“Uncle, is this like you? This advice from you, to compromise my honour, after sending a man a challenge?” “D—n it all, Jack, I don’t know how to get out of it,” said the admiral. “I tell you what it is, Charles, he wants to fight with swords; and what on earth is the use of your engaging with a fellow who has been practising at his weapon for more than a hundred years?” “Well, uncle, if any one had told me that you would be terrified by this Sir Francis Varney into advising me not to fight, I should have had no hesitation whatever in saying such a thing was impossible.” “I terrified?” “Why, you advise me not to meet this man, even after I have challenged him.” “Jack,” said the admiral, “I can’t carry it on, you see. I never could go on with anything that was not as plain as an anchor, and quite straightforward. I must just tell all that has occurred.” “Ay, ay, sir. The best way.” “You think so, Jack?” “I know it is, sir, always axing pardon for having a opinion at all, excepting when it happens to be the same as yourn, sir.” “Hold your tongue, you libellous villain! Now, listen to me, Charles. I got up a scheme of my own.” Charles gave a groan, for he had a very tolerable appreciation of his uncle’s amount of skill in getting up a scheme of any kind or description. “Now here am I,” continued the admiral, “an old hulk, and not fit for use any more. What’s the use of me, I should like to know? Well, that’s settled. But you are young and hearty, and have a long life before you. Why should you throw away your life upon a lubberly vampyre?” “I begin to perceive now, uncle,” said Charles, reproachfully, “why you, with such apparent readiness, agreed to this duel taking place.” “Well, I intended to fight the fellow myself, that’s the long and short of it, boy.” “How could you treat me so?” “No nonsense, Charles. I tell you it was all in the family. I intended to fight him myself. What was the odds whether I slipped my cable with his assistance, or in the regular course a little after this? That’s the way to argufy the subject; so, as I tell you, I made up my mind to fight him myself.” Charles looked despairingly, but said,— “What was the result?” “Oh, the result! D—n me, I suppose that’s to come. The vagabond won’t fight like a Christian. He says he’s quite willing to fight anybody that calls him out, provided it’s all regular.” “Well—well.” “And he, being the party challenged—for he says he never himself challenges anybody, as he is quite tired of it—must have his choice of weapons.” “He is entitled to that; but it is generally understood now-a-days that pistols are the weapons in use among gentlemen for such purposes.” “Ah, but he won’t understand any such thing, I tell you. He will fight with swords.” “I suppose he is, then, an adept at the use of the sword?” “He says he is.”