"Hallo!—Captain Barton!"
Too much occupied by his own bitter thoughts, he did not hear the cry, but walked hurriedly on.
"Dost thou not hear us, rascal?" cried several voices.
Barton now turned to discover who was addressed.
"Ah," said Lord Hailes, who with Home and others issued into the street, "I thought he would know we meant him."
"Villain!" said Barton, unsheathing his sword, and trembling with a terrible joy; "what mean you by this?"
"By the black rood, my fine fellow, but your tone is high for a skipper of Leith!" said Home.
"It is the tone to which I am entitled."
"Ah, we shall prove that," said Borthwick, drawing his sword, while his eyes gleamed with cruelty and malice; and the rest, to the number of seven or eight, also unsheathed their weapons.
Barton did not wait for the attack but fell on bravely, dealing long and sweeping cuts with many a thrust between. One of the latter ripped up the sword-arm of Borthwick, and hurled him against the wall of a house; one of the former fell full upon the harnpan which Lord Hailes wore under his velvet bonnet, and rolled him ignominiously in the gutter; but the rest closed in, fighting in a circle, and notwithstanding his bravery, skill, and that strength of arm peculiar to all seamen, Barton would have been beaten down and slain without mercy had not the sudden arrival of old Sir Andrew Wood, Cuddie Clewline, the coxswain, and the whole barge's crew, armed with boatstretchers and poniards, given a sudden change to the aspect of the conflict. With a stentorian shout, such as only can come from the throats of those who are wont to out-bellow the wind and waves, they rushed into the fray, with cries of—