The gathering-point was the sail-house behind the Peak, and thither, in
company with several friends, Joan made her way, and soon found herself
hailed with delight by Uncle Zebedee and Jerrem, both of whom were by
this time primed up to giving the most extraordinary and vivid accounts
of the fight, every detail of which was entirely corroborated by those
who had been present and those who had been absent; for the constant
demand made on the keg of spirits which, in honor of the _victory_, old
Zebedee had insisted on having broached there, was beginning to take
effect, so that the greater portion of the listeners were now turned
into talkers, and thus it was impossible to tell those who had seen
from those who had heard; and the wrangling, laughter, disputes and
congratulations made such a hubbub of confusion that the room seemed
for the time turned into a very pandemonium.

Only one thing all gave hearty assent to: that was that Jerrem was the
hero on whom the merit of triumph rested, for if he hadn't fired that
first shot ten to one but they should have listened to somebody whom,
in deference to Zebedee, they refrained from naming, and indicated by a
nod in his direction, and let the white-livered scoundrels sneak off
with the boast that the Polperro men were afraid to give fight to them.
Afraid! Why, they were afraid of nothing, not they! They'd give chase
to the Hart, board the Looe cutter, swamp the boats, and utterly rout
and destroy the whole excise department: the more bloodthirsty the
resolution proposed, the louder was it greeted.

The spirit of lawless riot seemed suddenly let loose among them, and
men who were usually kind-hearted and--after their rough
fashion--tenderly-disposed seemed turned into devils whose delight was
in violence and whose pleasure was excess.