“We want none of your lessons,” cried Kirke; “you have listened to sermons so long that you have caught the trick of preaching yourself.”
“My sermon is not yet finished, General Kirke,” continued Gervase, disregarding the hint the friendly sailor gave him, and determined to unburden his mind once and for all. “You have lain here and done nothing for us. The king, I am told, hath sent you an urgent message that the relief should be undertaken without delay. To-day you may carry out his commands; to-morrow you may return to England and tell him your cowardice hath lost him a kingdom. The lives of the starving souls yonder will be on your head. These are bitter words, but I speak them out of a full heart, and if you will not listen to me now, His Majesty will hear me presently, for as God is my witness, I will carry my story to the foot of the throne.”
“You will carry it into the Lough with a shot at your feet,” cried Kirke, purple with passion.
“You dare do nothing of the sort, sir, here in the sight of these gentlemen and in the full sight of the people of England, who will soon know the whole matter. I am the ambassador of the governor who holds the city for His Majesty, and it is by his authority that I speak the words that I have used. I am a gentleman like yourself holding His Majesty´s commission, and owing you neither respect nor authority.”
Kirke leaped to his feet, his face swollen red, and his eyes blazing with a fierce passion that over-mastered his speech. He caught up the scabbard of the sword that lay beside him and attempted to draw the blade. Then Leake, who was sitting near Gervase, caught the outspoken envoy by the shoulders, and while Kirke still stood swearing incoherently, hurried him out of the gun-room. When they reached the deck he clapped him on the back with his broad palm, and cried with enthusiasm, “I like your spirit, my lad; that was the way to stand by your guns and rake him fore and aft. But it was ticklish work, let me tell you, to tackle him that way. He has got the wolf´s tusk in his mouth (he learnt that in Tangier) and likes to see a pair of heels dancing in the air. But you´ve done the trick, I think, this time, and the old _Dartmouth_ will have a chance of trying her ribs against the iron yonder. Now, clear your mind a bit and just tell me your story like a sensible lad, for you´ve got some common sense, and let me see if I can´t make some use of your knowledge after all.”