Рафаэль Сабатини
Captain Blood: His Odyssey / Одиссея капитана Блада

© Филимонова В. Б., адаптация, сокращение, словарь, 2020

© ООО «ИД «Антология», 2020

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Chapter I
THE MESSENGER

Peter Blood was a bachelor of medicine and lived in Water Lane in the town of Bridgewater.

As he smoked a pipe and watered the ﬂowers on his windowsill, two pairs of eyes watched him from a window opposite. But Mr. Blood did not pay attention to them. He was thinking about the ﬂowers and the people in the street. They were going to Castle Field for the second time that day. Earlier in the afternoon Ferguson, the Duke’s chaplain, had given a speech there.

Most of the people were men with green branches in their hats and pikes in their hands. They were traders of all kinds. Many strong men from Bridgewater and Taunton[1] went to serve in the Duke’s army. People said that the girls of Taunton had even taken their petticoats and made the banners for King Monmouth’s army[2]. People called those men who did not join the army cowards or papists.

Peter Blood was not a coward and he was a papist only when he wanted to. And he had been a soldier. However, he watered his ﬂowers and smoked his pipe on that warm July evening. He looked at the people in Water Lane and said a line of Horace[3]:

“Quo, quo, scelesti, ruitis?”[4]

And now perhaps you understand why he was quiet and did not join the people in Water Lane. He thought that they were fools with their banners of freedom. That Latin line tells you that. To him they were fools running towards their deaths.

You see, he knew too much about this Duke of Monmouth and his mother. He had read the proclamation posted at the Cross at Bridgewater – and he knew that it had been posted also at Taunton and in other towns. It said that “the high-born Prince James, Duke of Monmouth, son and heir to King Charles the Second was now King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland.” He had laughed at it and he had laughed at the next proclamation. It said that James, Duke of York, had poisoned the King and did not have the right to the Crown.

He did not know which was the greater lie.

Mr. Blood had spent a third of his life in the Netherlands. James Scott – who now called himself James the Second – was born there some six-and-thirty years ago, and Mr. Blood knew his story. James Scott was not an heir to the King of England and it was quite possible that he was not even his son. He would only bring ruin to England. He had ordered the people in Water Lane to go to war!

“Quo, quo, scelesti, ruitis?”

He laughed. Mr. Blood was very self-sufficient and unsympathetic. His life had taught him so. He knew – as all Bridgewater knew and had known now for some hours – that Monmouth wanted to ﬁght the Royalist army under Feversham that same night. Mr. Blood thought that Lord Feversham would know it too.

Peter Blood ﬁnished smoking, and went to close his window. He looked across the street and met at last the angry look of the eyes that watched him. They were the eyes of the young Misses Pitt. They admired the handsome Monmouth more than anyone in Bridgewater.

Mr. Blood smiled and greeted them. He was friends with these ladies; one of them had been his patient. But they did not answer his greeting. They looked at him in a cold and angry way. His smile grew a little wider, a little less pleasant. He understood why they did it. The Misses Pitt did not like that he, as a young man who had been at war, stayed at home, smoked his pipe, and watered his ﬂowers. They wanted him to go to Castle Field and ﬁght to put Monmouth on the throne. So did women of all ages in Bridgewater.

Mr. Blood might have argued with these ladies. He had travelled a lot and now he just wanted to be a doctor. It was what he had always wanted to do and what he had studied. Peter Blood was a man of medicine and not of war; he wanted to help people, not to kill them. But Misses Pitt and other women in Bridgewater would have answered him, he knew, that he should not stay at home now. Misses Pitt would have said that their nephew Jeremy went to ﬁght for freedom and that Jeremy was a sailor. But Mr. Blood did not want to argue. As I have said, he was a self-suficf ient man.

He closed the window, and turned to the room. Mrs. Barlow was setting the table for supper. He told her what he was thinking about.

“Those two vinegary virgins over the way are very unfriendly.”

Peter Blood had a pleasant voice and an Irish accent. In all his travels he had never lost it. It was a voice that could talk nicely or make orders. The man’s whole nature was in his voice. He was tall and thin, his skin was dark, and his eyes blue under the black eyebrows. By the look of his eyes you could see that he thought high of himself. He was always dressed in black, because he was a doctor, but also because he used to travel a lot and loved elegant clothes.

