“What amends? Will you give her back to me?”
“No, that I cannot do, even if she should wish it, of which I am not sure; no—never while I live.”
“Bring her forth, and let us hear whether she wishes it or no,” shouted Peter, hoping that his words would reach Margaret.
But d’Aguilar only smiled and shook his head, then went on:
“That I cannot either, for it would give her pain. Still, Señor, I will repay the heavy debt that I owe to you, and to you also, Señor.” And he bowed towards Castell who, unseen by Peter, had crept down the ladder, and now stood behind him staring at d’Aguilar with cold rage and indignation. “You have wrought us much damage, have you not? hunting us across the seas, and killing sundry of us with your arrows, and now you have striven to board our ship and put us to the sword, a design in which God has frustrated you. Therefore your lives are justly forfeit, and none would blame us if we slew you. Yet I spare you both. If it is possible I will put you back aboard the Margaret, and if it is not possible you shall be set free ashore to go unmolested whither you will. Thus I will wipe out my debt and be free of all reproach.”
“Do you take me for such a man as yourself?” asked Peter, with a bitter laugh. “I do not leave this ship alive unless my affianced wife, Mistress Margaret, goes with me.”
“Then, Señor Brome, I fear that you will leave it dead, as indeed we may all of us, unless we make land soon, for the vessel is filling fast with water. Still, knowing your metal, I looked for some such words from you, and am prepared with another offer which I am sure you will not refuse. Señor, our swords are much of the same length, shall we measure them against each other? I am a grandee of Spain, the Marquis of Morella, and it will, therefore, be no dishonour for you to fight with me.”
“I am not so sure,” said Peter, “for I am more than that—an honest man of England, who never practised woman-stealing. Still, I will fight you gladly, at sea or on shore, wherever and whenever we meet, till one or both are dead. But what is the stake, and how do I know that some of these,” and he pointed to the crew, who were listening intently, “will not stab me from behind?”
“Señor, I have told you that I do not murder, and that would be the foulest murder. As for the stake, it is Margaret to the victor. If you kill me, on behalf of all my company, I swear by our Saviour’s Blood that you shall depart with her and her father unharmed, and if I kill you, then you both shall swear that she shall be left with me, and no suit or question raised but to her woman I give liberty, who have seen more than enough of her.”
“Nay,” broke in Castell, speaking for the first time, “I demand the right to fight with you also when my arm is healed.”