Seeing that a boat was advertised to sail from Dover to Calais on the 11th of August, Lieutenant Embleton and Stephen went over there on the evening before; going on board at seven in the morning, they arrived at Calais at mid-day.  Mr. Hewson had obtained passports for them, and they went on next morning by diligence to Boulogne.  Stephen’s chest was at once taken on board the Rose.  Making inquiries at the mairie they learned that Lord Cochrane had arrived with his family on the previous day from England, and had put up at the Cheval Blanc Hotel.  They therefore went there and engaged rooms, and then called upon Lord Cochrane.

“You have arrived in good time, Embleton,” he said as they entered.  “When did you come?”

“Two hours ago we got in from Calais, and I have just been on board the Rose and left my lad’s traps there; then I found out at the mairie that you had arrived and had put up here, and we have also taken up our quarters in the house.”

“We laugh at these French official regulations,” Lord Cochrane said, “but they have their advantages.  If this had been an English town you might have spent half the day in looking for me.  I have not been on board the Rose yet; in fact, she only arrived here last night, and as the cabins have been engaged for some time there was no occasion to hurry about it.  In fact, this morning I have been engaged in laying in a good stock of wine, not for the voyage but for use in Chili.  Of course one gets it here a good deal cheaper than in England, as one saves the duty; and besides, I might have had some trouble with the custom-house here if it had been sent over.  I don’t suppose they would admit their own wine and brandy without charging some duty upon it.  Are you ready to enter upon your duties, Mr. Embleton?”

“Quite ready, my lord.”

“Well, I have nothing for you to do, and as far as I am concerned your duties will be a sinecure until the day we arrive in Chili.  Katherine, you must take this young gentleman in hand.”

Lady Cochrane smiled.  “I am new to command, Mr. Embleton.  Lord Cochrane has not been to sea since our marriage six years ago, and consequently I am altogether in ignorance of the powers of an admiral’s wife.  Are you fond of children?”

“I don’t know anything about them, Lady Cochrane; I have never had any little brothers and sisters.  Of course some of my school-fellows had them, and it always seemed to me that they were jolly little things when they were in a good temper.”

“But not at other times, Mr. Embleton?”

“Well, no,” he said honestly, “they did not seem particularly nice when they got in a passion.”

“My children don’t get into passions,” Lady Cochrane said with a laugh, “at least very very seldom.”

“Don’t praise them up too much, Katherine,” her husband said.  “Children are naturally plagues; and though unfortunately I have been so busy a man that I have not had time to do more than make their casual acquaintance, I don’t expect that they differ much from others; and besides, even I fly into passions occasionally-”

“Occasionally?”

“Well, pretty often, if you like-I certainly shall not be surprised if I find that they take after me.”

The next two days were spent by Mr. Embleton and Stephen in exploring Boulogne.

“I have often looked at the place from the sea,” the lieutenant said, “as we were cruising backwards and forwards, keeping a bright look-out to see that Bonaparte’s boat flotilla did not put to sea, but I did not expect that I should some day be walking quietly about the streets.”

“Lady Cochrane seems very nice, father,” Stephen said presently, as they strolled along the wharves watching the French fishing-boats come in.

“She is very nice; and so she ought to be, for she has cost Lord Cochrane a fortune.  She was a Miss Barnes, and was an orphan of a family of good standing in the Midlands; she was under the guardianship of her cousin, who was high sheriff of Kent when Cochrane first met her.  He fell in love with her and was accepted; he was at that time living with his uncle, the Hon. Basil Cochrane, who had realized a large fortune in the East Indies, and was anxious that Cochrane should marry the only daughter of an official of the admiralty court.  Even had he not been attached to Miss Barnes the proposal was one that was signally distasteful to Cochrane.  He had been engaged in exposing the serious malpractices by which the officials of the admiralty court amassed great fortunes at the expense of the seamen, and for him to have benefited by these very malpractices would have seemed a contradiction of all his principles.  His uncle in vain pointed out to him that the fortune he himself would leave him, and that which he would obtain by the marriage, would suffice to reinstate the Earls of Dundonald in their former position as large landowners.

“Cochrane’s determination was unshaken and he married Miss Barnes, so his uncle cut him out from his will entirely and broke off all acquaintance with him.  I am sure, however, he has never for a moment regretted his choice.  I believe that she makes him as perfectly happy as it is possible for a man of his restless disposition to be.”