Now that you know Mr. Blood a little bit better, you might ask yourself how long such a man would stay in the quiet Bridgewater and work as a doctor. He came to Bridgewater some six months ago and he might have stayed there in peace and settled down completely to the life of a doctor. It is possible, but not probable. However, his life would soon change completely.

Mr. Blood was the son of an Irish doctor and a Somersetshire lady. He got his wild character from his mother, which made his father worry about him. His father had always been unusually peace-loving for an Irishman. He had early decided that the boy should also become a doctor. Peter Blood was quick to learn and greedy of knowledge and received at the age of twenty the degree of baccalaureus medicinae[5] at Trinity College, Dublin[6]. His father died three months after that. By then, his mother had been dead some years already. Thus, Peter Blood inherited some few hundred pounds and decided to travel to see the world. He took service with the Dutch, and then he joined the war with France at sea. He had fought under the famous de Ruyter[7] in the Mediterranean, where that great Dutch admiral lost his life.

We do not know for sure where he had been after the Peace of Nimeguen[8]. But we know that he spent two years in a Spanish prison. After he had been set free again, he travelled to France, and took service with the French in the war with the Spanish Netherlands.

When he was thirty-two and had travelled enough, he suddenly became homesick. He took a ship from Nantes to Ireland. But the weather was not good and the ship anchored at Bridgewater Bay. Blood’s health had grown worse, and he decided to stay there for a while. After all, his mother was born there.

Thus in January 1685 he came to Bridgewater. He had some few hundred pounds with which he had left Dublin eleven years ago.

He liked the place, and his health grew better there. Besides, he thought that he had had enough adventures for a man’s lifetime, so he decided to settle there, and work as a doctor again.

Those are the most important parts of his story up to that night, six months later, when the battle of Sedgemoor[9] was fought.

Mr. Blood did not show any interest in what was happening in Bridgewater and went to bed early. He was asleep long before eleven o’clock. At this hour, as you know, Monmouth rode along the Bristol Road. You also know that he had lost all his advantages because of bad leadership before ever he met Lord Feversham.

The armies met around two o’clock in the morning. Mr. Blood did not wake up to the sound of cannon and slept peacefully till four o’clock.

At sunrise, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. Someone was knocking at the door of his house, and a voice was calling him. This was the noise that had woken him up. He thought that someone needed urgent help and took his bedgown and slippers, to go downstairs and see who it was. On the stairs he met Mrs. Barlow who was in panic. He quieted her and went himself to open.

There in golden light of the morning sun stood a man and his horse. Mr. Blood could see that the young man had ridden as fast as he could. His face was dirty and so were his clothes. The young man opened his mouth to speak, but did not say anything for a long moment.

In that moment Mr. Blood saw that it was Jeremy Pitt, the young nephew of the ladies opposite, one who had joined the rebellion because of his enthusiasm.

Jeremy had woken up the neighbours; they were opening their doors and looking out into the street.

“Take your time, now,” said Mr. Blood.

But the young man started speaking right away.

“It is Lord Gildoy. He is wounded… at the farm by the river. I took him there… and… and he sent me for you. Come away! Come away!”

Jeremy wanted Mr. Blood to go with him right away in bedgown and slippers. But the doctor told him to wait till he got ready for the journey.

“Of course, I’ll come,” Mr. Blood said. “Of course, I’ll come. But ﬁrst I’ll get some clothes and other things that I may need.”

But he was not quite sure what he should do. Lord Gildoy had been very friendly and generous since Peter Blood had settled in Bridgewater. And so he wanted to help him – and he also knew quite well that Lord Gildoy had supported the Duke.

“There’s no time to lose.”

“Be easy now. I will not lose any. Come in… take a chair…” He opened the door.

Young Pitt did not go in.

“I’ll wait here. Hurry up, in God’s name.”

Mr. Blood thought he would ask young Pitt questions on their way. While the doctor put on his boots, he told Mrs. Barlow what to do and what he wanted for dinner. Mr. Blood did not know then that he would not eat it.

When at last he left the house, he found young Pitt among women who had come to ask for the news of the battle. Mr. Blood could see that they were upset by the news Jeremy had given them.

When he saw the doctor, he climbed to the saddle.

