“You lubberly lout, you ain’t a seaman; a seaman would never mutiny against his admiral; howsomever, do you hear, Sir Francis, I’ll give the matter up, if you don’t pay some attention to me.” Henry looked steadily at Varney, expecting every moment to feel his bullet. Mr. Marchdale hastily exclaimed that this was not according to usage. Sir Francis Varney took no notice, but went on elevating his weapon; when it was perpendicular to the earth he fired in the air. [Illustration: The duel between Varney and Henry Bannerworth.] “I had not anticipated this,” said Marchdale, as he walked to Henry. “I thought he was taking a more deadly aim.” “And I,” said Henry. “Ay, you have escaped, Henry; let me congratulate you.” “Not so fast; we may fire again.” “I can afford to do that,” he said, with a smile. “You should have fired, sir, according to custom,” said the admiral; “this is not the proper thing.” “What, fire at your friend?” “Oh, that’s all very well! You are my friend for a time, vampyre as you are, and I intend you shall fire.” “If Mr. Henry Bannerworth demands another fire, I have no objection to it, and will fire at him; but as it is I shall not do so, indeed, it would be quite useless for him to do so—to point mortal weapons at me is mere child’s play, they will not hurt me.” “The devil they won’t,” said the admiral. “Why, look you here,” said Sir Francis Varney, stepping forward and placing his hand to his neckerchief; “look you here; if Mr. Henry Bannerworth should demand another fire, he may do so with the same bullet.” “The same bullet!” said Marchdale, stepping forward—“the same bullet! How is this?” “My eyes,” said Jack; “who’d a thought it; there’s a go! Wouldn’t he do for a dummy—to lead a forlorn hope, or to put among the boarders?” “Here,” said Sir Francis, handing a bullet to Henry Bannerworth—“here is the bullet you shot at me.” Henry looked at it—it was blackened by powder; and then Marchdale seized it and tried it in the pistol, but found the bullet fitted Henry’s weapon. “By heavens, it is so!” he exclaimed, stepping back and looking at Varney from top to toe in horror and amazement. “D——e,” said the admiral, “if I understand this. Why Jack Pringle, you dog, here’s a strange fish.” “On, no! there’s plenty on ’um in some countries.” “Will you insist upon another fire, or may I consider you satisfied?” “I shall object,” said Marchdale. “Henry, this affair must go no further; it would be madness—worse than madness, to fight upon such terms.” “So say I,” said the admiral. “I will not have anything to do with you, Sir Francis. I’ll not be your second any longer. I didn’t bargain for such a game as this. You might as well fight with the man in brass armour, at the Lord Mayor’s show, or the champion at a coronation.” “Oh!” said Jack Pringle; “a man may as well fire at the back of a halligator as a wamphigher.” “This must be considered as having been concluded,” said Mr. Marchdale. “No!” said Henry.