“Because I discover here an irony that is supremely droll.  You, M. le Baron, General of the King’s Armies by Land and Sea in America, propose an enterprise of a purely buccaneering character; whilst I, the buccaneer, am urging one that is more concerned with upholding the honour of France.  You perceive how droll it is.”

M. de Rivarol perceived nothing of the kind.  M. de Rivarol in fact was extremely angry.  He bounded to his feet, and every man in the room rose with him — save only M. de Cussy, who sat on with a grim smile on his lips.  He, too, now read the Baron like an open book, and reading him despised him.

“M. le filibustier,” cried Rivarol in a thick voice, “it seems that I must again remind you that I am your superior officer.”

“My superior officer!  You!  Lord of the World!  Why, you are just a common pirate!  But you shall hear the truth for once, and that before all these gentlemen who have the honour to serve the King of France.  It is for me, a buccaneer, a sea-robber, to stand here and tell you what is in the interest of French honour and the French Crown.  Whilst you, the French King’s appointed General, neglecting this, are for spending the King’s resources against an outlying settlement of no account, shedding French blood in seizing a place that cannot be held, only because it has been reported to you that there is much gold in Cartagena, and that the plunder of it will enrich you.  It is worthy of the huckster who sought to haggle with us about our share, and to beat us down after the articles pledging you were already signed.  If I am wrong — let M. de Cussy say so.  If I am wrong, let me be proven wrong, and I will beg your pardon.  Meanwhile, monsieur, I withdraw from this council.  I will have no further part in your deliberations.  I accepted the service of the King of France with intent to honour that service.  I cannot honour that service by lending countenance to a waste of life and resources in raids upon unimportant settlements, with plunder for their only object.  The responsibility for such decisions must rest with you, and with you alone.  I desire M. de Cussy to report me to the Ministers of France.  For the rest, monsieur, it merely remains for you to give me your orders.  I await them aboard my ship — and anything else, of a personal nature, that you may feel I have provoked by the terms I have felt compelled to use in this council.  M. le Baron, I have the honour to wish you good-day.”

He stalked out, and his three captains — although they thought him mad — rolled after him in loyal silence.

M. de Rivarol was gasping like a landed fish.  The stark truth had robbed him of speech.  When he recovered, it was to thank Heaven vigorously that the council was relieved by Captain Blood’s own act of that gentleman’s further participation in its deliberations.  Inwardly M. de Rivarol burned with shame and rage.  The mask had been plucked from him, and he had been held up to scorn — he, the General of the King’s Armies by Sea and Land in America.