“Come along, sir,” he cried. “Mount behind me.”

Mr. Blood did as he was asked. The women gave way, and Peter Blood set out upon his Odyssey.

Chapter II
KIRKE’S DRAGOONS

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.

Chapter III
THE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE[13]

Peter Blood was brought to trial two months later – on the 19th of September. He was charged with high treason. We know that he was not guilty of this; but by the time of the trial he felt he could do what he was charged with. After those two months he hated King James and his people. It shows that he was a brave man and that he had not gone mad.

What was happening to him was terrible, but there were two reasons to be grateful. The ﬁrst was that his trial took place at all; the second was that his trial took place on the 19th of September, and not a day earlier. It helped him to escape the gallows.

Easily the bloodthirsty Colonel Kirke might have hanged him in the market-place in Bridgewater among other prisoners. The Colonel might have hanged all the prisoners, but Bishop Mews, who had been elected Bishop of Winchester a year earlier in 1684, ﬁnally put an end to the hanging.

Even so, in that first week after Sedgemoor, Kirke and Feversham put to death over a hundred men after a quick trial. They had built many gallows and they wanted to hang people on them. They did not care what innocent lives they took. The life of a man did not mean anything to them.

Peter Blood survived and had to march from Bridgewater to Taunton among many prisoners, chained in pairs. Wounded prisoners sat in carts. Many of them died on the way. When Blood said that he was a doctor and wanted to help the wounded, the guards told him that they would beat him with sticks. It was then that he actually regretted that he had not been out with Monmouth.

He was chained to Jeremy Pitt on the march. They had also been together in the crowded prison after their arrest during those hot days of July, August, and September.

In prison they got some news from the outside world. One of them was the story of Monmouth’s death. Many of those who supported the Duke refused to believe it. They said that a man who looked like Monmouth had been killed and that Monmouth had survived and would come again.

Mr. Blood did not care for any of these stories. But one thing moved him and made him hate King James even more. His Majesty had gone to see Monmouth before his death. He had not been going to pardon him; he had only wanted to see his unfortunate nephew suffer.

Later they heard that Lord Grey had bought his freedom for forty thousand pounds. He had been the main leader of the rebellion after the Duke or even before him.

“If I had known before what I know today, I would have been among the rebels.” And then he suddenly asked young Pitt: “And where is Lord Gildoy now?”

Young Pitt looked at him. His grey eyes were round and questioning. Blood explained:

“Sure, now, we’ve never seen him since that day at the farm. He is a rich man and he can buy his freedom. Only those who followed are waiting for the gallows now; those who had led them are free.”

He laughed.

Later Mr. Blood, Pitt, and Baynes went into the great hall of Taunton Castle to take their trial.

There were many people in the hall, most of them were ladies. The walls of the hall were red; the Lord Chief Justice was bloodthirsty, so he liked the colour.

In the hall sat the ﬁve Lords Commissioners[14]in their red robes. Baron Jefrf eys of Wem sat in the middle place.

The prisoners walked in under guard one after the other. The crier called for silence, and the voices became quiet. Mr. Blood looked with interest at the twelve good and true members of the jury. They looked neither good nor true. They were twelve scared men and they stood between the sword of the Lord Chief Justice and their own conscience.

Then Mr. Blood looked at the Lords Commissioners and Lord Jefrf eys. He knew how bloodthirsty Lord Jefrf eys was.

Lord Jefrf eys was a tall man in his forties, with an oval beautiful face. His face was very pale, only his full lips were red. Something in those lips ruined that beautiful face. The doctor in Mr. Blood looked at him with interest. He knew that the man suffered from a disease and that he led such a life in spite of it – or even because of it.

“Peter Blood, hold up your hand!”

When Mr. Blood raised his hand, the clerk told him that he was a false traitor against King James the Second. Mr. Blood was then told to say whether he was guilty or not guilty. He answered more than was asked.

“I am innocent.”

A small man at a table before and to the right of him stood up. It was Mr. Pollexfen, the Judge-Advocate[15].

“Are you guilty or not guilty?” said this gentleman.

“Not guilty.” said Peter Blood. And he went on, speaking to the bench. “I am only guilty, because I didn’t have enough patience. I spent two months in prison with great danger to my health and even life…”

He would have said more; but then the Lord Chief Justice started speaking in a gentle and slightly sad voice.

