Читать книгу Captain Blood: His Odyssey / Одиссея капитана Блада - Рафаэль Сабатини - Страница 3

The farm stood a mile or so to the south of Bridgewater on the right bank of the river. It was a grey building with ivy on its lower parts. A sweet smell came from the orchards, and the waters of the river reflected the morning sun. It was dificf ult to believe that there was a war happening in that area.

Near Bridgewater they had met many wounded men who crossed the river to go back to the town where they would get help and shelter. They looked at Mr. Blood and young Pitt in terror as they rode across the bridge out of the city and towards Feversham’s headquarters.

Soon enough there were no signs of battle. Mr. Blood and Jeremy Pitt were now riding through the peaceful orchards heavy with the fruit.

At last they reached the courtyard, where Baynes, the master of the homestead, greeted them.

In the big hall, the doctor found Lord Gildoy – a very tall and dark young gentleman – on a day-bed under one of the tall windows. Mrs. Baynes and her daughter were taking care of him. His face was pale, his eyes closed, and his lips blue. He moaned quietly.

Mr. Blood stood for a moment and watched his patient. Lord Gildoy had such bright hopes in life. Peter Blood had always liked this brave man and found it sad that he had decided to risk it all, perhaps life itself, for someone like Monmouth. The doctor sighed and knelt by the day-bed and called for water and linen and what else he needed for his work.

He was still working a half-hour later when the dragoons arrived. He did not notice them and the noise that they were making, but he could feel that Lord Gildoy grew worried. Jeremy Pitt, who – unlike the doctor – had seen that the dragoons were coming, hid quickly in a clothes-press.

Baynes, his wife, and daughter were scared. Mr. Blood tried to calm them down.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “It’s a Christian country, and Christian men do not fight the wounded, or those who help them.” He still had, you see, illusions about Christians. He made Lord Gildoy drink a glass of cordial. “The worst is done, my lord.”

And then they came into the hall – the dragoons of the Tangiers Regiment[10], led by a black-browed man with gold lace on his chest.

Baynes stood where he was, and his wife and daughter moved back in fear. Mr. Blood, at the head of the day-bed, looked over his shoulder at the men.

The oficf er gave his men an order, and then spoke to Baynes.

“I am Captain Hobart, of Colonel Kirke’s dragoons. Are there any rebels here?”

Baynes was scared, his voice was trembling.

“I… I do not help rebels, sir. This wounded gentleman…”

“I can see for myself.” The Captain came up to the daybed, and looked at the grey-faced Lord Gildoy.

“No need to ask what happened to him. A rebel, and that’s enough for me.” He gave an order to his dragoons. “Take him out.”

Mr. Blood stood up. He was now between the day-bed and the dragoons.

“Sir!” said he, angrily. “This is England, not Tangiers. The gentleman is wounded. He may die if you move him.”

Captain Hobart was surprised.

“Oh, I have to think of the lives of these rebels! Do you think we’re taking him to take care of his health? There’re gallows along the road from Weston to Bridgewater. Colonel Kirke’ll teach these rebels a lesson.”

“You’re hanging men without trial?”

The Captain looked at him angrily. Soldier recognized soldier. The Captain’s eyes narrowed. He started to remember.

“Who may you be?” he asked.

“My name is Blood, sir – Peter Blood.”

“Yes – yes! That’s the name. You were in French service once, were you not?”

If Mr. Blood was surprised, he did not show it.

“I was.”

“Then I remember you – five years ago, or more, you were in Tangiers.”

“That is so. I knew your colonel.”

“You may meet him again.” The Captain laughed unpleasantly. “What brings you here, sir?”

“This wounded gentleman. I was brought here to help him. I am a doctor.”

“A doctor – you?” The Captain did not believe him.

“Medicinae baccalaureus,” said Mr. Blood.

“Don’t talk French to me, man,” said Hobart in a loud voice. “Speak English!” Mr. Blood’s smile annoyed him.

“I am a doctor,” Mr. Blood explained. “I work in the town of Bridgewater.”

The Captain looked at him unkindly. “You followed your Duke there from Lyme Regis[11].”

Mr. Blood returned his unfriendly look. “If your wit were as big as your voice, my dear, you’d be a great man.”

For a moment the dragoon did not say anything. His face grew purple.

“I may be great enough to hang you.”

“You look and act like a hangman. But if you hang my patient here, you may risk your life. He’s not someone you may hang without trial. He has the right to trial – the right to trial by his peers.”

“By his peers?”

The Captain was surprised when he heard those three words.

“Sure, now, only a fool would not have asked his name. The gentleman is Lord Gildoy.”

And then Lord Gildoy spoke for himself, in a weak voice.

“I support the Duke of Monmouth. I’ll take the consequences. But I’ll take them after trial – by my peers, as the doctor has said.”

The Captain was quiet for a moment. As it is common in many men like Hobart, deep down he was a very shy man. And so when he learnt who Lord Gildoy was, he felt very shy. He had always felt respect and fear towards titles. And he had always felt respect and fear towards his colonel. Percy Kirke would not forgive his mistakes, so the Captain wanted to be sure that he did not make any.

