It was scarcely sunrise, on the fifth day, when we dropped anchor against the current of the James, our sails furled, and the red English colors flying from the peak.  Two hours later the entire company were in the presence of the Governor, where I told my story, gravely listened to, supplemented by the earnest plea of the young woman.  I shall never forget that scene, or how breathlessly we awaited the decision of the great man, who so closely watched our faces.  They were surely a strange, rough group as they stood thus, hats in hand, waiting to learn their fate, shaggy-haired, unshaven, largely scum of the sea, never before in such presence, shuffling uneasily before his glance, feeling to the full the peril of their position.  Their eyes turned to me questioningly.

Opposite us, behind a long table, sat the Governor, dignified, austere, his hair powdered, and face smoothly shaven; while on either side of him were those of his council, many of the faces stern and unforgiving.  But for their gracious reception of Dorothy, and their careful attention to her words, I should have lost heart.  They questioned me shrewdly, although the Governor spoke but seldom, and then in a kindly tone of sympathy and understanding.  One by one the men were called forward, each in turn compelled to tell briefly the story of his life; and when all was done the eyes of the Governor sought those of his council.

“You have all alike heard the tale, gentlemen,” he said.  “Nothing like it hath ever before been brought before this Colony.  Would you leave decision to me?”

There was a murmur of assent, as though they were thus gladly relieved of responsibility in so serious a matter.  The Governor smiled, his kindly eyes surveying us once more; then, with extended hand he bade Dorothy be seated.

“The story is seemingly an honest one,” he said slowly, “and these seamen have done a great service to the Colony.  They deserve reward rather than punishment.  The fair lady who pleads for them is known to us all, and to even question her word is impossible.  Unfortunately I have not the power of pardon in cases of piracy, nor authority to free bond slaves, without the approval of the home government; yet will exercise in this case whatsoever of power I possess.  For gallant services rendered to the Colony, and unselfish devotion to Mistress Dorothy Fairfax, I release Geoffry Carlyle from servitude, pending advices from England; I also grant parole to these seamen, on condition they remain within our jurisdiction until this judgment can be confirmed, and full pardons issued.  Is this judgment satisfactory, gentlemen?”

The members of the council bowed gravely, without speaking.

“The chest of treasure recovered from the sunken pirate ship,” he went on soberly, “will remain unopened until final decision is made.  As I understand, Master Carlyle, no one among you has yet seen its contents, or estimated its value?”