“We must follow the usual methods of trial, so I must interrupt you. I’m sure you do not know the forms of law?”

“I don’t, my lord, and I would not want to learn them.”

The Lord Chief Justice smiled.

“I believe you. We shall hear you when you come to your defense. But now you cannot say anything.”

Mr. Blood answered that he would be tried by God and his country. The clerk then called upon Andrew Baynes to hold up his hand.

When Baynes said he was not guilty, the clerk called upon Pitt, who said he was guilty. The Lord Chief Justice was happy to hear that.

“Come; that’s better. If he answered as the other two rebels, there would never be an end.”

After those words, Mr. Pollexfen stood up. He said that there was a general case against the three men, and a particular case against Peter Blood.

The only witness for the King was Captain Hobart. He told the jury how he had found and taken the three prisoners, together with Lord Gildoy. He would have hanged Pitt, but had listened to the lies of the prisoner Blood and believed that Pitt was a noble man.

As the Captain ﬁnished, Lord Jefrf eys looked at Peter Blood.

“Will the prisoner Blood ask the witness any questions?”

“No, my lord. He has told you exactly what happened”

“I am glad. For we always have the truth in the end. Be sure of that.”

Baynes and Pitt admitted that the Captain’s evidence was accurate. The Lord Chief Justice sighed. He was relieved.

“If this is so, let us continue, because we have much to do.” His voice was not gentle anymore. “I think, Mr. Pollexfen, now when these three prisoners admitted their treason, there is no more to be said.”

Peter Blood spoke and members of the jury could almost hear laughter in his voice.

“There’s much more to be said.”

Lord Jefrf eys looked at him, ﬁrst in surprise, then in anger.

“How now? Would you waste our time?”

“I would like to speak in my defense, as you promised me.”

“Why, so you shall.” The Lord Chief Justice took a handkerchief with his delicate unusually white hand and touched his lips and then his brow with it. Peter Blood saw that the disease that was destroying him made him feel pain. “So you shall. But after you admitted your treason, what defense is there?”

“You shall judge, my lord.”

“That is why I sit here.”

“And so shall you, gentlemen.” Blood looked from judge to jury. The jury moved under the look of his blue eyes.

“Captain Hobart has told you what he knows – that he found me at the farm on the Monday morning after the battle at Weston. But he has not told you what I did there.”

Again the Judge broke in. “Why, what should you have been doing there among rebels? Two of them – Lord Gildoy and your friend there – have already admitted their guilt.”

“That is what I would like to tell you.”

“Well, do, but be brief, man.”

“I was there, my lord, as a doctor, to help the wounded Lord Gildoy.”

“What’s this? Do you tell us that you are a doctor?”

“A graduate of Trinity College, Dublin.”

“Good God!” cried Lord Jefrf eys and looked at the jury. “You heard the witness say that he had known him in France some years ago? He was then an oficf er in the French service. You heard the prisoner admit that the witness had spoken the truth?”

“That is true. What I am telling you is also true. For some years I was a soldier; but before that I was a doctor, and I have been a doctor in Bridgewater since last January. I can bring a hundred witnesses to prove.”

“Don’t waste our time with that. I will ask you only this: Why were you with the army of the Duke of Monmouth?”

“I was never with that army. No witness has said that, and no witness will. What should I as a papist be doing in the army of the Protestant leader?”

“A papist?” The judge looked at him for a moment. “You are more like a Presbyterian. I can smell a Presbyterian forty miles.”

“Then why can’t you smell a papist at four steps?”

Some people in the galleries laughed, but they were silent when the Judge looked at them.

Lord Jefrf eys raised his delicate white hand.

“We won’t talk about your religion, friend,” said he. “But listen to what I say to you. Know, friend, there is no religion that says that lying is a good thing. There is nothing more precious in the world than a soul. Why were you taken with these rebels?”

Peter Blood looked at him for a moment. The man was a nightmare judge. Then he replied:

“I was asked that morning to help Lord Gildoy, and as I am a doctor it was my duty to help him.”

“Was it?” The Judge – his face white, his lips blood red – looked upon him in anger. Then he sighed. His voice was gentle and sad again. “Lord! How you waste our time. Who asked you?”

