“Fail? Fail? What a murrain do you here, to talk of failing? Who made you a prophet, you scurvy, hang-in-the-wind, croaking, white-livered son of a corby-crow?”
“Heaven help us, Admiral Hawkins, who has put fire to your culverins in this fashion?” said Lord Howard.
“Who? my lord! Croakers! my lord! Here's a fellow calls himself the captain of a ship, and her majesty's servant, and talks about failing, as if he were a Barbican loose-kirtle trying to keep her apple-squire ashore! Blurt for him, sneak-up! say I.”
“Admiral John Hawkins,” quoth the offender, “you shall answer this language with your sword.”
“I'll answer it with my foot; and buy me a pair of horn-tips to my shoes, like a wraxling man. Fight a croaker? Fight a frog, an owl! I fight those that dare fight, sir!”
“Sir, sir, moderate yourself. I am sure this gentleman will show himself as brave as any, when it comes to blows: but who can blame mortal man for trembling before so fearful a chance as this?”
“Let mortal man keep his tremblings to himself, then, my lord, and not be like Solomon's madmen, casting abroad fire and death, and saying, it is only in sport. There is more than one of his kidney, your lordship, who have not been ashamed to play Mother Shipton before their own sailors, and damp the poor fellows' hearts with crying before they're hurt, and this is one of them. I've heard him at it afore, and I'll present him, with a vengeance, though I'm no church-warden.”
“If this is really so, Admiral Hawkins—”
“It is so, my lord! I heard only last night, down in a tavern below, such unbelieving talk as made me mad, my lord; and if it had not been after supper, and my hand was not oversteady, I would have let out a pottle of Alicant from some of their hoopings, and sent them to Dick Surgeon, to wrap them in swaddling-clouts, like whining babies as they are. Marry come up, what says Scripture? 'He that is fearful and faint-hearted among you, let him go and'—what? son Dick there? Thou'rt pious, and read'st thy Bible. What's that text? A mortal fine one it is, too.”
“'He that is fearful and faint-hearted among you, let him go back,'” quoth the Complete Seaman. “Captain Merryweather, as my father's command, as well as his years, forbid his answering your challenge, I shall repute it an honor to entertain his quarrel myself—place, time, and weapons being at your choice.”