“But what if they wish to treat for this gentleman's ransom?” “For their own, more likely,” said the Spaniard; “but tell them, on my part, senor, that Don Guzman refuses to be ransomed; and will return to no camp where the commanding officer, unable to infect his captains with his own cowardice, dishonors them against their will.” “You speak sharply, senor,” said Winter, after Raleigh had gone out. “I have reason, Senor Admiral, as you will find, I fear, erelong.” “We shall have the honor of leaving you here, for the present, sir, as Admiral Winter's guest,” said the lord deputy. “But not my sword, it seems.” “Pardon me, senor; but no one has deprived you of your sword,” said Winter. “I don't wish to pain you, sir,” said Amyas, “but I fear that we were both careless enough to leave it behind last night.” A flash passed over the Spaniard's face, which disclosed terrible depths of fury and hatred beneath that quiet mask, as the summer lightning displays the black abysses of the thunder-storm; but like the summer lightning it passed almost unseen; and blandly as ever, he answered: “I can forgive you for such a neglect, most valiant sir, more easily than I can forgive myself. Farewell, sir! One who has lost his sword is no fit company for you.” And as Amyas and the rest departed, he plunged into the inner tent, stamping and writhing, gnawing his hands with rage and shame. As Amyas came out on the battery, Yeo hailed him: “Master Amyas! Hillo, sir! For the love of Heaven, tell me!” “What, then?” “Is his lordship stanch? Will he do the Lord's work faithfully, root and branch: or will he spare the Amalekites?” “The latter, I think, old hip-and-thigh,” said Amyas, hurrying forward to hear the news from Raleigh, who appeared in sight once more. “They ask to depart with bag and baggage,” said he, when he came up. “God do so to me, and more also, if they carry away a straw!” said Lord Grey. “Make short work of it, sir!” “I do not know how that will be, my lord; as I came up a captain shouted to me off the walls that there were mutineers; and, denying that he surrendered, would have pulled down the flag of truce, but the soldiers beat him off.” “A house divided against itself will not stand long, gentlemen. Tell them that I give no conditions. Let them lay down their arms, and trust in the Bishop of Rome who sent them hither, and may come to save them if he wants them. Gunners, if you see the white flag go down, open your fire instantly. Captain Raleigh, we need your counsel here. Mr. Cary, will you be my herald this time?” “A better Protestant never went on a pleasanter errand, my lord.” So Cary went, and then ensued an argument, as to what should be done with the prisoners in case of a surrender.