Peter Blood had no illusions. He was not, and never would be, the
complete pirate. There was not another buccaneer in all the
Caribbean who would have denied himself the pleasure of stringing
Colonel Bishop from the yardarm, and by thus finally stifling the
vindictive planter's hatred have increased his own security. But
Blood was not of these. Moreover, in the case of Colonel Bishop
there was a particular reason for restraint. Because he was Arabella
Bishop's uncle, his life must remain sacred to Captain Blood.
And so the Captain smiled into the sallow, bloated face and the
little eyes that fixed him with a malevolence not to be dissembled.
"A safe voyage home to you, Colonel, darling," said he in
valediction, and from his easy, smiling manner you would never have
dreamt of the pain he carried in his breast. "It's the second time
ye've served me for a hostage. Ye'll be well advised to avoid a
third. I'm not lucky to you, Colonel, as you should be perceiving."
Jeremy Pitt, the master, lounging at Blood's elbow, looked darkly
upon the departure of the Deputy-Governor.
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