‘Nothing,’ said the man, his eyes still bent upon the floor. ‘It would seem most probable that a person about to lose his life would have some wish to express. If you have any, speak them, and if they be reasonable they shall be granted.’
‘I have none,’ was the reply.
‘Prisoner,’ continued Fanny, ‘have you no wife, children, of friends?’
Here she was interrupted by a groan from the Englishman, that showed she had touched him upon a vulnerable point.
‘Speak, sir.’
‘I have both wife and children,’ he said, without raising his head from his breast, while his broad manly chest heaved with visible emotion.
‘And you have no reward to leave for them, no wish to express before your execution?’ asked Fanny.
‘None! They will know that I died loyal!’
‘You have offered threats against this vessel and us, a second time since your being again secured, I am told. Is this so?’
‘It is; the enemies of my king are the enemies of God, and I would pursue them to the last gasp. Thou art a rebel, sir Captain, and all these about thee. Should they be spared if I could rid the king of them, by the loss of my own life? No!’ During all this time he had not even lifted his head, but as if humbled by his bonds, his eyes still sought the floor.