"A call to us to heave to," said Bulger, in answer to Desmond's inquiry.
"The unbelievin' critters thinks that Portuguee rag is all my eye."

But the Good Intent was by this time to windward of the vessels, and
Captain Barker, standing on the quarterdeck, paid no heed to the signal.
After a short interval another puff came from the deck of the grab, and a
round shot plunged into the sea a cable's length from the Good Intent's
bows, the grab at the same time hauling her wind and preparing to alter
her course in pursuit. This movement was at once copied by the other
three vessels, but being at least half a mile ahead of the grab that had
fired, they were a long distance astern when the chase--for chase it was
to be--began.

Captain Barker watched the grab with the eyes of a lynx. The Good Intent
had run out of range while the grab was being put about; but the captain
knew very well that the pursuer could sail much closer to the wind than
his own vessel, and that his only chance was to beat off the leading boat
before the others had time to come up.

It required very little at any time to put Captain Barker into a rage,
and his demeanor was watched now with different feelings by different
members of the crew. Diggle alone appeared unconcerned; he was smiling as
he lolled against the mast.

"They'll fire at me, will they?" growled the captain with a curse. "And
chase me, will they? By jimmy, they shall sink me before I surrender!"

"Degeneres animos timor arguit," quoted Diggle, smiling.

"Argue it? I'll be hanged if I argue it! They're not king's ships to take
it on 'emselves to stop me on the high seas! If the Company wants to
prevent me from honest trading in these waters let 'em go to law, and be
hanged to 'em! Talk of arguing! Lawyer's work. Humph!"

"You mistake, Barker. The Roman fellow whose words slipped out of my
mouth almost unawares said nothing of arguing. 'Fear is the mark of only
base minds': so it runs in English, captain; which is as much as to say
that Captain Ben Barker is not the man to haul down his colors in a
hurry."

"You're right there. Another shot! That's their argument: well, Ben
Barker can talk that way as well as another."

He called up the boatswain. Shortly afterwards the order was piped, "Up
all hammocks!" The men quickly stowed their bedding, secured it with
lashings, and carried it to the appointed places on the quarterdeck,
poop, or forecastle. Meanwhile the boatswain and his m