As for poor Hause, it would have been downright cruelty if I had left him that forenoon. So I told Cousin Teemoty to put up the gig, as I found I should be unable to leave Montego bay that day at any rate; and I hurried to Sally Frenche's in order to write to the admiral an account of the transaction. When I got there I found Mr Twig and his friend Mr Flamingo seated at a sumptuous breakfast. "Good morning, gentlemen--melancholy news for you this morning. This poor man's brig--the vessel I came in--has been run away with in the night by pirates." "By pirates!" said Flamingo; "impossible, Mr Brail, you are joking surely. I would as soon believe that Jacob Twig there had been stolen in the night." "And do you mean to say I should not have been worth the stealing, Felix?" I assured them that it was a melancholy fact, and no jest, but neither would believe that there was any piracy in the affair--"Piracy--poo, poo, impossible--barratry of the crew--barratry to a certainty." "No," quoth Hause; "I would trust the poor fellows with all that I am worth--Heaven knows that's little enough now. The mate is my own brother-in-law, and the second mate is my nephew, my own sister's son. No barratry, sir; no, no." "Well, well," said I, "you have shown, gentlemen, a desire to oblige me already. I now will put you to the proof." Here they laid down their coffee-cups and rose, wiping their muzzles with their napkins most resolutely. "Say the word, Mr Brail," quoth both in a breath, with their mouths full, and munching away all the time--"how can we be of service?--with our persons or purses? We West Indians have such a slippery tenure in this country, that one does not much grudge perilling either," continued Jacob Twig. "Thank you. All I want at present is, that you should have the goodness to put Mr Hause and me in the way of making our depositions before your chief magistrate." "The custos of the parish?" quoth Twig. "Certainly--and fortunately he is here in Montego bay at this moment. He was at Roseapple's last night." "I know where to find him," said Mr Flamingo, "He is always at old Jacob Munroe's store about this time, when at the bay. So, _allons_." And in a twinkling we were on our way to lay our troubles before the great functionary, an extensive planter in the neighbourhood." "Pray, where is Mr Turner, the gentleman from Falmouth, who brought that ominous Mr Wilson to the ball, to be found?" said I, as we stumped along, larding the lean earth, for it was cruelly hot. "Well thought of," said Don Felix. "He lodges usually at Judy Wade's. Why, there he is in _propria persona_, standing in the front piazza." "How do you do, Turner? You will have heard the row on the bay?" "Oh yes; but the Tom Bowline has been given up; she has not even been plundered, and is now working into the bay." "No--no--not the Tom Bowline"---- "What, about the brig having been cut out? Oh yes; it has flown like wild-fire."