“Water!”
I ran into the cabin and filled a mug with fresh water; he remained standing where I had left him. I put the mug to his mouth, and he drank long and deep. The water refreshed him, and he found his voice.
“What are ye going to do with me?” he asked.
“Keep you under hatches,” said I.
“Where’s Bol and the others?”
“Ashore on the island.”
“Left to their fate, sir?”
“You know better. Have they not the longboat, plenty of provisions and water? If Captain Greaves were alive he’d yardarm the four of you—no, not the four; Teach is dead.”
“Did you kill him?”
“He’s dead,” I shouted in a rage; “I have killed no man. You would have killed me—there is no stain on my conscience.”