This ship I met with at sea, shortly after the disaster.
At what armory our Chevalier equips himself after one of his spiteful tilting-matches, it would not be easy to say.

But very hard for him, if ever after he goes about in the lists, swordless and disarmed, at the mercy of any caitiff shark he may meet.
Now, seeing that our fellow-voyagers, the little fish along-side, were sorely tormented and thinned out by the incursions of a pertinacious Chevalier, bent upon making a hearty breakfast out of them, I determined to interfere in their behalf, and capture the enemy.
With shark-hook and line I succeeded, and brought my brave gentleman to the deck.

He made an emphatic landing; lashing the planks with his sinewy tail; while a yard and a half in advance of his eyes, reached forth his terrible blade.
As victor, I was entitled to the arms of the vanquished; so, quickly dispatching him, and sawing off his Toledo, I bore it away for a trophy.

It was three-sided, slightly concave on each, like a bayonet; and some three inches through at the base, it tapered from thence to a point.
And though tempered not in Tagus or Guadalquiver, it yet revealed upon its surface that wavy grain and watery fleckiness peculiar to tried blades of Spain.

It was an aromatic sword; like the ancient caliph's, giving out a peculiar musky odor by friction.