“That is all right, Pereira,” said Xavier, a huge Portuguese with a dash of negro blood and a villainous countenance, the same man whom they had followed through the gate. “I sent a note to the Senor. I told you of it.”
“Then I wish you had left it alone,” snarled Pereira for an answer. “I don’t like your friend’s looks. He might be the captain of an English man-of-war rigged up in our dress.”
At the words “English man-of-war” a murmur of fear and anger went through the assembly. Some of those present had experience of these hated vessels and their bigoted crews, who loved not this honest commerce, and to all they were names of ill-omen. Things looked serious, and Leonard saw that he must do something, and quickly. So he lost his temper, or pretended to do so.
“Curse you all for a pack of suspicious curs!” he said; “I tell you that my dhow lies yonder. I am half an Englishman and half a Creole, and as good a man as any of you. Now look here, Dom Pereira, if you, or any of your crew, dare to doubt my word, just step out, and I will ram this down your lying throat;” and placing his hand on the hilt of his sabre, he took a pace forward and scowled.
The effect was instantaneous. Pereira turned a little pale beneath his yellow skin, for like most cruel men he was a great coward.
“Put up your pig-sticker,” he said; “I see you are one of the right sort. I only wanted to try you. As you know, we must be careful in our business. Come and shake hands, brother, and be welcome. I trust you now, and old Antonio never does things by halves.”
“Perhaps you had better try him a little further,” said a young man who was standing near Pereira, as Leonard prepared to accept the invitation; “send for a slave and let us have the old test—there is none better.”
Pereira hesitated and Leonard’s blood turned cold.
“Look here, young man,” he said more furiously than before, “I have cut the throats of more men than you have whipped, but if you want a test, I will give you one. Come down, my young cockerel, come down; there is plenty of light for comb-snipping.”
The man turned white with rage, but stood a moment contemplating Leonard’s athletic form and keen eyes. Apparently he found that in them which gave him pause, for instead of springing at him, he burst into a volume of threats and filthy abuse.