ere summoned a week later to a council which sat
to determine their operations against Spain. M. de Rivarol laid before
them a project for a raid upon the wealthy Spanish town of Cartagena.
Captain Blood professed astonishment. Sourly invited by M. de Rivarol to
state his grounds for it, he did so with the utmost frankness.

"Were I General of the King's Armies in America," said he, "I should
have no doubt or hesitation as to the best way in which to serve my
Royal master and the French nation. That which I think will be obvious
to M. de Cussy, as it is to me, is that we should at once invade Spanish
Hispaniola and reduce the whole of this fruitful and splendid island
into the possession of the King of France."

"That may follow," said M. de Rivarol. "It is my wish that we begin with
Cartagena."

"You mean, sir, that we are to sail across the Caribbean on an
adventurous expedition, neglecting that which lies here at our very
door. In our absence, a Spanish invasion of French Hispaniola is
possible. If we begin by reducing the Spaniards here, that possibility
will be removed. We shall have added to the Crown of France the
most coveted possession in the West Indies. The enterprise offers
no particular difficulty; it may be speedily accomplished, and once
accomplished, it would be time to look farther afield. That would seem
the logical order in which this campaign should proceed."

He ceased, and there was silence. M. de Rivarol sat back in his chair,
the feathered end of a quill between his teeth. Presently he cleared his
throat and asked a question.

"Is there anybody else who shares Captain Blood's opinion?"

None answered him. His own officers were overawed by him; Blood's
followers naturally preferred Cartagena, because offering the greater
chance of loot. Loyalty to their leader kept them silent.

"You seem to be alone in your opinion," said the Baron with his vinegary
smile.

Captain Blood laughed outright. He had suddenly read the Baron's mind.
His airs and graces and haughtiness had so imposed upon Blood that
it was only now that at last he saw through them, into the fellow's
peddling spirit. Therefore he laughed; there was really nothing else to
do. But his laughter was charged with more anger even than contempt. He
had been deluding himself that he had done with piracy. The conviction
that this French service was free of any taint of that was the only
consideration that had induced him to accept it. Ye