“And you,” said Bunce, “are a set of stingless drones, whom we can smoke out of your defences at our pleasure, with half-a-dozen of hand-grenades.”
“Smoke a fool’s head!” said Halcro; “take my advice, and mind your own matters, or there will be those upon you will smoke you to purpose. Either begone, or tell me in two words what you want; for you are like to receive no welcome here save from a blunderbuss. We are men enough of ourselves; and here is young Mordaunt Mertoun come from Hoy, whom your Captain so nearly murdered.”
“Tush, man,” said Bunce, “he did but let out a little malapert blood.”
“We want no such phlebotomy here,” said Claud Halcro; “and, besides, your patient turns out to be nearer allied to us than either you or we thought of; so you may think how little welcome the Captain or any of his crew are like to be here.”
“Well; but what if I bring money for the stores sent on board?”
“Keep it till it is asked of you,” said Halcro. “There are two bad paymasters—he that pays too soon, and he that does not pay at all.”
“Well, then, let me at least give our thanks to the donor,” said Bunce.
“Keep them, too, till they are asked for,” answered the poet.
“So this is all the welcome I have of you for old acquaintance’ sake?” said Bunce.
“Why, what can I do for you, Master Altamont?” said Halcro, somewhat moved.—“If young Mordaunt had had his own will, he would have welcomed you with ‘the red Burgundy, Number a thousand.’ For God’s sake begone, else the stage direction will be, Enter guard, and seize Altamont.”