“A blow!” he murmurs. Then, fixing Planter Paul Jones with an eye of bleary scorn: “The Americans would be quickly lashed into their kennels again. The more easily, if the courage of the American men, as I think’s the case, is no more firmly founded than the chastity of the American women.”
Planter Paul Jones deals Lieutenant Parker a blow with his clenched fist, the like of which was never before seen even in the violent port of Norfolk. Lieutenant Parker’s nose is crushed flat with his face; he falls like some pole-axed ox. His fellow-officers lift him to his feet, bleeding, stunned beyond words.
“You shall hear from us!” is the fierce cry from his comrades, as they hurry the stricken Parker from the ballroom.
“I shall be pleased to hear from any or all of you,” replies Planter Paul Jones; “or from what other dogs in king’s coats shall question the honor of American women.” Then, turning to Mr. Hurst: “You, sir, shall act for me! Accept every challenge they send! Make it pistols, ten paces, with Craney Island for the place; and fix the time to suit their English convenience.”