Through one of these surly-faced doors the merchant passed with his conductor into a low dark passage, where his ears were assailed by the chilling music of clinking manacles resounding from cells on either side; and the application of a massive key introduced him to his victim. The captain was stretched on his hard bed, as the most satisfactory position he could discover; but he rose when the merchant entered, and, recognising his visitor, made room for him on his pallet of straw.
'I have brought,' said Mr. Phillipson, scarcely knowing in what shape to open the conversation,—'I have brought your wife to see you, Stauncy. I thought it would be a satisfaction to her, poor woman, and to you also. Why, cap'n, I can't believe my own senses. I wouldn't have had this happen for all the world.'
'Our wisdom comes too late sometimes,' replied Stauncy, 'and that's my case. If I could only undo one thing, I could be happy even in a prison. The darkness within is the worst darkness now to me. The iron in my soul is a thousand times more humiliating and painful than these bars and doors, believe me. I could have wished, for her own sake, that my wife had not had an opportunity of witnessing my degradation; but her wisdom and love will comfort me.'
'As for myself,' the merchant remarked, 'I came to Exeter mainly for the purpose of securing the best counsel the city will afford; and it's impossible that those Ortops can make head against the searching, withering cleverness of Mr. Whitehead.'
'No cleverness will be of any avail, Mr. Phillipson,' said the captain mournfully. 'I thought the Sarah Ann was mute for ever, but she has been made to speak. Did you notice that lumbering vessel in the Pool? There are those on board of her who could hang both of us.'
The merchant's cheeks blanched at this intelligence. With the rapidity of lightning the true state of the case flashed upon his perception, and in an instant exposure and punishment confronted him. The light which struggled for existence in the cell was too dim, however, to reveal his ashy features, and, contriving to maintain an air of composure, he said,—
'Were the remarks made before Squire Hart confined to the scuttling of the brig?'
'I believe so; at least, when I was present.'
'No one, then, was implicated but yourself?'
'No one, as far as I know. Not a word escaped my lips that would implicate any one. I simply denied that I was guilty; for acts are to be judged of by circumstances—at least, you have taught me so. If you had done it, it would have been a different thing. I did as I was ordered, and therefore draw a line between duty and crime.'