Vengeance must wait.
For some moments they groped there on hands and knees, oblivious of all else.

And yet in those moments vital things were happening.
Levasseur, his hand on his sword, his face a white mask of rage, was confronting Captain Blood to hinder his departure.
"You do not take her while I live!" he cried.
"Then I'll take her when you're dead," said Captain Blood, and his own blade flashed in the sunlight.

"The articles provide that any man of whatever rank concealing any part of a prize, be it of the value of no more than a peso, shall be hanged at the yardarm.

It's what I intended for you in the end.

But since ye prefer it this way, ye muckrake, faith, I'll be humouring you." He waved away the men who would have interfered, and the blades rang together.
M.d'Ogeron looked on, a man bemused, unable to surmise what the issue either way could mean for him.