Captain Blood shrugged.  The firm lips smiled a little.  “All that I intend has been already accomplished.  And lest it increase your rancour, I beg you to observe that you have brought it entirely upon yourself.  You would have it so.”  He turned and pointed to the boats, which his men were heaving from the boom amidships.  “Your boats are being launched.  You are at liberty to embark in them with your men before we scuttle this ship.  Yonder are the shores of Hispaniola.  You should make them safely.  And if you’ll take my advice, sir, you’ll not hunt me again.  I think I am unlucky to you.  Get you home to Spain, Don Miguel, and to concerns that you understand better than this trade of the sea.”

For a long moment the defeated Admiral continued to stare his hatred in silence, then, still without speaking, he went down the companion, staggering like a drunken man, his useless rapier clattering behind him.  His conqueror, who had not even troubled to disarm him, watched him go, then turned and faced those two immediately above him on the poop.  Lord Julian might have observed, had he been less taken up with other things, that the fellow seemed suddenly to stiffen, and that he turned pale under his deep tan.  A moment he stood at gaze; then suddenly and swiftly he came up the steps.  Lord Julian stood forward to meet him.

“Ye don’t mean, sir, that you’ll let that Spanish scoundrel go free?” he cried.

The gentleman in the black corselet appeared to become aware of his lordship for the first time.

“And who the devil may you be?” he asked, with a marked Irish accent.  “And what business may it be of yours, at all?”

His lordship conceived that the fellow’s truculence and utter lack of proper deference must be corrected.  “I am Lord Julian Wade,” he announced, with that object.

Apparently the announcement made no impression.

“Are you, indeed!  Then perhaps ye’ll explain what the plague you’re doing aboard this ship?”

Lord Julian controlled himself to afford the desired explanation.  He did so shortly and impatiently.

“He took you prisoner, did he — along with Miss Bishop there?”

“You are acquainted with Miss Bishop?” cried his lordship, passing from surprise to surprise.

But this mannerless fellow had stepped past him, and was making a leg to the lady, who on her side remained unresponsive and forbidding to the point of scorn.  Observing this, he turned to answer Lord Julian’s question.

“I had that honour once,” said he.  “But it seems that Miss Bishop has a shorter memory.”

His lips were twisted into a wry smile, and there was pain in the blue eyes that gleamed so vividly under his black brows, pain blending with the mockery of his voice.  But of all this it was the mockery alone that was perceived by Miss Bishop; she resented it.

“I do not number thieves and pirates among my acquaintance, Captain Blood,” said she; whereupon his lordship exploded in excitement.