CHAPTER XI
IN SPAIN.
Alone among the survivors of the great Spanish Armada, Geoffrey Vickarssaw the coast of Ireland fade away from sight without a feeling ofsatisfaction or relief. His hope had been that the ship would bewrecked on her progress down the coast. He knew not that the wild Irishwere slaying all whom the sea spared, and that ignorant as they were ofthe English tongue, he would undoubtedly have shared the fate of hisSpanish companions. He thought only of the risk of being drowned, andwould have preferred taking this to the certainty of a captivityperhaps for life in the Spanish prisons. The part that he had playedsince he had been picked up off Gravelines could not be sustainedindefinitely. He might as well spend his life in prison, where at leastthere would be some faint hope of being exchanged, as wander aboutSpain all his life as an imbecile beggar.
As soon, therefore, as he saw that the perils of the coast of Irelandwere passed, and that the vessel was likely to reach Spain in safety,he determined that he would on reaching a port disclose his realidentity. There were on board several Scotch and Irish volunteers, andhe decided to throw himself upon the pity of one of these rather thanon that of the Spaniards. He did not think that in any case his lifewas in danger. Had he been detected when first picked up, or during theearly part of the voyage, he would doubtless have been thrown overboardwithout mercy; but now that the passions of the combatants hadsubsided, and that he had been so long among them, and had, as hebelieved, won the good-will of many by the assistance he had renderedto the sick and wounded, he thought that there was little fear of hislife being taken in cold blood.
One of the Irish volunteers, Gerald Burke by name, had for a long timebeen seriously ill, and Geoffrey had in many small ways shown himkindness as he lay helpless on the deck, and he determined finally toconfide in him. Although still very weak, Burke was now convalescent,and was sitting alone by the poop-rail gazing upon the coast of Spainwith eager eyes, when Geoffrey, under the pretext of coiling down arope, approached him. The young man nodded kindly to him.
"Our voyage is nearly over, my poor lad," he said in Spanish, "and yourtroubles now will be worse than mine. You have given me many a drink ofwater from your scanty supply, and I wish that I could do something foryou in return; but I know that you do not even understand what I say toyou."
"Would you give me an opportunity of speaking to you after nightfall,Mr. Burke," Geoffrey said in English, "when no one will notice usspeaking?"
The Irishman gave a start of astonishment at hearing himself addressedin English.
"My life is in your hands, sir; pray, do not betray me," Geoffrey saidrapidly as he went on coiling down the rope.
"I will be at this place an hour after nightfall," the young Irishmanreplied when he recovered from his surprise. "Your secret will be safewith me."
At the appointed time Geoffrey returned to the spot. The decks were nowdeserted, for a drizzling rain was falling, and all save those on dutyhad retired below, happy in the thought that on the following morningthey would be in port.
"Now, tell me who you are," the young Irishman began. "I thought youwere a Spanish sailor, one of those we picked up when the Spanishgalleon next to us foundered."
Geoffrey then told him how he had been knocked off an English ship bythe fall of a mast, had swum to the galleon and taken refuge beneathher bowsprit until she sank, and how, when picked up and carried on tothe Spanish ship, he feigned to have lost his senses in order toconceal his ignorance of Spanish.
"I knew," he said, "that were I recognized as English at the time Ishould at once be killed, but I thought that if I could conceal who Iwas for a time I should simply be sent to the galleys, where I haveheard that there are many English prisoners working."
"I think death would have been preferable to that lot," Mr. Burke said.
"Yes, sir; but there is always the hope of escape or of exchange. Whenyou spoke kindly to me this afternoon I partly understood what yousaid, for in this long time I have been on board I have come tounderstand a little Spanish, and I thought that maybe you would assistme in some way."
"I would gladly do so, though I regard Englishmen as the enemies of mycountry; but in what way can I help you? I could furnish you with adisguise, but your ignorance of Spanish would lead to your detectionimmediately."
"I have been thinking it over, sir, and it seemed to me that as therewill be no objection to my landing to-morrow, thinking as they do thatI have lost my senses, I might join you after you once got out of thetown. I have some money in my waistbelt, and if you would purchase someclothes for me I might then join you as your servant as you ride along.At the next town you come to none would know but that I had been inyour service during the voyage, and there would be nothing strange inyou, an Irish gentleman, being accompanied by an Irish servant whospoke but little Spanish. I would serve you faithfully, sir, untilperhaps some opportunity might occur for my making my escape toEngland."
