by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XI
IN SPAIN
Alone among the survivors of the great Spanish Armada, GeoffreyVickars saw the coast of Ireland fade away from sight without afeeling of satisfaction or relief. His hope had been that the shipwould be wrecked on her progress down the coast. He knew not thatthe wild Irish were slaying all whom the sea spared, and thatignorant as they were of the English tongue, he would undoubtedlyhave shared the fate of his Spanish companions. He thought onlyof the risk of being drowned, and would have preferred taking thisto the certainty of a captivity perhaps for life in the Spanishprisons. The part that he had played since he had been picked upoff Gravelines could not be sustained indefinitely. He might aswell spend his life in prison, where at least there would be somefaint hope of being exchanged, as wander about Spain all his lifeas an imbecile beggar.
As soon, therefore, as he saw that the perils of the coast ofIreland were passed, and that the vessel was likely to reach Spainin safety, he determined that he would on reaching a port disclosehis real identity. There were on board several Scotch and Irishvolunteers, and he decided to throw himself upon the pity of one ofthese rather than on that of the Spaniards. He did not think thatin any case his life was in danger. Had he been detected whenfirst picked up, or during the early part of the voyage, he woulddoubtless have been thrown overboard without mercy; but now thatthe passions of the combatants had subsided, and that he had beenso long among them, and had, as he believed, won the goodwill ofmany by the assistance he had rendered to the sick and wounded, hethought that there was little fear of his life being taken in coldblood.
One of the Irish volunteers, Gerald Burke by name, had for a longtime been seriously ill, and Geoffrey had in many small ways shownhim kindness as he lay helpless on the deck, and he determinedfinally to confide in him. Although still very weak, Burke was nowconvalescent, and was sitting alone by the poop rail gazing uponthe coast of Spain with eager eyes, when Geoffrey, under the pretextof coiling down a rope, approached him. The young man nodded kindlyto him.
"Our voyage is nearly over, my poor lad," he said in Spanish, "andyour troubles now will be worse than mine. You have given me manya drink of water from your scanty supply, and I wish that I coulddo something for you in return; but I know that you do not evenunderstand what I say to you."
"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 himselfaddressed in English.
"My life is in your hands, sir; pray, do not betray me," Geoffreysaid rapidly 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 besafe with me."
At the appointed time Geoffrey returned to the spot. The deckswere now deserted, for a drizzling rain was falling, and all savethose on duty had retired below, happy in the thought that on thefollowing morning they 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 shipby the fall of a mast, had swum to the galleon and taken refugebeneath her bowsprit until she sank, and how, when picked up andcarried on to the Spanish ship, he feigned to have lost his sensesin order to conceal his ignorance of Spanish.
"I knew," he said, "that were I recognized as English at the timeI should at once be killed, but I thought that if I could concealwho I was for a time I should simply be sent to the galleys, whereI have heard that there are many English prisoners working."
"I think death would have been preferable to that lot," Mr. Burkesaid.
"Yes, sir; but there is always the hope of escape or of exchange.When you spoke kindly to me this afternoon I partly understood whatyou said, for in this long time I have been on board I have cometo understand a little Spanish, and I thought that maybe you wouldassist me in some way."
"I would gladly do so, though I regard Englishmen as the enemiesof my country; but in what way can I help you? I could furnish youwith a disguise, but your ignorance of Spanish would lead to yourdetection immediately."
"I have been thinking it over, sir, and it seemed to me thatas there will be no objection to my landing tomorrow, thinking asthey do that I have lost my senses, I might join you after you oncegot out of the town. I have some money in my waistbelt, and if youwould purchase some clothes for me I might then join you as yourservant as you ride along. At the next town you come to none wouldknow but that I had been in your service during the voyage, andthere would be nothing strange in you, an Irish gentleman, beingaccompanied by an Irish servant who spoke but little Spanish.I would serve you faithfully, sir, until perhaps some opportunitymight occur for my making my escape to England."
"Yes, I think that might be managed," the young Irishman said. "WhenI land tomorrow I will buy some clothes suitable for a serving man.I do not know the names of the hotels on shore, so you must watchme when I land and see where I put up. Come there in the evening atnine o'clock. I will issue out and give you the bundle of clothes,and tell you at what hour in the morning I have arranged to start.I will hire two horses; when they come round to the door, join mein front of the hotel and busy yourself in packing my trunks onthe baggage mules. When you have done that, mount the second horseand ride after me; the people who will go with us with the horseswill naturally suppose that you have landed with me. Should any ofour shipmates here see us start, it is not likely that they willrecognize you. If they do so, I need simply say that as you had shownme such kindness on board ship I had resolved to take you with meto Madrid in order to see if anything could be done to restore youto reason. However, it is better that you should keep in the backgroundas much as possible. I will arrange to start at so early an hourin the morning that none of those who may land with me from theship, and may put up at the same inn, are likely to be about."
