Читать книгу Brethren of the Main - Рафаэль Сабатини - Страница 12

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Startling as was the explanation, yet it soothed Don Diego, being so much less startling than the things he was beginning to imagine.

"But—are you not Spanish, then?"

"You flatter my Castilian accent. I have the honor to be Irish. You were thinking that a miracle had happened. So it has—a miracle wrought by my genius, which is considerable."

And very succinctly now Captain Blood elucidated the mystery. Last night what time the two hundred and fifty Spaniards commanded by Don Diego were making merry in conquered Bridgetown Mr. Blood and some thirty forgotten plantation slaves—rebels convict all, who had been out with Monmouth in the West Country and as a consequence suffered transportation—had quietly slipped aboard the Cinco Llagas, overpowered the slight contingent which was guarding her with characteristic Spanish carelessness, and so possessed themselves of the ship.

"When you came aboard this morning with the ransom of a hundred thousand pieces of eight we tapped you over the head to keep you quiet. After that we hauled the treasure-chests aboard, and then proceeded to sink by gunfire the boats containing your marauding followers. That much successfully accomplished, and having no desire to return into slavery, we put to sea."

The Spaniard's countenance had gone red and white by turns during that brief narration. He had put a hand to the back of his head, and there discovered, in confirmation of the story, a lump as large as a pigeon's egg.

"And my son? What of my son?" he cried out. "He was with the gunner left on guard aboard."

"Your son is safe; he and the gunner and his crew—ten of them in all—are snugly in irons under hatches."

Don Diego sank back on the couch, his glittering, dark eyes fixed upon the tawny face of Captain Blood, and silently composed himself, After all, he had the stoicism proper to his desperate trade.

With the utmost composure he inquired—

"And now, Señor Capitán?"

"And now," said Captain Blood, "being a humane man, I am sorry to find that ye're not dead from the tap we gave you. For it means that you'll be put to the trouble of dying all ever again."

"Is that necessary?" asked Don Diego without apparent perturbation.

Captain Blood's light-blue eyes approved his bearing.

"Ask yourself," said he. "Tell me, as an experienced and bloody pirate, what in my place should you do yourself?"

"Ah, but there is a difference."

Don Diego sat up to argue the matter. "It lies in the fact that you boast yourself a humane man."

Captain Blood perched himself on the edge of the long oak table.

"But I am not a fool," said he, "and I'll not allow a natural Irish sentimentality to stand in the way of my doing what is necessary and proper. You and your ten surviving scoundrels are a menace on this ship. More than that, she is none so well found in water and provisions:

"True, we are fortunately a small number, but you and your party inconveniently increase it. So that on every hand, you see, prudence suggests to us that we should deny ourselves the pleasure of your company, and, steeling our soft hearts to the inevitable, invite you to take a walk along a plank."

"I see," said the Spaniard pensively.

He swung his legs from the couch, and sat now upon the edge of it, his elbows on his knees. He had taken the measure of his man, and met him now with a mock urbanity and a suave detachment that matched his own.

"I confess," he admitted, "that there is much force in what you say."

"You take a load from my mind," said Captain Blood. "I would not appear unnecessarily harsh, especially since I and my friends owe you so very much. For, whatever it may have been to others to us your raid upon Barbados was most opportune. I am glad therefore that you agree that I have no choice."

"But, my friend, I did not agree so much."

"If there is any alternative that you can suggest I shall be most happy to consider it."

In thought Don Diego stroked his pointed black beard.

"Can you give me until morning for reflection? My head aches so damnably that I am incapable of thought. And this, you will admit, is a matter that asks for serious thought."

Captain Blood stood up. From a shelf he took a half-hour glass, reversed it so that the bulb containing the red sand was uppermost, and stood it on the table.

"I am sorry to press you in such a matter, Don Diego, but one glass is all that I can give you. If by the time those sands have run out you can propose no acceptable alternative I shall most reluctantly be driven to ask you to go over the side with your friends."

Captain Blood went out and locked the door.

Elbows on his knees and face in his hands, Don Diego sat watching the rusty sands run from the upper to the lower bulb. And as he watched, the lines in his lean, broad face grew deeper. Punctually as the last grains filtered through the door reopened.