"Yes, I think that might be managed," the young Irishman said. "When Iland to-morrow I will buy some clothes suitable for a serving-man. I donot know the names of the hotels on shore, so you must watch me when Iland and see where I put up. Come there in the evening at nine o'clock.I will issue out and give you the bundle of clothes, and tell you atwhat hour in the morning I have arranged to start. I will hire twohorses; when they come round to the door, join me in front of the hoteland busy yourself in packing my trunks on the baggage mules. When youhave done that, mount the second horse and ride after me; the peoplewho will go with us with the horses will naturally suppose that youhave landed with me. Should any of our shipmates here see us start, itis not likely that they will recognize you. If they do so, I needsimply say that as you had shown me such kindness on board ship I hadresolved to take you with me to Madrid in order to see if anythingcould be done to restore you to reason. However, it is better that youshould keep in the background as much as possible. I will arrange tostart at so early an hour in the morning that none of those who mayland with me from the ship, and may put up at the same inn, are likelyto be about."
The next morning the vessel entered port. They were soon surrounded byboats full of people inquiring anxiously for news of other ships, andfor friends and acquaintances on board. Presently large boats were sentoff by the authorities, and the disembarkation of the sick and thehelpless began.
This indeed included the greater portion of the survivors, for therewere but two or three score on board who were capable of draggingthemselves about, the rest being completely prostrate by disease,exhaustion, hunger, and thirst. Geoffrey was about to descend into oneof the boats, when the officer in command said roughly: "Remain onboard and do your work, there is no need for your going into thehospital." One of the ship's officers, however, explained that the ladhad altogether lost his senses, and was unable either to understandwhen spoken to or to reply to questions. Consequently he was permittedto take his place in the boat.
As soon as he stepped ashore he wandered away among the crowd ofspectators. A woman, observing his wan face and feeble walk, called himinto her house, and set food and wine before him. He made a heartymeal, but only shook his head when she addressed him, and laughedchildishly and muttered his thanks in Spanish when she bestowed adollar upon him as he left. He watched at the port while boat-loadafter boat-load of sick came ashore, until at last one containing thesurviving officers and gentlemen with their baggage reached the land.Then he kept Gerald Burke in sight until he entered an inn, followed bytwo men carrying his baggage. Several times during the day food andmoney were offered him, the inhabitants being full of horror and pityat the sight of the famishing survivors of the crew of the galleon.
At nine o'clock in the evening Geoffrey took up his station near thedoor of the inn. A few minutes later Gerald Burke came out with abundle. "Here are the clothes," he said. "I have hired horses for ourjourney to Madrid. They will be at the door at six o'clock in themorning. I have arranged to travel by very short stages, for at firstneither you nor I could sit very long
upon a horse; however, I hope weshall soon gain strength as we go."
Taking the bundle, Geoffrey walked a short distance from the town andlay down upon the ground under some trees. The night was a warm one,and after the bitter cold they had suffered during the greater part ofthe voyage, it felt almost sultry to him. At daybreak in the morning herose, put on the suit of clothes Gerald Burke had provided, washed hisface in a little stream, and proceeded to the inn. He arrived therejust as the clocks were striking six. A few minutes later two men withtwo horses and four mules came up to the door, and shortly afterwardsGerald Burke came out. Geoffrey at once joined him; the servants of theinn brought out the baggage, which was fastened by the muleteers on totwo of the animals. Gerald Burke mounted one of the horses and Geoffreythe other, and at once rode on, the muleteers mounting the other twomules and following with those carrying the baggage.
"That was well managed," Gerald Burke said as they rode out of thetown. "The muleteers can have no idea that you have but just joined me,and there is little chance of any of my comrades on board shipovertaking us, as all intend to stop for a few days to recruitthemselves before going on. If they did they would not be likely torecognize you in your present attire, or to suspect that my Irishservant is the crazy boy of the ship."
After riding at an easy pace for two hours, they halted under the shadeof some trees. Fruit, bread, and wine were produced from a wallet onone of the mules, and they sat down and breakfasted. After a halt of anhour they rode on until noon, when they again halted until four in theafternoon, for the sun was extremely hot, and both Gerald Burke andGeoffrey were so weak they scarce could sit their horses. Two hoursfurther riding took them to a large village, where they put up at theinn. Geoffrey now fell into his place as Mr. Burke's servant--saw tothe baggage being taken inside, and began for the first time to try histongue at Spanish. He got on better than he had expected; and as Mr.Burke spoke with a good deal of foreign accent, it did not seem in anyway singular to the people of the inn that his servant should speak butlittle of the language.
