“Together, we have not lost enough blood to dye a lady’s handkerchief,” he said. “’Twas the knock on the head made you faint, sergeant mine.”
“Carlos Cassara to be knocked on the head with a club!” the sergeant groaned. “I shall go mad!”
“Another man would have had his skull crushed by the blow. How feel you now?”
“Excellent well, good pirate, except my neck be so stiff I cannot turn my head.”
“Hah! Dost want to look behind you to pick out a way to run?”
“Now, by all the saints——”
“’Twas but a jest, Carlos, my friend. You are able to fight again?”
“Let the dogs but attack and I’ll take my place beside you,” the sergeant boasted.
“You have seen no more ghosts?”
“’Twas no ghost! ’Twas Captain Fly-by-Night himself, may the imps of evil seize upon him! Laugh, and you like! I saw him, by the light of the firebrand, standing in the plaza, pistol in hand.”