“From that Portugal ship I’ve told you about,” Martin added.
“Run away, has he?” said Gollop. “Then you’ll convoy him back as quick as quick. Harbouring runaways is an offence in law, and as a man of law ’tis my bounden duty to give him up.”
“For shame, Gollop!” said his wife, now completely won over. “You and your law! What’s law, I’d like to know?”
“Law’s your master and my living, woman,” said Gollop. “Don’t you make any mistake about that. The boy’s a runaway, and back he goes.”
“You’re a hard-hearted monster,” said Susan. “Look at this!” She seized Gundra by the arm and drew him towards her husband. “Scars! Look at ’em!”
“Show your back, Gundra,” said Martin.
Susan herself pulled up the boy’s shirt and revealed livid streaks upon his flesh.
“Is there no law about that?” she demanded indignantly.
The constable stood with his brush poised in his hand.
“Them Portugals did that!” he cried. “Flog a poor little shrimp, eh? Sink me if I give ’em another chance. I’m a freeborn Englishman, I am, and law or no law, I’ll not give up any mortal soul, black or white, to be treated that cruel. Cover him up, Sue. Split my timbers! I’ve never seen anything like it.” He began to stamp up and down the room, kicking over a stool, flourishing his soapy brush. “Brutes, that’s what they are. How dare they run into an English port! Constable as I am, English seaman I was, and sooner than send the poor little wretch back into a ship where they treat them so savage, I’d—I’d——”