"Knapp brought no men. He got as far as the Lamb in Eastbourne on the hill yonder, and there he got playing the fool, and sneaked back here about twenty minutes after you were gone with a pair of black eyes and a pack of lies and nothing else."
All the ruddiness had left his face. It was grey as steel and dark.
"I tried him by drum-head court-martial then and there, for misconduct in the presence of the enemy. I was the President, Piper the Court. The Court found him guilty and sentenced him to be shot. I confirmed the sentence, and proceeded to carry it out."
He rapped the words out clean and clear. Kit felt himself seeing this man with new eyes, the eyes of a great respect. The fellow schoolboy of yesterday had turned into the man of war, stern and terrible. Kit was afraid of him.
"There was nothing to wait for," continued the Parson. "So I had him out and made him dig his own grave against the wall.
"'It's blanky ard,' said he.
"'You're a soldier; and this is war,' I answered. 'I'm going to count two—then fire. Make your peace with your Maker.'
"I hadn't got to two, when I heard a hubbub on the privateer, and knew you were either caught or in difficulties.
"'This can wait,' I said. 'I'll use you first, and shoot you afterwards!'"
The blood stole back to the Parson's face. His eyes lifted, twinkling now.