"It is enough to make a saint swear," replied the captain. "I feel inclined to register a vow to heaven never again to do a good turn to a living soul. What language the vixen used!"
"She called me a hypocrite! a Christian masquerader! I, who pride myself upon my righteousness. I, who have held my head so high, to be called a Christian masquerader!"
"Sir," said Dogvane with extreme respect, "if one so humble, may dare offer an opinion, I should say that pride is not a Christian virtue, and sooner or later it must have its fall."
"Yes, fellow! but I do not want the fall to come from thy hands. Is this what you call being respected abroad? Is this your pinnacle of greatness?"
"I am not to blame, my master. It is the other watch. What though the Egyptian gipsy raves; what though our cousin Germany and fickle France be cold, and Austria and Turkey aggrieved by some idle words, say if you like, of mine, you have with you, my master, the whole Calf of Man."
"Out upon thee for a blatant wind-bag!" cried the Buccaneer, now out of all patience with Dogvane. "Out of my sight," he exclaimed, "keep clear of me, or, by Heaven, you will have with you the whole toe of my broad boot." They took to their boat, and the Buccaneer ordered his men to bend their backs to their oars. Dogvane, who knew his master too well to trifle with him in his present mood, doubled himself up in the bows, and taking out of his pocket his Bible, he was soon lost in the Mosaic Cosmogony.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The captain of the watch thought it would never do for his master to arrive home in his present frame of mind, for if he did, there would be, as sailors say, "The devil to pay, and no pitch hot." The other watch, too, would be sure to take advantage of the cloudy state of the weather to stir up strife and discord, and no stone ought to be left unturned to prevent this; so old Dogvane thought. He fully believed with that clever, funny little fellow, the cook, that the other watch were a greedy lot of office grabbers. Their hunger, perhaps, might be in a measure accounted for by the small amount of food they received of that particular kind.
The bold Buccaneer paced the deck in moody silence, and ever and anon turned a look back to the land of ruin he had left behind him. The words of the gipsy were still ringing in his ears. Old Dogvane was at the wheel, and he anxiously watched the old rover's face. The Buccaneer when in anger was not unlike a thunder storm. He made almost as much noise, he was quite as destructive, and nearly as uncontrollable; but if left alone he in time worked himself out, and after the storm, came the proverbial calm.