedro cast out the suggestion that his Excellency should signalize the honour with which the King had distinguished him by some gesture that should mark the occasion and render it memorable in the annals of the island.

  Don Jayme swallowed the suggestion avidly. «Ah, yes! That is an admirable thought. What do you counsel that I do?»

  Don Pedro smiled with flattering deprecation. «Not for me to counsel Don Jayme de Villamarga. But the gesture should be worthy of the occasion.»

  «Indeed, yes. That is true.» The dullard's wits, however, were barren of ideas. «The question now is what might be considered worthy?»

  Frey Alonso suggested a ball at Government House, and was applauded in this by Dona Hernanda. Don Pedro, apologetically to the lady, thought a ball wo
uld have significance only for those who were bidden to it. Something was required that should impress all social orders in Porto Rico.

  «Why not an amnesty?» he inquired at last.

  «An amnesty?» The three of them looked at him in questioning wonder.

  «Why not? It is a royal gesture — true. But is not a governor in some sort royal, a viceroy, a representative of royalty, the one to whom men look for royal gestures? To mark your accession to this dignity, throw open your gaols, Don Jayme, as do kings upon their coronation.»

  Don Jayme conquered his stupefaction at the magnitude of the act suggested, and smote the table with his fist, protesting that here was a notion worth adopting. To–morrow he would announce it in a proclamation, and set all prisoners free, their sentences remitted.

  «That is,» he added, «all but six, whose pardon would hardly please the colony.»

  «I think,» said Don Pedro, «that exceptions would stultify the act. There should be no exceptions.»

  «But these are exceptional prisoners. Can you have forgotten that I told you I had made captive six buccaneers out of a party that had the temerity to land on Porto Rico!»

  Don Pedro frowned, reflecting. «Ah, true!» he cried at last. «I remember.»

  «And did I tell you, sir, that one of these men is that dog Wolverstone?» He pronounced it Wolverstone.

  «Wolverstone?» said Don Pedro, who also pronounced it Wolverstohn. «You have captured Wolverstone!» It was clear that he was profoundly impressed; as well he might be, for Wolverstone, who was nowadays the foremost of Blood's lieutenants, was almost as well known to Spaniards and as detested by them as Blood himself. «You have captured Wolverstone!» he repeated, and for the first time looked at Don Jayme with eyes of unmistakable respect. «You did not tell me that. Why, in that case, my friend, you have clipped one of Blood's wings. Without Wolverstone he is shorn of half his power. His own destruction may follow now at any moment, and Spain will owe that to you.»

  Don Jayme spread his hands in an affectation of modesty. «It is something towards deserving the honour his Majesty has bestowed upon me.»

  «Something?» echoed Don Pedro. «If the King had known this, he might have accounted the order of Saint James of Compostella inadequate.»

  Dona Hernanda looked at him sharply, to see whether he dealt in irony. But he seemed quite sincere, so much so that for once he had shed the hauteur in which he usually arrayed himself. He resumed after a moment's pause.

  «Of course, of course, you cannot include these men in the amnesty. They are not common malefactors. They are enemies of Spain.» Abruptly, with a hint of purpose, he asked: «How will you deal with them?»

  Don Jayme thrust out a nether lip considering. «I am still undecided whether to hang them out of hand, or to let Frey Alonso hold his auto de fe upon them and consign them to the fire as heretics. I think I told you so.»

  «Yes, yes. But I did not then know that Wolverstone is one of them. That makes a difference.»

  «What difference?»

  «Oh, but consider. Give this matter thought. With thought you'll see for yourself what you should do. It's plain enough.»

  Don Jayme considered awhile as he was bidden. Then shrugged his shoulders.

  «Faith, sir, it may be plain enough to you. But I confess that I see no choice beyond that of rope or fire.»

  «Ultimately, yes. One or the other. But not here in Porto Rico. That is to smother the effulgence of your achievement. Send them to Spain, Don Jayme. Send them to his Majesty, as an earnest of the zeal for which he has been pleased to honour you. Show him thus how richly you deserve that honour and even greater honours. Let that be your acknowledgment.»

  Don Jayme was staring at him with dilating eyes. His face glowed. «I vow to Heaven I should never have thought of it,» he said at last.

  «Your modesty made you blind to the opportunity.»

  «It may be that,» Don Jayme admitted.

  «But you perceive it now that I indicate it?»

  «Oh, I perceive it. Yes, the King of Spain shall be impressed.»

  Frey Alonso seemed downcast. He had been counting upon his auto de fe. Dona Hernanda was chiefly puzzled by the sudden geniality of her hitherto haughty and disdainful pretended cousin. Meanwhile Don Pedro piled Pelion upon Ossa.

  «It should prove to his Majesty that your Excellency is wasted in so small a settlement as Porto Rico. I see you as governor of some more important colony. Perhaps as viceroy … Who shall say? You have displayed a zeal such as has rarely been displayed by any Spanish governor overseas.»

