But since I have said twenty thousand pieces of eight,
twenty thousand pieces it shall be."
"And for what, if you please, have you said twenty thousand pieces
of eight?"
In execrable French, but in a voice that was crisp and pleasant,
seeming to echo some of the mockery that had invested Levasseur's,
that question floated over their heads.
Startled, Levasseur and his officers looked up and round. On the
crest of the dunes behind them, in sharp silhouette against the
deep cobalt of the sky, they beheld a tall, lean figure scrupulously
dressed in black with silver lace, a crimson ostrich plume curled
about the broad brim of his hat affording the only touch of colour.
Under that hat was the tawny face of Captain Blood.
Levasseur gathered himself up with an oath of amazement. He had
conceived Captain Blood by now well below the horizon, on his way
to Tortuga, assuming him to have been so fortunate as to have
weathered last night's storm.
Launching himself upon the yielding sand, into which he sank to the
level of the calves of his fine boots of Spanish leather, Captain
Blood came sliding erect to the beach.
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