The sun stood red on the eastern edge of the ocean; the wind blew freshly, the ship held upon her altered course, and the sea ran crisply beside her. The brig was frolicking a league away. Blake shouted with laughter. "Good!" said he. "Splendid! If heaven had only sent you among a group of play-actors, what a man you'd have been! I'd have enjoyed seeing you, for, comedy deliciously played is a rare thing." With a turn of the wheel Anthony brought the ship to, and, as she stood with her sails muttering, he called to the two sailors who stood together in the waist, one stanching the flowing blood of the other: "Hoist out the yawl! You'll have a more peaceful time in your own vessel, so you're going back to her. Be lively now!" He fingered the trigger-guard of his pistol; the seamen made haste to free the tackle of a small boat; and Blake laughed louder than ever. "Never tell me this is to be the piece you played on board _Le Mousquet_!" he said. His big chest swelled with mirth, and his fists drummed upon it. "Well, God sends us good luck now and then, for all. But I'd say one word to you; I would presume no more. Play it as you did before! For," and he shoved his head forward, "do you recall the price I once put on the pleasure of hearing and seeing you? My two thumbs!" He smiled at Anthony, and beneath the good humor there was a gleam of the tiger. "My two thumbs!" "I remember," said Anthony. "And, also, I see the boat will be launched all the swifter if you lend a hand. And it will be better for you if you spend some of your good humor in getting safe out of my sight!" There were about two yards between the two men; Blake leaped it with a swiftness that took Anthony by surprise. The pistol roared wrathfully, but the pirate was holding its muzzle upward; then the two closed. "Now," said Blake, "we shall see how high you'll hold you hand and head. By God, I'll dress you! I'll make you step!" Dour, silent, Anthony drove a short, stabbing blow at the man's face; a spurt of blood followed it; and Blake was smiling through a crimson mask. "Well struck," said he. And as he said it he beat Anthony about the body with a power that made the young man's breath catch and his ribs bend. Gasping, Anthony gave back. "What!" jeered Blake, "so soon? Is this the man who talked so highly? Is this, indeed, our famous fighter?" But Anthony had the two seamen in mind; and, while he avoided Blake, he looked toward the waist. The men had let go the boat's tackle and, each armed with a belaying-pin, were hurrying aft. He must beat Blake down before they got in hand's reach; if he failed, he was lost. And the pirate was pressing forward, his face a smear of blood but his laugh persisting. "Where are the thews I've heard so much of?" he mocked. "Your body is big enough, but it has no more guts than a drum. Stand to, and I'll--"