‘The court,’ he said, ‘hath been in an unseemly manner interrupted by a noble person now present. Such irregularities cannot in any way be permitted, even to the highest of the land; and it is therefore craved that the noble person in question do refrain henceforth from interrupting the course of justice.’
Don José, at this laughed scornfully, and flung himself back in his chair, which he balanced upon the hinder legs, twisting and twirling his moustache at the same time, with the air of a man who deems his company vastly beneath him, and curling his lip as he did when relating the miracle of Our Lady of the Hill blowing up the ‘Oxford’ man-of-war.
The wrinkled man next took up the speech. Peering with the bitterest glances out of the corner of his blinking eyes at Don José, he squeaked out, that those suffering banishment for offences committed against the law, were not the most proper supporters of the authority of his Majesty.
The hidalgo answered, by removing his sombrero, and bowing, with a wonderful air of mock gravity and condescension, to his reprover. Then the examination recommenced:
‘Did you not arrive with your comrades off this peaceful coast in an armed ship, your intent being to kill, sink, burn, and destroy?’ the alcaide next demanded, with ruffled brow, and a savage eagerness in his speech.
I remained mute. ‘Silence gives consent,’ said the clerk. Don José shrugged his shoulders, and leisurely used a golden pick-tooth. The clerk wrote down something, probably an entry, that I had confessed that such were our intentions.
‘Were you not taken in the act of playing the spy in the harbour of Carthagena?’ roared the alcaide again.
I still remained mute. What need was there of speech? The alcaide and the clerk consulted together; then the former made a sign to one of the turnkeys, who stood by me. The man nodded and withdrew. This motion did not escape Don José, who forthwith rose up, and said very briskly—
‘Señor Monté, beware you do not somewhat transcend your commission. I have not lost my interest at the court of Castile. That youth may be a pirate, but you have in noways proved it. Besides he hath borne himself both modestly and manfully. I am of a house which hath ever protected the weak against the strong; and I swear, by your Lady of the Hill, that if the youth come to wrong, you and your underlings shall answer and abide the consequence!’
At this, there was a loud and threatening murmur among the spectators; and the turnkeys, thinking that Don José might attempt a rescue single-handed, gripped me tightly. As for the alcaide, his grim and disfigured features grew white, and worked and grinned with spite, while the little wrinkled man, shaking with rage, whispered tremulously to his superior. In a minute the alcaide burst out. He started off his seat, and with his fists clenched, and the shaggy hairs of his moustache bristling for very passion, he roared out—