“Ah!” said the Rear-Admiral. “But there are no women on your island, no little ones, no homes.”
“There is Siebenhaar who has been father and mother to me, master and instructor.”
“Well! Suppose you saw men designing to murder Siebenhaar, would you not raise a hand to defend him?”
“Not if I saw there was not the remotest chance of saving him. But that is nonsense. No one would want to murder Siebenhaar.”
“I don’t know about that. There are times when he is so exasperating that I hardly dare answer for myself.”
“That is absurd,” replied Ultimus. “You know that I should destroy you at once if you did anything to Siebenhaar. The case might be different if you were in such a position that there would be consequences. But why deal with hypothesis when you are confronted with facts?”
The simple sailor was no hand at an argument, and just at that moment there came the news of the loss of a Fattish fleet after an encounter with the Fatters, with an account of the heroic death of the Commander, Rear-Admiral Sir Charles Bich.
Unfortunately the island was not yet in a position to transmit messages and the unhappy Bich had to rest inactive, crushed with the burden of the news of his own death and his inability to contradict it.
“You see,” said Ultimus, “you have died for your country, you are a hero, and you do not like it at all.”