“Captain Blood!” he cried. “Are
you Captain Blood?”
“What else were ye supposing?”
Blood asked the question wearily, his mind on other
things. “I do not number thieves and pirates
among my acquaintance.” The cruel phrase
filled his brain, reechoing and reverberating there.
But Lord Julian would not be denied. He caught
him by the sleeve with one hand, whilst with the other
he pointed after the retreating, dejected figure of
Don Miguel.
“Do I understand that ye’re not going
to hang that Spanish scoundrel?”
“What for should I be hanging him?”
“Because he’s just a damned pirate, as
I can prove, as I have proved already.”
“Ah!” said Blood, and Lord Julian marvelled
at the sudden haggardness of a countenance that had
been so devil-may-care but a few moments since.
“I am a damned pirate, myself; and so I am merciful
with my kind. Don Miguel goes free.”
Lord Julian gasped. “After what I’ve
told you that he has done? After his sinking
of the Royal Mary? After his treatment of me
— of us?” Lord Julian protested indignantly.
“I am not in the service of England, or of any
nation, sir. And I am not concerned with any
wrongs her flag may suffer.”
His lordship recoiled before the furious glance that
blazed at him out of Blood’s haggard face.
But the passion faded as swiftly as it had arisen.
It was in a level voice that the Captain added:
“If you’ll escort Miss Bishop aboard my
ship, I shall be obliged to you. I beg that
you’ll make haste. We are about to scuttle
this hulk.”
He turned slowly to depart. But again Lord Julian
interposed. Containing his indignant amazement,
his lordship delivered himself coldly. “Captain
Blood, you disappoint me. I had hopes of great
things for you.”
“Go to the devil,” said Captain Blood,
turning on his heel, and so departed.
THIEF AND PIRATE
Captain Blood paced the poop of his ship alone in
the tepid dusk, and the growing golden radiance of
the great poop lantern in which a seaman had just
lighted the three lamps. About him all was peace.
The signs of the day’s battle had been effaced,
the decks had been swabbed, and order was restored
above and below. A group of men squatting about
the main hatch were drowsily chanting, their hardened
natures softened, perhaps, by the calm and beauty of
the night. They were the men of the larboard
watch, waiting for eight bells which was imminent.
Captain Blood did not hear them; he did not hear anything
save the echo of those cruel words which had dubbed
him thief and pirate.
Thief and pirate!
