The Black Swan (Historical Novel). Rafael Sabatini

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      CHAPTER 3.

       BRANSOME'S PRAYER

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      The Centaur left Dominica a little before sunset, and with the wind on her starboard quarter set a westerly course for the Isle of Ayes, so as to give a wide berth to Guadeloupe.

      Having conned the ship, the Captain went below to supper, and came in high good-humour to the spacious cabin, flanked to port and starboard by the lesser cabins which his passengers were now occupying.

      The great horn windows in the stem stood wide to the air and to the green receding mass of the island, which Captain Bransome announced without a sigh that he would never see again. His good-humour was rooted in the fact that his last call made and his cargo safely stowed, he was now definitely setting his face towards home and the serene ease in the bosom of a family that scarcely knew him. Nevertheless, he went in confidence that, like himself, this family looked forward joyously to his retirement from the sea and to assisting him in garnering the reward for all these years of labour bravely shouldered and for all the perils and hardships confronted without shrinking.

      Contentment made him more than ordinarily loquacious, as he sat there in shirt and drawers, a burly, jovial figure at the head of his own table, with Sam, the white-jacketed Negro steward, in attendance and Monsieur de Bernis' servant lending him assistance. A feast was spread that evening. There was fresh meat and turtle and vegetables taken aboard that day, and the roasted flesh of a great albacore that Monsieur de Bernis had caught in the course of the afternoon; and in honour of what to him was a great occasion, Captain Bransome regaled them with a sweet Peruvian wine which his own rude taste accounted very choice.

      In this wine Monsieur de Bernis pledged his safe return and many happy years in the bosom of that family of which so far the Captain had seen so little.

      'Seems queer,' the Captain said, 'that a man should scarcely know his own children. Unnatural. There's four fine lads well-nigh grown to manhood, and all but strangers to me that got 'em.' A pensive smile lighted the broad ruddy features of his good-humoured face. 'But the future is ours now, and it'll have to make amends to me for the past. Aye, and to that sweet patient woman o' mine who waits at Babbicombe. I'll be beside her now to show her that the years I've been away ha'n't been wasted. And this last voyage o' mine'll prove the most prosperous of all. There's a mort o' money in them hides when we comes to market them at home. Old Lafarche has served me well this trip.'

      The mention of the old French trader shifted the current of his thoughts. He looked at Monsieur de Bernis, who sat alone on one side of the board, his back to the light, opposite the Major and the lady who were side by side on the master's right.

      'Queer, your meeting the old buccaneer again like that, by chance, after all these years. And queer, too, that I should not have remembered who ye were, for all that your name was kind of familiar, until old Lafarche reminded me.'

      'Yes,' de Bernis quietly agreed. 'Life is a matter of queer chances. It made me feel old to meet him and to see into what he has grown. That's the result of beginning life whilst most men are still at school.'

      The Major had pricked up his ears. Here were interesting facts. Facts to be investigated.

      'D'ye say that French trader was once a buccaneer?'

      It was de Bernis who answered him. 'Faith, we were little better at Santa Catalina. And after that we sailed with Morgan.'

      'With Morgan?' The Major could hardly believe his ears. 'D'ye mean Henry Morgan?'

      'Sir Henry Morgan. Yes. He that is now Governor of Jamaica.'

      'But...' The Major paused, frowning. 'D'ye say that you, too, sailed with him? With Morgan?'

      Monsieur de Bernis did not seem to remark the incredulity in the other's voice. He answered simply and naturally.

      'Why, yes. And I marched with him, too. I was at Porto Bello with him, and at Panama. At Panama I was in command of the French contingent of his forces. We took a proud vengeance then for the blood that was shed at Santa Catalina.'

      Miss Priscilla looked brightly alert and eager. Without knowledge of West Indian affairs to perceive the implications that had shocked the Major, she was aware only that here was another story of brave doings, and hoped that Monsieur de Bernis would he induced to tell it. But the Major's face was blank and seemed to have lost some of its high colour. He reflected with satisfaction upon his own shrewdness which had discerned this man's true quality under his airs and graces, his swaggering gallantry and his troubadour arts. In dubbing him an adventurer he had erred on the side of charity.

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