"But if I am the Lord of Topsham, it must be mine," roared Willie.
"No," repeated John, and tried to explain.
But Willatopy, with cries of "Liar, liar, liar," fell upon his white slave, and beat him severely. And so John Clifford discovered, very early in his campaign, that the man who would teach the English law of inheritance to a half-caste and fully logical heir, runs a grievous risk of being mangled by his pupil.
"There," said Willatopy, as he picked up the crumpled body of John Clifford by the slack of its breeches, and hammered it on the yawl's deck. "If the yacht is not mine, I cannot be the Lord of Topsham, and you are a liar and a cannibal. Die-cannibal."
"You can get another," shrieked Clifford. "A better one than the Humming Top."
"What is that?" cried Willatopy, and paused while yet some life remained unhammered out on the yawl's deck.
"When you are a very rich Lord," groaned Clifford, "you will be able to buy a much newer and finer yacht than the Humming Top."
"Where?" enquired Willatopy.
"In England. You will give your orders, and your slaves will build for you any yacht which you please. But you must go to England first."