"
"I am looking at it," said Cahusac.
"Pish! Ye're a white-livered cur when all is said."
"You call me a coward?"
"I'll take that liberty."
The Breton glared at him, breathing hard. But he had no mind to
ask satisfaction for the insult. He knew too well the kind of
satisfaction that Captain Blood was likely to afford him. He
remembered the fate of Levasseur. So he confined himself to words.
"It is too much! You go too far!" he complained bitterly.
"Look you, Cahusac: it's sick and tired I am of your perpetual
whining and complaining when things are not as smooth as a convent
dining-table. If ye wanted things smooth and easy, ye shouldn't
have taken to the sea, and ye should never ha' sailed with me, for
with me things are never smooth and easy. And that, I think, is
all I have to say to you this morning."
Cahusac flung away cursing, and went to take the feeling of his men.
Captain Blood went off to give his surgeon's skill to the wounded,
among whom he remained engaged until late afternoon. Then, at last,
he went ashore, his mind made up, and returned to the house of the
Governor, to indite a truculent but very scholarly letter in purest
Castilian to Don Miguel.
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