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Fortunately for you I am a British officer, and I cannot be both judge and executioner.” The Peruvian’s reply was a volley of curses and execrations. “Will you drink some water?” Stephen asked, without paying any attention to his words. The Peruvian’s only reply was to spit furiously at him.
Stephen thought that, at any rate, the risk of the Peruvian’s attempting to set sail that day was small. He would be suffering intense pain from the wound, and would probably be incapable of making any great exertion; but most of all he trusted to Jacopo’s thirst for vengeance to keep him for a while on the island.
As he came up, Stephen sprang out, and brought the butt end of his gun down with all his strength on the Peruvian’s head, striking him senseless to the ground. Stephen picked up the murderer’s knife and placed it in his belt, took the musket from his shoulder, and then with a cord he had brought with him bound his feet, and turning him over fastened his wrists tightly together.
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