The Pirate Woman by A E Dingle Chapter 4 Page 6

horror; two fingers and half the thumb remained from some drunken brawl to serve the Spaniard in future play for work or debauch; and the man, crouching low over his stone, made a picture of incarnate hate that had no humor in it.

“Where’s th’ flesh?” screamed Sancho, looking up, his mutilated thumb running creepily along the knife-edge.

“Whet your tusks, lads, here’s the blessed manna!” squealed Caliban, a hunchbacked terror, who kept his maimed carcass secure by virtue of his viperish temper, coupled with an uncanny skill of the cutlas. “Milo’s our man! Huzza for Milo!”

Out from the trees stalked the giant Abyssinian, and the shadows and torchlight distorted him to grotesque proportions.