“Do you know anything of the Portuguese, Mr Carlyon?”
“No, sir,” says I; “I han’t never had occasion to learn it.”
“It may be that that occasion is even now arriving,” says he. “The Company, learning that its interests have at divers times suffered grievous hurt through its servants not understanding the tongue of the Portugals, hath decided to have instructed therein certain of its writers, gentlemen well-learned in the Indian tongues. At present you are the only gentleman at this place of whom this is said, and the Committee are therefore pleased to direct that you shall proceed at their charges to the city of Goa, in the Portuguese Indies, there to study the Portuguese tongue. The time you spend there under the Committee’s direction will count as a part of your service as writer, and you will receive a genteel present from the Company when you have given proof of your diligence.”
“I thank your honours and the Committee, sir,” said I, “for this goodness, which I will do my best to deserve.”
“You will provide yourself, Mr Carlyon,” says Mr Accountant, “with clothes befitting a young gentleman of quality, and the Company will furnish you with letters of commendation to the most considerable persons in Goa. Mr Martin will be good enough to instruct you with respect to the carriage and manners it will be becoming to you to assume. You won’t of course deny your connection with the Factory here, but it need not be insisted upon in general company. And if”—here Mr Accountant leaned forward, and looked me very steadfastly in the face—“if you find that ’tis true, as is alleged, that the Portugals are contriving plots for the damaging the Company’s trade in the Eastern Seas, you will make known the same to us, by means as secret and as speedy as you can devise.”
“Sir,” said I, “I’ll do my best to be watchful for their honours’ interests.” For I perceived that the Council was no little touched by the rumours that had of late reached us concerning the designs of the Portugals, and that ’twas my business to discover these, that so they might best be thwarted. And after this Mr Secretary, that had spoke not at all hitherto, being grieved that he could not prevail with his honour the President to send Mr Spender to Goa beside me, gave me my further instructions, and so I was dismissed. And Mr Martin and I walking back to our chambers, he saith to me:—
“This chanceth in an houre that hapneth not in seven yeares, Ned, and sure ’tis a happy chance for you. With prudence and tolerable good luck, your fortune is now assured. I don’t doubt but you’ll soon be made agent in some small factory when you are returned from your studying, and so have occasion to use your Portuguese. But with your leave, lad, I will give you some counsel, lest you fall into trouble at Goa.”
“Sir,” says I, “I hope that I shall always gratefully receive and follow any counsels you may be good enough to give me.”
“Listen, then,” says he; “and first you must always be mindful not to infringe the punctilio[51] of the Portugals, for so fantastical and strange is’t as passeth belief. You must never look hard at a lady, as she sits in her balcony, or rides in her coach, if you don’t desire to be stabbed that night. And regarding the religion of Goa, you must needs be mighty circumspect. You have seen those poor idolaters, the Papists here, walking through the city with their processions, and kneeling down in the mire when the Host is a-passing? Here this happeneth but from time to time, but at Goa you see little else. And in all the Portugals’ towns ’tis the law and custom that every one meeting a procession of the Church shall uncover to’t, and also kneel, or at the least bow low, until it be passed by. Now some Englishmen, conceiving that saw to be true, When at Rome, do as Rome does, do make it their custom to uncover and kneel, as ’tis ordained, but to me, this compliance savours somewhat of cowardice, and won’t, as I believe, commend itself to you. Wherefore, if you’ll be guided by me, I would have you go into some shop near at hand, or turn down another street whensoever you see a procession coming, or hear the little bell rung that signifies the approach of the Host, if you don’t wish to be stabbed where you stand. And above all, my dear Ned, let me entreat you never to enter into any controversy with any person in Goa, be he Portugal or Indian, upon any question of religion. He will seek to lead you on until you have uttered something that is to his mind heretical, and then he’ll denounce you to the Inquisition. And once there, Ned, ’twere far better had you been stabbed in the street by some bravo among the common people, for the few that are escaped thence are come forth crippled and helpless, and the many that han’t never escaped have died by the torture or the fire. Happie is he that can beware by other men’s harmes.”
“I thank you, sir,” says I, “and will try to remember that which you have ofttimes told me—viz., A close mouth catches no flys.”