The magistrate heard my story attentively, and not altogether unfavourably.
“Admiral Duncan’s fleet,” said he, “is in arms against the Dutch republic.”
“It is,” said I.
“How many sail does he muster?” demanded my judge.
“I cannot tell you, mynheer,” said I.
“Where do his ships lie?”
“Mynheer,” said I, “would you expect a Dutch sailor to betray his country to an English magistrate? I refuse to answer.”
He frowned, less at my refusal than at the terms in which it was couched.
“Give me the name of your acquaintance at the Hague,” said he, changing the subject.
I gave him Biddy’s name.