Meanwhile, no sooner had the deserters weighed anchor than Captain Blood received word that the Deputy-Governor begged to be allowed to see him again.  Admitted, Don Francisco at once displayed the fact that a night’s reflection had quickened his apprehensions for the city of Maracaybo and his condemnation of the Admiral’s intransigence.

Captain Blood received him pleasantly.

“Good-morning to you, Don Francisco.  I have postponed the bonfire until nightfall.  It will make a better show in the dark.”

Don Francisco, a slight, nervous, elderly man of high lineage and low vitality, came straight to business.

“I am here to tell you, Don Pedro, that if you will hold your hand for three days, I will undertake to raise the ransom you demand, which Don Miguel de Espinosa refuses.”

Captain Blood confronted him, a frown contracting the dark brows above his light eyes: 

“And where will you be raising it?” quoth he, faintly betraying his surprise.

Don Francisco shook his head.  “That must remain my affair,” he answered.  “I know where it is to be found, and my compatriots must contribute.  Give me leave for three days on parole, and I will see you fully satisfied.  Meanwhile my son remains in your hands as a hostage for my return.”  And upon that he fell to pleading.  But in this he was crisply interrupted.

“By the Saints!  Ye’re a bold man, Don Francisco, to come to me with such a tale — to tell me that ye know where the ransom’s to be raised, and yet to refuse to say.  D’ye think now that with a match between your fingers ye’d grow more communicative?”

If Don Francisco grew a shade paler, yet again he shook his head.

“That was the way of Morgan and L’Ollonais and other pirates.  But it is not the way of Captain Blood.  If I had doubted that I should not have disclosed so much.”

The Captain laughed.  “You old rogue,” said he.  “Ye play upon my vanity, do you?”

“Upon your honour, Captain.”

“The honour of a pirate?  Ye’re surely crazed!”

“The honour of Captain Blood,” Don Francisco insisted.  “You have the repute of making war like a gentleman.”

Captain Blood laughed again, on a bitter, sneering note that made Don Francisco fear the worst.  He was not to guess that it was himself the Captain mocked.

“That’s merely because it’s more remunerative in the end.  And that is why you are accorded the three days you ask for.  So about it, Don Francisco.  You shall have what mules you need.  I’ll see to it.”

Away went Don Francisco on his errand, leaving Captain Blood to reflect, between bitterness and satisfaction, that a reputation for as much chivalry as is consistent with piracy is not without its uses.

Punctually on the third day the Deputy-Governor was back in Maracaybo with his mules laden with plate and money to the value demanded and a herd of a hundred head of cattle driven in by negro slaves.