On the 15th of August, 1818, the Rose sailed from Boulogne, and Lieutenant Embleton, who had remained on board with his son until she got under way, returned to England.

“Do you know anything about this Chilian business?” Lord Cochrane asked Stephen as they walked up and down the deck together on the following morning.

“My father told me a little about it, sir, but he said that he had not paid much attention to the matter until he received your kind offer to take me.”

“Well, lad, it is well you should know something about the rights and wrongs of the struggle in which you are going to take part.  You know that the Spaniards obtained their possessions in South America partly by right of discovery, and partly by the papal bull that settled the matter.  The Portuguese were given the east coast, while to Spain were handed, besides the islands, the vast territories of Mexico and Central America and the whole of the western portion of South America.  In extent it considerably surpassed that of Europe, and its natural wealth, had it been properly administered, would have been fabulous.  The Spaniards, however, thought but of two things:  one was to force the natives to embrace their religion, the other to wring all they possessed from them.  The first caused the death of great numbers of the Indians; the second brought about the virtual enslavement of the whole of the native races.

“The tyranny practised by the Spaniards upon these poor people was inconceivable.  Tens of thousands, I may say hundreds of thousands, perished from the labour exacted from them in the mines, and the whole people were kept in a state of poverty that the Spanish officials might be enriched, and that the annual amount of gold and silver sent to Spain might be obtained.  No doubt it was the successful revolt of the North American colonies against us that first inspired these down-trodden people with the hope of shaking off the intolerable yoke under which they suffered.  The first leader they found was Francesco Miranda, a Creole of Venezuela, that is to say, he belonged to a Spanish family long settled there.  He came over to Europe in 1790, and two years later took part in the French Revolution.  Hearing that revolutionary movements had taken place in Mexico and New Granada against Spain he obtained a promise of assistance from Pitt, who naturally embraced the opportunity of crippling Spain, which was hostile to us, and in 1794 went out and threw himself into the struggle, which continued with but doubtful success for some years.

“In 1806 Miranda obtained some valuable aid from my uncle, Sir Alexander Cochrane, who was then in command of the West Indian station, and things looked much brighter for the cause of independence.  But unfortunately a few months later Pitt died, the Whigs came into power, and as usual a feeble policy succeeded a strong one, and all aid was withdrawn from Miranda.  The result was that, for a time, the Spaniards were able to crush the insurgents.  In 1810 Miranda again organized a revolt in Venezuela; but he was unable to cope with the power of Spain, and two years later he was taken a prisoner and sent to Madrid, where he died in prison.  However, his work had not been without result, for the same year that he commenced his unfortunate venture in Venezuela a revolt broke out in Mexico headed by a priest named Miguel Hidalgo.  This was conducted in a barbarous fashion and was speedily crushed.  Two leaders of a better type, Morelos and Rayon, still continued to carry on the war, but their forces were defeated in 1815, and though I believe there has been occasional fighting since then, matters have been comparatively quiet.

“In South America things went better.  In 1809 a revolt broke out at Quito; it was headed by a man named Narenno.  His force, however, was never strong enough to seriously menace the power of Spain.  However, for five years he maintained a guerrilla warfare, fighting with desperate bravery until he was captured and sent to Spain, where I believe he also died in prison.  So far a great deal of blood had been shed, great destruction of property effected, and Spain had been put to a vast expense, but the situation was practically unaltered.  A change was, however, at hand.  Bolivar, a native of Caracas, had been brought up in Europe, but, stirred by the news of the struggle that his countrymen were maintaining, he went out in 1810 to join Miranda in Venezuela.  When the latter was defeated and taken prisoner Bolivar crossed into New Granada, where an insurrection had broken out, and his knowledge of European methods of warfare and discipline soon placed him at the head of the movement there, and two years after his arrival he was appointed Captain-general of New Granada and Venezuela.

“The title was an empty one, and in a very short time he was defeated and forced to fly from the country by a formidable Spanish army, which was sent out in 1815 to crush the rebellion.  Bolivar fled to Jamaica, where he remained but a few months.  He organized a considerable force in Trinidad in 1816, and landed again on the mainland.  The cruelties perpetrated by the conquering Spaniards upon the population, had stirred up so intense a feeling of hatred against them that Bolivar was speedily joined by great numbers of men.  He gained success after success, swept the northern provinces clear of the Spaniards, founded the republic of Colombia, of which he was elected president, drove the tyrants out of New Granada, and marching south freed the province of La Plata from the Spanish yoke.  While these events had been taking place in the northern and western provinces the national movement had extended to Chili.  Here in 1810 the people rose, deposed the Spanish Captain-general Carrasco, and set up a native government, of which the Count De La Conquista was at the head.

