"And you'll hang for piracy tomorrow morning," laughed the Major harshly. "Shelton, you have grown mad."
"Exactly," said my father gently. "Mad, Major. Mad enough to put my threat into effect in five minutes, if you do not leave this house; mad enough to scuttle every ship in this harbor; mad enough to set your warehouses in flames; mad enough even to find the company of you and your friends most damnably dull and wearisome; mad enough to wonder why I ever suffered you to remain so long beneath my roof; mad enough to believe you a pack of curs and cowards, and mad enough to treat you as such. Keep off, Tracy, you bloated fool!"
"By God!" Captain Tracy shouted, "We'll burn this house over your head.
In an hour we'll have you shot against the town hall."
"Perhaps," said my father, "and yet I doubt it. Pray remember that I keep my word. Your hats are in the hall, gentlemen. In three minutes now my ships weigh anchor. If you do not go, I cannot stop them."
Mr. Penfield had grown a trifle pale. "Captain Shelton," he demanded slowly, "are you entirely serious? I almost believe you are. Of course you understand the consequences?"
"Perfectly," said my father.
"Let us go, gentlemen," said Mr. Penfield. "You will hear from us later."
And he turned quickly towards the hall.
As he did so, my father drew back his right arm, and drove his fist into
Captain Tracy's upturned face. His blow was well directed, for the
captain staggered and fell. In almost the same motion he wheeled on Major
Proctor, who had started back, and was tugging at his sword.
"Later, perhaps, Major," he said, without even lifting his voice. "But today I am busy. Pray take him away. He was always indiscreet. And you," he added to Mr. Lane, "surely you know well enough not to try conclusions with me. Take him away. Your hats are in the hall. I shall show you the door myself. After you, gentlemen."
And he followed them, closing the door gently behind him.