“You are justified of the assumption,”
said his lordship dolefully. “But I happen
to be sane, and to speak with knowledge.”
“With knowledge?”
“Arabella herself has confessed it to me.”
“The brazen baggage! By God, I’ll
bring her to her senses.” It was the slave-driver
speaking, the man who governed with a whip.
“Don’t be a fool, Bishop.”
His lordship’s contempt did more than any argument
to calm the Colonel. “That’s not
the way with a girl of Arabella’s spirit.
Unless you want to wreck my chances for all time,
you’ll hold your tongue, and not interfere at
all.”
“Not interfere? My God, what, then?”
“Listen, man. She has a constant mind.
I don’t think you know your niece. As
long as Blood lives, she will wait for him.”
“Then with Blood dead, perhaps she will come
to her silly senses.”
“Now you begin to show intelligence,”
Lord Julian commended him. “That is the
first essential step.”
“And here is our chance to take it.”
Bishop warmed to a sort of enthusiasm. “This
war with France removes all restrictions in the matter
of Tortuga. We are free to invest it in the service
of the Crown. A victory there and we establish
ourselves in the favour of this new government.”
“Ah!” said Lord Julian, and he pulled
thoughtfully at his lip.
“I see that you understand,” Bishop laughed
coarsely. “Two birds with one stone, eh?
We’ll hunt this rascal in his lair, right under
the beard of the King of France, and we’ll take
him this time, if we reduce Tortuga to a heap of ashes.”
On that expedition they sailed two days later —
which would be some three months after Blood’s
departure — taking every ship of the fleet,
and several lesser vessels as auxiliaries. To
Arabella and the world in general it was given out
that they were going to raid French Hispaniola, which
was really the only expedition that could have afforded
Colonel Bishop any sort of justification for leaving
Jamaica at all at such a time. His sense of duty,
indeed, should have kept him fast in Port Royal; but
his sense of duty was smothered in hatred —
that most fruitless and corruptive of all the emotions.
In the great cabin of Vice-Admiral Craufurd’s
flagship, the Imperator, the Deputy-Governor got drunk
that night to celebrate his conviction that the sands
of Captain Blood’s career were running out.
THE SERVICE OF KING LOUIS
Meanwhile, some three months before Colonel Bishop
set out to reduce Tortuga, Captain Blood, bearing
hell in his soul, had blown into its rockbound harbour
ahead of the winter gales, and two days ahead of the
frigate in which Wolverstone had sailed from Port Royal
a day before him.
