“Yes, my good fellow, where is Mr. Oxenham?” asked Sir Richard, rising. “You are somewhat over-hasty in welcoming your old acquaintance, Amyas, before we have heard from him whether he can give honest account of himself and of his captain. For there is more than one way by which sailors may come home without their captains, as poor Mr. Barker of Bristol found to his cost. God grant that there may have been no such traitorous dealing here.” “Sir Richard Grenville, if I had been a guilty man to my noble captain, as I have to God, I had not come here this day to you, from whom villainy has never found favor, nor ever will; for I know your conditions well, sir; and trust in the Lord, that if you will be pleased to hear me, you shall know mine.” “Thou art a well-spoken knave. We shall see.” “My dear sir,” said Amyas, in a whisper, “I will warrant this man guiltless.” “I verily believe him to be; but this is too serious a matter to be left on guess. If he will be sworn--” Whereon the man, humbly enough, said, that if it would please Sir Richard, he would rather not be sworn. “But it does not please me, rascal! Did I not warn thee, Amyas?” “Sir,” said the man, proudly, “God forbid that my word should not be as good as my oath: but it is against my conscience to be sworn.” “What have we here? some fantastical Anabaptist, who is wiser than his teachers.” “My conscience, sir--” “The devil take it and thee! I never heard a man yet begin to prate of his conscience, but I knew that he was about to do something more than ordinarily cruel or false.” “Sir,” said the man, coolly enough, “do you sit here to judge me according to law, and yet contrary to the law swear profane oaths, for which a fine is provided?” Amyas expected an explosion: but Sir Richard pulled a shilling out and put it on the table. “There--my fine is paid, sirrah, to the poor of Kilkhampton: but hearken thou all the same. If thou wilt not speak an oath, thou shalt speak on compulsion; for to Launceston gaol thou goest, there to answer for Mr. Oxenham's death, on suspicion whereof, and of mutiny causing it, I will attach thee and every soul of his crew that comes home. We have lost too many gallant captains of late by treachery of their crews, and he that will not clear himself on oath, must be held for guilty, and self-condemned.” “My good fellow,” said Amyas, who could not give up his belief in the man's honesty, “why, for such fantastical scruples, peril not only your life, but your honor, and Mr. Oxenham's also? For if you be examined by question, you may be forced by torment to say that which is not true.”