“You refer to Mr. Dyck Calhoun, I doubt not, sir? Well, he is still a friend of mine, and I saw him today—this afternoon, before I came here. I understood that the Crown had pardoned his mutiny.”
The governor started. He was plainly annoyed.
“The crime is there just the same,” he replied. “He mutinied, and he stole a king’s ship, and took command of it, and brought it out here.”
“And saved you and your island, I understand.”
“Ah, he said that, did he?”
“He said nothing at all to me about it. I have been reading the Jamaica Cornwall Chronicle the last three years.”
“He is ever a source of anxiety to me,” declared the governor.
“I knew he was once in Phoenix Park years ago,” was the demure yet sharp reply, “but I thought he was a good citizen here—a good and well-to-do citizen.”
Lord Mallow flushed slightly. “Phoenix Park—ah, he was a capable fellow with the sword! I said so always, and I’d back him now against a champion; but many a bad man has been a good swordsman.”
“So, that’s what good swordsmanship does, is it? I wondered what it was that did it. I hear you fight him still—but with a bludgeon, and he dodges it.”