While the young patriots were thus endeavouring to reduce the army, war was brewing with Spain. Our traders were constantly encroaching on her rights and monopolies in the New World. There was a perpetual smuggling invasion of the Spanish settlements in America on the part of the British, and a rigorous defence by right of search on the part of the Spaniards. There can be little doubt that the British merchants were in the wrong. But trade has neither conscience nor bowels, and monopolies of commerce are the fair quarry of the freebooting merchant. The Spaniards, on their side, were not delicate or merciful in exercising their undoubted right of search; so our countrymen, to conceal their own infractions of treaty and to stir up hostility to Spain, spared no methods or exertions to rouse popular indignation against their enemies. Little less than the tortures of the Inquisition were alleged. 'Seventy of our brave sailors are now in chains in Spain! our countrymen in chains and slaves to the Spaniards!' exclaimed an enthusiastic alderman: 'is not this enough to fire the coldest?'[117] The notorious Jenkins now appeared on the scene with an ear in cotton-wool, which he alleged to have been torn from his head by a Spaniard, with an intimation that the mutilator would gladly serve our King in the same way. Alderman Beckford, who brought Jenkins forward, afterwards declared that if any member had lifted up Jenkins's wig, he would have found both ears whole and complete.[118] Others averred that though he had lost his ear, he had lost it in the pillory.