orward Captain Gardner, the master of the
Jamaica Merchant, and for some minutes stood in talk with him over a
list which the latter produced at his request.

Presently he waved aside the list and advanced alone towards the
rebels-convict, his eyes considering them, his lips pursed. Before the
young Somersetshire shipmaster he came to a halt, and stood an instant
pondering him. Then he fingered the muscles of the young man's arm,
and bade him open his mouth that he might see his teeth. He pursed his
coarse lips again and nodded.

He spoke to Gardner over his shoulder.

"Fifteen pounds for this one."

The Captain made a face of dismay. "Fifteen pounds! It isn't half what I
meant to ask for him."

"It is double what I had meant to give," grunted the Colonel.

"But he would be cheap at thirty pounds, your honour."

"I can get a negro for that. These white swine don't live. They're not
fit for the labour."

Gardner broke into protestations of Pitt's health, youth, and vigour.
It was not a man he was discussing; it was a beast of burden. Pitt, a
sensitive lad, stood mute and unmoving. Only the ebb and flow of colour
in his cheeks showed the inward struggle by which he maintained his
self-control.

Peter Blood was nauseated by the loathsome haggle.

In the background, moving slowly away down the line of prisoners, went
the lady in conversation with the Governor, who smirked and preened
himself as he limped beside her. She was unconscious of the loathly
business the Colonel was transacting. Was she, wondered Blood,
indifferent to it?

Colonel Bishop swung on his heel to pass on.

"I'll go as far as twenty pounds. Not a penny more, and it's twice as
much as you are like to get from Crabston."

Captain Gardner, recognizing the finality of the tone, sighed and
yielded. Already Bishop was moving down the line. For Mr. Blood, as
for a weedy youth on his left, the Colonel had no more than a glance of
contempt. But the next man, a middle-aged Colossus named Wolverstone,
who had lost an eye at Sedgemoor, drew his regard, and the haggling was
recommenced.

Peter Blood stood there in the brilliant sunshine and inhaled the
fragrant air, which was unlike any air that he had ever breathed. It
was laden with a strange perfume, blend of logwood flower, pimento, and
aromatic cedars. He lost himself in unprofitable speculations born of
that singular fragrance. He was in no mood for conversation, nor was
Pitt, who stood dumbl