"Men, you see that fellow yonder that is following on after us, and know
what he wants. He sails rather better than we do, and I don't see how
we're going to get rid of him; and if we don't want to be plagued with
him any longer, why we must fight him, that's all. I don't suppose that
you will fight any the quicker or better for my making a speech to you,
but I want you should know which leg you stand upon. We are nothing but
a merchantman, and I don't suppose you are bound by the ship's articles
to fight unless you see fit, but whether we fight or not, our fate is
the same; if we are such d--d fools as to let that garlic-eating
scarecrow make a prize of us without firing a gun, we shall be sent to
the mines for life; but if we will only stand by each other, I'll be
bail that we give him something that he can't eat. Now if you are all
agreeable to that, say so, and give three cheers for the honor of the
Yankee flag, and we'll fix his flint for him before the cook's dinner is
ready."