Amyas had revived at the sight of battle. He no longer felt his wounds
or his great sorrow as he bustled about the deck; and ere a quarter of
an hour had passed, his voice cried firmly and cheerfully as of old--

"Now, my masters, let us serve God, and then to breakfast, and after
that clear for action."

Jack Brimblecombe read the dally prayers, and the prayers before a
fight at sea, and his honest voice trembled, as, in the Prayer for all
Conditions of Men (In spite of Amyas's despair), he added, "and
especially for our dear brother Mr. Francis Leigh, perhaps captive
among the idolaters;" and so they rose.

"Now, then," said Amyas, "to breakfast. A Frenchman fights best
fasting, a Dutchman drunk, an Englishman full, and a Spaniard when the
devil is in him, and that's always."

"And good beef and the good cause are a match for the devil," said
Cary. "Come down, captain; you must eat too."

Amyas shook his head, took the tiller from the steersman, and bade him
go below and fill himself. Will Cary went down, and returned in five
minutes with a plate of bread and beef, and a great jack of ale, coaxed
them down Amyas's throat, as a nurse does with a child, and then
scuttled below again with tears hopping down his face.

Amyas stood still steering. His face was grown seven years older in
the last night. A terrible set calm was on him. Woe to the man who
came across him that day!