“Were there many killed? Were you wounded!”
“Killed! Wounded! Did ye iver see a flock o’ sheep when a big dog goes at ’em, sor?”
“Often, in Devon.”
“Ah, then it’s the same as it would be in Oireland. Bedad, sor, the name of the captain, and seeing Black Mazzard tuk, was enough. They all walked out and pitched their swords and pishtols down, in a hape before the shkipper and then stands in a row like sodgers; sure and it’s meself that had some of the drilling of them.
“‘Come here, Bart,’ says the shkipper then; and as Bart goes up, the captain gives Black Mazzard a shove like and throws him down. ‘Here,’ he says, ‘put your foot on this dog’s throat.’ Bart had it there before ye knew where ye were, and thin if the skipper didn’t go right up to the row of min and walks slowly along ’em, looking ’em wan by wan in the face wid his dark oi, sor. And he made ’em turn white and shiver, he did, sor, till he’d looked ’em all down, and then he shteps out, little shtiff fellow as he is, and he says:
“‘You fools, to be led away by a thing like that! How shall I punish ’em, Dinny?’ he says, turning to me.
“‘Sure, captain,’ I says, ‘they are all shtanding nate and handy, and if ye give me word, I’ll shtand at wan ind and send a bullet through the lot, and there’ll be no waste.’
“‘Pah!’ he says, ‘I don’t make war on the lads who’ve fought by my side. Go back to your quarthers,’ he says, ‘and if ye turn again me once more I’ll give ye such a punishment as ye disarve. You shall have your Captain Mazzard.’
“‘D’ye hear that, ye divils?’ I says, for I couldn’t stop meself, sor; and they give three cheers for the captain and wint off to quarthers; and that was all.”
“But Mazzard—what of him!”