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"You're dreaming, Peter," said the prisoner. "We're not going this
time. The magistrates will confiscate the boat since the surety's
not paid, even if when they press him Nuttall does not confess the
whole plan and get us all branded on the forehead."
Mr. Blood turned away, and with agony in his eyes looked out to sea
over the blue water by which he had so fondly hoped soon to be
travelling back to freedom.
The great red ship had drawn considerably nearer shore by now.
Slowly, majestically, she was entering the bay. Already one or two
wherries were putting off from the wharf to board her. From where
he stood, Mr. Blood could see the glinting of the brass cannons
mounted on the prow above the curving beak-head, and he could make
out the figure of a seaman in the forechains on her larboard side,
leaning out to heave the lead.
An angry voice aroused him from his unhappy thoughts.
"What the devil are you doing here?"
The returning Colonel Bishop came striding into the stockade, his
negroes following ever.
Mr.


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