I'm as well-born as any man in the king's fleet," declared Dyck.

"I've as clean a record as any officer in his majesty's navy, save for the dark fact that I was put in prison for killing a man; and I will say here, in the secrecy of an admiral's cabin, that the man I killed--or was supposed to kill--was a traitor.

If I did kill him, he deserved death by whatever hand it came.

I care not what you do with me"-- his hands clenched, his shoulders drew up, his eyes blackened with the dark fire of his soul--"whether you put me on parole, or try me by court-martial, or hang me from the yard-arm.

I've done a piece of work of which I'm not ashamed.