This reply seemed to discomfit them for a moment. They looked at
each other, then at my passport. At length the alcalde, striking
it with his finger, bellowed forth:
"This is no Spanish passport; it appears to be written in French."
Myself. - I have already told you that I am a foreigner. I of
course carry a foreign passport.
Alcalde. - Then you mean to assert that you are not Calros Rey.
Myself. - I never heard before of such a king, nor indeed of such a
name.
Alcalde. - Hark to the fellow: he has the audacity to say that he
has never heard of Calros the pretender, who calls himself king.
Myself. - If you mean by Calros, the pretender Don Carlos, all I can
reply is, that you can scarcely be serious. You might as well
assert that yonder poor fellow, my guide, whom I see you have made
prisoner, is his nephew, the infante Don Sebastian.
Alcalde. - See, you have betrayed yourself; that is the very person
we suppose him to be.
Myself. - It is true that they are both hunchbacks. But how can I
be like Don Carlos? I have nothing the appearance of a Spaniard,
and am nearly a foot taller than the pretender.
Alcalde. - That makes no difference; you of course carry many
waistcoats about you, by means of which you disguise yourself, and
appear tall or low according to your pleasure.
This last was so conclusive an argument that I had of course
nothing to reply to it. The alcalde looked around him in triumph,
as if he had made some notable discovery. "Yes, it is Calros; it
is Calros," said the crowd at the door. "It will be as well to
have these men shot instantly," continued the alcalde; "if they are
not the two pretenders, they are at any rate two of the factious."
"I am by no means certain that they are either one or the other,"
said a gruff voice.
The justicia of Finisterra turned their eyes in the direction from
which these words proceeded, and so did I. Our glances rested upon
the figure who held watch at the door. He had planted the barrel
of his musket on the floor, and was now leaning his chin against
the butt.
"I am by no means certain that they are either one or the other,"
repeated he, advancing forward. "I have been examining this man,"
pointing to myself, "and listening whilst he spoke, and it appears
to me that after all he may prove an Englishman; he has their very
look and voice. Who knows the English better than Antonio de la
Trava, and who has a better right? Has he not sailed in their
ships; has he not eaten their biscuit; and did he not stand by
Nelson when he was shot dead?"
Here the alcalde became violently incensed. "He is no more an
Englishman than yourself," he exclaimed; "if he were an Englishman
would he have come in this manner, skulking across the land?
