What could I do?
I began to be frightened; but I was more afraid to confess that I was an impostor, for I am sure the master of the transport alone would have kicked me overboard, if I had let him know that he had been so confounded polite to a ship's boy.

So I blushed half from modesty and half from guilt, and accepted the invitation of the governor; sending a polite verbal refusal to the commissioner, upon the plea of there being no paper or pens on board.

I had so often accompanied my late master, that I knew very well how to conduct myself, and had borrowed a good deal of his air and appearance--indeed, I had a natural taste for gentility.

I could write and read; not perhaps so well as I ought to have done, considering the education I had received, but still quite well enough for a lord, and indeed much better than my late master.

I knew his signature well enough, although the very idea of being forced to use it made me tremble.