In the great cabin of the Arabella he found Peter Blood alone and
very far gone in drink - a condition in which no man ever before
remembered to have seen him. As Wolverstone came in, the Captain
raised bloodshot eyes to consider him. A moment they sharpened in
their gaze as he brought his visitor into focus. Then he laughed,
a loose, idiot laugh, that yet somehow was half a sneer.
"Ah! The Old Wolf!" said he. "Got here at last, eh? And whatcher
gonnerdo wi' me, eh?" He hiccoughed resoundingly, and sagged back
loosely in his chair.
Old Wolverstone stared at him in sombre silence. He had looked
with untroubled eye upon many a hell of devilment in his time, but
the sight of Captain Blood in this condition filled him with sudden
grief. To express it he loosed an oath. It was his only expression
for emotion of all kinds. Then he rolled forward, and dropped into
a chair at the table, facing the Captain.
"My God, Peter, what's this?"
"Rum," said Peter. "Rum, from Jamaica." He pushed bottle and glass
towards Wolverstone.
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