"It ain't any good talkin'," said Jack, "and hevery one knows that give a Frenchman the chance of hargument he'll talk a government mule's 'ind leg off. 'Hout of this,' is the on'y hargument a Frenchman hunderstands."
"But they seems to be a good many more of 'em than us," suggested the crowd.
"Come to that," said Hart, "it's the on'y just ground we 'as to go for 'em. For if they was on'y ekal numbers, it'd be cowardly to whack 'em, and I for one would be on the side of just goin' down there and shovin' them out peaceful. I'm for the hultimatum right off. I wonder 'ow the Guffin will put it. Say, boys, 'ere 'e comes!"
The "old man" staggered up with a sheet of paper in his hand.
"Have you done it, sir?" asked Simcox. "Let's hear it."
"Yes, read it out," said Lampert, with half a sneer, which the skipper did not notice.
The crowd gathered round as the captain squatted on a rock.
"On board the British barque Potluck, belonging to the British port Liverpool; owners, McWattie & Co.; Captain Abednego Jones.
"MR. SIMCOX,—Sir——"
"Eh, what?" said the astounded Simcox.