Jeremy, understanding perfectly what was coming, stared at him uneasily. His two companions, understanding nothing, stared with him.
«We discussed inopportuneness, I think, and your sluggishness in perceiving that your presence was not required.»
Jeremy leaned forward. «What we discussed is no matter. You are here, I think, to pick a quarrel with me.»
«I?» Captain Tondeur stared and frowned. «Why should you suppose that? You do me no harm. It is not in your power to do me harm. Yo are not even in my way. If you were, I should crack you like a flea.» He laughed contemptuously, offensively, and by that laugh flung Jeremy, as he intended, into a passion.
«I am no flea for your cracking.»
«Are you not?» Tondeur got up. «Then be careful not to pester me again, or you may find yourself under my thumbnail. You have your warning.» He spoke loudly, so that all might hear him, and his tone brought a hush upon the crowded room.
He was turning away contemptuously when Jeremy's answer arrested him.
«You insolent dog!»
Captain Tondeur checked. He raised his brows. A snarling smile lifted an end of his little moustache. And meanwhile the burly Wolverstone, still understanding nothing, sought instinctively to restrain Jeremy, who had also risen.
«Dog?» said the Captain slowly. «Dog, eh? It is apt enough. The dog and the flea. All the same, I do not like dog. You will be so good as to retract' dog. You will retract it at once. I am not a patient man, Monsieur Pitt.»
«Certainly I will retract it,» said Jeremy. «I'll not insult an animal.»
«Meaning me?»
«Meaning the dog. I'll substitute instead —»
«Substitute rat,» said a sharp voice from the background, which made Tondeur spin round where he stood.
Just within the doorway lounged Captain Blood, tall and elegant in his black and silver, leaning upon his ebony cane. The intensely blue eyes in his clear–cut, sun–tanned face met and held the stare of Captain Tondeur. He sauntered forward, speaking easily and without stress as he came.
«Rat, I think, describes you better, Captain Tondeur.» And he stood waiting for the Frenchman's answer.
It came presently in the wake of a sneering laugh. «I see. I see. The little shipmaster here is to be protected. Papa Blood intervenes to save the little coward.»
«Certainly he is to be protected. I will not have my shipmaster murdered by a bully–swordsman. That is why I intervene. You might have foreseen it, Captain Tondeur. As for cowardice, you paltry rascal, that is the attribute of the rat to which I liken you. You trade upon a certain skill with the sword; but you are careful to employ it only against those you have reason to believe unskilled. That is the coward's way. Oh, and the murderer's, which is, I believe, what they call you in France.»
«That's a lie, anyway,» said Tondeur, livid.
Captain Blood was unperturbed. He was deliberately playing Tondeur's own game of baiting an opponent into fury. «You may proceed to prove it upon me, in which case I shall retract, either before or after killing you. Thus you will die in honour, having lived in dishonour. The inner room there is spacious and empty. We can —»
But Tondeur interrupted him, sneering. «I am not so easily distracted. My affair is with Mr. Pitt.»
«Let it wait until you have settled mine.»
Tondeur contained himself. He was white with passion and breathing hard.
«Look you, Captain Blood: I have been insulted by this shipmaster of yours, who called me dog in the presence here of these. You deliberately seek to thrust yourself into a quarrel that does not concern you. It is not to be tolerated. I appeal me to the company.»
It was a shrewd move and the result justified it. The company was on his side. Such of Captain Blood's own men who were present kept silent, whilst the remainder loudly gave the Frenchman reason. Not even Hagthorpe and Wolverstone could do more than shrug, and Jeremy made matters utterly hopeless by declaring himself on the side of the enemy.
«Captain Tondeur is in the right, Peter. You are not concerned in this affair.»
«You hear?» cried Tondeur.
«I am concerned, whatever may be said. You mean murder, you scum, and I mean to prevent it.» Captain Blood abandoned his cane, and carried his hand to his sword.
But dozens sprang to restrain him, protesting so forcibly and angrily that, finding himself without even the support of his own followers, Captain Blood was forced to give way.