“Master Pitt, you can ask him.”

“Oh! Master Pitt is a traitor. He admitted it. Is that your witness?”

“There is also Master Baynes here, who can answer to it.”

“Good Master Baynes will have to answer for himself. Come, come, sir; are these your only witnesses?”

“I could bring others from Bridgewater, who saw me set out that morning.”

The Judge smiled. “It will not be necessary. I do not want to waste more time on you. Answer me only this: When Master Pitt came to ask you for help, did you know that he supported Monmouth?”

“I did, my lord.”

“You did! Ha!” Lord Jefrf eys looked at the scared jury and laughed. “Yet you went with him?”

“To help a wounded man, as was my duty.”

“Your duty, you say? Your duty is to your King and to God. But let it pass. Did he tell you who needed help?”

“Lord Gildoy – yes.”

“And you knew that Lord Gildoy had been wounded in the battle, and on what side he fought?”

“I knew.”

“And yet you went to help him?”

Peter Blood lost patience for a moment. “I cared only for his wounds, not his politics.”

Voices from the galleries and even from the jury approved him. It made the judge even angrier.

“Jesus God!” Lord Jeffreys turned, pale, to the jury. “He has said enough to hang him many times. Yet there is more. Answer me this, sir: Why did you lie to Captain Hobart about this other traitor Pitt?”

“I wanted to save him from being hanged without trial.”

“Why would you care if and how he was hanged?”

“I cared for justice. An injustice done in the name of the King hurts the King’s honour.”

Mr. Blood could see that Lord Jefrf eys did not want him to impress the jury. The judge leaned forward. “Jesus God!” he said. “I see you at the gallows already.” Lord Jefrf eys sat back again. It was as if a curtain fell. All emotion passed again from his pale face. After a moment’s pause, he turned again to the jury and spoke in a soft voice.

“Gentlemen, if any person is in rebellion against the King, and another person – who was not in rebellion – helps him, such a person is a traitor too.”

He then said that Baynes and Blood were both guilty of treason for helping a traitor. And then he sat back. For a moment he was still. He touched his lips with his handkerchief again; then he moved uneasily.

Peter Blood was so amazed that he almost forgot that his own life was in danger.

The jury found the three prisoners guilty. Peter Blood looked round the court. A voice was asking him what he had to say for himself, why he should not be hanged.

He laughed. His laughter shocked the Judge.

“Do you laugh with the rope about your neck?”

And then Blood took his revenge.

“I will tell you this. You see me – an innocent man – at the gallows. You speak of what is to happen to me. I, being a doctor, may speak of what is to happen to you. And I tell you that I would not now change places with you. I would rather go to the gallows than have the stone that you carry in your body. My death will be more pleasant than your death.”

The Lord Chief Justice sat upright, his face pale. While you might have counted to ten there was no sound in that court after Peter Blood had ﬁnished speaking. All those who knew Lord Jeffreys thought that he would become furious. But he did not.

Slowly, the colour came back into that pale face. Lord Jeffreys leaned forward in his blood red robe and began to speak. Everyone in the hall could see that his mind were somewhere else while his lips were speaking. He sentenced the three prisoners to death.

Peter Blood, Jeremy Pitt, and Andrew Baynes went out one after the other.

When the trial was ﬁnished, Mr. Pollexfen said quietly:

“He has frightened Lord Jefrf eys. It’s a pity he’ll be hanged. A man who can frighten Jefrf eys should go far.”

Chapter IV
BUYING AND SELLING PEOPLE

Mr. Pollexfen was right and wrong at the same time.

He was right that a man who could frighten such a lord of terror as Jefrf eys should go far. He was wrong that Peter Blood would be hanged.

I have said that there were two reasons why Peter Blood could be grateful in this situation: one that he was tried at all; the other that his trial took place on the 19th of September. Until the 18th, the sentences of the court of the Lords Commissioners had been carried out quickly. But on the morning of the 19th a courier from Lord Sunderland, the Secretary of State[16], arrived at Taunton with a letter for Lord Jeffreys. In the letter, it was said that eleven hundred rebels should be sent to some of His Majesty’s southern plantations, Jamaica, Barbados, or any of the Leeward Islands[17].

