Besides, it was an indubitable fact that we all much preferred Coutlass, with his daring record, and now a most outrageous love-affair on hand, to the other Greek or the Goanese, who were now disposed to bid for our friendship by abusing him.

Georges Coutlass was no drawing-room darling, or worthy citizen of any land, but he had courage of a kind, and a sort of splendid fire that made men forget his turpitude.
We were a seasick, cold and sorry company that rounded the point at last and came to anchor in a calm shallow bay where fuel grew close down to the water's edge.

Having no small boat, we had to wade ashore and carry the women, Coutlass attending to his own inamorata.

Lady Saffren Waldon's picric acid rage exploded by being dropped between two porters waist-deep into the water.

It was her fault.