Quietly they journeyed on, doing but short distances for the firstthree or four days, but as they gained strength pushing on faster, andby the time they reached Madrid both were completely recovered from theeffects of their voyage. Madrid was in mourning, for there was scarce afamily but had lost relations in the Armada. Mr. Burke at once tooklodgings and installed Geoffrey as his servant. He had many friends andacquaintances in the city, where he had been residing for upwards of ayear previous to the sailing of the Armada.
For some weeks Geoffrey went out but little, spending his time inreading Spanish books and mastering the language as much as possible.He always conversed in that language with Mr. Burke, and at the end ofsix weeks was able to talk Spanish with some fluency. He now generallyaccompanied Mr. Burke if he went out, following him in the streets andstanding behind his chair when he dined abroad. He was much amused atall he saw, making many acquaintances among the lackeys of Mr. Burke'sfriends, dining with them downstairs after the banquets were over, andoften meeting them of an evening when he had nothing to do, and goingwith them to places of entertainment.
In this way his knowledge of Spanish improved rapidly, and although hestill spoke with an accent he could pass well as one who had been forsome years in the country. He was now perfectly at ease with theSpanish gentlemen of Mr. Burke's acquaintance. It was only when Irishand Scotch friends called upon his master that he feared awkwardquestions, and upon these occasions he showed himself as little aspossible.
When alone with Gerald Burke the latter always addressed Geoffrey as afriend rather than as a servant, and made no secret with him as to hisposition and means. He had been concerned in a rising in Ireland, andhad fled the country, bringing with him a fair amount of resources.Believing that the Armada was certain to be crowned with success, andthat he should ere long be restored to his estates in Ireland, he had,upon his first coming to Spain, spent his money freely. His outfit forthe expedition had made a large inroad upon his store, and hisresources were now nearly at an end.
"What is one to do, Geoffrey? I don't want to take a commission inPhilip's army, though my friends could obtain one for me at once; but Ihave no desire to spend the rest of my life in the Netherlands stormingthe towns of the Dutch burghers."
"Or rather trying to storm them," Geoffrey said, smiling; "there havenot been many towns taken of late years."
"Nor should I greatly prefer to be campaigning in France," Gerald wenton, paying no attention to the interruption. "I have no love either forDutch Calvinists or French Huguenots; but I have no desire either to becutting their throats or for them to be cutting mine. I should like asnug berth under the crown here or at Cadiz, or at Seville; but I seeno chance whatever of my obtaining one. I cannot take up the trade of afootpad, though disbanded soldiers turned robbers are common enough inSpain. What is to be done?"
"If I am not mistaken," Geoffrey said with a smile, "your mind isalready made up. It is not quite by accident that you are in thegardens of the Retiro every evening, and that a few words are alwaysexchanged with a certain young lady as she passes with her duenna."
"Oh! you have observed that," Gerald Burke replied with a laugh. "Youreyes are sharper than I gave you credit for, Master Geoffrey. Yes, thatwould set me on my legs without doubt, for Donna Inez is the onlydaughter and heiress of the Marquis of Ribaldo; but you see there is afather in the case, and if that father had the slightest idea thatplain Gerald Burke was lifting his eyes to his daughter it would not bemany hours before Gerald Burke had several inches of steel in his body."
"That I can imagine," Geoffrey said, "since it is, as I learn from myacquaintances among the lackeys, a matter of common talk that themarquis intends to marry her to the son of the Duke of Sottomayor."
"Inez hates him," Gerald Burke said. "It is just like my ill-luck, thatinstead of being drowned as most of the others were, he has had theluck to get safely back again. However, he is still ill, and likely tobe so for some time. He was not so accustomed to starving as some ofus, and he suffered accordingly. He is down at his estates nearSeville."
"But what do you think of doing?" Geoffrey asked.
"That is just what I am asking you."
"It seems to me, certainly," Geoffrey went on, "that unless you reallymean to run off with the young lady--for I suppose there is no chancein the world of your marrying her in any other way--it will be betterboth for you and her that you should avoid for the future thesemeetings in the gardens or elsewhere, and cast your thoughts in someother direction for the bettering of your fortunes."
