Colonel Bishop sat himself down on the hatch-coaming, took off his broad hat, and mopped his brow.
“Y'amaze me!” he gasped. “On my soul, y'amaze me! To have recovered the treasure and to have seized this fine ship and all she'll hold! It will be something to set against the other losses we have suffered. As Gad's my life, you deserve well for this.”
“I am entirely of your opinion.”
“Damme! You all deserve well, and damme, you shall find me grateful.”
“That's as it should be,” said Mr. Blood. “The question is how well we deserve, and how grateful shall we find you?”
Colonel Bishop considered him. There was a shadow of surprise in his face.
“Why—his excellency shall write home an account of your exploit, and maybe some portion of your sentences shall be remitted.”
“The generosity of King James is well known,” sneered Nathaniel Hagthorpe, who was standing by, and amongst the ranged rebels-convict some one ventured to laugh.
Colonel Bishop started up. He was pervaded by the first pang of uneasiness. It occurred to him that all here might not be as friendly as appeared.
“And there's another matter,” Mr. Blood resumed. “There's a matter of a flogging that's due to me. Ye're a man of your word in such matters, Colonel—if not perhaps in others—and ye said, I think, that ye'd not leave a square inch of skin on my back.”