By a gesture he stopped his men. He must think. Soon enough Mr. Blood gave him yet another reason to think.

“Lord Gildoy has friends and relatives on the Tory[12] side, Captain. They’ll have something to say to Colonel Kirke if you hang him without trial by his peers. Think carefully, Captain, or you may risk your life.”

Captain Hobart had to listen to the warning. “Take up the day-bed,” said he, “and carry him on that to Bridgewater. Then wait until I take order about him.”

“He may die on the way,” Blood said. “You cannot move him.”

“So much the worse for him. My task is to search for rebels.” He gestured to his men. Two of them took up the day-bed, and turned to go.

Gildoy looked at Mr. Blood. “Sir,” he said, “I am in your debt. If I live, I shall never forget it.”

Mr. Blood bowed for answer; then to the men: “Be careful,” he commanded. “His life depends on it.”

As they carried Lord Gildoy out, the Captain quickly turned to Baynes.

“What other rebels are you hiding?”

“None other, sir. Lord Gildoy…”

“Lord Gildoy is on the way to Bridgewater. We’ll now search your house. And, by God, if you’ve lied to me…” He turned back to his men and gave them an order. Four of his dragoons went out. In a moment they were moving noisily in the other room. Meanwhile, the Captain was going around the hall.

Mr. Blood did not see why he should stay there any longer.

“I would like to wish you a very good day,” he said.

“I would like you to stay here for a while,” the Captain commanded.

Mr. Blood sat down. “You’re tiresome,” he said. “I wonder why your colonel hasn’t discovered it yet.”

But the Captain did not pay attention to him. He picked up a dirty hat from the floor. It was near the clothes-press where the unfortunate young Pitt was hiding. The Captain smiled in a very unkind way. He looked first at Baynes, then at the two women, and finally at Mr. Blood. The doctor sat with one leg over the other. He tried to look indifferent, but in fact he was not.

The Captain went to the press, and opened it. He took young Pitt by the collar, and pulled him out into the open.

“And who is this?” he asked. “Another nobleman?”

Mr. Blood imagined the gallows, and how the Captain would hang this unfortunate young sailor without trial, in the place of Lord Gildoy. On the spot he invented not only a title but a whole family for the young man.

“You’ve said it, Captain. This is Viscount Pitt, first cousin to Sir Thomas Vernon, who’s married to Moll Kirke, sister to your colonel.”

Both the Captain and his prisoner were surprised. Young Pitt tried hard not to show it. Mr. Blood’s words made the Captain very angry. He looked at his prisoner again.

“He’s lying, is he not?” he demanded, looking into young Pitt’s face.

“If you think so,” said Blood, “hang him, and see what happens to you.”

The dragoon looked at the doctor and then at his prisoner. “Pah!” He gave an order to his men. “Bring this Viscount Pitt to Bridgewater. And him also,” he pointed to Baynes. “We’ll show him what it means to help rebels.”

Baynes tried to fight the dragoons. The women screamed, but then the Captain came up to them and they stopped screaming in terror. He took the girl by the shoulders. She was pretty, with golden hair and blue eyes. She looked up into the face of the dragoon and hoped he would let her go. He took her chin in his hand and kissed her.

“Let that quiet you, little rebel,” he said, “Till I’ve finished with them.”

And he left her in the arms of her mother. His men stood, waiting for orders, holding the two prisoners.

“Take them away.” He looked at the girl again. “I’ll stay for a while – to search this place. There may be other rebels here.” And then he pointed to Mr. Blood and added: “And take him with you.”.

Mr. Blood had been thinking that he could use one of his instruments to fight Captain Hobart. But he did not know how to get to his instrument case. He was beginning to think that he could tell the Captain some tale of hidden treasure, but then Captain Hobart’s words stopped him.

“It will suit me very well,” Mr. Blood said. “I am going to Bridgewater myself.”

“You are going to prison there.”

“Ah, bah! You’re surely joking!”

“There’s a gallows for you if you prefer it. It’s only a question of now or later.”

The dragoons held Mr. Blood, and the instrument case was on the table out of his reach. The doctor tried to escape, but the dragoons did not let him. They tied his wrists behind his back.

“Take him away,” said Hobart, and turned to the other waiting dragoons. “Go search the house.”

The soldiers went out by the door leading to the other rooms. The guards took Mr. Blood into the courtyard, where Pitt and Baynes had already been waiting. Mr. Blood looked back at Captain Hobart. The doctor was very angry. He wanted to tell Hobart what he would do to him, but decided to keep quiet.

After a short while, the dragoons took the prisoners to Bridgewater. From the homestead came the screams of a woman in agony. Baynes tried to run back to the homestead, his face pale. As a consequence he fell down and the dragoons dragged him a yard or two.

Mr. Blood thought, as he went under the apple-trees of the orchard on that July morning, that man was the worst work of God, and that only a fool would want to be a doctor and help people.