"It's well enough for swingebuckler captains, Low Country
fire-eaters, to talk of holding out againt a Spanish man-of-war with
twice our number of fighting men, and enough ordnance to batter
the town out of existence. Wise men know when the odds are too
heavy!"
"It's well enough for lily-livered, goose-fleshed lawyers to hold
their tongues when men and soldiers talk," I retorted. "We are not
making indentures to the devil, and so have no need of such
gentry."
There was a roar of laughter from the captains and gunners, but
terror of the Spaniard had made Master Edward Sharpless bold to
all besides.
"They will wipe us off the face of the earth!" he lamented. "There
won't be an Englishman left in America! they'll come close in upon
us! they'll batter down the fort with their culverins; they'll turn all
their swivels, sakers, and falcons upon us; they'll throw into our
midst stinkpots and grenades; they'll mow us down with chain
shot! Their gunners never miss!" His voice rose to a scream, and
he shook as with an ague. "Are you mad? It's Spain that's to be
fought! Spain the rich! Spain the powerful! Spain the lord of the
New World!"
"It's England that fights!" I cried. "For very shame, hold thy
tongue!"
"If we surrender at once, they'll let us go!" he whined. "We can
take the small boats and get to the Bermudas.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86