Fernando smiled while he kept his eye on the lieutenant.  That smile and that eternal stare disconcerted the English officer, and he turned a little pale.  There was something about the imperturbable youth which made him dread the meeting.  Fernando was strangely, unnaturally calm.  Ten minutes more, and he might be in eternity.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BELLE OF THE BEACH.

No experienced duelist ever entered into the business with more earnestness or zeal than Terrence Malone.  He and the lieutenant’s second were some distance away settling points of position, he saw three or four men in the uniform of British officers coming around the bluff, among them the ship’s surgeon with a case of instruments and medicines in his hand.  Captain Conkerall, though the real injured party, was not on the scene.  His lieutenant readily took up his quarrel, on account of his jealousy of Fernando who had completely usurped his place as the favorite of Miss Morgianna Lane.

Arrangements were made at last, and Terrence came to his friend, took his arm and walked him forward.

“Fernando, me boy, we’ve loaded the pistols.  He loaded this and I the one for the lieutenant, I put in a thumpin’ heavy charge, so he’ll overshoot, I am to give the word; but don’t look at me at all.  I’ll manage to catch the lieutenant’s eye, and do ye watch him steadily, aim at his middle and fire when he does, and all will be right.”

They were all the while moving to the place selected for the duel.

“I think the ground we are leaving behind us is rather better,” said someone.  “So it is,” answered the lieutenant with a sneer; “but it might be troublesome to carry the young gentleman down that way; here all is fair and easy.”

In a few moments they were at the spot; the ground was measured off, and each man was placed, and Fernando thought there was no chance for either escaping.

“Now thin,” said Terrence.  “I’ll walk twelve paces, count ’one, two, three, fire!’ and you are both to fire at the word ‘fire.’  The man who reserves his shot or shoots a second before falls by my hand!”

This stern injunction seemed actually to awe the Britons, and Fernando fancied that he saw the lieutenant trembling.  It was only fancy however.  The lieutenant was really calm.  Notwithstanding the advice of Terrence, Fernando could not help turning his eyes from the lieutenant to watch the figure of his retiring friend.  At last he stopped—­a second or two elapsed—­he wheeled rapidly around.  Fernando now turned his eyes toward his antagonist.

Lieutenant Matson was a slender man, and when he turned his right side toward Fernando, he was not much thicker than a rail.

“One—­two—­three—­fire!”

Fernando watched his opponent, and, at the word, raised his pistol and fired.  His hat flew from his head, the crown torn completely out, while his antagonist leaped into the air, clapped his hand to the seat of his trousers and fell howling upon the ground.  The people around Fernando all rushed forward, save Sukey, who came to his friend and, seeing that he was unhurt, began a mild reproof: