'He thinks he can buy my silence. Come, Madam; though, indeed, some would rather take their chance with Judge Jeffreys--they say he is a man who can be moved by the face of a woman--than with--well, as for my silence, there----It is usual, Madam, to compliment the landlady, and though, I confess, you are not of the kind which do commonly frequent this house, yet one may expect'---- 'Alas! my good woman, I have nothing. Mr. Penne has taken all my money.' 'What! you had money? And you gave it to Mr. Penne? You gave it to him? Nay, indeed--why, in the place where thou art going'---- She was silent, for suddenly we heard Mr. Penne's step outside; and he opened the door. 'Come,' he said roughly; 'the Captain says that he will weigh anchor in an hour: the tide serves--come.' I hastened to put on my hat and mantle. 'Farewell,' I said, taking the old woman's hand. 'I have nothing to give thee but my prayers. Mr. Penne, who is all goodness, will reward thee for thy kindness to me.' 'He all goodness?' asked the old woman. 'He? Why, if there is upon the face of the whole earth'---- 'Come, Child!' Mr. Penne seized my hand and dragged me away. 'The woman,' he said, 'hath been drinking. It is a bad habit she hath contracted of late. I must see into it, and speak seriously to her: but a good nature at heart. Come, we must hasten. You will be under the special care of the Captain. I have provided a box full of warm clothing and other comforts. I think there is nothing omitted that may be of use. Come.' He hurried me along the narrow streets until we came to a quay, where there were a great number of ships, such as I had never before seen. On one of them the sailors were running about clearing away things, coiling ropes, tossing sacks and casks aboard, with such a 'Yo-hoing!' and noise as I never in my life heard before. ''Tis our ship,' said Mr. Penne. Then he led me along a narrow bridge, formed by a single plank, to the deck of the ship. There stood a gentleman of a very fierce and resolute aspect, armed with a sword, hanging from a scarlet sash, and a pair of pistols in his belt. 'Captain,' said Mr. Penne, 'are all aboard?' 'Ay; we have all our cargo. And a pretty crew they are! Is this the last of them? Send her for'ard.' 'Madam,' said Mr. Penne, 'suffer me to lead you to a place where, until the ship sails and the officers have time to take you to your cabin, you can rest and be out of the way. It is a rough assemblage, but at sailing one has no choice.' Gathered in the forepart of what they call the waist there was a company of about a hundred people. Some were young, some old; some were men, some women; some seemed mere children. All alike showed in their faces the extreme of misery, apprehension, and dismay. 'Who are these?' I asked.