The governor and his friends continued in close conversation—doubtless discussing my behavior—until Lady Biddy came breathless to my side. Seeing me under arrest, her face was filled with alarm, and any one might see that her perplexity was unfeigned; yet I doubt if this removed the suspicion of my treachery.
"What does this mean, Benet?" asks Lady Biddy, when she could fetch her breath.
"Nay," says I, "that is the question I want you to ask Dom Sebastian."
The governor, who had drawn nigh, saluting Lady Biddy with the utmost civility, explained to her that I had been caught attempting to run out of the town, "And in that direction," adds he, pointing to the black ship.
In a few words I told how this came to pass, the governor eyeing us the while as if he would look into our very hearts. Happily he seemed to see that we were innocent, for the moment he heard Lady Biddy's account he bade the men unhand me, and begged her to tell me that he was sorry I had brought myself into this scrape, added that he should be glad to know how I came to forget that I had left the boat there.
To this I replied that I could say nothing in defense of my oversight.
"I trust," says he, "the senhor will not get himself into further trouble by a like accident. Had I not remembered the boat and got it removed, it would have served as a sure indication to the enemy that there was a path from that point by the cliff."
I felt that I deserved this reproach; nay, I was rather surprised at the governor's moderation, for, granting that I might be a knave, there was evidence enough against me to justify a halter being put about my neck.
"I am the more concerned for your cousin's prudence," continues he, "because in an hour's time you will no longer be under my protection."
"How, your excellency?" cries Biddy. "Are you going to send us hence?"