“But to go against the King,” said Olivia. “And to cause all that bloodshed.”
“The King,” said Iles, with contempt. “I don’t see what you English fellies want with a king. What good is a king to you, anyway? I seen him once. I wouldn’t own to a man like the one I seen. King James, hey?”
At this moment, Captain Cammock entered, stuffing a handkerchief between his white stock and his neck, to arrest the blood dripping from the gash. Stukeley grinned, and watched him, waiting for the explosion. He did not know that Cammock had guessed Stukeley’s plan on hearing Mr. Iles’s shrill voice when Mrs. Inigo opened the cabin door, so that she might carry off the soup. He was angry with Stukeley; but he was far more angry with his little second mate. His first impulse had been to enter, and fling Mr. Iles through the stern-window. Then he thought that that was what Stukeley and Iles had planned between them, and expected. The possibility of the fiddle occurred to him. It was just possible that Olivia had asked for a tune, not knowing, how could she know, of the captain’s pride of place in old sea-custom. She was a fine, delicate lady. He wouldn’t demean himself before her, by noticing any silly little slight, devised by a crawler and a cur. He smiled into his shaving-glass, as he dabbed away the blood, thinking that his old days as a man of war had taught him a little prudence. He referred most of his daily problems, such as they were, to their equivalents on the larger stage of war. Once or twice, he thought, the Spaniards had tempted them, to make them attack, but only the “mad, swearing, flashy fellows” were caught in that way. It was better to go by the difficult road; it proved the easier in the end. He would settle with Mr. Iles later on.
He went to his place at the head of the table, and made some apology to Olivia.
“I’m sorry to be so late, Mrs. Stukeley.”
“Have you hurt yourself? I hope you’ve not cut yourself badly.”
“No. No. It just bleeds. I upset the alum I had, last week. Good evening, sir. Good evening, mister. Good evening, Mr. Perrin. May I give you a bit more beef, Mr. Iles? I won’t have any soup, thank you, stewardess. Bring me the bread-barge. Well, Mrs. Stukeley. We’ll soon see Virginia at this rate. Very soon. We might sight the cruiser at any time.”
“What is the cruiser?” Olivia asked.
“She’s a man-of-war, Mrs. Stukeley. She cruises up and down between the two Capes.”
“B’gee, Captain Cammock,” said Mr. Iles. “I should a thought you’d a known better’n to expect to see her for another week.”