still deep in litigation, having quarrelled with her agent, Peter
Lapthorne, among others. It is to be hoped, for her sake, that Chancery
suits were cheaper than they are now. Here we may say good-bye to her. For
those who are curious in such matters, a search among the Chancery records
will probably reveal the result, but it is improbable that the Company
reaped any benefit from their action. And so she passes from the scene, a
curious example of the vicissitudes to which Englishwomen in India were
exposed, two hundred years ago.


[1] They were issued at the rate of sixty-five for a rupee; before long,
their value was reduced to seventy-two for a rupee, at which price
they were much in request, and the Governor reported that he expected
to coin sixteen tons of them yearly.

[2] In October, 1713, the Bombay Council decided that the Xeraphims, being
much debased with copper and other alloy, their recognized value
should in future be half a rupee, or two Laris and forty reis. The
Xeraphim was a Goa coin, originally worth less than one and sixpence.
The name, according to Yule, was a corruption of the Arabic _ashrafi_.

[3] The year before, the _Godolphin_ had escaped from an Angrian fleet,
after a two days' encounter within sight of Bombay.

[4] The records are silent as to the _Defiance_, but it is mentioned by
Downing, who says that, instead of doing his duty, the captain made
the best of his way to Bombay. The story seems to be borne out by a
faded letter from the captain to the Directors, appealing against
dismissal from the service.