Then he beckoned to the officer to bring us forward.

When he saw who we were, he knitted his brows and demanded to know the cause of the uproar in the forecastle.
Whereupon Ludar, his face still streaming with blood, saluted and said: "Master Don, yonder is one of your lads," (pointing to the smarting Spaniard), "who has mistaken a guest of his Majesty your King for one of his own galley-slaves, and struck me.

I have chastised him, as he deserves, and thrown his whip overboard.

If that be a crime in your country, I pray you hang me at once; for I shall not promise not to do the same thing again to-morrow if he touches me.

As for my comrade here, he has done naught but help me defend myself from a score of your brave fellows who thought it not unworthy of their honour to set on us two." "That I so offended," broke in I, rather foolishly, "is the fault of my being an Englishman, not a Spaniard, Sir Don." Then the fellow whom Ludar had flogged suddenly found words and broke out in a torrent of rage with his accusations, which grew as he went on, and bade fair--had he but had breath to make an end of them--to picture us as very fiends.
'Twas a fine sight, by the glare of the swinging lanthorns, to see Don Alonzo stand there, calm and grave, with the admirable curl of his lips deepening as the fellow raved himself out.
When the story was done, he turned shortly on him and said something in Spanish, which sent the wretch slinking off with his tail between his legs--a pitiful object to behold, but for the scowl of hate he bestowed on Ludar and me in passing.
"As for you, Senor printer," said Don Alonzo, turning contemptuously to me, "you shall not make me believe all Englishmen are boors.