"Not so long as I've got breath." Briggs' complexion was deepening in the candlelight as he began wondering what the Commonwealth's men would do with his sugar. Confiscate it and ruin him in the bargain? "I say we fight to the last man, no matter what."
Dalby Bedford finished scanning the letter and looked up. "I think we should hold one last vote. There's . . ."
"What are the terms?" Briggs interrupted.
"They seem to be the same. I presume he thought we might surrender, now that they've landed." Bedford hesitated. Was independence worth the killing sure to ensue if they went to war—a war that had now become planter against planter? "But it does appear he's willing to negotiate."
"Then let's hear it." Briggs glanced about the room. "Though I'd have every man here remember that we've got no guarantees other than Calvert's word, and anything he consents to will still have to be approved by Parliament."
"If you'll allow me, sir." Bedford motioned for quiet, then lifted a candlestick from the table and held it over the parchment.
"To the right honorable etc.
"My Lord—I have formerly sent you many Invitations to persuade you to a fair compliance with that new Power which governs your Native Country, thereby preserving yourself and all the Gent, of this island from certain ruin, and this Island from that desolation which your, and their, obstinacy may bring upon it.
"Although I have now been welcomed by a considerable part of the Island, with my Commission published—that being to appoint your Governor for the State of England—yet I am still the same reasonable Man as before and hold forth the same grace and favor to you I formerly did, being resolved no change of fortune shall change my nature. Thus I invite you to accept this same Commission as the others have done—in recognition that we each now possess considerable portions of this noble Island. . . ."