The next morning the vessel entered port. They were soon surroundedby boats full of people inquiring anxiously for news of other ships,and for friends and acquaintances on board. Presently large boatswere sent off by the authorities, and the disembarkation of the sickand the helpless began. This indeed included the greater portionof the survivors, for there were but two or three score on boardwho were capable of dragging themselves about, the rest beingcompletely prostrate by disease, exhaustion, hunger, and thirst.Geoffrey was about to descend into one of the boats, when the officerin command said roughly: "Remain on board and do your work, thereis no need for your going into the hospital." One of the ship'sofficers, however, explained that the lad had altogether lost hissenses, and was unable either to understand when spoken to or toreply to questions. Consequently he was permitted to take his placein the boat.
As soon as he stepped ashore he wandered away among the crowd ofspectators. A woman, observing his wan face and feeble walk, calledhim into her house, and set food and wine before him. He made ahearty meal, but only shook his head when she addressed him, andlaughed childishly and muttered his thanks in Spanish when shebestowed a dollar upon him as he left. He watched at the port whileboat load after boat load of sick came ashore, until at last onecontaining the surviving officers and gentlemen with their baggagereached the land. Then he kept Gerald Burke in sight until heentered an inn, followed by two men carrying his baggage. Severaltimes during the day food and money were offered him, the inhabitantsbeing full of horror and pity at the sight of the famishing survivorsof the crew of the galleon.
At nine o'clock in the evening Geoffrey took up his station nearthe door of the inn. A few minutes later Gerald Burke came out witha bundle. "Here are the clothes," he said. "I have hired horses forour journey to Madrid. They will be at the door at six o'clock inthe morning. I have arranged to travel by very short stages, for atfirst neither you nor I could sit very long upon a horse; however,I hope
we shall soon gain strength as we go."
Taking the bundle, Geoffrey walked a short distance from the townand lay down upon the ground under some trees. The night was a warmone, and after the bitter cold they had suffered during the greaterpart of the voyage, it felt almost sultry to him. At daybreak inthe morning he rose, put on the suit of clothes Gerald Burke hadprovided, washed his face in a little stream, and proceeded to theinn. He arrived there just as the clocks were striking six. A fewminutes later two men with two horses and four mules came up tothe door, and shortly afterwards Gerald Burke came out. Geoffrey atonce joined him; the servants of the inn brought out the baggage,which was fastened by the muleteers on to two of the animals.Gerald Burke mounted one of the horses and Geoffrey the other, andat once rode on, the muleteers mounting the other two mules andfollowing 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 joinedme, 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 theshade of some trees. Fruit, bread, and wine were produced froma wallet on one of the mules, and they sat down and breakfasted.After a halt of an hour they rode on until noon, when they againhalted until four in the afternoon, for the sun was extremely hot,and both Gerald Burke and Geoffrey were so weak they scarce couldsit their horses. Two hours further riding took them to a largevillage, where they put up at the inn. Geoffrey now fell into hisplace as Mr. Burke's servant--saw to the baggage being takeninside, and began for the first time to try his tongue at Spanish.He got on better than he had expected; and as Mr. Burke spoke witha good deal of foreign accent, it did not seem in any way singularto the people of the inn that his servant should speak but littleof the language.
Quietly they journeyed on, doing but short distances for the firstthree or four days, but as they gained strength pushing on faster,and by the time they reached Madrid both were completely recoveredfrom the effects of their voyage. Madrid was in mourning, for therewas scarce a family but had lost relations in the Armada. Mr. Burkeat once took lodgings and installed Geoffrey as his servant. Hehad many friends and acquaintances in the city, where he had beenresiding for upwards of a year previous to the sailing of theArmada.
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 theend of six weeks was able to talk Spanish with some fluency. Henow generally accompanied Mr. Burke if he went out, following himin the streets and standing behind his chair when he dined abroad.He was much amused at all he saw, making many acquaintances amongthe lackeys of Mr. Burke's friends, dining with them downstairs afterthe banquets were over, and often meeting them of an evening whenhe had nothing to do, and going with them to places of entertainment.
