Sir Francis turned to them.
"What of the Englishman, Sir Thomas Winchester?" he inquired. "Did he engage in the expeditions with thee, or did he remain here as a captive?"
They raised a loud shout.
"He is the ringleader," they cried as though with one voice. "Did he not slay Sir Samuel Morton?" one cried, midst the approval of his fellows. "He wears his doublet now!" another shouted. "And his sword!" roared another. "He knew no mercy!" screamed a burly villain in a green doublet. "He would have taken the Spanish maid had not the priest dissuaded him," said another.
Drake turned to me; his face had hardened.
"What more couldst thou ask, Sir Thomas? They corroborate the priest in every detail with one accord. Here is evidence enough to hang an angel of light."
Then turning to old Sir William Stone.
"Take them out, Sir William," he cried; "stand them up against the wall, and shoot them down. As for thee, Sir Thomas, thou shalt go back with me to England, and let the Queen pass upon thy fate."
"One word," I said, "there is among them the lad Oliver Gates; he is but a boy, fresh and innocent, and has had naught to do with these deeds of which the ruffians speak. I would not that he should suffer harm."