This story of ours, albeit less honest, had more colour of the truth than Master Porson’s hearsay.  It ran that Mr. Saint Aubyn, happening near Gunwallo, heard of the wreck and rode to it, where presently Mr. Godolphin and my Master joined him and helped to save the men; that, in attempting to save the cargo also, a man of Mr. Saint Aubyn’s—­one Will Carnarthur—­was drowned; that, in fact, very little was rescued; and, seeing the men destitute and without money to buy meat and drink, we bought the goods in lawful bargain with the master.  As for the assault, we denied it, or that we took goods to the value of ten thousand pounds from the sailors.  All that was certainly known to be saved amounted to about 20 pounds worth; and, in spite of many trials to recover more, which failed to pay the charges of labour, the bulk of the cargo remained in the ship and was broken up by the seas.

This was our tale, false in parts, yet a truer one than either of us, who uttered it, believed.  The only person in the plot (so to say) who knew it to be true in substance was my Master.  I, his deputy, took this version from him to Clowance with a mind glad enough to be relieved by my duty from having any opinion on the matter.  On the one hand, I had the evidence of my senses that the booty had been saved, and too much wit to doubt that any other man would conclude it to be in my Master’s possession.  On the other, I had never known him lie or deceive, or engage me to further any deceit; his word was his bond, and by practice my word was his bond also.  Further, of this affair I had already begun to wonder if a man’s plain senses could be trusted, as you will hear reason by-and-by.  As for Mr. Saint Aubyn and Mr. Godolphin, they had no doubt at all that my Master was lying, and that I had come wittingly to further his lie.  They would have drawn on him (I make no doubt) had he brought the tale in person.  From me, his intermediate, they took it as the best to suit with the known truth and present to the Commissioner.  All Cornishmen are cousins, you may say.  It comes to this, rather:  these gentlemen chose to accept my master’s lie, and settle with him afterwards, rather than make a clean breast and be forced to wring their small shares out of the Exchequer.  A neighbour can be persuaded, terrified, forced; but London is always a long way off, and London lawyers are the devil.  I say freely that (knowing no more than they did, or I) these two gentlemen followed a reasonable policy.

But, after we had fitted Sir Nicholas with our common story, and as I was mounting my horse in Clowance courtyard, Mr. Saint Aubyn came close to my stirrup and said this by way of parting: 

“You will understand, Mr. Tonkin, that to-day’s tale is for to-day.  But by God I will come and take my share—­you may tell your master—­and a trifle over!  And the next time I overtake you I promise to put a bullet in the back of your scrag neck.”