The Captain, who hated coming out with his beliefs, shrugged his shoulders, sipped his wine, and tried to turn the subject. But, seeing that they were all bent on drawing him out, he was not the man to run from his guns; and so he said quietly:
“No more I do.”
Notwithstanding the reverence in which he was held, this saying could not be allowed to pass, and a dozen voices were instantly raised, and a dozen authentic stories told to confute him. He listened patiently, and then, seeing he was in for it, said:
“Never mind fighting. Try something else; cricket, for instance. The players generally beat the gentlemen, don't they?”
“Yes; but they are professionals.”
“Well, and we don't often get a university crew which can beat the watermen?”
“Professionals again.”
“I believe the markers are the best tennis-players, ain't they?” persevered the Captain; “and I generally find keepers and huntsmen shooting and riding better than their master's, don't you?”
“But that's not fair. All the cases you put are those of men who have nothing else to do, who live by the things gentlemen only take up for pleasure.”
“I only say that the cads, as you call them, manage, somehow or another, to do them best,” said the Captain.