“It was very evident that Brown had no notion of handling his pistol.
“‘I’ll just wing him to teach the spalpeen better manners,’ whispered O’Rourke to his second. ‘He’s unworthy game for my weapon.’
“The word was given to fire. Brown’s bullet flew up among some trees away to the right, not a little frightening the young in a nest of birds, who popped out their heads to see what was the matter. It was now our friend’s turn.
He smiled as he sent his ball through Brown’s trousers, cruelly grazing his leg, whereon he began to skip about in the most comical way possible with the pain.
“‘By —, you’ve made that fellow cut capers at all events,’ observed O’Rourke’s second.
“‘Cut capers, did ye say?’ exclaimed O’Rourke. ‘Them’s the very things I saw growing on the wall, and not anchovies at all, at all.’ And rushing up to poor Brown, who had fallen on the ground, he took his hand, greatly to the surprise of the wounded man, crying out,—‘It’s myself made the trifle of a mistake, my dear fellow, it’s capers, it’s capers, grows on walls, so get up and don’t think anything more about the matter.’
“Poor Brown went limping about for many a day afterwards, and didn’t seem to consider the matter half as good a joke as the rest of us.”
O’Grady’s stories amused the party, though Croxton very properly remarked that duelling was a wicked heathen custom, and that he wondered people who called themselves Christians could ever indulge in it. Other stories were told, but their interest flagged, for people are not generally in a talkative mood with the thermometer above a hundred, and with a small supply of water. Alphonse, however, from time to time kept his fiddlestick going, both to his own satisfaction, and that of his hearers. Still he, on account of the heat, was often compelled to put it down, and to declare that he could play no longer.
Great and unusual, however, as was the heat, it did not appear to cause any apprehension of danger in the mind of Devereux. The night came on, and though the air even then was hot, the weary crew were refreshed by sleep. The sun rose, and the air was hotter than ever, notwithstanding a dense mist, which gradually filled the atmosphere, while soon a lurid glare spread over it. Croxton, as he watched the change, looked even graver than before. “You’ve not been in these seas before, Mr Devereux, sir?” he observed.
“No; and if the weather is always as broiling as it is at present, I don’t wish to come to them again in a hurry,” answered Devereux. “But one thing is fortunate—they are calm enough to please any old ladies who might venture on them.”