Now Wolverstone had only one eye; but he saw a deal more with that one eye than do most men with two; and despite his grizzled head — so picturesquely swathed in a green and scarlet turban — he had the sound heart of a boy, and in that heart much love for Peter Blood.

The sight of the Arabella at anchor in the bay had at first amazed him as he sailed round the rocky headland that bore the fort.  He rubbed his single eye clear of any deceiving film and looked again.  Still he could not believe what it saw.  And then a voice at his elbow — the voice of Dyke, who had elected to sail with him — assured him that he was not singular in his bewilderment.

“In the name of Heaven, is that the Arabella or is it the ghost of her?”

The Old Wolf rolled his single eye over Dyke, and opened his mouth to speak.  Then he closed it again without having spoken; closed it tightly.  He had a great gift of caution, especially in matters that he did not understand.  That this was the Arabella he could no longer doubt.  That being so, he must think before he spoke.  What the devil should the Arabella be doing here, when he had left her in Jamaica?  And was Captain Blood aboard and in command, or had the remainder of her hands made off with her, leaving the Captain in Port Royal?

Dyke repeated his question.  This time Wolverstone answered him.

“Ye’ve two eyes to see with, and ye ask me, who’s only got one, what it is ye see!”

“But I see the Arabella.”

“Of course, since there she rides.  What else was you expecting?”

“Expecting?” Dyke stared at him, open-mouthed.  “Was you expecting to find the Arabella here?”

Wolverstone looked him over in contempt, then laughed and spoke loud enough to be heard by all around him.  “Of course.  What else?” And he laughed again, a laugh that seemed to Dyke to be calling him a fool.  On that Wolverstone turned to give his attention to the operation of anchoring.

Anon when ashore he was beset by questioning buccaneers, it was from their very questions that he gathered exactly how matters stood, and perceived that either from lack of courage or other motive Blood, himself, had refused to render any account of his doings since the Arabella had separated from her sister ships.  Wolverstone congratulated himself upon the discretion he had used with Dyke.

“The Captain was ever a modest man,” he explained to Hagthorpe and those others who came crowding round him.  “It’s not his way to be sounding his own praises.  Why, it was like this.  We fell in with old Don Miguel, and when we’d scuttled him we took aboard a London pimp sent out by the Secretary of State to offer the Captain the King’s commission if so be him’d quit piracy and be o’ good behaviour.  The Captain damned his soul to hell for answer.  And then we fell in wi’ the Jamaica fleet and that grey old devil Bishop in command, and there was a sure