Waverly clinging tightly to John’s arm, the cleaning-up had begun; which was to say, dead men from both sides were being pitched overboard, and the blood was being swilled off the decks with buckets of seawater. The survivors of the crew of the Fyrey Pentacost were lined up along the rail, being jeered at by the survivors of Captain Reynald’s crew. Captain Sharp was slumped against the mast, clutching a lace-edged handkerchief to his eye. Captain Reynald, a lean Frenchman, was surveying his new quarterdeck and looking pleased with himself. “Captain sir?” Anslow touched his forelock and led John and Mrs. Waverly forward. “This is my mate John, what I mentioned, and his bride.” “Madame!” Captain Reynald gaze fixed on Mrs. Waverly. “Enchanted!” He took her hand and kissed it. “Please have no fears for your safety. We are a gallant band of adventurers, and respect the honor of a woman. Mr. Anslow informs me your husband is a comrade of his.”
What do You think about Or Else My Lady Keeps The Key?