He did not do it out of mercy. It was true that the King’s heart was like a stone. The King had realised that he could use the men instead of hanging them. In the plantations, they needed slaves and they would buy a healthy man for at least ten to ﬁfteen pounds. Then, there were many gentlemen who had some interest in His Majesty’s money. Here was an easy way to pay them. Some rebels might be given to those gentlemen, so that they might use them to their own proﬁt.

Gentlemen of the court should get a thousand prisoners, and the Queen should get a further hundred. These prisoners should be sent at once to His Majesty’s southern plantations. They should spend ten years there before they are free again.

We know from Lord Jefrf eys’s secretary that the Chief Justice got drunk that night and loudly protested against His Majesty’s decision. We also know that he wrote a letter to the King and asked him to change his decision. But James did not. The King knew that he had saved the rebels from hanging, but turned their lives into living deaths.

Peter Blood, Jeremy Pitt, and Andrew Baynes were not hanged, but sent to Bristol[18] and then with some ﬁfty others to West India on Captain Gardner’s Jamaica Merchant. On the way there, eleven of the prisoners died from a sickness. Among them was the unfortunate Andrew Baynes. He had been forced to leave his quiet homestead and the orchards, only because he had tried to help a wounded man.

More than eleven people might have died, but Peter Blood insisted that he should help the sick. Captain Gardner felt that he might get in trouble if he lost more men, so he was glad that he could leave the sick to the skill of Peter Blood. The doctor worked hard and stopped the disease.

In the middle of December the Jamaica Merchant with the forty-two rebels arrived at Carlisle Bay[19].

Some of them had imagined that they were coming into some wild country. When they looked at the town from the ship, they saw houses built in European style. They could see a church among the red roofs and the wide facade of Government House on a gentle hill above the town. This hill was green like an English hill in April, and the day was like an April day in England, when heavy rains ﬁnally end.

On the shore they saw the guards, who had come to receive them, and a crowd of people. They looked exactly like the people in England, only there were fewer women and more negroes.

Governor Steed, a short gentleman with a red face, also came to receive them. With him came the tall colonel of the Barbados Militia, and a young lady with red-brown curly hair and brown eyes.

Peter Blood looked at her face, which seemed so out of place here. The lady looked back at him, and he moved uncomfortably. He had not washed himself, his hair was dirty, and he had a black beard on his face. His clothes had turned to rags. She should not be looking at him, but she was. She touched Colonel Bishop’s sleeve and he turned to face her. He looked annoyed.

She was speaking to him, but the Colonel did not pay much attention to her. His little eyes had moved away from her and were looking at the fair-haired young Pitt, who was standing beside Mr. Blood.

The Governor had also stopped, and for a moment now they stood there and talked. What the lady said, Peter could not hear at all, because she spoke quietly. He could only hear the Colonel’s high-pitched voice, but he did not understand the words. The Governor’s voice carried far and he spoke loudly so that everyone could hear him.

“But, my dear Colonel Bishop, you should choose ﬁrst and set your own price. After that we’ll send the rest to auction.”

Colonel Bishop nodded. He answered loudly. “They’re thin and weak; there won’t be much use of them in the plantation.” He looked at them again. He seemed annoyed and disappointed that they were in no better condition. Then he started talking to Captain Gardner and the master of the Jamaica Merchant for some minutes. The master of the ship made a list for him.

Then he came up to the men. He stopped before young Pitt, and stood for a moment looking at him. Then he felt the muscles of the young man’s arm, and told him open his mouth so that he might see his teeth. The Colonel nodded.

He spoke to Gardner over his shoulder.

“Fifteen pounds for this one.”

The Captain did not agree with the price. “Fifteen pounds! It isn’t half what I wanted to ask for him.”

“It is twice as much as I wanted to give,” said the Colonel.

“Even thirty pounds are not enough, your honour.”

“I can get a negro for that. These white men die quickly. They can’t work.”

They argued over the price for some time. Pitt, a sensitive man, was quiet and did not move. Only the colour in his cheeks showed how dificf ult it was for him to control himself.

Peter Blood was annoyed that he had to listen to their argument.

In the background, moving slowly along the line of prisoners, went the lady. She was talking to the Governor and did not hear what the Colonel was saying. Did she care at all?

Colonel Bishop went on.

“I’ll give you twenty pounds. Not a penny more.”

