Peter Blood caught himself staring in a sort of amazement at that piquant face, which seemed here so out of place, and finding his stare returned, he shifted uncomfortably.  He grew conscious of the sorry figure that he cut.  Unwashed, with rank and matted hair and a disfiguring black beard upon his face, and the erstwhile splendid suit of black camlet in which he had been taken prisoner now reduced to rags that would have disgraced a scarecrow, he was in no case for inspection by such dainty eyes as these.  Nevertheless, they continued to inspect him with round-eyed, almost childlike wonder and pity.  Their owner put forth a hand to touch the scarlet sleeve of her companion, whereupon with an ill-tempered grunt the man swung his great bulk round so that he directly confronted her.

Looking up into his face, she was speaking to him earnestly, but the Colonel plainly gave her no more than the half of his attention.  His little beady eyes, closely flanking a fleshly, pendulous nose, had passed from her and were fixed upon fair-haired, sturdy young Pitt, who was standing beside Blood.

The Governor had also come to a halt, and for a moment now that little group of three stood in conversation.  What the lady said, Peter could not hear at all, for she lowered her voice; the Colonel’s reached him in a confused rumble, but the Governor was neither considerate nor indistinct; he had a high-pitched voice which carried far, and believing himself witty, he desired to be heard by all.

“But, my dear Colonel Bishop, it is for you to take first choice from this dainty nosegay, and at your own price.  After that we’ll send the rest to auction.”

Colonel Bishop nodded his acknowledgment.  He raised his voice in answering.  “Your excellency is very good.  But, faith, they’re a weedy lot, not likely to be of much value in the plantation.”  His beady eyes scanned them again, and his contempt of them deepened the malevolence of his face.  It was as if he were annoyed with them for being in no better condition.  Then he beckoned forward Captain Gardner, the master of the Jamaica Merchant, and for some minutes stood in talk with him over a list which the latter produced at his request.

Presently he waved aside the list and advanced alone towards the rebels-convict, his eyes considering them, his lips pursed.  Before the young Somersetshire shipmaster he came to a halt, and stood an instant pondering him.  Then he fingered the muscles of the young man’s arm, and bade him open his mouth that he might see his teeth.  He pursed his coarse lips again and nodded.

He spoke to Gardner over his shoulder.

“Fifteen pounds for this one.”

The Captain made a face of dismay.  “Fifteen pounds!  It isn’t half what I meant to ask for him.”

“It is double what I had meant to give,” grunted the Colonel.

“But he would be cheap at thirty pounds, your honour.”