"In England there are gallows for such rascal pirates as you."
"No," says he, catching hold of her arm ere she could escape his touch, and holding her firmly—"not when they have friends to protect them, and have the wit to close the mouths of enemies. No one will bring disgrace on Lady Biddy by hanging her husband and the father of her children. For my sake, to save me from the gallows, you will consent to become my wife. If that be not sufficient reason, then you will marry me for your own sake. The wife of Don Sanchez Rodrigues de Arevalo may hold up her head in the King's court; but the mistress of Rodrigues, the pirate, flung ashore at Plymouth, dare not crawl to show her face at Falmouth. You will see," adds he, freeing her arm, and with a return to his former hypocritical fair seeming—"you will see that what I propose is entirely to your advantage, and inevitable as the setting of the sun."
Thereupon he makes her another low obeisance, turns on his heel, and struts out of the cabin.
All these particulars did Lady Biddy lay before me when she had bolted the door after Rodrigues' departure and come into the next chamber, which she could well do at that time without arousing suspicion. Many times she paused and could not speak for indignation and offended pride; nay, I think she would have kept this matter to herself, but that I pressed her to tell all for my better guidance. Tears she had not one, for passion held them back.
"Does he think," says she, with scorn that scarce permitted her to bate her voice—"does he think that ever I will live to be his slave? I could cut this arm off because his foul hand has touched it. I will die a thousand deaths rather than submit to such injury. Promise me, Benet, that if you hear me cry for help—"
"Fear not," says I, interrupting her. "My knife was drawn, and I stood ready by the little door all the time I heard the muttering of his voice in there. So will I stand prepared when next he comes, and be assured I will have his life if you cry to me."
"Nay," says she; "take my life first and his after, for I would not outlive my shame."
I tried to sooth her mind, which was overmuch exalted, and bade her not think of death while any hope remained, but rather trust to my ability to effect our escape when we came to that port he had spoken of.
"And now," says I, "do pray go back, and seem to make light of this matter; for I fear that if he be undeceived in his hopes he may bring the business to an extremity before we get near land. Remember, my lady, 'tis not your own honor alone you have to consider, though that be paramount to all, but the peace of Sir Bartlemy and," adds I, with an effort, "your poor lover, Sir Harry. Wherefore, for their sakes, must we fight this villain with his own weapons—meeting subtlety with subtlety; and for some little while, if you may subdue your proud spirit, it will be well to let him opine you will in time come round to his way of thinking."
"I understand you, Benet," says she calmly. "You fear if he thinks my resolution invincible he may"—she paused, covering her face with her hands, and added, leaving a blank where she could not utter her thought—"before we reach Caracas."