"You come to the wrong place for it, sir. Even if I was to apply to the Holy Church for a loan, I could not grasp so much together."
"Then one of your Excellency's captains—Don Sancho, I think his name was, of the galleas Sanctissimo José—must have lied most stoutly when we overhauled him a while back. His holds contained nothing but some rubbishing merchandise, and for excuse he said that all the plate was kept back in the treasury here for another year, waiting a stronger convoy."
"Master Benson," said the Governor, "you are right. He did lie. They are very unreliable persons, these mariner folk."
"Your Excellency's eloquence makes the matter clear to me; but if I carried such an answer back to the Prince, my poor bald words might not make him believe."
"And then, sir?"
"Why, then, your Excellency, I fancy Prince Rupert would come with his fleet and pay a civil call, and so be assured in person."
The Governor's face flushed, and he started forward in his chair. "Master Benson," he said, "take care. You are using very dangerous words. Neither England, nor England's king, is at war with Spain."
"England?" said the envoy thoughtfully. "Spain?" said he. "I seem to have heard the names once. Oh yes, I remember them distinctly now. But, your Excellency, those countries are a very vast distance away from here."
"If you choose to look at it that way, Master Benson, you may. You may even go so far as to bring forward the barbarous doctrine that in these seas might is right. The defences of this place were built especially to accommodate any person who might hold that view."
"These were shown me as I came up here," said the envoy. "They are brave defences—so were the defences of your Excellency's pearling fleet."