“The movement here was not so much against Spain, whose sovereignty was still recognized, as against the Spanish governor, and to obtain a series of reforms that would mitigate the tyranny that had been exercised.  Naturally, however, these reforms were obnoxious in the extreme to the Spanish authorities, and in 1811 the Spanish troops attempted to overthrow the new government.  They were, however, unsuccessful; the revolution triumphed, and the rule of Spain was formally thrown off, and Chili declared an independent state.  This was a good beginning, but troubles set in almost directly.  Three brothers, of the family of Carrera, set to work to turn the popular movement to their own benefit, and by their intrigues overthrew the National Congress, and established a new government with the elder of them as its head.  So much dissatisfaction was caused by the corruption and misgovernment of the Carreras, that the Spaniards endeavoured to reconquer Chili.

“When the danger was imminent a new actor came to the front.  General O’Higgins, a man of Irish descent, whose father had been a Spanish viceroy of Peru, was put at the head of affairs in November, 1813, and the Spaniards, who had won their way to the capital, were forced by his good generalship to retire again.  The intrigues of the Carreras, however, still divided the forces of Chili, and the Spaniards again advanced from Peru.  O’Higgins, seeing the danger, effected a junction with the forces of the Carreras, and offered to give them his support, and to resign his position in their favour, if they would co-operate with him.  The Carreras, however, held aloof with their bands from the battle, and left O’Higgins and his little body of 900 men to oppose 4000 Spanish troops.  The natural result was the defeat of the Chilians.  On the 1st of October O’Higgins, with his little party, were attacked at Rancagua by the Spaniards, and for thirty-six hours resisted their continuous attacks.  The Carreras’ force was but a short distance away, and both sides expected them to attack the Spaniards in rear.  They preferred, however, that their rival, as they regarded him, should be destroyed, and held aloof.

“At last O’Higgins, with but 200 men-all that now survived of his force-was driven into the great square of the town, and surrounded on all sides.  He still resisted, however, until half his force had fallen, and then, although seriously wounded, he placed himself at the head of the survivors, cut his way through the enemy, and effected his retreat.  The extraordinary valour displayed by the Chilians in this battle stirred our English blood, and we felt that here was a people who had not, like the rest of the South American races, become absolutely demoralized by centuries of misgovernment by the Spaniards.  At the time, however, their cause seemed lost.  The Carreras submitted without trying to strike another blow, and O’Higgins, with the handful of survivors from Rancagua, and some hundreds of fugitives, crossed the Andes into La Plata, where they remained for two and a half years in exile.  General San Martin, who fought under Bolivar, and had taken the leading part in aiding La Plata to obtain its freedom, felt himself strong enough at the beginning of 1817 to aid O’Higgins to recover Chili from the Spaniards, who had been carrying out wholesale confiscations and persécutions among all who had taken any part in the revolution.

“In February they crossed the Andes with 5000 men, fell upon the main Spanish army, of about the same strength, which was encamped on the heights of Chacabuco, a position from which they overawed all the large towns.  Having the advantage of surprise, they completely defeated the Spaniards, and in a very short time drove them altogether out of Chili.  The republic was again established, and the presidency offered to San Martin.  He declined the honour, however, and it was then conferred upon O’Higgins.  He and his council saw that it was impossible to hope for permanent peace so long as the Spaniards were able to gather armies in Peru, and pour them down into Chili whenever they chose, so he lost no time in sending Don Jose Alvarez over here to endeavour to raise money in the name of the republic to build war-ships, and enlist public sympathy on their behalf.

“Among other things he was commissioned to offer me the command of the Chilian fleet as soon as one should be created; and as my sympathies were very strongly with the brave people who were struggling against tyranny, I at once accepted, but have been detained in England upwards of a year trying to get the war-steamer that we have been building completed.  At last the Chilians have concluded that as they cannot get the steamer they may as well get me, and so you see I am on my way out.”

