The Guffin and the two mates argued it, and Lampert was the Opposition.
"W'y, wot's this you're sayin'?" asked the disgusted skipper; "did I think to 'ave shipped a Verning 'Arcourt among my lot? You're a Little Englander, and nothin' but it, Lampert."
"They was here first," said Lampert obstinately.
"But the hisland is British ground," urged Simcox, "and where our flag flies no Frenchman can have the best. We gives 'em liberty to trade, and they can take what's left. What for have we always beat 'em if we're to give in now?"
"Continuosity of foreign politics is my motter," said the skipper. "With continuosity and joodishus firmness, and a polite 'hout o' this,' you'll see 'em listen to reason, and evacuate. I shall send hin my hultimatum this very afternoon. And you, Simcox, shall be hambassador."
Simcox looked anxious.
"Well, captain, I was thinking it would be judicious policy to send in the Dutchman. It will remind them that Europe is more or less agin them, and to have a Dutchman here will make 'em think twice afore they elects for war."
The skipper shook his head.
"No, Simcox, it looks judicious on the surface, but takin' deeper thought it ain't. It would aggerawate them, and that ain't policy. We fights if we must, but don't start it by doin' anythin' unpleasin' more'n askin' for our rights. And in n'gotiashuns it ain't policy to remind 'em deliberate of the time the Prooshians beat 'em. And moreover it's accordin' to no tradition I've heard of to send a furriner as hambassador. No, Simcox, you shall go. I'll draw up the hultimatum at once."
He returned on board the wreck of the Potluck, and in company with a bottle of brandy strove with the situation, while the crowd and their spokesman, Hart, argued like a House of Commons.