'Well,' she said, 'she will find companions enough here. I hope she will work without the whip. Hark ye, girl,' she added with, I think, kindly intent, 'it goes still to my heart when I hear that the women have been trounced; but the work must be done. Remember that! And who are those--and those?' She pointed with contempt to the poor creatures covered with dirt and dust, and in the ragged, miserable clothes they had worn all the voyage. 'Street sweepings; rogues and thieves all. Let them know,' she said grandly, 'what awaits those who skulk and those who thieve. And whom have we here?'--she turned to me--'Is this some fine city madam fresh from Bridewell?' 'This prisoner,' said the overseer, 'is described as a rebel in the late Monmouth rising.' 'A rebel? Truly?' she asked with curiosity. 'Were Monmouth's soldiers women? We heard by the last ship something of this. Madam, I know not why you must needs become a rebel; but this, look you, is no place for gentlewomen to sit down and fold their arms.' 'Madam,' I replied, 'I look for nothing less than to work, being now a convict (though I was never tried) and condemned--I know not by whom--to transportation in his Majesty's Plantations.' 'Let me look at your hands,' she said sharply. 'Why, of what use are these little fingers? They have never done any work. And your face--prithee, turn back your hood.' I obeyed, and her eyes suddenly softened. Indeed, I looked not for this sign of compassion, and my own tears began to flow. ''Tis a shame!' she cried. ''Tis a burning shame to send so young a woman--and a gentlewoman, and one with such a face--to the Plantations! Have they no bowels? Child, who put thee aboard the ship?' 'I was brought on board by one Mr. Penne, who deceived me, promising that I should be taken to New England, where I have cousins.' 'We will speak of this presently. Meantime--since we must by the law find you some work to do--can you sew?' 'Yes, Madam, I can perform any kind of needlework, from plain sewing to embroidery.' 'What mean they,' she cried again, 'by sending a helpless girl alone with such a crew? The very Spaniards of whom they talk so much would blush for such barbarity. Well, they would send her to a convent where the good Nuns would treat her kindly. Madam, or Miss, thou art bought, and the master may not, by law, release you. But there is a way of which we will talk presently. Meanwhile, thou canst sit in the sewing-room, where we may find thee work.' I thanked her. She would have said more; but there came forth from the house, with staggering step, the man who had bought us. He had now put off his wig and his scarlet coat, and wore a white dressing-gown and a linen nightcap. He had in his hand a whip, which he cracked as he walked. 'Child,' said Madam, quickly, 'pull down your hood. Hide your face. He hath been drinking, and at such times he is dangerous. Let him never set eyes upon thee save when he is sober.'