“Be quiet, will you!” shouted the admiral, for such indeed he was. “Be quiet.” “Best accommodation, sir—good wine—well-aired beds—good attendance—fine air——” “Belay there,” said Jack; and he gave the landlord what no doubt he considered a gentle admonition, but which consisted of such a dig in the ribs, that he made as many evolutions as the clown in a pantomime when he vociferates hot codlings. “Now, Jack, where’s the sailing instructions?” said his master. “Here, sir, in the locker,” said Jack, as he took from his pocket a letter, which he handed to the admiral. “Won’t you step in, sir?” said the landlord, who had begun now to recover a little from the dig in the ribs. “What’s the use of coming into port and paying harbour dues, and all that sort of thing, till we know if it’s the right, you lubber, eh?” “No; oh, dear me, sir, of course—God bless me, what can the old gentleman mean?” The admiral opened the letter, and read:— “If you stop at the Nelson’s Arms at Uxotter, you will hear of me, and I can be sent for, when I will tell you more. “Yours, very obediently and humbly, “+Josiah Crinkles+.” “Who the deuce is he?” “This is Uxotter, sir,” said the landlord; “and here you are, sir, at the Nelson’s Arms. Good beds—good wine—good——” “Silence!” “Yes, sir—oh, of course.” “Who the devil is Josiah Crinkles?” “Ha! ha! ha! ha! Makes me laugh, sir. Who the devil indeed! They do say the devil and lawyers, sir, know something of each other—makes me smile.” “I’ll make you smile on the other side of that d——d great hatchway of a mouth of yours in a minute. Who is Crinkles?” “Oh, Mr. Crinkles, sir, everybody knows. A most respectable attorney, sir, indeed, a highly respectable man, sir.” “A lawyer?” “Yes, sir, a lawyer.” “Well, I’m d—d!” Jack gave a long whistle, and both master and man looked at each other aghast. “Now, hang me!” cried the admiral, “if ever I was so taken in in all my life.” “Ay, ay, sir,” said Jack. “To come a hundred and seventy miles see a d—d swab of a rascally lawyer.” “Ay, ay, sir.” “I’ll smash him—Jack!” “Yer honour?” “Get into the chaise again.” “Well, but where’s Master Charles? Lawyers, in course, sir, is all blessed rogues; but, howsomedever, he may have for once in his life this here one of ’em have told us of the right channel, and if so be as he has, don’t be the Yankee to leave him among the pirates. I’m ashamed on you.” “You infernal scoundrel; how dare you preach to me in such a way, you lubberly rascal?” “Cos you desarves it.” “Mutiny—mutiny—by Jove! Jack, I’ll have you put in irons—you’re a scoundrel, and no seaman.” “No seaman!—no seaman!” “Not a bit of one.”