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on the head.'' He raised his hands to his head and groaned.
``Oh lord, I feel as though I had been drunk for a month.''
The Rover
CHAPTER IX
58
Peyrol's prisoner did look somewhat as though he had got his head broken in a
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drunken brawl. But to Peyrol his appearance was not repulsive. The rover
preserved a tender memory of his freebooter's life with its lawless spirit and
its spacious scene of action, before the change in the state of affairs in the
Indian Ocean, the astounding rumours from the outer world, made him reflect on
its precarious character. It was true that he had deserted the French flag
when quite a youngster; but at that time that flag was white; and now it was a
flag of three colours. He had known the practice of liberty, equality and
fraternity as understood in the haunts open or secret of the Brotherhood of
the Coast. So the change, if one could believe what people talked about, could
not be very great. The rover had also his own positive notions as to what
these three words were worth.
Libertyto hold your own in the world if you could. Equalityyes! But no body of
men ever accomplished anything without a chief. All this was worth what it was
worth. He regarded fraternity somewhat differently. Of course brothers would
quarrel amongst themselves; it was during a fierce quarrel that flamed up
suddenly in a company of Brothers that he had received the most dangerous
wound of his life.
But for that Peyrol nursed no grudge against anybody. In his view the claim of
the Brotherhood was a claim for help against the outside world. And here he
was sitting opposite a Brother whose head he had broken on sufficient grounds.
There he was across the table looking dishevelled and dazed, uncomprehending
and aggrieved, and that head of his proved as hard as ages ago when the
nickname of Testa Dura had been given to him by a Brother of Italian origin on
some occasion or other, some butting match no doubt; just as he, Peyrol
himself, was known for a time on both sides of the Mozambique Channel as
PoignedeFer, after an incident when in the presence of the Brothers he played
at arm's length with the windpipe of an obstreperous negro sorcerer with an
enormous girth of chest. The villagers brought out food with alacrity, and the
sorcerer was never the same man again. It had been a great display.
Yes, no doubt it was Testa Dura; the young neophyte of the order (where and
how picked up Peyrol never heard), strange to the camp, simpleminded and much
impressed by the swaggering cosmopolitan company in which he found himself. He
had attached himself to Peyrol in preference to some of his own countrymen of
whom there were several in that band, and used to run after him like a little
dog and certainly had acted a good shipmate's part on the occasion of that
wound which had neither killed nor cowed Peyrol but merely had given him an
opportunity to reflect at leisure on the conduct of his own life.
The first suspicion of that amazing fact had intruded on Peyrol while he was
bandaging that head by the light of the smoky lamp. Since the fellow still
lived, it was not in Peyrol to finish him off or let him lie unattended like a
dog. And then this was a sailor. His being English was no obstacle to the
development of Peyrol's mixed feelings in which hatred certainly had no place.
Amongst the members of the Brotherhood it was the
Englishmen whom he preferred. He had also found amongst them that particular
and loyal appreciation, which a Frenchman of character and ability will
receive from Englishmen sooner than from any other nation.
Peyrol had at times been a leader, without ever trying for it very much, for
he was not ambitious. The lead used to fall to him mostly at a time of crisis
of some sort; and when he had got the lead it was on the
Englishmen that he used to depend most.
And so that youngster had turned into this English manofwar's man! In the fact
itself there was nothing impossible. You found Brothers of the Coast in all
sorts of ships and in all sorts of places. Peyrol had found one once in a very
ancient and hopeless cripple practising the profession of a beggar on the
steps of Manila cathedral; and had left him the richer by two broad gold
pieces to add to his secret hoard. There was a tale of a Brother of the Coast
having become a mandarin in China, and Peyrol believed it. One never knew
where and in what position one would find a Brother of the Coast. The
wonderful thing was that this one should have come to seek him out, to put
himself in the way of his cudgel. Peyrol's greatest concern had been all
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through that Sunday morning to conceal the whole adventure from Lieutenant
Real. As against a wearer of epaulettes, mutual protection was the first duty
between Brothers of the Coast. The unexpectedness of that claim coming to him
after twenty years invested it with an extraordinary strength. What he would
do with the fellow he didn't know. But since that morning the situation had
changed. Peyrol had received the lieutenant's confidence and had got on terms
with him in a special way. He fell into profound thought.
The Rover
CHAPTER IX
59
``Sacree tete dure,'' he muttered without rousing himself. Peyrol was annoyed
a little at not having been recognized. He could not conceive how difficult it
would have been for Symons to identify this portly deliberate person with a
white head of hair as the object of his youthful admiration, the
blackringleted
French Brother in the prime of life of whom everybody thought so much. Peyrol
was roused by hearing the other declare suddenly:
``I am an Englishman, I am. I am not going to knuckle under to anybody. What
are you going to do with me?''
``I will do what I please,'' said Peyrol, who had been asking himself exactly
the same question.
``Well, then, be quick about it, whatever it is. I don't care a damn what you
do, butbequick about it.''
He tried to be emphatic; but as a matter of fact the last words came out in a
faltering tone. And old Peyrol was touched. He thought that if he were to let
him drink the mugful standing there, it would make him dead drunk. But he took
the risk. So he said only:
``Allons. Drink.'' The other did not wait for a second invitation but could
not control very well the movements of his arm extended towards the mug.
Peyrol raised his on high.
``Trinquons, eh?'' he proposed. But in his precarious condition the Englishman
remained unforgiving.
``I'm damned if I do,'' he said indignantly, but so low that Peyrol had to
turn his ear to catch the words. ``You will have to explain to me first what
you meant by knocking me on the head.''
He drank, staring all the time at Peyrol in a manner which was meant to give
offence but which struck Peyrol as so childlike that he burst into a laugh.
``Sacre imbecile, va! Did I not tell you it was because of the tartane? If it
hadn't been for the tartane I would have hidden from you. I would have
crouched behind a bush like awhat do you call them?lievre.''
The other, who was feeling the effect of the d stared with frank incredulity.
``You are of no account,'' continued Peyrol. ``Ah! if you had been an officer
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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