"Truss him, wrist and heel, but don't hurt him - not
so much as a hair of his precious head."
The injunction was very necessary. Frenzied by the thought that
they were likely to exchange the slavery from which they had so
lately escaped for a slavery still worse, they would have torn the
Spaniard limb from limb upon the spot. And if they now obeyed
their Captain and refrained, it was only because the sudden steely
note in his voice promised for Don Diego Valdez something far more
exquisite than death.
"You scum! You dirty pirate! You man of honour!" Captain Blood
apostrophized his prisoner.
But Don Diego looked up at him and laughed.
"You underrated me." He spoke English, so that all might hear.
"I tell you that I was not fear death, and I show you that I was
not fear it. You no understand. You just an English dog."
"Irish, if you please," Captain Blood corrected him. "And your
parole, you tyke of Spain?"
"You think I give my parole to leave you sons of filth with this
beautiful Spanish ship, to go make war upon other Spaniards! Ha!"
Don Diego laughed in his throat.
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