He sprang after her, and caught her. Her face flamed, and her eyes stabbed him like daggers. “These are pirate's ways, I think! Release me!”
“Arabella!” he cried on a note of pleading. “Are ye meaning it? Must I release ye? Must I let ye go and never set eyes on ye again? Or will ye stay and make this exile endurable until we can go home together? Och, ye're crying now! What have I said to make ye cry, my dear?”
“I... I thought you'd never say it,” she mocked him through her tears.
“Well, now, ye see there was Lord Julian, a fine figure of a....”
“There was never, never anybody but you, Peter.”
They had, of course, a deal to say thereafter, so much, indeed, that they sat down to say it, whilst time sped on, and Governor Blood forgot the duties of his office. He had reached home at last. His odyssey was ended.
And meanwhile Colonel Bishop's fleet had come to anchor, and the Colonel had landed on the mole, a disgruntled man to be disgruntled further yet. He was accompanied ashore by Lord Julian Wade.
A corporal's guard was drawn up to receive him, and in advance of this stood Major Mallard and two others who were unknown to the Deputy-Governor: one slight and elegant, the other big and brawny.
Major Mallard advanced. “Colonel Bishop, I have orders to arrest you. Your sword, sir!”
“By order of the Governor of Jamaica,” said the elegant little man behind Major Mallard. Bishop swung to him.