  «But how and when to send them to Spain?» wondered Don Jayme, who no longer questioned the expediency of doing so.

  «Why, that is a matter in which I can serve your Excellency. I can convey them for you on the San Tomas which should call for me at any moment now. You will write another letter to his Majesty, offering him these evidences of your zeal, and I will bear it together with these captives. Your general amnesty can wait until I've sailed with them. Thus there will be nothing to mar it. It will be complete and properly imposing.»

  So elated and so grateful to his guest for his suggestion was Don Jayme that he actually went the length of addressing him as cousin in the course of thanking him.

  The matter, it seemed, had presented itself for discussion only just in time. For early on the following morning Santiago was startled by the boom of a gun, and turning out to ascertain the reason beheld again the yellow Spanish ship which had brought Don Pedro coming to anchor in the bay.

  Don Pedro himself sought the Governor with the information that this was the signal for his departure, expressing a polite regret that duty did not permit him longer to encroach upon Don Jayme's princely hospitality.

  Whilst his Negro valet was packing his effects, he went to take his leave of Dona Hernanda, and again assured that wistful little lady that she need be under no apprehension on the score of her cousin Rodrigo, who would soon now be with her.

  After this Don Jayme, with an officer in attendance, carried Don Pedro off to the town gaol, where the pirates were lodged.

  In a dark, unpaved stone chamber, lighted only by a small, heavily barred, unglazed window set near the ceiling, they were herded with perhaps a score of other malefactors of all kinds and colours. The atmosphere of the place was so indescribably foul and noisome that Don Pedro recoiled as from a blow when it first assailed him. Don Jayme's loud, coarse laugh derided his fastidiousness. Nevertheless, the Governor flicked out a handkerchief that was sprayed with verbena, and thereafter at intervals held it to his nostrils.

  Wolverstone and his five associates, heavily loaded with irons, were in a group a little apart from their fellow prisoners. They squatted against the wall on the foul, dank straw that was their bedding. Unshaven, dishevelled and filthy, for no means of grooming themselves had been allowed them, they huddled together there as if seeking strength in union against the common rogues with whom they were confined. Wolverstone, almost a giant in build, might from his dress have been a merchant. Dyke, that sometime petty officer in the King's Navy, had similarly been arrayed like a citizen of some consequence. The other four wore the cotton shirts and leather breeches which had been the dress of the boucan–hunters before they took to the sea, and their heads were swathed in coloured kerchiefs.

  They did not stir when the door creaked on its ponderous hinges and a half–dozen corseletted Spaniards with pikes entered to form a guard of honour as well as a protection for the Governor. When that august personage made his appearance attended by his officer and accompanied by his distinguished looking guest, the other prisoners sprang up and ranged themselves in awe and reverence. The pirates stolidly sat on. But they were not quite indifferent. As Don Pedro sauntered in, languidly leaning on his beribboned cane, dabbing his lips with a handkerchief, which he, too, had deemed it well to produce, Wolverstone stirred on his foul bed, and his single eye (he had lost the other one at Sedgemoor) rolled with almost portentous ferocity.

>   Don Jayme indicated the group by a wave of his hand. «There are your cursed pirates, Don Pedro, hanging together like a brood of carrion birds.»

  «These?» quoth Don Pedro haughtily, and pointed with his cane. «Faith, they look their trade, the villains.»

  Wolverstone glared more fiercely than ever; but was contemptuously silent. A stubborn rogue, it was plain.

  Don Pedro advanced towards them, superb in his black and silver, seeming to symbolize the pride and majesty of Spain. The thick–set Governor, in pale green taffetas, kept pace with him, and presently, when they had come to a halt before the buccaneers, he addressed them.

  «You begin to know, you English dogs, what it means to defy the might of Spain. And you'll know it better before all is done. I deny myself the pleasure of hanging you as I intended, so that you may go to Madrid, to feed a bonfire.»

  Wolverstone leered at him. «You are noble,» he said, in execrable, but comprehensible Spanish. «Noble with the nobility of Spain. You insult the helpless.»

  The Governor raged at him, calling him the unprintably foul names that come so readily to an angry Spaniard's lips. This until Don Pedro checked him with a hand upon his arm.

  «Is this waste of breath worth while?» He spoke disdainfully. «It but serves to detain us in this noisome place.»

  The buccaneers stared at him in a sort of wonder. Abruptly he turned on his heel.

  «Come, Don Jayme.» His tone was peremptory. «Have them out of this. The San Tomas is waiting, and the tide is on the turn.»

  The Governor hesitated, flung a last insult at them, then gave an order to the officer, and stalked after his guest, who was already moving away. The officer transferred the order to his men. With the butts of their pikes and many foul words, the soldiers stirred the buccaneers. They rose with clank of gyves and manacles, and went stumbling out into the clean air and the sunshine, herded by the pikemen. Hangdog, foul, and weary, they dragged themselves across the square, where the palms waved in the sea–breeze, and the islanders stood to watch them pass, and so they came to the mole, where a wherry of eight oars awaited them.