Then he rushed below.
But there was nothing done about it. Flint simply nursed his wrath to keep it warm.
One day, some time after this, the ship grounded on a sand-bank. Luckily it was at low tide, so when the tide began to rise, all hands, even the officers, had orders from the commander to arm themselves each with a 56-lb. shot, and rush fore and aft, and aft and fore, in a body to help to swing the ship off.
But Grant stood quietly by the binnacle.
"Did you hear the order, sir?" roared the commander. "Get your shot and join the crew."
"Na, na, na," answered Grant, in his native Doric. "Man, I've gotten a laddie's back to see till, and a poultice to mak. Jist tak' a shot yoursel', man."
On this occasion the captain had to smile.
But the war culminated about a month after this, and on that occasion, it must be confessed, the doctor did lose his temper, and had the captain been able to get witnesses he could have tried the surgeon by court-martial, for Grant's conduct amounted almost to mutiny, albeit the provocation he received was very great.
You cannot insult a Scot more than by attempting to throw mud at his country.
Well, while anchored near a village the officers generally went on shore in mufti, and Grant was in the habit of wearing a Scotch Glengarry bonnet (called a cap by the English).