ice as much in Europe. But I'll accept your valuation. They are
almost of a size, as you can see. Here are twelve, representing twelve
thousand pieces of eight, which is La Foudre's share of three fifths of
the prize, as provided by the articles. For the eight thousand pieces
that go to the Arabella, I make myself responsible to my own men. And
now, Wolverstone, if you please, will you take my property aboard the
Arabella?" He stood up again, indicating the prisoners.

"Ah, no!" Levasseur threw wide the floodgates of his fury. "Ah, that,
no, by example! You shall not take her...." He would have sprung upon
Captain Blood, who stood aloof, alert, tight-lipped, and watchful.

But it was one of Levasseur's own officers who hindered him.

"Nom de Dieu, my Captain! What will you do? It is settled; honourably
settled with satisfaction to all."

"To all?" blazed Levasseur. "Ah ca! To all of you, you animals! But what
of me?"

Cahusac, with the pearls clutched in his capacious hand, stepped up to
him on the other side. "Don't be a fool, Captain. Do you want to provoke
trouble between the crews? His men outnumber us by nearly two to one.
What's a girl more or less? In Heaven's name, let her go. He's paid
handsomely for her, and dealt fairly with us."

"Dealt fairly?" roared the infuriated Captain. "You...." In all his
foul vocabulary he could find no epithet to describe his lieutenant.
He caught him a blow that almost sent him sprawling. The pearls were
scattered in the sand.

Cahusac dived after them, his fellows with him. Vengeance must wait.
For some moments they groped there on hands and knees, oblivious of all
else. And yet in those moments vital things were happening.

Levasseur, his hand on his sword, his face a white mask of rage, was
confronting Captain Blood to hinder his departure.

"You do not take her while I live!" he cried.

"Then I'll take her when you're dead," said Captain Blood, and his own
blade flashed in the sunlight. "The articles provide that any man of
whatever rank concealing any part of a prize, be it of the value of no
more than a peso, shall be hanged at the yardarm. It's what I intended
for you in the end. But since ye prefer it this way, ye muckrake, faith,
I'll be humouring you."

He waved away the men who would have interfered, and the blades rang
together.

M. d'Ogeron looked on, a man bemused, unable to surmise what the issue
either way could mean for him. Meanwhile, two of Blood's