“I dare say you will not—I dare say you will not, Mr. Tyrrel,” answered the Captain—“I am free to think that you know better what belongs to a gentleman.—And as to time—look you, my good sir, there are different sorts of people in this world, as there are different sorts of fire-arms. There are your hair-trigger'd rifles, that go off just at the right moment, and in the twinkling of an eye, and that, Mr. Tyrrel, is your true man of honour;—and there is a sort of person that takes a thing up too soon, and sometimes backs out of it, like your rubbishy Birmingham pieces, that will at one time go off at half-cock, and at another time burn priming without going off at all;—then again pieces that hang fire—or I should rather say, that are like the matchlocks which the black fellows use in the East Indies—there must be some blowing of the match, and so forth, which occasions delay, but the piece carries true enough after all.”
“And your friend Sir Bingo's valour is of this last kind, Captain—I presume that is the inference. I should have thought it more like a boy's cannon, which is fired by means of a train, and is but a pop-gun after all.”
“I cannot allow of such comparisons, sir,” said the Captain; “you will understand that I come here as Sir Bingo's friend, and a reflection on him will be an affront to me.”
“I disclaim all intended offence to you, Captain—I have no wish to extend the number of my adversaries, or to add to them the name of a gallant officer like yourself,” replied Tyrrel.
“You are too obliging, sir,” said the Captain, drawing himself up with dignity. “By Cot! and that was said very handsomely!—Well, sir, and shall I not have the pleasure of carrying back any explanation from you to Sir Bingo?—I assure you it would give me pleasure to make this matter handsomely up.”
“To Sir Bingo, Captain MacTurk, I have no apology to offer—I think I treated him more gently than his impertinence deserved.”
“Och, Och!” sighed the Captain, with a strong Highland intonation; “then there is no more to be said, but just to settle time and place; for pistols I suppose must be the weapons.”
“All these matters are quite the same to me,” said Tyrrel; “only, in respect of time, I should wish it to be as speedy as possible.—What say you to one, afternoon, this very day?—You may name the place.”
“At one, afternoon,” replied the Captain deliberately, “Sir Bingo will attend you—the place may be the Buck-stane; for as the whole company go to the water-side to-day to eat a kettle of fish,[18] there will be no risk of interruption.—And who shall I speak to, my good friend, on your side of the quarrel?”
“Really, Captain,” replied Tyrrel, “that is a puzzling question—I have no friend here—I suppose you could hardly act for both?”