“Thank you, sir,” Stephen said; “I shall feel a great interest now in the cause of the Chilians.  My father told me they were fighting against the Spaniards, but I did not interest myself much in the matter, and thought much more of the honour of serving under you than of the Chilian cause.  Now that I know that they are really a brave people, struggling to maintain their freedom, I shall feel proud of fighting in so good a cause.”

“How old are you, Mr. Embleton?”

“I was sixteen some months ago, sir.”

The admiral nodded:  “A very useful age for work; you are old enough to hold your own in a fight, not old enough to begin to think that you know all about everything.  Now, tell me all about that affair of yours when you lost your ship.  Tell me everything you can think of, just as it happened.  Don’t exaggerate your own share in it, but, on the other hand, let me know what you did and what you said.  You see I know very little about you as yet; but if you will tell me all the details of the business I shall be able to form some idea as to how far I shall be able to entrust the carrying out of my orders to you, and to confide in your ability to discharge any special missions on which I may employ you.  You see, Mr. Embleton, the conduct of the Chilians in that matter of the Carreras shows that, however bravely they may fight, as yet they have not much idea of subordination.  They know nothing of sea-service, and the chances are that interest and family will go further in obtaining the appointment of officers to ships than any question of abilities; and it will be very useful for me to have some one I can trust-even if only a junior officer-to see that my orders are carried out when I cannot be present myself; therefore, I want to gather from your story exactly how you would be likely to behave under difficult circumstances.  We will sit down in these two deck-chairs; and you shall tell me the story exactly as you would tell it to your father.  Remember that I am in no hurry.  This voyage is going to last a good many weeks.  The more you tell the story in detail the better I shall be pleased.”

So closely did the admiral question Stephen as to every detail that it took many hours to tell the story.  Even when he mentioned about the idea that by putting some water in his watch-glass he could, when the sun was overhead, use it as a burning-glass, the admiral stopped him to inquire about the watch.

“Is it the one you are carrying now?”

“Yes.”

“Then let me look at it.  Handsome watch, youngster; did your father give it to you?” And then Stephen had to break off from his story, and to tell exactly how it came into his possession-the whole history of his trading, and its result.  The story was not brought to a conclusion until the following afternoon.

“Very good, Mr. Embleton,” Lord Cochrane said; “now I know a great deal more about you than I did before, and feel that I can employ you without hesitation in matters in which brain as well as courage is required.  If I had heard your story before I would have taken out that sailor as my coxswain.  Between you, you showed a great deal of resource, and, as far as I can see, the credit of the matter may be divided between you.  Your getting your fellow-midshipman out of the hands of the Malays was well managed.  You took every precaution possible to throw them off the scent.  You acted very wisely in deciding to make for that wreck when you discovered its position; and you showed good powers of resource in your arrangements there, especially in the matter of getting fire.  I hear from your father that you are well up in navigation, and altogether I congratulate myself on having a young officer with me whom I can trust.  It was, of course, a mere matter of chance I appointed you-simply in order to oblige your father, who is a gallant officer, and who has suffered in his profession owing to having served under me.  Among the many applications made to me were some for young officers who possessed very high testimonials of conduct and good service, and I may say frankly that I was more than a little tempted to regret that I had selected one of whose conduct I knew nothing, although I felt sure that your father’s son would assuredly have no lack of courage and ability.  However, I am now well content that I made the choice I did, indeed I feel sure that I could not have made a better one.”

It was a long voyage, for the Rose met with such bad weather off the Cape that she was at first unable to weather it, and it was ten weeks from the date of her sailing before she entered the harbour of Valparaiso.  The voyage had been of advantage to Stephen.  In the rough weather off the coast he had volunteered for duty, and had shown activity and courage, going aloft to reef or furl sails in the worst weather.  He had, too, by his readiness at all times to take the children off Lady Cochrane’s hands, to play with them, and to tell them stories, gained the warm approbation of their parents, and, before they arrived at Valparaiso, the admiral treated him with a kindness and cordiality such as he might have shown to a young nephew acting as his flag-midshipman.  Lord Cochrane was received at Valparaiso, and at Santiago, the capital, with enthusiasm-dinners, fêtes, and balls were given in his honour; and although he cared but little for such things, it could not but be gratifying to him, after the cruel treatment he had met with from those for whom he had performed such brilliant services, to find that elsewhere his reputation stood at the highest point.

