Scotch Swords, Muskets and Love

“Johnny, strike those drums! Strike 'em loud!” shouted Seamas to his friend with the drum. “David, the bagpipes! Come on man, come on! I want to dance! Make more music!”

The bartender rubbed his eyes as he did his best to wake up, shuffling around behind the bar to find fresh pitchers and unopened bottles of whiskey.

But as he started pouring the next round of drinks, a loud and aggressive voice cut through the din.

“Stop pouring those drinks!”

Everyone looked up and paused what they were doing. A huge, broad-shouldered man in a British Navy officer's uniform was standing at the foot of the stairwell that lead up to the inn, and his wide, brutal-looking face was a mask of sheer rage. In his meaty hand he gripped his navy-issue razor sharp saber. Behind him stood a host of other angry looking people, in various states of dress; some in pajamas, some half-dressed.

“I've been trying to sleep for the last five hours, yet the awful din from down here has just been getting worse and worse! It's now almost four in the morning, and I haven't had a wink of bloody sleep! Now all of you lot, clear out of here! And you, barkeep, you stop serving these wretches, let them go elsewhere! May I remind you that we too are paying customers of your establishment?! We're paying for sleep, but that's an impossibility with these selfish louts screaming and shouting all hours of the night!”

The angry-looking patrons mumbled their agreement at this.

The barman looked embarrassed, and he stopped pouring.

“I, er, I apologize, ladies and gentlemen, for this disruption, I'm er-, I'm very sorry-”

“Don't apologize, damn you! Just get them out of here, right now!” shouted the navy officer.

Seamas stood up, and stared at the Navy officer with a cocky grin on his face.

“What if we don't want to go elsewhere, sir? We quite like it here, and this party is only getting started. I suggest you and your friends go back to sleep, Englishman. Put some cotton wool in your ears, and you'll soon be sleeping like a baby! Haha!”

The officer glared at Seamas.

“You inconsiderate, selfish dandy!” he shouted. “Some people have to work tomorrow! How do you expect them to do that without a wink of sleep?! There are plenty of places in this town where you can go and drink until dawn without disturbing other people. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave this place and go to one of those!”

Seamas stroked his chin mockingly, mumbling to himself.

“'If I know what's good for me'... 'If I know what's good for me'. I do know what's good for me, Englishman... More whiskey! Now bartender, hurry up and finish pouring those drinks. Johnny, David, get the music up and going! These old farts can go back upstairs and stuff some cotton wool in their ears, they'll be fine!”

“How dare you?!” shouted the officer as he stepped down off the stairs onto the floor of the tavern. “You arrogant little shit! I ought to show you a thing or two!”

Suddenly a look of aggression flashed with the speed of veined lightning across Seamas's eyes, and he spun around on his feet to face the officer. He wore a sword at his side – a thin, light rapier – and in one swift and fluid movement he whipped the sword out and pointed its needle-like point at the man.

“Well, sir,” he sneered, “perhaps I ought to show you a thing or two.”

The man laughed slowly and humorlessly, and swung his saber loosely in his hands.

“Are you threatening me?! I'm warning you boy, this blade has tasted blood in battle many times. Put that toy you're holding away, and you might walk away from this with your ears and nose still attached to your pretty-boy face.”

Seamas stared with arrogant cool at the officer, and he shifted into an en-garde stance on his feet.

“I'm most definitely threatening you, Englishman. Come on... Bring your saber. I feel like doing a different kind of dance now.”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!” stammered the hapless barkeeper. “I don't want fighting in my bar, please, there must be a way to solve this without violence, I-”

“Shut up!” snarled the officer. “If you won't do anything about this awful fellow, I will! Come on then, dandy! Come on!”

Seamas's friends stepped back to clear out a space so that the two men could duel. The bartender kept pleading for both of them to stop, but neither man took any notice; both were too riled up and bristling with aggression to stop now.