Here he was again interrupted with a repetition of, “Haud yeer gab, ye feul,” from Jin, who now speaking angrily, and addressing Mr. Jackson, said, with her large sooty arm out-stretched, and pointing towards Whitehaven, “Gang yeer gate, and let us gang oors: we hey ney time te clatter nonsense aboot crazy folk!” Then, with a more determined effort than before, she forced the wretched animal she rode, to raise its unwilling head, lift its ponderous hoofs, and, finally, urged by reiterated kicks and curses, to move forward. The renewed clanking of the chains, that trailed on the ground on either side, duly accompanying her progress; while the rest of the troop, deeming some mark of courtesy due to gentlemen who had given them money to drink, set up a parting cheer, as they followed in her track; soon after which, they recommenced their own coarse jests, and loud laughter. Lord L⸺ thought the sum of information obtained, did not amount to much. But Mr. Jackson reminded him that Sir Sydney was the appellation ascribed by Henry, many years since, to a very remarkable looking person, whom he, Mr. Jackson, had seen in very familiar conversation with Henry. This certainly was a sort of clue; and Jin’s unwillingness to let the men speak, looked suspicious. It seemed highly probable that both Jin and Sir Sydney were agents of Henry’s. The two gentlemen now proceeded to some of the overseers of the works, where they learnt that the person, called by the colliers and rabble of the Gins, Sir Sydney, was a madman who fancied the coal vessels the British fleet, and himself an admiral; and who was thence called, in derision, Sir Sydney Smyth. They next repaired to the magistrates, who, on hearing all the particulars, recommended that no alarm should be given, by any premature examination of Jin of the Gins; but, that they should wait till the man, calling himself Sir Sydney, should make his appearance, and then apprehend him and all his associates together. This plan being approved of by all parties, was adopted accordingly. CHAPTER XXXIX. “Who bore the murd’ring steel? … The arrow came not From the ranks of the foe, a nearer hand Hath winged the shaft.” “The upright sentence struck upon his heart. And then sent forth a groan of agony.” The Euphrasia was cruising off the French coast, when, one morning, Fitz-Ullin, who was walking the quarter-deck, discovered, what appeared to be a sail in shore. On using his glass, however, he perceived that there were two, the one a large privateer, the other a smaller vessel ahead, of which the privateer seemed to be in pursuit. He immediately issued orders to make all sail and give chace. In a little time the privateer was within pistol-shot of the headmost ship, but, being closely pressed by the Euphrasia, she was obliged to content herself with the wanton mischief of firing one gun as she passed.