Stephen, who of course accompanied the admiral on all occasions, enjoyed these festivities very much more than did Lord Cochrane.  To him it was all quite new, and very pleasant.  He shone in the reflected light of the admiral, and was made a great deal of by the young Chilian ladies, the only drawback being his ignorance of the language.  He had, however, on the way out, picked up a little from some Chilian passengers on board the Rose, and it was not long before he was able to talk to a certain extent to his partners in the dances.  Nevertheless, much as he enjoyed himself, he was by no means sorry when, on the 22nd of December, Lord Cochrane, who had received his commission as Vice-admiral of Chili, and Commander-in-chief of its naval forces, hoisted his flag on board the principal ship of the Chilian navy.

He had arrived none too soon.  A large Spanish force was advancing from Peru against Santiago, their formidable fleet were masters of the sea, and they were fitting out a naval expedition for an attack on Valparaiso.  The Chilian admiral, Blanco Encalada, had succeeded in capturing a Spanish fifty-gun frigate, which had been renamed the O’Higgins; but this was only a temporary success; and with his undisciplined and badly-equipped fleet he was quite unable to withstand the threatened attack of the Spaniards.  Lord Cochrane had to encounter troubles from the outset.  Among the Chilian fleet was the Hecate, an eighteen-gun sloop that had been sold out of the British navy, and purchased by two men, Captains Guise and Spry, as a speculation.  They at first attempted to sell her at Buenos Ayres, but, failing to do so, had brought her on to Chili, where the government had bought the ship, and had appointed them to command her.  They, and an American captain named Worcester, had obtained a considerable influence over Admiral Encalada, and seeing that this influence would be shaken by Lord Cochrane’s ascendency, they formed an intrigue to persuade the Chilian admiral to insist upon retaining the chief command, or upon dividing it with Lord Cochrane.

Admiral Encalada, however, refused to allow himself to be made their tool, saying that he would wish for no greater honour than that of serving under so distinguished an officer as Lord Cochrane; for a time, therefore, their intrigue was defeated.  No sooner had he hoisted his flag on board the O’Higgins than Lord Cochrane set to work with his usual energy to complete the outfit of his little fleet.  This consisted, in addition to the O’Higgins, of the San Martin and Lautaro-both of which had been East Indiamen:  the former carried 56 guns, the latter 44-the Hecate, now called the Galvarino, of 18 guns; the Chacabuco, of 20; the Aracano, of 16; the Puyrredon, of 14.  The Spanish fleet consisted of three frigates:  the Esmeralda, of 44 guns; the Bengenza, of 42; and the Sebastian, of 28; and four brigs:  one of 22 guns, and three of 18.  There was also a schooner carrying one heavy gun and 20 small ones; the rest were armed merchantmen:  the Resolution, of 36 guns; the Cleopatra, of 28; the Fernando, of 26; the La Focha, of 20; and the Guarmey and San Antonio, of 18 each.

On the 16th of January, leaving Admiral Blanco to complete the equipment of the Galvarino, the Aracano, and the Puyrredon, Lord Cochrane sailed with the O’Higgins, San Martin, Lautaro, and Chacabuco.  From the day the admiral’s flag was hoisted to that upon which he sailed, Stephen’s life had undergone a sudden and complete change.  From morning until night he was engaged in rowing from the flagship to the other vessels, and in carrying orders, ascertaining how certain portions of the work were getting on, and reporting to the admiral, or going on shore to the dockyard with urgent requisitions for stores required.  Lord Cochrane himself was equally busy.  He went from ship to ship, and stood by the captains while the crews were put through their exercises in making and shortening sails, practising the drill and cutlass exercise on the deck, or working the guns.  Hard as was the work imposed upon them by the constant drills, the enthusiasm and energy of the admiral so communicated itself to most of the officers and seamen that astonishing progress was made in the four weeks that elapsed before sailing.  Though it could hardly be said that the smartness of the crews equalled that which would be shown by British men-of-war’s men, the work was very fairly done, and the admiral felt convinced that his ships would be worked and manoeuvred far more rapidly than those of the Spaniards.

