Both clamoured at once, the father in angry, almost incoherent, remonstrance, the girl in passionate gratitude. She sprang up and caught Blood's arm to drag him thence.
But Brazo Largo, still protesting, barred the way. He conveyed that in his view Captain Blood was violating the alliance between them.
«Alliance!» snorted Blood. «You have been using me for purposes of your own. You should have been frank with me and told me of your quarrel with Don Domingo before I pledged myself that he should suffer no violence. As it is…»
He shrugged, and went out quickly with the young mother. Brazo Largo stalked after them, glowering and thoughtful.
Outside, Blood ran into Wolverstone and a score of men who were returning from the town. He ordered them to follow him, telling them that the Indians were murdering the Spanish captain.
«Good luck to them!» quoth Wolverstone, who had been drinking.
Nevertheless, he followed, and his men with him, being in reality less bloody in deed than in speech.
Beyond the breach in the palisade they came upon the Indians — some forty of them — kindling a fire. Near at hand lay the helpless Don Domingo, bound with leather thongs. The girl sped to him, crooning soft Spanish endearments. He smiled in answer out of a white face that yet retained something of scornful calm. Captain Blood, more practical, followed with a knife and slashed away the prisoner's bonds.
There was a movement of anger among the Indians, instantly quelled by Brazo Largo. He spoke to them rapidly, and they stood disappointed but impassive. Wolverstone's men were there, musket in hand, blowing on their fuses.
They escorted Don Domingo back to the fort, his little wife tripping between him an the buccaneer captain, whom she enlightened on the score of the Indians' ready obedience to her father.