ociferates hot codlings.

"Now, Jack, where's the sailing instructions?" said his master.

"Here, sir, in the locker," said Jack, a 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 Aims 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, most respectable attorney, sir,
indeed, 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, howsomdever, 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."

"Very good. It's time, then, as I was off the purser's books. Good bye
to you; I only