Stephen had from the first messed with the ship’s officers.  Lord Cochrane had said to him on the day when he hoisted his flag:  “As my flag-midshipman, Mr. Embleton, I could very well have you, as well as my flag lieutenant, at my table, but I think that it would be better for you to mess with the officers.  I find that in the Chilian service the midshipmen do not mess by themselves, as is the case with us, but have a common mess with the lieutenants.  There are certainly considerable advantages in this arrangement; though it might not work well in our navy, where boys are much more mischievous and given to pranks than are those of southern people.  They do not enter so young into the service, and the six midshipmen on board are none of them younger than yourself.  They are all members of good old families here, and there is therefore no need for so strict a line of distinction between midshipmen and lieutenants as there is with us.  The system is more like that which prevails in our army, where the youngest ensigns associate when off duty on terms of equality with their elders.  Mingling with them you will acquire the language far more rapidly than you would do were you to take your meals at my table.  Moreover, I think that it will be a more pleasant and natural life for you, while it will avoid any appearance of favouritism and be altogether better.”

Stephen bowed.  Fond as he was of the admiral, he felt himself that it would be more pleasant to associate with lads of his own age, than to be always on his best behaviour.  He already knew all the officers, having met them at the various entertainments at Valparaiso.  He had found them pleasant young fellows, though their airs of manliness and gravity had amused him a good deal, but he wished that he had in addition his old friend Joyce, with whom he could occasionally skylark, quarrel, and make it up again, after the manner of boys.  The wardroom was large and airy, and there was ample space for the party.  At meals they consisted of the three lieutenants, the surgeon, purser, and seven midshipmen.  As he had never been accustomed to a rough life in the cock-pit of a British man-of-war, the contrast to his former condition was not so strong as it would have been to a midshipman in the royal service; but the somewhat stiff courtesy that prevailed among the Chilian officers in their relations to each other differed widely from the frank heartiness at Captain Pinder’s table.  When the meals were over, however, the air of restraint softened a little, and Stephen soon became on intimate terms with the other midshipmen, three or four of whom had never been to sea before.

“Is this like life on board your ships?” one of them asked him a few days after he had joined.

“Not a bit, Don Enriques.  To begin with, the midshipmen never dine with the lieutenants, and they don’t live half as well as we do.  In the next place, you are a great deal more serious, and a great deal more dignified that English midshipmen are.  With us they are always playing tricks with each other.  We may be officers on board the ship, but when we are among ourselves we are just like other boys of the same age.”

“But you do not consider yourself a boy, Don Estevan?”

“I do indeed,” Stephen laughed; “and no one thinks himself a man until he is quite a senior midshipman.”

“But if you play tricks on each other you must quarrel sometimes?”

“Oh, yes, we quarrel, and then we have a fight, and then we are good friends again.”

“Ah!  Do you fight with swords or pistols?”

Stephen laughed.  “We fight with our fists.”

“What, like common people!” the young Chilian said, greatly shocked.

“Just the same, except that we fight a little better.  That is the way we always settle quarrels among boys in England, and a very good way it is.  One gets a black eye or something of that sort, and there is an end of it.  As for fighting with swords or pistols, I do not know what would happen if two midshipmen were to fight a duel.  In the first place they would get into a frightful row, and in the second place they would be the laughing-stock of the whole fleet.  Of course, in a country like this, where a blow is considered as the deadliest of insults, things are different; but in England it is not viewed in the same light.  Everyone knows something of boxing, that is, of the proper way of using the fists, and it has come to be the national way of fighting among the common people and among boys of all classes.”

“And would you, for example, Don Estevan, consent to fight with a boy or with a man of the peasant class if he injured you?”

“Certainly I would,” Stephen said.  “I don’t know that I would fight a big man, because evidently I should have very little chance with him; but if I quarrelled with a fellow my own age, we should of course pitch into each other without any question of rank.”

Exclamations of surprise broke from the other midshipmen as Stephen made these statements in very broken Spanish.  He was questioned over and over again by them to make sure that they had not misunderstood him.

“You seem to think it terrible,” Stephen said; “but you don’t stand on rank yourselves when you fight.  When you board an enemy’s ship you fight with a sailor who attacks you, and don’t stop to discuss with him whether he is one of gentle blood, like yourself, or a mere peasant.  For the time being you put yourself on an equality with him, and it is a pure matter of strength and skill.  It is just the same with us in most matters.  We stand on our rank the same as you do, but when our blood is up we put all that aside and fight without caring whether our opponent is a nobleman or a peasant, and when it is all over we shake hands and don’t feel that there is any bad blood between us.”