“So thou wouldst teach that ‘drunken pirate’ that all men are not afraid of him? Eh? Is that so? The voice seemed to grow more caressing at every word and the big sailor’s eyes shut. Suddenly they opened again and looked down.
“Look!” Dick was saying. “Look, Matthew, son of Suffolk clay, see how fair my blade looks against thy fur-grown hide.” He tore at the guernsey and pulled it open, showing the great hairy chest beneath. The terrified sailor made one lunge forward, as though to grasp the lean brown throat, but he was too late. Swift as lightning the small white hand shot back and then forward, and the thin blue blade vanished in the wretched man’s body just over the collar-bone, cutting the jugular vein. The great body stiffened and then, gradually relaxing, dropped at the Spaniard’s feet.
Blueneck stifled a cry and stepped forward.
Slowly the Spaniard pulled out the steel, wiped it carefully on the brightly coloured sleeveless coat, then slipped it into his belt.
“Over with the dog,” he said shortly to Blueneck, as he walked off quietly up the deck.
Blueneck hailed one of the frightened crew who had watched the scene from the deck-house roof, and in silence the two lifted up all that was left of the great sailor and pushed it over the side. The body splashed in the green water and somewhere near a cormorant shrieked to his kind the news of fresh prey, and the ship, her sails bellying out to the wind, sped on toward the island.
CHAPTER II
“ANNY.”
“Ay, Hal.”
“Do you love me, lass?”