"Why, your honour," said Tom, slyly glancing at the table, "I'm in no spirits for spinning a yarn just now." I laughed, and filled a tumbler with whisky and water, to which Tom paid his respects with evident satisfaction. "Mr Dalzell has told us," said I, "of your escape from the wreck of the Dareall--and a wonderful one it was." "You _may_ say that," replied he; "I never had such a narrow squeak in my life." "But tell us something about yourself, and Mr Dalzell. I suppose you have been in action together?" "Action!--Lord love ye, sir, we were hardly ever out of it! If I were to tell you all, I'd have nothing else to do for the next week. I always said I'd live to see him an admiral, and I say so still; and if ever man deserved a flag, there sits the man, for a braver officer and a better seaman never trod a plank, though I says it as shouldn't say it, seeing as how I first taught him to reef and steer." "Come, come, Tom," interrupted Dalzell, "if you are going to spin such a yarn as that, the sooner you cut it the better." "Ax your honour's pardon, but I must speak. Didn't you save my life in that 'ere action with the Flower-de-louce? Haven't you been the best friend to me I ever had? Haven't you often saved me from the gangway when I've dipped my whiskers too deep into the grog-kid? And can I sit quiet with such a glass as this before me?" emptying the tumbler as he spoke. "Well, that's enough, Tom. If you're so fond of your grog, you had better get on with your story as fast as you can, for not a drop more shall you taste till you have finished." "But, bless your heart, sir, how am I to begin? I'm like a marine adrift on a grating, or an ass in a hay-field. I've got lots o' yarns to tell, but I don't know which way to turn myself among them." "Well," said Dalzell, "I'll go and take a walk, and leave you to your own devices;" and he left the room.