Even the staunch and loyal Wolverstone was muttering in his ear: «Nay, Peter! A God's name! Ye'll provoke a riot for naught. Ye were just too late. The lad had committed himself.»
«And what were you doing to let him? Well, well! There he goes, the rash fool.»
Pitt was already leading the way to the inner room: a lamb not merely going to the slaughter, but actually conducting the butcher. Hagthorpe was with him. Tondeur followed closely, and others brought up the rear.
Captain Blood, with Wolverstone at his side, went with the crowd, controlling himself now with difficulty.
The inner room was spacious and almost bare. What few chairs and tables it contained were swiftly thrust aside. The place was little more than a shed or pent–house built of wood, and open from the height of some three feet along the whole of one side. Through this opening the afternoon sun was flooding the place with light and heat.
Sword in hand, stripped to the waist, the two men faced each other on the bare earthen floor, Jeremy, the taller of the two, sturdy and vigorous; the other, light, sinewy and agile as a cat. The taverner and the drawers were among the press of onlookers ranged against the inner wall; two or three young viragos were in the crowd, but most of the women had remained in the common–room.
Captain Blood and Wolverstone had come to stand towards the upper end of the room at a table on which there were various objects cleared from the others: some drinking–cans, a couple of flagons, a jack and a pair of brass candlesticks with wide saucer–like stands. In the moments of waiting, whilst preliminaries were being settled, Blood, pale under his tan and with a wicked look in his blue eyes, had glanced at these objects, idly fingering one or two of them as if he would have employed them as missiles.
Hagthorpe was seconding Jeremy. Ventadour, the lieutenant of the Reine Margot, stood by Tondeur. The antagonists faced each other along the length of the room, with the sunlight on their flank. As they took up their positions, Jeremy's eyes sought Blood's. The lad smiled to him. Blood, unsmiling, answered by a sign. For a moment there was inquiry in Jeremy's glance, then understanding followed.
Ventadour gave the word: «Allez, messieurs!» and the blades rang together.
Instantly, obeying that signal which he had received from his captain, Jeremy broke ground, and attacked Tondeur on his left. This had the effect of causing Tondeur to veer to that side, with the result that he had the sun in his eyes. Now was Jeremy's chance if he could take it, as Blood had foreseen when he had signalled the manoeuvre. Jeremy did his best, and by the assiduity of his endeavours kept his opponent pinned in that position of disadvantage. But Tondeur was too strong for him. The practised swordsman never lost touch of the opposing blade, and presently, venturing a riposte, availed himself of the ensuing disengage to break ground in his turn, and thus level the position, the antagonists having now completely changed places.
Blood ground his teeth to see Jeremy lose the only advantage he possessed over the sometime fencing–master who was bent on murdering him. Yet the end did not come as swiftly as he expected. Jeremy had certain advantages of reach and vigour. But these did not account for the delay, nor yet did the fact that the fencing–master may have been a little rusty from lack of recent practice. Tondeur played a closely circling blade which found openings everywhere in the other's wide and clumsy guard. Yet he did not go in to finish. Was he deliberately playing with his victim as cat with mouse, or was it perhaps that, standing a little in awe of Blood and of possible consequences should he kill Pitt outright, he aimed merel
y at disabling him?
The spectators, beholding what they beheld, were puzzled by the delay. They were puzzled still more when Tondeur again broke ground, so as to place his back to the sun and turn his helpless opponent into the position of disadvantage in which Tondeur had erstwhile found himself. To the onlookers this seemed a refinement of cruelty.
Blood, who now directly faced Tondeur, picked up in that moment one of the brass candlesticks from the table beside him. None observed him, every eye being upon the combatants. Blood alone appeared entirely to have lost interest in them. His attention was bestowed entirely upon the candlestick. So as to examine the socket intended for the candle, he raised the object until its broad saucer–like base was vertical. At that moment, for no apparent reason, Tondeur's blade faltered in its guard, and failed to deflect a clumsy thrust with which Jeremy was mechanically in the act of countering. Meeting no opposition, Jeremy's blade drove on until some inches of it came out through Tondeur's back.
