de
and mine. You shall have the best of our ships, and you will."

He was a man to take fire easily, and embraced me. And, strange to say,
neither he nor I saw the humour, nor the pity, of the situation. How
many another would long before have become sceptical of my promises! And
justly. For I had led him to London, spent all his savings, and then got
him into a miserable prison, and yet he had faith remaining, and to
spare!

It occurred to me to notify Mr. Dix of my residence in Castle Yard, not
from any hope that he would turn his hand to my rescue, but that he might
know where to find me if he heard from Maryland. And I penned another
letter to Mr. Carvel, but a feeling I took no pains to define compelled
me to withhold an account of Mr. Manners's conduct. And I refrained from
telling him that I was in a debtor's prison. For I believe the thought
of a Carvel in a debtor's prison would have killed him. I said only that
we were comfortably lodged in a modest part of London; that the Manners
were inaccessible (for I could not bring myself to write that they were
out of town). Just then a thought struck me with such force that I got
up with a cheer and hit the astonished captain between the shoulders.

"How now!" he cried, ruefully rubbing himself. "If these are thy
amenities, Richard, Heaven spare me thy blows."

"Why, I have been a fool, and worse," I shouted. "My grandfather's ship,
the Sprightly Bess, is overhauling this winter in the Severn. And unless
she has sailed, which I think unlikely, I have but to despatch a line to
Bristol to summon Captain Bell, the master, to London. I think he will
bring the worthy Mr. Dix to terms."

"Whether he will or no," said John Paul, hope lighting his face, "Bell
must have command of the twenty pounds to free us, and will take us back
to America. For I must own, Richard, that I have no great love for
London."

No more had I. I composed this letter to Bell in such haste that my hand
shook, and sent it off with a shilling to the bailiff's servant, that it
might catch the post. And that afternoon we had a two-shilling bottle of
port for dinner, which we shared with a broken-down parson who had been
chaplain in ordinary to my Lord Wortley, and who had preached us an
Easter sermon the day before. For it was Easter Monday. Our talk was
broken into by the bailiff, who informed me that a man awaited me in the
passage, and my heart leaped into my, throat.

There was Banks. Thinkin