Don Pedro naturally lost his temper at this insult, and swore in Spanish, upon which Hervey responded with such volubility that anyone could see he was a pastmaster in Castilian swearing.

The row was considerable, especially as Random and Hope were laughing at the quarrel.

They thought that Hervey was the worse for drink, but Date--clever for once in his life--did not think so.

It appeared to him that the boat had gone to the end of the jetty for some reason connected with the same reason which induced the skipper to spin out the time of the meeting by indulging in an unnecessary quarrel.
The skipper also kept his eyes about him, and insisted that the four men should keep together at the head of the pier.
"I daresay you're trying to play low down on me," he said with a scowl, after satisfying himself that the money was correct, "but I've got my shooter." "So have I," cried Don Pedro indignantly, and slipped his hand round to his hip pocket, "and if you talk any further so insulting I shall--" "Oh, you bet, two can play at that game," cried Hervey, and ripped out his own weapon before the Spaniard could produce his Derringer.

"Hands up or I shoot." But he had reckoned without his host.