s. He cut
short their greetings, and when they plagued him with questions of where
he had tarried, he bade them await the coming of Wolverstone, who would
satisfy their curiosity to a surfeit. On that he shook them off, and
shouldered his way through that heterogeneous throng that was composed
of bustling traders of several nations--English, French, and Dutch--of
planters and of seamen of various degrees, of buccaneers who were
fruit-selling half-castes, negro slaves, some doll-tearsheets and
dunghill-queans from the Old World, and all the other types of the human
family that converted the quays of Cayona into a disreputable image of
Babel.

Winning clear at last, and after difficulties, Captain Blood took his
way alone to the fine house of M. d'Ogeron, there to pay his respects to
his friends, the Governor and the Governor's family.

At first the buccaneers jumped to the conclusion that Wolverstone was
following with some rare prize of war, but gradually from the reduced
crew of the Arabella a very different tale leaked out to stem their
satisfaction and convert it into perplexity. Partly out of loyalty to
their captain, partly because they perceived that if he was guilty of
defection they were guilty with him, and partly because being simple,
sturdy men of their hands, they were themselves in the main a little
confused as to what really had happened, the crew of the Arabella
practised reticence with their brethren in Tortuga during those two
days before Wolverstone's arrival. But they were not reticent enough
to prevent the circulation of certain uneasy rumours and extravagant
stories of discreditable adventures--discreditable, that is, from the
buccaneering point of view--of which Captain Blood had been guilty.

But that Wolverstone came when he did, it is possible that there would
have been an explosion. When, however, the Old Wolf cast anchor in the
bay two days later, it was to him all turned for the explanation they
were about to demand of Blood.

Now Wolverstone had only one eye; but he saw a deal more with that
one eye than do most men with two; and despite his grizzled head--so
picturesquely swathed in a green and scarlet turban--he had the sound
heart of a boy, and in that heart much love for Peter Blood.

The sight of the Arabella at anchor in the bay had at first amazed him
as he sailed round the rocky headland that bore the fort. He rubbed his
single eye clear of any deceiving film and looked again. S