“I have the honour to inform you, sir,” he said stiffly, “that Captain Blood holds a commission in the King's service under the seal of my Lord Sunderland, His Majesty's Secretary of State.”
Captain Calverley's face empurpled; his eyes bulged. The buccaneers in the background chuckled and crowed and swore among themselves in their relish of this comedy. For a long moment Calverley stared in silence at his lordship, observing the costly elegance of his dress, his air of calm assurance, and his cold, fastidious speech, all of which savoured distinctly of the great world to which he belonged.
“And who the devil may you be?” he exploded at last.
Colder still and more distant than ever grew his lordship's voice.
“You're not very civil, sir, as I have already noticed. My name is Wade—Lord Julian Wade. I am His Majesty's envoy to these barbarous parts, and my Lord Sunderland's near kinsman. Colonel Bishop has been notified of my coming.”
The sudden change in Calverley's manner at Lord Julian's mention of his name showed that the notification had been received, and that he had knowledge of it.
“I... I believe that he has,” said Calverley, between doubt and suspicion. “That is: that he has been notified of the coming of Lord Julian Wade. But... but... aboard this ship...?” The officer made a gesture of helplessness, and, surrendering to his bewilderment, fell abruptly silent.
“I was coming out on the Royal Mary....”
“That is what we were advised.”
“But the Royal Mary fell a victim to a Spanish privateer, and I might never have arrived at all but for the gallantry of Captain Blood, who rescued me.”