“I am provided with a pair, that are charged for any service,” returned Manual, drawing a pistol from his own belt, and stepping backward a few paces.
“You are destined for America, I know,” said Borroughcliffe, who stood his ground with consummate coolness; “but it would be more convenient for me, sir, if you could delay your march for a single moment.”
“Fire and defend yourself!” exclaimed Manual, furiously, retracing his steps towards his enemy.
The sounds of the two pistols were blended in one report, and the soldiers of Borroughcliffe and the marines all rushed to the place on the sudden alarm. Had the former been provided with arms, it is probable that a bloody fray would have been the consequence of the sight that both parties be held on arriving at the spot, which they did simultaneously. Manual lay on his back, without any signs of life, and Borroughcliffe had changed his cool, haughty, upright attitude for a recumbent posture, which was somewhat between lying and sitting.
“Is the poor fellow actually expended?” said the Englishman, in something like the tones of regret; “well, he had a soldier's mettle in him, and was nearly as great a fool as myself!”
The marines had, luckily for the soldiers and their captain, by this time discovered the signs of life in their own commander, who had been only slightly stunned by the bullet, which had grazed his crown, and who, being assisted on his feet, stood a minute or two rubbing his head, as if awaking from a dream. As Manual came gradually to his senses, he recollected the business in which he had just been engaged, and, in his turn, inquired after the fate of his antagonist.
“I am here, my worthy incognito,” cried the other, with the voice of perfect good nature; “lying in the lap of mother earth, and all the better for opening a vein or two in my right leg;—though I do think that the same effect might have been produced without treating the bone so roughly!—But I opine that I saw you also reclining on the bosom of our common ancestor.”
“I was down for a few minutes, I do believe,” returned Manual; “there is the path of a bullet across my scalp.”
“Humph! on the head!” said Borroughcliffe, dryly; “the hurt is not likely to be mortal, I see.—Well, I shall offer to raffle with the first poor devil I can find that has but one good leg, for who shall have both; and that will just set up a beggar and a gentleman!—Manual, give me your hand; we have drunk together, and we have fought; surely there is nothing now to prevent our being sworn friends.”
“Why,” returned Manual, continuing to rub his head, “I see no irremovable objections—but you will want a surgeon? Can I order anything to be done? There go the signals again to embark—march the fellows down at quick time, sergeant; my own man may remain with me, or, I can do altogether without assistance.”