“I had imagined that your lordship would have had some education.”
He was at pains, you see, to be provocative.
“It's not the literal meaning I am asking, sir,” said Lord Julian, with frosty dignity. “I want to know what you desire me to understand?”
“I'll leave your lordship guessing,” said Blood. “And I'll be wishing ye both a very good day.” He swept off his feathered hat, and made them a leg very elegantly.
“Before you go,” said Bishop, “and to save you from any idle rashness, I'll tell you that the Harbour-Master and the Commandant have their orders. You don't leave Port Royal, my fine gallows bird. Damme, I mean to provide you with permanent moorings here, in Execution Dock.”
Peter Blood stiffened, and his vivid blue eyes stabbed the bloated face of his enemy. He passed his long cane into his left hand, and with his right thrust negligently into the breast of his doublet, he swung to Lord Julian, who was thoughtfully frowning.
“Your lordship, I think, promised me immunity from this.”
“What I may have promised,” said his lordship, “your own conduct makes it difficult to perform.” He rose. “You did me a service, Captain Blood, and I had hoped that we might be friends. But since you prefer to have it otherwise....” He shrugged, and waved a hand towards the Deputy-Governor.
Blood completed the sentence in his own way:
“Ye mean that ye haven't the strength of character to resist the urgings of a bully.” He was apparently at his ease, and actually smiling. “Well, well—as I said before—praemonitus, praemunitus. I'm afraid that ye're no scholar, Bishop, or ye'd know that I means forewarned, forearmed.”