little boy came staggering in, with scanty breath, and
dazzled eyes, and a long face pale with hurrying so.

"Why, Tom, my boy!" the lieutenant cried, jumping up so suddenly that
he overturned the little table at which he was feeding by himself, to
preserve the proper discipline. "Tom, my darling, what has brought you
here? Anything wrong with your mother?"

"Nobody wouldn't come, but me," Carroway's eldest son began to gasp,
with his mouth full of crying; "and I borrowed Butcher Hewson's pony,
and he's going to charge five shillings for it."

"Never mind that. We shall not have to pay it. But what is it all about,
my son?"

"About the men that are landing the things, just opposite our front
door, father. They have got seven carts, and a wagon with three horses,
and one of the horses is three colors; and ever so many ponies, more
than you could count."

"Well, then, may I be forever"--here the lieutenant used an expression
which not only was in breach of the third commandment, but might lead
his son to think less of the fifth--"if it isn't more than I can bear!
To be running a cargo at my own hall door!" He had a passage large
enough to hang three hats in, which the lady of the house always called
"the hall." "Very well, very good, very fine indeed! You sons of"--an
animal that is not yet accounted the mother of the human race--"have you
done guzzling and swizzling?"

The men who were new to his orders jumped up, for they liked his
expressions, by way of a change; but the Bridlington squad stuck to
their trenchers. "Ready in five minutes, sir," said Cadman, with a
glance neither loving nor respectful.

"If ever there was an old hog for the trough, the name of him is John
Cadman. In ten minutes, lads, we must all be afloat."

"One more against you," muttered Cadman; and a shrewd quiet man from
Spurn Head, Adam Andrews, heard him, and took heed of him.

While the men of the coast-guard were hurrying down to make ready the
jolly-boat and hail the pinnace, Carroway stopped to pay the score, and
to give his son some beer and meat. The thirsty little fellow drained
his cup, and filled his mouth and both hands with food, while the
landlady picked out the best bits for him.

"Don't talk, my son--don't try to talk," said Carroway, looking proudly
at him, while the boy was struggling to tell his adventures, without
loss of feeding-time; "you are a chip of the old block, Tom, for
victualling, and for riding too. Kind