As he looked at their grotesque figures he struck his brow with his
clenched fist to be sure that he was awake. The deck seemed to be much
dirtier than when he had left it, and there were strange, sun-blackened
faces turned upon him from every side. Not one of them did he know save
only Joshua Hird. Had the ship been captured in his absence? Were
these Sharkey's men who were around him? At the thought he broke
furiously away and tried to climb over to his boat, but a dozen hands
were on him in an instant, and he was pushed aft through the open door
of his own cabin.
And it was all different to the cabin which he had left. The floor was
different, the ceiling was different, the furniture was different.
His had been plain and austere. This was sumptuous and yet dirty, hung
with rare velvet curtains splashed with wine-stains, and panelled with
costly woods which were pocked with pistol-marks.
On the table was a great chart of the Caribbean Sea, and beside it, with
compasses in his hand, sat a clean-shaven, pale-faced man with a fur cap
and a claret-coloured coat of damask. Craddock turned white under his
freckles as he looked upon the long, thin high-nostrilled nose and the
red-rimmed eyes which were turned upon him with the fixed, humorous gaze
of the master player who has left his opponent without a move.
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