Читать книгу Brethren of the Main - Рафаэль Сабатини - Страница 10

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There were among them some six or seven who possessed a fair knowledge of seamanship, being men of Devon. These, with others to assist them as directed, went about the handling of the ship. The anchor weighed and the mainsail unfurled, they stood out for the open before a fair breeze without any interference from the fort.

As they approached the headland, east of the bay, Mr. Blood returned to the planter, who, under guard and panic-stricken, was seated dejectedly on one of the treasure-chests he had fondly dreamed of taking ashore with him.

"Can ye swim, colonel?"

Colonel Bishop looked up, at once fierce and sullen, making no answer.

"As your doctor now, I prescribe a swim to cool the excessive heat of your humors," Mr. Blood pleasantly explained himself; and as the colonel still made no answer, he continued: "It's a mercy for you I'm not by nature bloodthirsty. And it's the devil's own labor I've had to prevail upon these lads not to hang you from the yard-arm. I doubt if ye're worth the pains I've taken, but ye shall have a chance to swim for it. It's not above a quarter of a mile to the headland there, and with luck ye'll manage it. Come on! Now don't be hesitating, or it's the —— knows what may happen to you."

Colonel Bishop rose and shrugged. A merciless despot who had never known the need for restraint in all these years, he was doomed by ironic fate to practise restraint in the very moment when his feelings had reached their most violent intensity.

Mr. Blood gave an order. A plank was run out over the gunwale and lashed down.

"If you please," said Mr. Blood, with a graceful flourish of invitation.

The planter looked at him with burning fury in his glance. Then he kicked off his shoes, tore off his coat, and sprang upon the plank. A moment he paused, looking down in terror at the green water rushing past some twenty-five feet below.

"Just take a little walk, colonel darling," said a smooth, mocking voice behind him.

Clinging to a ratline, Colonel Bishop looked round in hesitation, and saw the bulwarks lined with faces—the faces of men that but yesterday would have turned pale under his glance, faces that were now all wickedly agrin.

He uttered an oath, and stepped out upon the plank. Three steps he took, then missed his balance, and went tumbling down into the green depths below.

When he rose again, gasping for air, the frigate was already some furlongs to leeward. But the roaring cheer of mocking valediction from the rebels convict still reached him to drive the iron deeper into his soul.