Now I did not think much of the French danger being far more concerned with the peril in the West; but I held my peace on that subject.  It was not my cue to cross his Excellency in his present humour.

“What makes the colony poor?” I asked.  “The planters are rich enough, but the richest man will grow tired of bearing the whole burden of the government.  I submit that His Majesty and the English laws are chiefly to blame.  When the Hollanders were suffered to trade here, they paid five shillings on every anker of brandy they brought hither, and ten shillings on every hogshead of tobacco they carried hence.  Now every penny that is raised must come out of the Virginians, and the Englishmen who bleed the land go scot free.”

“That’s true,” said he, “and it’s a damned disgrace.  But how am I to better it?”

“Clap a tax on every ship that passes Point Comfort outward bound,” I said.  “The merchants can well afford to pay it.”

“Listen to him!” he laughed.  “And what kind of answer would I get from my lord Howard and His Majesty?  Every greasy member would be on his feet in Parliament in defence of what he called English rights.  Then there would come a dispatch from the Government telling the poor Deputy-Governor of Virginia to go to the devil!”

He looked at me curiously, screwing up his eyes.

“By the way, Mr. Garvald, what is your trade?”

“I am a merchant like the others,” I said; “only my ships run from Glasgow instead of Bristol.”

“A very pretty merchant,” he said quizzically.  “I have heard that hawks should not pick out hawks’ eyes.  What do you propose to gain, Mr. Garvald?”

“Better business,” I said.  “To be honest with you, sir, I am suffering from the close monopoly of the Englishman, and I think the country is suffering worse.  I have a notion that things can be remedied.  If you cannot put on a levy, good and well; that is your business.  But I mean to make an effort on my own account.”

Then I told him something of my scheme, and he heard me out with a puzzled face.

“Of all the brazen Scots—­” he cried.

“Scot yourself,” I laughed, for his face and speech betrayed him.

“I’ll not deny that there’s glimmerings of sense in you, Mr. Garvald.  But how do you, a lad with no backing, propose to beat a strong monopoly buttressed by the whole stupidity and idleness of Virginia?  You’ll be stripped of your last farthing, and you’ll be lucky if it ends there.  Don’t think I’m against you.  I’m with you in your principles, but the job is too big for you.”

“We will see,” said I.  “But I can take it that, provided I keep within the law, His Majesty’s Governor will not stand in my way?”

“I can promise you that.  I’ll do more, for I’ll drink success to your enterprise.”  He filled me a great silver tankard of spiced sack, and I emptied it to the toast of “Honest Men.”

* * * * *