I had walked some
distance along the beach, pelting the amphibious little creatures, half
crab, half lobster, called soldiers, which kept shouldering their large
claws, and running out and in their little burrows, as the small ripple
twinkled on the sand in the rising sun, when two men--of--wars boats,
each with three officers in the stern, suddenly pulled round a little
promontory that intercepted my view ahead. Being somewhat out of the line
of my duty, so far from my boat, I squatted amongst the brushwood,
thinking they would pass by; but, as the devil would have it, they pulled
directly for the place where I was ensconced, beached their boats, and
jumped on shore. "Here's a mess," thought I.
I soon made out that one of the officers was Captain Pinkem of the Flash,
and that the parties saluted each other with that stern courtesy which
augured no good.
"So, so, my masters, not enough of fighting on the coast of America, but
you must have a little private defacing of God's image amongst
yourselves?"
Pinkem spoke first. "Mr Clinch," (I now knew he addressed the first
lieutenant of the flagship)--"Mr Clinch, it is not too late to prevent
unpleasant consequences; I ask you again, at the eleventh hour, will you
make an apology?"
He seemed hurried and fidgety in his manner; which rather surprised me, as
I knew he was a seasoned hand in these matters, and it contrasted
unfavourably with the calm bearing of his antagonist, who by this time had
thrown his hat on the ground, and stood with one foot on the handkerchief
that marked his position, the distance, twelve paces, having already been
measured.
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