A silence fell upon all, and his words rang out loudly and clearly as he exclaimed with his eyes flashing and his brows knit—
“When our hands have no longer strength to draw our swords, sir—when the last man has been beaten down in our struggle for liberty and life—when we have again taught haughty, overbearing Spain that the English race is not one to draw back—when—I beg your pardon, General,” said my father, stopping short.
“Go on, sir,” said the General, sternly. “I would not wish for a better exponent of my views.”
“Then go, sir,” continued my father, “and tell the man who sent you that we are, all whom you see here, Englishmen who have made this our home—men who mean to keep what we have won in defiance of Spain and all her hosts.”
“Is this your answer?” said the Spanish officer, sternly, as soon as silence came after a tremendous cheer.
“Yes,” cried the General, “that is our answer, gentlemen, so go in peace.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Spaniard, after a few muttered words with his companions, “to return in war.”
His defiance was received in calm silence, and he and his companions were led out again by Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford, not a word being spoken till they had been seen to march down to the rough quay, embark, and row off to their ship.
It was not till Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford had returned, full of excitement, that the silence was broken by the General.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “what have you to say?”