In this way his knowledge of Spanish improved rapidly, and althoughhe still spoke with an accent he could pass well as one who hadbeen for some years in the country. He was now perfectly at easewith the Spanish gentlemen of Mr. Burke's acquaintance. It wasonly when Irish and Scotch friends called upon his master that hefeared awkward questions, and upon these occasions he showed himselfas little as possible. When alone with Gerald Burke the latteralways addressed Geoffrey as a friend rather than as a servant, andmade no secret with him as to his position and means. He had beenconcerned in a rising in Ireland, and had fled the country, bringingwith him a fair amount of resources. Believing that the Armada wascertain to be crowned with success, and that he should ere long berestored to his estates in Ireland, he had, upon his first comingto Spain, spent his money freely. His outfit for the expeditionhad made a large inroad upon his store, and his resources were nownearly 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 I have no desire to spend the rest of my life in the Netherlandsstorming the towns of the Dutch burghers."
"Or rather trying to storm them," Geoffrey said, smiling; "therehave not been many towns taken of late years."
"Nor should I greatly prefer to be campaigning in France," Geraldwent on, paying no attention to the interruption. "I have no loveeither for Dutch Calvinists or French Huguenots; but I have nodesire either to be cutting their throats or for them to be cuttingmine. I should like a snug berth under the crown here or at Cadiz,or at Seville; but I see no chance whatever of my obtaining one.I cannot take up the trade of a footpad, though disbanded soldiersturned robbers are common enough in Spain. 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."Your eyes are sharper than I gave you credit for, Master Geoffrey.Yes, that would set me on my legs without doubt, for Donna Inezis the only daughter and heiress of the Marquis of Ribaldo; butyou see there is a father in the case, and if that father had theslightest idea that plain Gerald Burke was lifting his eyes to hisdaughter it would not be many hours before Gerald Burke had severalinches of steel in his body."
"That I can imagine," Geoffrey said, "since it is, as I learn frommy acquaintances among the lackeys, a matter of common talk thatthe marquis 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,that instead of being drowned as most of the others were, he hashad the luck to get safely back again. However, he is still ill,and likely to be so for some time. He was not so accustomed tostarving as some of us, and he suffered accordingly. He is down athis estates near Seville."
"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 youreally mean to run off with the young lady--for I suppose thereis no chance in the world of your marrying her in any other way--itwill be better both for you and her that you should avoid forthe future these meetings in the gardens or elsewhere, and cast yourthoughts in some other direction for the bettering of your fortunes."
"That is most sage advice, Geoffrey," the young Irishman laughed,"and worthy of my father confessor; but it is not so easy to follow.In the first place, I must tell you that I do not regard Inez as inany way a step to fortune, but rather as a step towards a dungeon.It would be vastly better for us both if she were the daughter ofsome poor hidalgo like myself. I could settle down then with her,and plant vines and make wine, and sell what I don't drink myself.As it is, I have the chance of being put out of the way if it isdiscovered that Inez and I are fond of each other; and in the nextplace, if we do marry I shall have to get her safely out of thekingdom, or else she will have to pass the rest of her life in aconvent, and I the rest of mine in a prison or in the galleys; thatis if I am not killed as soon as caught, which is by far the mostlikely result. Obnoxious sons in law do not live long in Spain. Soyou see, Geoffrey, the prospect is a bad one altogether; and if itwere not that I dearly love Inez, and that I am sure she will beunhappy with Philip of Sottomayor, I would give the whole thingup, and make love to the daughter of some comfortable citizen whowould give me a corner of his house and a seat at his table forthe rest of my days."
"But, seriously--" Geoffrey began.
"Well, seriously, Geoffrey, my intention is to run away with Inezif it can be managed; but how it is to be managed at present I havenot the faintest idea. To begin with, the daughter of a Spanishgrandee is always kept in a very strong cage closely guarded, andit needs a very large golden key to o
pen it. Now, as you are aware,gold is a very scarce commodity with me. Then, after getting herout, a lavish expenditure would be needed for our flight. We shouldhave to make our way to the sea coast, to do all sorts of thingsto throw dust into the eyes of our pursuers, and to get a passageto some place beyond the domains of Philip, which means either toFrance, England, or the Netherlands. Beyond all this will be thequestion of future subsistence until, if ever, the marquis makes uphis mind to forgive his daughter and take her to his heart again,a contingency, in my opinion, likely to 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 opportunitiesfor courtship. With us at home these matters are easy enough, andthere is no lack of opportunity for pleading your suit and winninga girl's heart if it is to be won; but here in Spain matters arealtogether different, and an unmarried girl is looked after assharply as if she was certain to get into some mischief or otherthe instant she had an opportunity. She is never suffered to befor a moment alone with a man; out of doors or in she has always aduenna by her side; and as to a private chat, the thing is simplyimpossible."
