Miss Ossulton would not touch the breakfast; not so Mrs Lascelles and Cecilia, who ate very heartily. "It's very dull to be shut up in this cabin," said Mrs Lascelles; "come, Cecilia, let's go on deck." "And leave me!" cried Miss Ossulton. "There is Phoebe here, aunt; we are going up to persuade the pirates to put us all on shore." Mrs Lascelles and Cecilia put on their bonnets and went up. Lord B--- took off his hat, and begged the honour of being introduced to the pretty widow. He handed the ladies to a seat, and then commenced conversing upon various subjects, which at the same time possessed great novelty. His lordship talked about France, and described its ports; told now and then a good anecdote; pointed out the different headlands, bays, towns, and villages, which they were passing rapidly, and always had some little story connected with each. Before the ladies had been two hours on deck they found themselves, to their infinite surprise, not only interested, but in conversation with the captain of the smuggler, and more than once they laughed outright. But the _soi-disant_ Lord B--- had inspired them with confidence; they fully believed that what he had told them was true, and that he had taken possession of the yacht to smuggle his goods, to be revenged, and to have a laugh. Now none of these three offences are capital in the eyes of the fair sex, and Jack was a handsome, fine-looking fellow, of excellent manners and very agreeable conversation; at the same time, neither he nor his friend were in their general deportment and behaviour otherwise than most respectful. "Ladies, as you are not afraid of me, which is a greater happiness than I had reason to expect, I think you may be amused to witness the fear of those who accuse your sex of cowardice. With your permission, I will send for the cook and steward, and inquire about the dinner." "I should like to know what there is for dinner," observed Mrs Lascelles demurely; "wouldn't you, Cecilia?" Cecilia put her handkerchief to her mouth. "Tell the steward and the cook both to come aft immediately," cried Pickersgill. In a few seconds they both made their appearance. "Steward!" cried Pickersgill, with a loud voice. "Yes, my lord," replied Maddox, with his hat in his hand. "What wines have you put out for dinner?" "Champagne, my lord; and claret, my lord; and Madeira and sherry, my lord." "No Burgundy, sir?" "No, my lord; there is no Burgundy on board." "No Burgundy, sir! Do you dare to tell me that?" "Upon my soul, my lord," cried Maddox, dropping on his knees, "there is no Burgundy on board--ask the ladies." "Very well, sir, you may go." "Cook, what have you got for dinner?" "Sir, a haunch of mut--of venison, my lord," replied the cook, with his white night-cap in his hand. "What else, sirrah?" "A boiled calf's head, my lord." "A boiled calf's head! Let it be roasted, or I'll roast you, sir!" cried Pickersgill, in an angry tone.