The Governor's face was set and stern, for the time, all mercy had passed out of it.
"For I am Long-Sword," he continued, "even as I am Sir Charles Brandon. And, ere we grow busy in the business of death, I want to say, in order that my friend, De Lysle, may not be misunderstood, that, although he recognized me after he entered the cabin, where I was prisoner, yet he knew nothing of my coming to Annapolis, until I walked in upon him at the Coffee-house. I was going home. Long-Sword the Pirate was to be buried, forever. In ten days, I should have sailed.... But the Fates were against me—I shall not go home—I shall die as Long-Sword, instead." He bowed gracefully to the Governor. "I thank your Excellency! Now, cry on your dogs!"
At this instant, Constable came through the house and out on the esplanade.
"What is it?" he exclaimed—"what does it mean?"
"It is the passing of Long-Sword the Pirate," Brandon answered. "Will not your Excellency begin?"
"I would much rather you surrendered," said Colonel Sharpe.
"No doubt! it would save you a few lives," he mocked.
"You decline to yield?"
Brandon bowed.
"Then shoot him, sergeant!" was the order.