Captain Gardner realised that Colonel Bishop would not change his mind and sighed. The Colonel only looked at Mr. Blood and stopped in front of a middle-aged man. His name was Wolverstone and he had lost an eye at Sedgemoor. The Colonel and Captain Gardner started arguing about the price again.

Peter Blood stood there in the sunlight. The air was different from any air that he had ever breathed. It smelled of wood and ﬂowers. He did not want to talk. Young Pitt did not want to talk either. He stood at Peter Blood’s side and thought that he might not see him again. In the last months, he had learnt to love and depend on Peter Blood. He felt lonely and miserable.

Other people came and looked at them, and went. Blood did not pay attention to them. And then something happened at the end of the line. Gardner was speaking in a loud voice to the people that had waited until Colonel Bishop had ﬁnished. Blood noticed that the girl was speaking to Bishop and pointing up the line. Bishop looked in the direction in which she was pointing. Then slowly, he went up the line with Gardner, the lady, and the Governor.

The lady made the Colonel stop in front of Blood.

“But this is the man I meant,” she said.

“This one?” Colonel Bishop asked. Peter Blood was now looking into a pair of brown eyes on a yellow face. “A bag of bones. What should I do with him?”

He was turning away when Gardner spoke.

“He may be thin, but healthy. When half of them were sick, this man helped them. Say ﬁfteen pounds for him, Colonel. That’s cheap enough. He’s strong, though he is thin. And he can bear the heat when it comes. The climate will never kill him.”

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Notes

1

Бриджуотер, Тонтон – города на юго-западе Англии

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2

Джеймс Скотт, 1-й герцог Монмут (1649–1685) – внебрачный сын короля Англии Карла II. После смерти отца попытался использовать недовольство английских протестантов новым королём, католиком Яковом II, чтобы захватить престол. Потерпел поражение, попал в плен и был обезглавлен.

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3

Гораций (Квинт Гораций Флакк) – 65 г. до н. э. – 27 г. до н. э. – древнеримский поэт-лирик золотого века античной литературы.

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4

«Куда, куда стремитесь вы, безумцы?» (лат. цитата из седьмого эпода Горация)

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5

(лат.) бакалавр медицины

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6

Тринити-колледж (Дублин) – одно из старейших и самых престижных высших учебных заведений Ирландии.

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7

Микель Адриансон де Рюйтер (1607–1676) – нидерландский адмирал. Был смертельно ранен в сражении у берегов Сицилии во время войны с Францией.

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8

Нимвегенский мир был подписан в 1678–1679 гг. для завершения Голландской войны 1672–1678 гг.

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9

Битва при Седжмуре – последнее и решающее сражение восстания Монмута. Произошло 6 июля 1685 г. возле Бриджуотера в графстве Сомерсет, Англия.

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10

Танжерский полк был образован в 1661 г. и входил в состав гарнизона английского Танжера (крупный портовый город на севере Марокко).

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11

Лайм-Риджис – маленький город в Юго-Западной Англии.

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12

Тори – политическая партия в Англии, в XVII–XIX вв. представлявшая интересы крупных землевладельцев-дворян. Тори выступали сторонниками монархизма, являлись носителями религиозного наследия ортодоксии Церкви Англии, а также выступали против либерализма фракции вигов.

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13

Лорд главный судья Англии и Уэльса – глава судебной власти Англии и Уэльса. Исторически являлся вторым после лорд-канцлера в судебной иерархии.

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14

Лорды-уполномоченные, участники суда Высокой комиссии, верховного церковного суда в Англии и Шотландии, восстановленного на время правления короля Якова II.

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15

Судья-адвокат – консультант по правовым вопросам в военном суде.

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16

Лорд Сандерленд, генеральный секретарь – Роберт Спенсер, второй граф Сандерленд (1641–1702) – английский аристократ, дипломат и политик из рода Спенсеров.

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17

Ямайка, Барбадос, Ливардские (Подветренные) острова – британские колонии в Карибском море.

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18

Бристоль – крупный порт в Юго-Западной Англии в Великобритании, расположенный на реке Эйвон, недалеко от её впадения в Бристольский залив Атлантического океана.

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19

Залив Карлайл – залив на юго-востоке Бриджтауна, столицы Барбадоса.

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