Behind them a little
mob of grim, stalwart, sun-tanned buccaneers were restrained from
cracking Bishop like a flea only by their submission to the dominant
will of their leader. They had learnt from Pitt while yet in Port
Royal of their Captain's danger, and whilst as ready as he to throw
over the King's service which had been thrust upon them, yet they
resented the manner in which this had been rendered necessary, and
they marvelled now at Blood's restraint where Bishop was concerned.
The Deputy-Governor looked round and met the lowering hostile
glances of those fierce eyes. Instinct warned him that his life at
that moment was held precariously, that an injudicious word might
precipitate an explosion of hatred from which no human power could
save him. Therefore he said nothing. He inclined his head in
silence to the Captain, and went blundering and stumbling in his
haste down that ladder to the sloop and its waiting negro crew.
They pushed off the craft from the red hull of the Arabella, bent
to their sweeps, then, hoisting sail, headed back for Port Royal,
intent upon reaching it before darkness should come down upon them.
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