lf he's hunting at Tortuga, my lord. But, I'm
thinking that while he's about it, I'd best be looking after Jamaica for
King William." He laughed, with more mirth than he had used in the last
two months.

"Set a course for Port Royal, Jeremy, and make all speed. We'll be
level yet with M. de Rivarol, and wipe off some other scores at the same
time."

Both Lord Willoughby and the Admiral were on their feet.

"But you are not equal to it, damme!" cried his lordship. "Any one of
the Frenchman's three ships is a match for both yours, my man."

"In guns--aye," said Blood, and he smiled. "But there's more than guns
that matter in these affairs. If your lordship would like to see
an action fought at sea as an action should be fought, this is your
opportunity."

Both stared at him. "But the odds!" his lordship insisted.

"Id is imbossible," said van der Kuylen, shaking his great head.
"Seamanship is imbordand. Bud guns is guns."

"If I can't defeat him, I can sink my own ships in the channel, and
block him in until Bishop gets back from his wild-goose chase with his
squadron, or until your own fleet turns up."

"And what good will that be, pray?" demanded Willoughby.

"I'll be after telling you. Rivarol is a fool to take this chance,
considering what he's got aboard. He carried in his hold the treasure
plundered from Cartagena, amounting to forty million livres." They
jumped at the mention of that colossal sum. "He has gone into Port Royal
with it. Whether he defeats me or not, he doesn't come out of Port Royal
with it again, and sooner or later that treasure shall find its way into
King William's coffers, after, say, one fifth share shall have been paid
to my buccaneers. Is that agreed, Lord Willoughby?"

His lordship stood up, and shaking back the cloud of lace from his
wrist, held out a delicate white hand.

"Captain Blood, I discover greatness in you," said he.

"Sure it's your lordship has the fine sight to perceive it," laughed the
Captain.

"Yes, yes! Bud how vill you do id?" growled van der Kuylen.

"Come on deck, and it's a demonstration I'll be giving you before the
day's much older."

CHAPTER XXX. THE LAST FIGHT OF THE ARABELLA

"VHY do you vait, my friend?" growled van der Kuylen.

"Aye--in God's name!" snapped Willoughby.

It was the afternoon of that same day, and the two buccaneer ships
rocked gently with idly flapping sails under the lee of the long spit
of land forming the great natu