"Perhaps the bad quarter of an hour is yours." He stared straight into the close-set cruel eyes so fixedly and so long that the captain lowered his gaze, proving that the superior strength of will lay with his younger opponent.

Then he shook himself angrily, his temper stirred, because his eyes had given way.
"Begin!" said Robert.
The captain slashed with the heavy cutlass, and Robert easily turned aside the blow with his lighter weapon.

He saw then that the captain was no swordsman in the true sense, and he believed he had nothing to fear.

He waited until the man attacked again, and again he deftly turned aside the blow.
The two sailors sitting on the log looked at each other once more, but they did not chuckle.
Robert, still watching the close-set cruel eyes, saw a look of doubt appear there.
"My bad quarter of an hour seems to be delayed, captain," he said with irony.
The man, stung beyond endurance, attacked with fury, the heavy cutlass singing and whistling as he slashed and thrust.

Robert contented himself with the defense, giving ground slowly and moving about in a circle.