"That is most sage advice, Geoffrey," the young Irishman laughed, "andworthy of my father-confessor; but it is not so easy to follow. In thefirst place, I must tell you that I do not regard Inez as in any way astep to fortune, but rather as a step towards a dungeon. It would bevastly better for us both if she were the daughter of some poor hidalgolike myself. I could settle down then with her, and plant vines andmake wine, and sell what I don't drink myself. As it is, I have thechance of being put out of the way if it is discovered that Inez and Iare fond of each other; and in the next place, if we do marry I shallhave to get her safely out of the kingdom, or else she will have topass the rest of her life in a convent, and I the rest of mine in aprison or in the galleys; that is if I am not killed as soon as caught,which is by far the most likely result. Obnoxious sons-in-law do notlive long in Spain. So you see, Geoffrey, the prospect is a bad onealtogether; and if it were not that I dearly love Inez, and that I amsure she will be unhappy with Philip of Sottomayor, I would give thewhole thing up, and make love to the daughter of some comfortablecitizen who would give me a corner of his house and a seat at his tablefor the rest of my days."
"But, seriously--" Geoffrey began.
"Well, seriously, Geoffrey, my intention is to run away with Inez if itcan be managed; but how it is to be managed at present I have not thefaintest idea. To begin with, the daughter of a Spanish grandee isalways kept in a very strong cage clo
sely guarded, and it needs a verylarge golden key to open it. Now, as you are aware, gold is a veryscarce commodity with me. Then, after getting her out, a lavishexpenditure would be needed for our flight. We should have to make ourway to the sea-coast, to do all sorts of things to throw dust into theeyes of our pursuers, and to get a passage to some place beyond thedomains of Philip, which means either to France, England, or theNetherlands. Beyond all this will be the question of future subsistenceuntil, if ever, the marquis makes up his mind to forgive his daughterand take her to his heart again, a contingency, in my opinion, likelyto be extremely remote."
"And what does the Lady Inez say to it all?" Geoffrey asked.
"The Lady Inez has had small opportunity of saying anything on thesubject, Geoffrey. Here in Spain there are mighty few opportunities forcourtship. With us at home these matters are easy enough, and there isno lack of opportunity for pleading your suit and winning a girl'sheart if it is to be won; but here in Spain matters are altogetherdifferent, and an unmarried girl is looked after as sharply as if shewas certain to get into some mischief or other the instant she had anopportunity. She is never suffered to be for a moment alone with a man;out of doors or in she has always a duenna by her side; and as to aprivate chat, the thing is simply impossible."
"Then how do you manage to make love?" Geoffrey asked.
"Well, a very little goes a long way in Spain. The manner of a bow, thewave of a fan, the dropping of a glove or flower, the touch of a handin a crowded room-each of these things go as far as a month's openlove-making in Ireland."
"Then how did you manage with the duenna so as to be able to speak toher in the gardens'!"
"Well, in the first place, I made myself very attentive to the duenna;in the second place, the old lady is devout, and you know Ireland isthe land of saints, and I presented her with an amulet containing aparing of the nail of St. Patrick."
Geoffrey burst into a laugh, in which the Irishman joined.
"Well, if it was not really St. Patrick's," the latter went on, "itcame from Ireland anyhow, which is the next best thing. Then in thethird place, the old lady is very fond of Inez; and although she is asstrict as a dragon, Inez coaxed her into the belief that there couldnot be any harm in our exchanging a few words when she was close by allthe time to hear what was said. Now, I think you know as much as I doabout the matter, Geoffrey. You will understand that a few notes havebeen exchanged, and that Inez loves me. Beyond that everything is vagueand uncertain, and I have not the slightest idea what will come of it."
Some weeks passed and nothing was done. The meetings between GeraldBurke and Inez in the Gardens of the Retiro had ceased a day or twoafterwards, the duenna having positively refused to allow them tocontinue, threatening Inez to inform her father of them unless she gavethem up.
Gerald Burke's funds dwindled rapidly, although he and Geoffrey livedin the very closest way.
"What in the world is to be done, Geoffrey? I have only got twentydollars left, which at the outside will pay for our lodgings and foodfor another month. For the life of me I cannot see what is to be donewhen that is gone, unless we take to the road."