Almost before the amazed company had realized this sudden and unexpected conclusion, Captain Blood was on his knees beside the prostrate man. He called for water and clean linen, the surgeon in him now paramount whilst Jeremy — the most amazed in that amazed crowd — stood foolishly looking on beside him.
Whilst Blood was dressing the wound, Tondeur recovered from his momentary swoon he stared with eyes that slowly focussed the man who was bending over him.
«Assassin!» he said through his teeth, and then his head lolled limply on his shoulder once more.
«On the contrary,» said Blood, his finger deftly swathing the body which Ventadour was supporting, «I'm your preserver.» And to the company he announced: «He will not die of this, for all that it went through him.. With luck he'll be ruffling it again within the month. But he'd best not be moved from here for some days, and he'll need care.»
Jeremy never knew how he found himself once more aboard the Arabella. The events of the afternoon were dim to him as the transactions of a dream. He had looked, as he conceived, into the grim face of death, and yet he had survived. That evening at supper in the great cabin he made philosophy upon it.
«It serves,» he said, «to show the advantages of never losing heart or admitting defeat in an encounter. I might so easily have been slain to–day; and it would have been simply and solely by a preconception: the preconception that Tondeur was the better swordsman.»
«It is still possible that he was,» said Blood.
«Then how came Ito run him through so easily?»
«How indeed, Peter?» demanded Wolverstone, and the other half–dozen present echoed the question, whilst Hagthorpe enlarged upon the theme.
«The fact is the rascal's reputation for swordsmanship rested solely upon his own boasting. It's the source of many a reputation.» And there the discussion was allowed to drop.
In the morning Captain Blood suggested that they should pay a visit to Monsieur d'Ogeron, and render their account to him of what had taken place. As Governor of Tortuga, some formal explanation was due to him, even though his acquaintance with the combatants should render it almost unnecessary. Jeremy, at all times ready to visit the Governor's house on any pretext, was this morning more than willing, the events having set about him a heroic halo.
As they were being rowed ashore Captain Blood observed that the Cygne was gone from her moorings in the bay, which would mean, Jeremy opined with faint interest, that Monsieur de Mercceur had at last departed from Tortuga.
The little Governor gave them a very friendly welcome. He had heard of the affair at The King of France. They need not trouble themselves with any explanations. No official cognizance would be taken of the matter. He knew but too well the causes which had led to it.
«Had things gone otherwise,» he said quite frankly, «it would have been different. Knowing who would be the aggressor — as I warned you, Monsieur Pitt — I must have taken some action against Tondeur, and I might have had to call upon you, Captain Blood, to assist me. Order must be preserved even in such a colony as this. But as it is, why, the affair could not have had a more fortunate conclusion. You have made me very happy, Monsieur Pitt.»
This augured so well that Mr. Pitt presently asked leave to pay his homage to Mademoiselle Lucienne.
Monsieur d'Ogeron looked at him as if surprised by the request.
«Lucienne? But Lucienne has gone. She sailed for France this morning on the Cygne with her husband.»
«Her…her husband?» echoed Jeremy, with a sudden feeling of nausea.
«Monsieur de Mercoeur. Did I not tell you she was promised? They were married at cock–crow by Father Benoit. That is why I say you have made me very happy, Monsieur Pitt. Until Captain Tondeur was laid by the heels I dared not permit this thing to take place. Remembering Levasseur, I could not allow Lucienne to depart before. Like Levasseur, it is certain that Tondeur would have followed, and on the high seas would have dared that which he dared not here in Tortuga.»
«Therefore,» said Captain Blood, in his driest tone, «you set the other two by the ears, so that whilst they were quarrelling over the bone, the third dog might make off with it. That, Monsieur d'Ogeron, was more shrewd than friendly.»
«You are angry with me, Captain!» Monsieur d'Ogeron appeared genuinely distressed. «But I had to think of my child, and besides, I had no doubt of the issue. This dear Monsieur Pitt could not fail to prevail against a man like Tondeur.»