"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,the wave of a fan, the dropping of a glove or flower, the touchof a hand in a crowded room--each of these things go as far asa month's open love making in Ireland."
"Then how did you manage with the duenna so as to be able to speakto her in the gardens?"
"Well, in the first place, I made myself very attentive to theduenna; in the second place, the old lady is devout, and you knowIreland is the land of saints, and I presented her with an amuletcontaining a paring 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,"it came from Ireland anyhow, which is the next best thing. Thenin the third place, the old lady is very fond of Inez; and althoughshe is as strict as a dragon, Inez coaxed her into the belief thatthere could not be any harm in our exchanging a few words when shewas close by all the time to hear what was said. Now, I think youknow as much as I do about the matter, Geoffrey. You will understandthat a few notes have been exchanged, and that Inez loves me.Beyond that everything is vague and uncertain, and I have not theslightest 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 shegave them up.
Gerald Burke's funds dwindled rapidly, although he and Geoffreylived in 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 andfood for another month. For the life of me I cannot see what is tobe done when that is gone, unless we take to the road."
Geoffrey shook his head. "As far as I am concerned," he said, "aswe are at war with Spain, it would be fair if I met a Spanish shipat sea to capture and plunder it, but I am afraid the laws of wardo not justify private plunder. I should be perfectly ready to goout and take service in a vineyard, or to earn my living in anyway if it could be managed."
"I would rob a cardinal if I had the chance," Gerald Burke said,"and if I ever got rich would restore his money four fold andso obtain absolution; only, unfortunately, I do not see my way torobbing a cardinal. As to digging in the fields, Geoffrey, I wouldrather hang myself at once. I am constitutionally averse to labour,and if one once took to that sort of thing there would be an endto 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 iswhat I should most hate."
"You might make your peace with the English government and get someof your estates back again."
"That I will not do to feed myself," Gerald Burke said firmly. "Ihave thought that if I ever carry off Inez I might for her sake doso, for I own that now all hope of help from Spain is at an end,our cause in Ireland is lost, and it is no use going on strugglingagainst the inevitable; but I am not going to sue the Englishgovernment as a beggar for myself. No doubt I could borrow smallsums from Irishmen and Scotchmen here, and hold on for a few months;but most of them are well nigh as poor as I am myself, and I wouldnot ask them. Besides, there would be no chance of my repaying them;and, if I am to rob anyone, I would rather plunder these rich donsthan my own countrymen."
"Of one thing I am resolved," Geoffrey said, "I will not live atyour expense any longer, Gerald. I can speak Spanish very fairlynow, and can either take service in some Spanish family or, as Isaid, get work in the field."
Gerald laughed. "My dear Geoffrey, the extra expenses caused byyou last week were, as far as I can calculate, one penny for breadand as much for fruit; the rest of your living was obtained at theexpense of my friends."
"At any rate," Geoffrey said smiling, "I insist that my money benow thrown into the common fund. I have offered it several timesbefore, but you always said we had best keep it for emergency. Ithink the emergency has come now, and these ten English pounds inmy belt will enable us to take some step or other. The question is,what step? They might last us, living as we do, for some three orfour months, but at the end of that time we should be absolutelypenniless; therefore now is the time, while we have still a smallstock in hand, to decide upon something."
"But what are we to decide upon?" Gerald Burke asked helplessly.
"I have been thinking it over a great deal," Geoffrey said, "andmy idea is that we had best go to Cadiz or some other large port.Although Spain is at war both with England and the Netherlands,trade still goes on in private ships, and both Dutch and Englishvessels carry on commerce with Spain; therefore it seems to methat there must be merchants in Cadiz who would be ready to giveemployment to men capable of speaking and writing both in Spanishand English, and in my case to a certain extent in Dutch. Fromthere, too, there might be a chance of getting a passage to Englandor Holland. If we found that impossible owing to the vessels beingtoo carefully searched before sailing, we might at the worst takepassage as sailors on board a Spanish ship bound for the Indies,and take our chance of escape or capture there or on 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 wellas here in Madrid; but at any rate I will go. Donna Inez was takenlast week by her father to some estates he has somewhere betweenSeville and Cadiz, in order, I suppose, that he may be nearer DonPhilip, who is, I hear, at last recovering from his long illness.I do not know that there is the slightest use in seeing her again,but I will do so if it be possible; and if by a miracle I couldsucceed in carrying her off, Cadiz would be a more likely place toescape from than anywhere.
