"Let him live," replied Pickersgill. "Jeannette, a bottle of Volnay of 1811, and three glasses." Jeannette, who was the _fille de cabaret_, soon appeared with a bottle of wine, seldom called for, except by the captain of the _Happy-go-lucky_. "You sail to-night?" said she, as she placed the bottle before him. Pickersgill nodded his head. "I had a strange dream," said Jeannette; "I thought you were all taken by a revenue-cutter, and put in a _cachot_. I went to see you, and I did not know one of you again--you were all changed." "Very likely, Jeannette; you would not be the first who did not know their friends again when in misfortune. There was nothing strange in your dream." "_Mais, mon Dieu! Je ne suis pas comme ca, moi_." "No, that you are not, Jeannette; you are a good girl, and some of these fine days I'll marry you," said Corbett. "_Doit etre bien beau ce jour la, par exemple_," replied Jeannette, laughing; "you have promised to marry me every time you have come in these last three years." "Well, that proves I keep to my promise, anyhow." "Yes; but you never go any further." "I can't spare him, Jeannette, that is the real truth," said the captain: "but wait a little,--in the meantime, here is a five-franc piece to add to your _petite fortune_." "_Merci bien, monsieur le capitaine; bon voyage_!" Jeannette held her finger up to Corbett, saying, with a smile, "_mechant_!" and then quitted the room. "Come, Morrison, help us to empty this bottle, and then we will all go on board." "I wish that girl wouldn't come here with her nonsensical dreams," said Morrison, taking his seat; "I don't like it. When she said that we should be taken by a revenue-cutter, I was looking at a blue and a white pigeon sitting on the wall opposite; and I said to myself, Now, if that be a warning, I will see: if the _blue_ pigeon flies away first, I shall be in jail in a week; if the _white_, I shall be back here." "Well?" said Pickersgill, laughing. "It wasn't well," answered Morrison, tossing off his wine, and putting the glass down with a deep sigh; "for the cursed _blue_ pigeon flew away immediately." "Why, Morrison, you must have a chicken-heart to be frightened at a blue pigeon!" said Corbett, laughing and looking out of the window; "at all events, he has come back again, and there he is sitting by the white one." "It's the first time that ever I was called chicken-hearted," replied Morrison, in wrath. "Nor do you deserve it, Morrison," replied Pickersgill; "but Corbett is only joking." "Well, at all events, I'll try my luck in the same way, and see whether I am to be in jail: I shall take the blue pigeon as my bad omen, as you did."