"Twenty and one years agone!" said she, combing away at her glossy hair.
"My mother was English like you, but my father was a noble gentleman of
Spain and Governor of Santa Catalina, Don Esteban da Silva y Montreale, and
killed by Tressady—Black Tressady—"
"What, Roger Tressady—o' the Hook?"
"True, Señor Englishman," said she softly and glancing up at me through her hair; "he hath a hook very sharp and bright, in place of his left hand. You know him? He is your friend—yes?"
"I know him for a cursed pirate and murderer!"
"Moi aussi, mon ami!" said she, fixing me with her great eyes. "I am pirate, yes—and have used dagger and pistol ere to-day and shall again."
"And wear a woman's shape!"
"Ha—yes, yes!" cried she, gnashing her teeth. "And there's my curse—I am woman and therefore do hate all women. But my soul is a man's so do I use all men to my purpose, snare them by my woman's arts and make of 'em my slaves. See you; there is none of all my lovers but doth obey me, and so do I rule, with ships and men at my command and fearing no man—"
"And yet," said I, interrupting, "you came fleeing hither to save your life from yonder rabblement."
"Tush—these were mostly drunken rogues that knew me not, 'listed but late from a prize we took and burned. I shall watch them die yet! Soon shall come Belvedere in the Happy Despatch to my relief, or Rodriquez of the Vengeance or Rory or Sol—one or other or all shall come a-seeking me, soon or late. Meantime, I bide here and 'tis well you stayed me from killing you, for though I love not Englishmen, I love solitude less, so are you safe from me so long as we be solitary. Ah—you smile because you are fool and know me not yet! Ah, ah—mayhap you shall grow wiser anon. But now," said she, rising and putting away her comb, "bring me where I may eat, for I am famished with hunger."
"Also you are very foul of blood!" said I.