Captain Crossbones. Donald Barr Chidsey
no woman will ever look at you again! I’ll—”
Fascinated, George did not hear the step of the man who approached. But the girl did—and she was off like a frightened deer.
The man came quickly, from the direction of the beach, the camp. His mouth was a little open, his eyes darted here and there, and when he saw George Rounsivel he stopped short.
George didn’t stir, pretending to be asleep.
This man was young, strong, well set up, and handsome in a brash, coarse way. For a pirate he was uncommonly trig. A stiff black enameled hat was perched on his head, held there by red ribbons that went under the chin. His trousers and shirt were made of fine calico, striped vertically in red and dark blue. Around his waist was a white silk sash, and into this had been thrust two silver-hilted pistols. A sheath knife hung at his right hip. In his hand he carried a cudgel.
This man should have swaggered. Instead he paused, irresolute, even a mite frightened. It was plain to George, who watched him through slitted eyes, that he was thinking of a challenge. He decided against this, visibly shaking his head, and ran on.
George waited a little while, though he didn’t stir. He half expected Anne Bonney back, and he was prepared now to resist her. But not even the thought of those flashing blue eyes—and that knife so near to his own eyes—could hold him back from the brink of sleep, which engulfed him with a great soft roar.
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