“Never tell me of your points of honour,” said Touchwood, raising his voice altogether above the general tone of polite conversation—“all humbug, Captain MacTurk—mere hair-traps to springe woodcocks—men of sense break through them.”
“Upon my word, sir,” said the Captain, “and myself is surprised to hear you—for, look you, sir, every man's honour is the breath of his nostrils—Cot tamn!”
“Then, let men breathe through their mouths, and be d—d,” returned the controversialist. “I tell you, sir, that, besides its being forbidden, both by law and gospel, it's an idiotical and totally absurd practice, that of duelling. An honest savage has more sense than to practise it—he takes his bow or his gun, as the thing may be, and shoots his enemy from behind a bush. And a very good way; for you see there can, in that case, be only one man's death between them.”
“Saul of my body, sir,” said the Captain, “gin ye promulgate sic doctrines amang the good company, it's my belief you will bring somebody to the gallows.”
“Thank ye, Captain, with all my heart; but I stir up no quarrels—I leave war to them that live by it. I only say, that, except our old, stupid ancestors in the north-west here, I know no country so silly as to harbour this custom of duelling. It is unknown in Africa, among the negroes—in America.”
“Don't tell me that,” said the Captain; “a Yankee will fight with muskets and buck-shot, rather than sit still with an affront. I should know Jonathan, I think.”
“Altogether unknown among the thousand tribes of India.”
“I'll be tamned, then!” said Captain MacTurk. “Was I not in Tippoo's prison at Bangalore? and, when the joyful day of our liberation came, did we not solemnize it with fourteen little affairs, whereof we had been laying the foundation in our house of captivity, as holy writ has it, and never went farther to settle them than the glacis of the fort? By my soul, you would have thought there was a smart skirmish, the firing was so close; and did not I, Captain MacTurk, fight three of them myself, without moving my foot from the place I set it on?”
“And pray, sir, what might be the result of this Christian mode of giving thanks for your deliverance?” demanded Mr. Touchwood.
“A small list of casualties, after all,” said the Captain; “one killed on the spot, one died of his wounds—two wounded severely—three ditto slightly, and little Duncan Macphail reported missing. We were out of practice, after such long confinement. So you see how we manage matters in India, my dear friend.”