Geoffrey shook his head. "As far as I am concerned," he said, "as weare at war with Spain, it would be fair if I met a Spanish ship at seato capture and plunder it, but I am afraid the laws of war do notjustify private plunder. I should be perfectly ready to go out and takeservice in a vineyard, or to earn my living in any way if it could bemanaged."
"I would rob a cardinal if I had the chance," Gerald Burke said, "andif I ever got rich would restore his money four-fold and so obtainabsolution; only, unfortunately, I do not see my way to robbing acardinal. As to digging in the fields, Geoffrey, I would rather hangmyself at once. I am constitutionally averse to labour, and if one oncetook to that sort of thing there would be an end to everything."
"It is still open to you," Geoffrey said, "to get your friends toobtain a commission for you."
"I could do that," Gerald said moodily, "but of all things that is whatI should most hate."
"You might make your peace with the English government and get some ofyour estates back again."
"That I will not do to feed myself," Gerald Burke said firmly. "I havethought that if I ever carry off Inez I might for her sake do so, for Iown that now all hope of help from Spain is at an end, our cause inIreland is lost, and it is no use going on struggling against theinevitable; but I am not going to sue the English government as abeggar for myself. No doubt I could borrow small sums from Irishmen andScotchmen here, and hold on for a few months; but most of them arewell-nigh as poor as I am myself, and I would not ask them. Besides,there would be no chance of my repaying them; and, if I am to robanyone, I would rather plunder these rich dons than my own countrymen."
"Of one thing I am resolved," Geoffrey said, "I will not live at yourexpense any longer, Gerald. I can speak Spanish very fairly now, andcan either take service in some Spanish family or, as I said, get workin the field."
Gerald laughed. "My dear Geoffrey, the extra expenses caused by youlast week were, as far as I can calculate, one penny for bread and asmuch for fruit; the rest of your living was obtained at the expense ofmy friends."
"At any rate," Geoffrey said smiling, "I insist that my money be nowthrown into the common fund. I have offered it several times before,but you always said we had best keep it for emergency. I think theemergency has come now, and these ten English pounds in my belt willenable us to take some step or other. The question is, what step? Theymight last us, living as we do, for some three or four months, but atthe end of that time we should be absolutely penniless; therefore nowis the time, while we have still a small stock in hand, to decide uponsomething."
"But what are we to decide upon?" Gerald Burke asked helplessly.
"I have been thinking it over a great deal," Geoffrey said, "and myidea is that we had best go to Cadiz or some other large port. AlthoughSpain is at war both with England and the Netherlands, trade still goeson in private ships, and both Dutch and English vessels carry oncommerce with Spain; therefore it seems to me that there must bemerchants in Cadiz who would be ready to give employment to men capableof speaking and writing both in Spanish and English, and in my case toa certain extent in Dutch. From there, too, there might be a chance ofgetting a passage to England or Holland. If we found that impossibleowing to the vessels being too carefully searched before sailing, wemight at the worst take passage as sailors on board a Spanish shipbound for the Indies, and take our chance of escape or capture there oron the voyage. That, at least, is what I planned for myself."
"I think your idea is a good one, Geoffrey. At any rate to Cadiz wewill go. I don't know about the mercantile business or going as asailor, but I could get a commission from the governor there as well ashere in Madrid; but at any rate I will go. Donna Inez was taken lastweek by her father to some estates he has somewhere between Seville andCadiz, in order, I suppose, that he may be nearer Don Philip, who is, Ihear, at last recovering from his long illness. I do not know thatthere is the slightest use in seeing her again, but I will do so if itbe possible; and if by a miracle I could succeed in carrying her off,Cadiz would be a more likely place to escape from than anywhere.
"Yes, I know. You think the idea is a mad one, but you have never beenin love yet. When you are you will know that lovers do not believe inthe word 'impossible.' At any rate, I mean to give Inez the chance ofdetermining her own fate. If she is ready to risk everything ratherthan marry Don Philip, I am ready to share the risk whatever it may be."
