He could not see the figure before him, but he knew that it was tense and waiting.

He groped with his cutlass, but touching only thin air he threw it away, and clapped his hands to his eyes to keep away the trickling blood.
"You'll have three scars, captain," came the maddening voice, "one on each cheek and one on the forehead.

It's not enough punishment for a slaver, but, in truth, it's something.

And now I'm going.

You can't see to follow me, or even to take care of yourself but I leave you in the hands of your two sailors." Robert put on his coat and greatcoat, resumed all his weapons and his pack and turned away.