Martin Conisby's Vengeance. Jeffery Farnol

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СКАЧАТЬ nor yet Belvedere's—'tis hern, Job—hern—Cap'n Jo's. 'He's to be took care of,' says she, 'treated kind and gentle,' says she. And, mark me, here's Belvedere's nose out o' joint, d'ye see? And, talkin' o' noses, there's your eye, Job; sink me but he wiped your eye for you, my—"

      "Plague and perish him!" snarled Job, kicking me viciously. "Burn him, 'tis keelhaul 'im I would first and then give 'im to Pompey to carve up what remained—"

      "Pompey?" exclaimed this fellow Diccon, a merry-seeming fellow but with a truculent eye. "Look 'ee, Job, here's a match for Pompey at last, as I do think, man to man, bare fists or knives, a match and I'll lay to't."

      "Pshaw!" growled Job. "Pompey could eat 'im—bones and all, curse 'im!

       Pompey would break 'is back as 'e did the big Spaniard's last week."

      "Nay, Job, this fellow should make better fight for't than did the Spanisher. Look 'ee now, match 'em, and I'll lay all my share o' the voyage on this fellow, come now!"

      "A match? Why so I would, but what o' Belvedere?"

      "He sulketh, Job, and yonder he cometh, a-sucking of his thumb and all along o' this fellow and our Jo. Joanna's cocked her eye on this fellow and Belvedere's cake's dough—see him yonder!"

      Now following the speaker's look, I perceived Captain Belvedere descending the quarter-ladder, his handsome face very evil and scowling; spying me where I lay, he came striding up and folding his arms, stood looking over me silently awhile.

      "Lord love me!" he exclaimed at last in huge disgust and spat upon me. "Aft with him—to the coach—"

      "Coach, Cap'n?" questioned Job, staring. "And why theer?"

      "Because I say so!" roared Belvedere.

      "And because," quoth Diccon, his eye more truculent than ever, "because women will be women, eh, Captain?" At this Belvedere's face grew suffused, his eyes glared and he turned on the speaker with clenched fist; then laughing grimly, he spurned me savagely with his foot.

      "Joanna hath her whimsies, and here's one of 'em!" quoth he and spat on me again, whereat I raged and strove, despite my bonds, to come at him.

      "I were a-saying to Job," quoth the man Diccon, thrusting me roughly beyond reach of Belvedere's heavy foot, "that here was a fellow to match Pompey at last."

      "Tush!" said Belvedere, with an oath. "Pompey would quarter him wi' naked hands."

      "I was a-saying to Job I would wager my share in the voyage on this fellow,

       Belvedere!"

      "Aye, Cap'n," growled Job, "'tis well enough keeping the Don to hang afore Nombre but why must this dog live aft and cosseted? He should walk overboard wi' slit weasand, or better—he's meat for Pompey, and wherefore no? I asks why, Cap'n?"

      "Aye—why!" cried Belvedere, gnashing his teeth. "Ask her—go ask Joanna, the curst jade."

      "She be only a woman, when all's said, Cap'n—"

      "Nay, Job," quoth Belvedere, shaking his head. "She's Joanna and behind her do lie Tressady and Sol and Rory and Abnegation Mings—and all the Fellowship. So if she says he lives, lives it is, to lie soft and feed dainty, curse him. Let me die if I don't wish I'd left her on the island to end him her own way—wi' steel or kindness—"

      "Kindness!" said Diccon, with an ugly leer. "Why, there it is, Cap'n; she's off wi' the old and on wi' the new, like—"

      "Not yet, by God!" snarled Belvedere 'twixt shut teeth and scowling down on me while his hand clawed at the pistol in his belt; then his gaze wandered from me towards the poop and back again. "Curse him!" said he, stamping in his impotent fury. "I'd give a handful o' gold pieces to see him dead and be damned!" And here he fell a-biting savagely at his thumb again.

      "Why, then, here's a lad to earn 'em," quoth Job, "an' that's me. I've a score agin him for this lick o' the eye he give me ashore—nigh blinded me, 'e did, burn an' blast his bones!"

      "Aye, but what o' Joanna, what o' that she-snake, ha?"

      "'Tis no matter for her. I've a plan."

      "What is't, Job lad? Speak fair and the money's good as yourn—"

      "Aye, but it ain't mine yet, Cap'n, so mum it but I've a plan."

      "Belay, Job!" exclaimed Diccon. "Easy all. Yonder she cometh."

      Sure enough, I saw Joanna descend the ladder from the poop and come mincing across the deck towards us.

      "Hola, Belvedere, mon Capitan!" said she, glancing about her quick-eyed. "You keep your ship very foul, yes. Dirt to dirt!—ah? But I am aboard and this shall be amended—look to it. And your mizzen yard is sprung; down with it and sway up another—"

      "Aye, aye, Jo," said Belvedere, nodding. "It shall be done—"

      "Mañana!" quoth she, frowning. "This doth not suit when I am aboard, no! The new yard must be rigged now, at once, for we sail with the flood—voilà!"

      "Sail, Jo?" said Belvedere, staring. "Can't be, Jo!"

      "And wherefore?"

      "Why—we be short o' water, for one thing."

      "Ah—bah, we shall take all we want from other ships!"

      "And the lads be set, heart and soul, on a few days ashore."

      "But then—I am set, my heart, my soul, on heaving anchor so soon as the tide serves. We will sail with the flood. Now see the new yard set up and have this slave Martin o' mine to my cabin." So saying, she turned on her heel and minced away, while Belvedere stood looking after her and biting at his thumb, Job scowled and Diccon smiled.

      "So—ho!" quoth he. "Captain Jo says we sail, and sail it is, hey?"

      "Blind you!" cried Belvedere, turning on him in a fury. "Go forward and turn out two o' the lads to draw this carcass aft!" Here bestowing a final kick on me, he swaggered away.

      "Sail wi' the flood, is it?" growled Job. "And us wi' scarce any water and half on us rotten wi' scurvy or calenture, an' no luck this cruise, neither! 'Sail wi' the flood,' says she—'be damned,' says I. By hookey, but I marvel she lives; I wonder no one don't snuff her out for good an' all—aye, burn me but I do!"

      "Because you're a fool, Job, and don't know her like we do. She's 'La Culebra,' and why? Because she's quick as any snake and as deadly. Besides, she's our luck and luck she'll bring us; she always do. Whatever ship she's aboard of has all the luck, wind, weather, and—what's better, rich prizes, Job. I know it and the lads forrad know it, and Belvedere he knows it and is mighty feared of her and small blame either—aye, and mayhap you'll be afeard of her when you know her better. 'She's only a woman,' says you. 'True,' says I. But in all this here world there ain't her match, woman or man, and you can lay to that, my lad."

      Now the ropes that secured me being very tight, began to cause me no little pain, insomuch that I besought the man Diccon to loose me a little, whereupon he made as to comply, but Job, who it seemed was quartermaster, and new in the office, would have none of it but cursed me vehemently СКАЧАТЬ