A great crowd surging along, pushing, fighting, and hallooing in the rear of a compact body of Rovers or freebooters, well armed, bringing with them a band of Spanish prisoners, captured in a ship in the channel, bound from Cadiz to the Low Countries, with a rich cargo of Silks, Wines, and other such articles of value, besides a quantity of money, for the payment of the Troops there. Among the captives, Soldiers of rank, Noblemen, Great Merchants. Some are hauled along in irons, screaming for mercy, to be kept prisoners till ransomed. A group of three, the assumed property of one party, are about being put up to auction. A Sailor stands upon a barrel with an axe in his hand for a hammer, as auctioneer. Jews and Spectators in front, ready to bid, and chaffing the extemporized Auctioneer.
Several Voices. Why don’t you go on, Bill Sayers! go on! go on! put one of the Hidalgos up. (Laughter.)
Whilst the chief is bargaining with a rich Jew aside, a Ruffian grasps at one of the Spanish Captives.
Ruffian. I should like one of those gold buttons.
The leader, Tom Cobham, turning from the Jew, brandishes his axe not very particular whether or not it lopped off an arm.
Tom Cobham, (fiercely.) Back varlet! on your life, I’ll cleave the first man, to the brisket, who dares to lay hand on one of them! (Sweeps round him with his terrible weapon, the crowd fall back. Turning to the Jew again) I’ll tell you what, Isaac! We cannot deal!
Isaac. They’re not worth an Angel more. There’s not an Hidalgo among them. Only traders like myself.
Tom Cobham. You Jews can jabber all the languages in the world. But I have robbed Churches, sacked towns along the coast of Spain, from Cadiz to Finisterra, have plundered her gold ships, and seized her Merchantmen (he pauses musing) ever since the execution of Sir Thomas Wyatt, and I can talk Spanish as well as you. They are Nobles, every one of them.
Isaac (whispering in his ear.) There now! I will do no more.
Tom Cobham (turning away indignant.) Two thousands Rials! Not even Sovereigns! We only count in Sovereigns, you old screw! You mean to rob. It’s not the price of the gold lace and buttons on their coats, not to speak of the jewels, silk, and velvet. Speak up, or be off! I know what to do with them.