"Yes, I know. You think the idea is a mad one, but you have neverbeen in love yet. When you are you will know that lovers do notbelieve in the word 'impossible.' At any rate, I mean to give Inezthe chance of determining her own fate. If she is ready to riskeverything rather than marry Don Philip, I am ready to share therisk whatever it may be."
Accordingly on the following day Gerald Burke disposed of thegreater part of his wardrobe and belongings, purchased two poniesfor a few crowns, and he and Geoffrey, with a solitary suit ofclothes in a wallet fastened behind the saddle, started for theirjourney to Cadiz. They mounted outside the city, for Gerald shrankfrom meeting any acquaintances upon such a sorry steed as he hadpurchased; but once on their way his spirits rose. He laughed andchatted gaily, and spoke of the future as if all difficulties werecleared away. The ponies, although rough animals, were s
trong andsturdy, and carried their riders at a good pace. Sometimes theytravelled alone, sometimes jogged along with parties whom theyovertook by the way, or who had slept in the same posadas or innsat 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 miscellaneousolio or stew from a great pot constantly simmering over the fire,the flavour, whatever it might be, being entirely overpoweredby that of the oil and garlic that were the most marked of itsconstituents. Beds were wholly unknown at these places, the guestssimply wrapping themselves in their cloaks and lying down on thefloor, although in a few exceptional cases bundles of rushes werestrewn about to form a common bed.
But the travelling was delightful. It was now late in the autumn,and when they were once past the dreary district of La Mancha, andhad descended to the rich plains of Cordova, the vintage was infull progress and the harvest everywhere being garnered in. Theirmidday meal consisted of bread and fruit, costing but the smallestcoin, and eaten by the wayside in the shade of a clump of trees.They heard many tales on their way down of the bands of robberswho infested the road, but having taken the precaution of havingthe doubloons for which they had exchanged Geoffrey's English goldsewn up in their boots, they had no fear of encountering these gentry,having nothing to lose save their wallets and the few dollars theyhad kept out for the expenses of their journey. The few jewels thatGerald Burke retained were sewn up in the stuffing of his saddle.
After ten days' travel they reached Seville, where they stayed acouple of days, and where the wealth and splendour of the buildingssurprised Geoffrey, who had not visited Antwerp or any of the greatcommercial centres 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 climatewas detestable, with its hot sun and bitter cold winds. Here thetemperature is delightful; the air is soft and balmy, the countryround is a garden, and there is a cathedral worthy of a capital."
"It seems a strange taste," Gerald agreed; "but I believe thatwhen Madrid was first planted it stood in the midst of extensiveforests, 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 agreat empire. If I were a Spaniard I should certainly take up myresidence in Seville."
Upon the following morning they again started, joining, before theyhad ridden many miles, a party of three merchants travelling withtheir servants to Cadiz. The merchants looked a little suspiciouslyat first at the two young men upon their tough steeds; but as soonas they discovered from their first salutations that they wereforeigners, they became more cordial, and welcomed this accessionof strength to their party, for the carrying of weapons was universal,and the portion of the road between Seville and Cadiz particularlyunsafe, as it was traversed by so many merchants and wealthypeople. The conversation speedily turned to the disturbed state ofthe roads.
"I do not think," one of the merchants said, "that any ordinaryband of robbers would dare attack us," and he looked round withsatisfaction at the six armed servants who rode behind them.
"It all depends," Gerald Burke said, with a sly wink at Geoffrey,"upon what value the robbers may place upon the valour of yourservants. As a rule serving men are very chary of their skins, and Ishould imagine that the robbers must be pretty well aware of thatfact. Most of them are disbanded soldiers or deserters, and I shouldsay that four of them are more than a match for your six servants.I would wager that your men would make but a very poor show of itif 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 shouldnot think, worshipful sir, that fighting was altogether in your line.Now, my servant, young as he is, has taken part in much fightingin the Netherlands, and I myself have had some experience withmy sword; but if we were attacked by robbers we should naturallystand neutral. Having nothing to defend, and having no inclinationwhatever to get our throats cut in protecting the property of others,I think that you will see for yourselves that that is reasonable.We are soldiers of fortune, ready to venture our lives in a goodservice, and for good pay, but mightily disinclined to throw themaway for the mere love of fighting."