Accordingly on the following day Gerald Burke disposed of the greaterpart of his wardrobe and belongings, purchased two ponies for a fewcrowns, and he and Geoffrey, with a solitary suit of clothes in awallet fastened behind the saddle, started for their journey to Cadiz.They mounted outside the city, for Gerald shrank from meeting anyacquaintances upon such a sorry steed as he had purchased; but once ontheir way his spirits rose. He laughed and chatted gaily, and spoke ofthe future as if all difficulties
were cleared away. The ponies,although rough animals, were strong and sturdy, and carried theirriders at a good pace. Sometimes they travelled alone, sometimes joggedalong with parties whom they overtook by the way, or who had slept inthe same posadas or inns at which they had put up for the night.
Most of these inns were very rough, and, to Geoffrey, astonishinglydirty. The food consisted generally of bread and a miscellaneous olioor stew from a great pot constantly simmering over the fire, theflavour, whatever it might be, being entirely overpowered by that ofthe oil and garlic that were the most marked of its constituents. Bedswere wholly unknown at these places, the guests simply wrappingthemselves in their cloaks and lying down on the floor, although in afew exceptional cases bundles of rushes were strewn about to form acommon bed.
But the travelling was delightful. It was now late in the autumn, andwhen they were once past the dreary district of La Mancha, and haddescended to the rich plains of Cordova, the vintage was in fullprogress and the harvest everywhere being garnered in. Their mid-daymeal consisted of bread and fruit, costing but the smallest coin, andeaten by the wayside in the shade of a clump of trees. They heard manytales on their way down of the bands of robbers who infested the road,but having taken the precaution of having the doubloons for which theyhad exchanged Geoffrey's English gold sewn up in their boots, they hadno fear of encountering these gentry, having nothing to lose save theirwallets and the few dollars they had kept out for the expenses of theirjourney. The few jewels that Gerald Burke retained were sewn up in thestuffing of his saddle.
After ten days' travel they reached Seville, where they stayed a coupleof days, and where the wealth and splendour of the buildings surprisedGeoffrey, who had not visited Antwerp or any of the great commercialcentres of the Netherlands.
"It is a strange taste of the Spanish kings," he observed to GeraldBurke, "to plant their capital at Madrid in the centre of a barrencountry, when they might make such a splendid city as this theircapital. I could see no charms whatever in Madrid. The climate wasdetestable, with its hot sun and bitter cold winds. Here thetemperature is delightful; the air is soft and balmy, the country roundis a garden, and there is a cathedral worthy of a capital."
"It seems a strange taste," Gerald agreed; "but I believe that whenMadrid was first planted it stood in the midst of extensive forests,and that it was merely a hunting residence for the king."
"Then, when the forests went I would have gone too," Geoffrey said."Madrid has not even a river worthy of the name, and has no singlepoint to recommend it, as far as I can see, for the capital of a greatempire. If I were a Spaniard I should certainly take up my residence inSeville."
Upon the following morning they again started, joining, before they hadridden many miles, a party of three merchants travelling with theirservants to Cadiz. The merchants looked a little suspiciously at firstat the two young men upon their rough steeds; but as soon as theydiscovered from their first salutations that they were foreigners, theybecame more cordial, and welcomed this accession of strength to theirparty, for the carrying of weapons was universal, and the portion ofthe road between Seville and Cadiz particularly unsafe, as it wastraversed by so many merchants and wealthy people. The conversationspeedily turned to the disturbed state of the roads.
"I do not think," one of the merchants said, "that any ordinary band ofrobbers would dare attack us," and he looked round with satisfaction atthe six armed servants who rode behind them.
"It all depends," Gerald Burke said, with a sly wink at Geoffrey, "uponwhat value the robbers may place upon the valour of your servants. As arule serving-men are very chary of their skins, and I should imaginethat the robbers must be pretty well aware of that fact. Most of themare disbanded soldiers or deserters, and I should say that four of themare more than a match for your six servants. I would wager that yourmen would make but a very poor show of it if it came to fighting."
"But there are our three selves and you two gentlemen," the merchantsaid in a tone of disquiet.
"Well," Gerald rejoined, "I own that from your appearance I should notthink, worshipful sir, that fighting was altogether in your line. Now,my servant, young as he is, has taken part in much fighting in theNetherlands, and I myself have had some experience with my sword; butif we were attacked by robbers we should naturally stand neutral.Having nothing to defend, and having no inclination whatever to get ourthroats cut in protecting the property of others, I think that you willsee for yourselves that that is reasonable. We are soldiers of fortune,ready to venture our lives in a good service, and for good pay, butmightily disinclined to throw them away for the mere love of fighting."