“Ain’t there no way to get out of it, Fernando?” asked Sukey, his droll face comical even in distress.

“Not honorably.”

“Well, now that you’re in the game, just shoot that infernal Englishman’s head right off his shoulders, that’s my advice.  I’ve read lots about duels, and it all depends on who is quickest at the trigger.  Take good aim and don’t let him get a second the advantage of you.”

They went to bed early, and Fernando slept soundly.  It was Terrence who awoke them and said it would not do to be late.  He had engaged a sailor called Luff Williams to take them in his boat to the spot, a long sandy beach behind a high promontory some five or six miles from the city.  The spot was quite secluded, and Terrence declared it a love of a place for such little affairs.

“What are ye thinkin’ of, Fernando?” asked Terrence, when the boat with the three young men was under way.

“I’m thinking, sir, if I were to kill him, what I must do after.”

“Right, my boy; nothing like it; but 1811 will settle all for ye.  I don’t believe, now that America is on the verge of war with the British, that my one will make much of a row for killin’ the murdherin’ baste.  Are ye a good shot?”

“I am with a rifle; but I never could do anything to speak of with a pistol.”

“I don’t moind that.  Ye’ve a good eye; never take it off him after you’re on the ground; follow him everywhere.  I knew a fellow in Ireland who always shot his man that way.  Look without winkin’; it’s fatal at a short distance—­a very good thing to learn, when ye’ve a little spare time.”

As they came in sight of the beach where the duel was to be fought, they perceived, a few hundred yards off, a group of persons standing on the sands, whom they recognized as their opponents.

“Fernando,” said Terrence, grasping his arm firmly, as if to instill into him some of his own hope and confidence, “Fernando, although you’re only a boy, I’ve no fear of your courage; but this Lieutenant Matson is a famous duelist, and he will try to shake your nerve.  Now remember that ye take everything that happens quite with an air of indifference; don’t let him think he has iny advantage over ye, and you’ll see how the tables will be turned in your favor.”

“Trust me, Terrence, I’ll not disgrace you,” Stevens answered.

“You are twelve minutes late, Mr. Malone,” said the ensign, who acted as the lieutenant’s second; “but we shall all be able to get back to breakfast—­those that will care to eat.”

Not to be outdone, Terrence said: 

“All will be at supper; but your friend will be where he is eaten, rather than eats.”

“Don’t be too sure; the lieutenant has killed his sixth man in affairs like this.”

The remark was of course intended for Fernando’s ears.  Sukey heard it and said: 

“Fernando, that’s a lie; don’t you believe it.  Aim at his plaguy head, and you can hit it.  You used to snuff a candle that distance.”