It was clear that neither she nor Fergus would tell the men anything they might know about Talbot. She told them to search the house and the plantation. The officers made their search, while Michael, hunting fowls along the river, kept watch, ready to warn his master to draw back into his cave, in case the searchers should hunt along the bank.
The men didn't go anywhere near the cave, and left the plantation without any inkling of where Talbot had gone. But for several days his wife and friends were careful not to go near his hiding-place, lest spies might be watching them.
Lord Howard of Effingham had had all ships sailing from Virginia and Maryland searched for the fugitive. He had spread a net pretty well over both provinces, for he was determined to catch George Talbot if he possibly could. Another man might have given up the chase when he found no clue, but not so the determined governor of Virginia. As a result his agents came to the plantation time and again, and Talbot had to stay in his hiding-place while winter changed to spring, and spring to summer, and the next autumn came. Michael was his companion much of the time, but idleness was hard for a man of Talbot's nature.
The people on the plantation were faithful to their master, and gave no sign that they suspected he might be in hiding not very far away. But such a secret was hard to keep through many months, and at last some of Lord Baltimore's officers got wind in some way of the farmers' suspicions. They waited until they heard from London that Lord Baltimore had been successful in getting an order from the Privy Council of England directing that the governor of Virginia should send Talbot to London for trial instead of trying him in the province, and then they swooped down on the plantation, found Talbot, and forced him to surrender.
The outlaw chief rode to Baltimore City a prisoner. His wife went with him, and Michael to wait on her. In the town he learned from his friends that he was to be tried in England, not in Virginia. That was some comfort, and his wife told him that as soon as she learned that he had sailed for Europe she would take ship too, and meet him there. She had friends in London, and they might have much influence with the Privy Council.
The Maryland officers handed their prisoner over to the agents of the Virginia governor. These took him to Lord Howard, who had him put in a prison that was more securely guarded than the one on the Rappahannock had been. In prison George Talbot cooled his heels for some time, while his wife and Michael waited in Baltimore City to learn of his sailing for England.
Lord Howard of Effingham had grown so arbitrary as governor of Virginia,—where he had almost as much power as the king had in England,—that, instead of obeying the order of the Privy Council and sending his prisoner to London, he kept him in prison during the winter of 1685, and then in April of that year actually dared to announce that he meant to place Talbot on trial in Virginia for the killing of Christopher Rousby.
Word of this came to Mrs. Talbot and her friends in Maryland. Lord Howard was disobeying the law of England in not sending Talbot there for trial, but, notwithstanding that, he might, in his tyrannical fashion, try Talbot, convict him, and even execute him. His wife could do nothing to prevent this if she stayed in Maryland; so, faithful and brave as ever, she took passage in a merchantman for England, and crossed the Atlantic Ocean, with Michael as her squire.
Michael, used to the wilderness of the colonies, with only a few scattered settlements to break the stretches of woods and meadows, opened his eyes very wide at the multitude of houses, the throngs of people, that he saw in the city by the Thames. He went with Mrs. Talbot to call on Lord Baltimore, the owner of the province of Maryland. Lord Baltimore listened intently to Mrs. Talbot's story, and grew red in the face with anger when he heard how the governor of Virginia was making light of the order of the Privy Council.