«This dear Monsieur Pitt,» said Captain Blood, «might very easily have lost his life for love of your daughter so as to forward your marriage schemes for her. There's a pretty irony in the thought.» He linked his arm through that of his young shipmaster, who stood there white and hang–dog. «You see, Jerry, the pitfalls injudicious loving can dig for a man. Let's be going, my lad. Good day to you, Monsieur d'Ogeron.»
He almost dragged the boy away. Then, because he was very angry, he paused when they had reached the door, and there was an unpleasant smile on the face he turned to the Governor.
«Why do you suppose that I should not do on Mr. Pitt's behalf what you feared Tondeur might do? Why shouldn't I go after the Cygne and capture your daughter for my shipmaster?»
«My God!» ejaculated Monsieur d'Ogeron, suddenly appalled by the prospect of so merited a vengeance. «You would never do that!»
«No, I would not. But do you know why?»
«Because I've trusted you. Because you are a man of honour.»
«Honour! Bah! I'm just a pirate. It's because I don't think she is good enough for Mr. Pitt, as I told him from the outset, and as I hope he now believes.»
That was all the revenge he took of Monsieur d'Ogeron for his foxy part in the affair. Having taken it, he departed, and the stricken Jeremy suffered himself to be led away.
But by the time they had reached the mole the lads numbness had given place to rage. He had been duped and tricked, his very life had been put in pawn to serve the schemes of those others, and somebody must pay.
«If ever I meet Monsieur de Mercceur…» he was raging.
«You'll do fine things,» the Captain mocked him. «I'll serve him as I served that dog Tondeur.» And now Captain Blood stood still that he might laugh.
«Oh! It's the fine swordsman ye've become all at once, Jerry. The very butcher of a silk button. I'd best be disillusioning you, my young Tybalt, before ye swagger into mischief.»
«Disillusioning me?» Jeremy stared at him, a frown darkening that fair, honest face. «Did I, or did I not, lay low that French duellist yesterday?»
And Blood, still laughing, answered him: «You did not!»
«I did not? I did not?» Jeremy set his arms akimbo. «Well ye tell me, then, who did?»
«I did,» said the Captain, and on that grew serious. «I did it with the bright bottom of a brass candlestick. I flashed enough reflected sunlight into his eyes to blind him whilst you were doing the business.»
He saw Jeremy turn pale, and added the reminder: «He would have murdered you else.» Then there was a whi
msical twist of his firm lips, a queer flash from his vivid eyes, and he added on a note of conscious pride: «I am Captain Blood.»
VIII — THE EXPIATION OF MADAME DE–COULEVAIN
On a day–bed under the wide square sternposts of the luxurious cabin of the Estremadura lounged Don Juan de la Fuente, Count of Medians, twanging a beribboned guitar and singing an indelicate song, well known in Malaga at the time, in a languorous baritone voice.
He was a young man of thirty, graceful and elegant, with soft dark eyes and full red lips that were half veiled by small moustaches and a little peaked black beard. Face, figure, dress and posture advertised the voluptuary, and the setting afforded him by the cabin of the great forty–gun galleon he commanded was proper to its tenant. From bulkheads painted an olive green detached gilded carvings of cupids and dolphins, fruit and flowers, whilst each stanchion was in the shape of a fish–tailed caryatid. Against the forward bulkhead a handsome buffet was laden with gold and silver plate; between the doors of two cabins on the larboard side hung a painting of Aphrodite; the floor was spread with a rich Eastern carpet; a finer one covered the quadrangular table, above which was suspended a ponderous lamp of chiselled silver. There were books in a rack: the Ars Amatoria of Ovid, the Satiricon, a Boccaccio and a Poggio, to bear witness to the classico–licentious character of this student. The chairs, like the daybed on which Don Juan was sprawling, were of Cordovan leather, painted and gilded, and although the sternports stood open to the mild airs that barely moved the galleon, the place was heavy with ambergris and other perfumes.
Don Juan's song extolled life's carnal joys and, in particular, bewailed the Pope's celibacy amid opulence:
«Vida sin niña no es vida, es muerte,
Y del Padre Santo muy triste es la suerte.»
That was its envoy and at the same time its mildest ribaldry. You conceive the rest.
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