The bishop seemed to revive slowly as he snuffed the savory steam; and at last, rising mechanically, subsided into the chair which Amyas offered him on his left, while the commandant sat on his right.
“A little of this kid, my lord? No—ah—Friday, I recollect. Some of that turtle-fin, then. Will, serve his lordship; pass the cassava-bread up, Jack! Senor commandant! a glass of wine? You need it after your valiant toils. To the health of all brave soldiers—and a toast from your own Spanish proverb, 'To-day to me, tomorrow to thee!'”
“I drink it, brave senor. Your courtesy shows you the worthy countryman of General Drake, and his brave lieutenant.”
“Drake! Did you know him, senor?” asked all the Englishmen at once.
“Too well, too well—” and he would have continued; but the bishop burst out—
“Ah, senor commandant! that name again! Have you no mercy? To sit between another pair of—, and my own wine, too! Ugh, ugh!”
The old gentleman, whose mouth had been full of turtle the whole time, burst into a violent fit of coughing, and was only saved from apoplexy by Cary's patting him on the back.
“Ugh, ugh! The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel, and their precious balms. Ah, senor lieutenant Englishman! May I ask you to pass those limes?—Ah! what is turtle without lime?—Even as a fat old man without money! Nudus intravi, nudus exeo—ah!”
“But what of Drake?”
“Do you not know, sir, that he and his fleet, only last year, swept the whole of this coast, and took, with shame I confess it, Cartagena, San Domingo, St. Augustine, and—I see you are too courteous, senors, to express before me what you have a right to feel. But whence come you, sir? From the skies, or the depth of the sea?”