There was no more to be said.
Colonel Bishop was of another opinion.

In his view there was a great deal to be said.

He said it, with great circumstance, loudly, vehemently, obscenely--for he could be fluently obscene when moved to anger.
"You talk like a Spaniard, Colonel," said the Governor, and thus dealt the Colonel's pride a wound that was to smart resentfully for many a week.

At the moment it struck him silent, and sent him stamping out of the shed in a rage for which he could find no words.
It was two days later when the ladies of Bridgetown, the wives and daughters of her planters and merchants, paid their first visit of charity to the wharf, bringing their gifts to the wounded seamen.
Again Peter Blood was there, ministering to the sufferers in his care, moving among those unfortunate Spaniards whom no one heeded.

All the charity, all the gifts were for the members of the crew of the Pride of Devon.