"We shan't have any more trouble with that lot, I think.

You warned that pirate--I wish he had been in truth a clean, honest, straightforward pirate, instead of the measly Turkish swab he was--that something might occur before the first stroke of six bells.
Well, something has occurred, and for him and all his crew that six bells will never sound.

So the Lord fights for the Cross against the Crescent! Bismillah.

Amen!" He said this in a manifestly formal way, as though declaiming a ritual.

The next instant he went on in the thoroughly practical conventional way which was usual to him: "May I ask a favour, Mr.Sent Leger ?" "A thousand, my dear Rooke," I said.