Instead, however, of being landed here, the prisoners were conveyed to the Fort of San Pedro, to the south, lest inconvenient questions might be too often asked as to how they came to be there, and what had become of the rest of the fleet which captured them.
The Castle of San Pedro was a strong fortress with high walls and towers a gloomy-looking place, as gloomy as any spot in that land of sunshine can be, but gloomy undoubtedly it appeared to poor Edward and his companions, as, strongly guarded, they were conducted through its portals, not knowing when they might repass them and obtain their liberty. They were first conducted into the presence of the governor, a surly old don of the most immovable character; his face was like smoke-dried parchment, with beard of formal cut, and eyes so sunk that nothing could be seen but two small spots of jetty hue, overhung with grey shaggy eyebrows. Without the slightest expression of courtesy or commiseration, he at once commenced interrogating Edward in the Portugal tongue, ordering a yellow-skinned trembling clerk, who squatted at his side with
a huge book before him, to write down his replies.
Edward answered succinctly to all the questions put to him, requesting that, as prisoners of war, he and his men might be treated with the courtesy usually awarded to persons in their position, by civilised nations, among whom the Portugals stood prominent.
Call yourselves prisoners of war! exclaimed Don Lobo, pulling his moustaches vehemently. You are pirates you and your countrymen nothing better; and as such deserve to be thrown from the top of one of the towers of this castle, or dangled from one of the turrets by a rope, or shot, or drowned any death is too good for you; burning at the stake as heretics ay, vile heretics as you are is most fit for you. See that such is not your lot.
Edward made no reply to this address, feeling that such would only too probably exasperate the petty tyrant. Dick Lizard was, however, not so judicious. Having had a good deal of intercourse with the Portugals, he knew enough of their language to understand what was said; so, putting his left arm akimbo, and doubling his right fist, he exclaimed
Call us pirates! Ill tell you what you and your dastardly crew are, Senhor Don Governor: you are a set of garlic-eating, oil-drinking sons of sea-cooks, who rob the weak when you can catch them, and run away from the strong like arrant knaves and cowards as you are. You are
What other complimentary remarks poor Dick might have uttered it is impossible to say; for as he was beginning his next sentence, a blow from the butt-end of an arquebuse laid him prostrate on the floor. Edward, afraid that his bold countryman had been killed, knelt down by his side. But Dicks head was too hard to succumb to the strength of a Portugals arm, even when wielding a heavy weapon.
All right, sir, he said, opening his eyes. Ill be at them again, and give em more of my mind, and my fist too, if I can get at them.
Edward, however, advised him under the circumstances to keep both one and the other to himself, and, as he did not feel disposed to be polite to his masters, to hold his tongue.
Masters! Marry, masters, indeed! cried Dick. If you says they are masters, sir, I suppose they be; but theyll find me a terrible obstinate servant to deal with, let me tell them.
No, dont tell them, Lizard, that or any thing else, said Edward soothingly. You see that at all events we are in their power, and unless they let us go we may have some difficulty in escaping.
Not if we can get some planks to float on, sir, whispered Lizard. That notion of yours, sir, has brought me to sooner nor any thing. I thinks as how now, sir, I can keep a civil tongue in my head to those baboon-faced, sneaking, blackguard scoundrels.
Get up, then, man, and remember not to speak a word while I explain your sentiments, said Edward, glad by any means to save his follower from ill treatment.
The Portugals, who fully believed that the blow must have inflicted a mortal injury on the man, fancied that his officer was receiving his last dying words, a message to his distant home, and did not interfere with him. Their surprise, therefore, was proportionately great when they saw him got up on his legs, give a hitch to his waistband, and, after sundry scratches and pulls at his shaggy locks, once more address the governor.
An may it please your honour, Senhor Don Governor, I axes your reverences pardon for calling you and your people yellow-faced sons of sea-cooks (because as how to my mind your fathers and mothers were never any thing so respectable, he added in a low tone). Howsomdever, as your honour knows, I am but a rough seaman whos followed his calling on the salt water all the days of his life, and will follow it, maybe, to the end, and therefore much manners cant be expected; and so, Senhor Scarecrow, or whatever is your name, I hope youll not log down against my officer here or my shipmates any thing youve heard.