The Admiral took leave of them—of Esteban affectionately, of Blood ceremoniously.
“I regret to lose you so soon, Don Pedro. I wish that you could have made a longer visit to the Encarnacion.”
“I am indeed unfortunate,” said Captain Blood politely.
“But I hope that we may meet again.”
“That is to flatter me beyond all that I deserve.”
They reached the boat; and she cast off from the great ship. As they were pulling away, the Admiral waving to them from the taffrail, they heard the shrill whistle of the bo'sun piping the hands to their stations, and before they had reached the Cinco Llagas, they beheld the Encarnacion go about under sail. She dipped her flag to them, and from her poop a gun fired a salute.
Aboard the Cinco Llagas some one—it proved afterwards to be Hagthorpe—had the wit to reply in the same fashion. The comedy was ended. Yet there was something else to follow as an epilogue, a thing that added a grim ironic flavour to the whole.
As they stepped into the waist of the Cinco Llagas, Hagthorpe advanced to receive them. Blood observed the set, almost scared expression on his face.
“I see that you've found it,” he said quietly.
Hagthorpe's eyes looked a question. But his mind dismissed whatever thought it held.