y, and could hope, with time and trouble, to
entirely disengage it. So much he owed already to the owlish silliness
and greed of Master Pirret.

That worthy now assumed the lead, and conducted them to the very same
rude alehouse where Lawless had taken Arblaster on the day of the gale.
It was now quite deserted; the fire was a pile of red embers, radiating
the most ardent heat; and when they had chosen their places, and the
landlord had set before them a measure of mulled ale, both Pirret and
Arblaster stretched forth their legs and squared their elbows like men
bent upon a pleasant hour.

The table at which they sat, like all the others in the alehouse,
consisted of a heavy, square board, set on a pair of barrels; and each of
the four curiously-assorted cronies sat at one side of the square, Pirret
facing Arblaster, and Dick opposite to the common sailor.

"And now, young man," said Pirret, "to your tale. It doth appear,
indeed, that ye have somewhat abused our gossip Arblaster; but what then?
Make it up to him--show him but this chance to become wealthy--and I will
go pledge he will forgive you."

So far Dick had spoken pretty much at random; but it was now necessary,
under the supervision of six eyes, to invent and tell some marvellous
story, and, if it were possible, get back into his hands the
all-important signet. To squander time was the first necessity. The
longer his stay lasted, the more would his captors drink, and the surer
should he be when he attempted his escape.

Well, Dick was not much of an inventor, and what he told was pretty much
the tale of Ali Baba, with Shoreby and Tunstall Forest substituted for
the East, and the treasures of the cavern rather exaggerated than
diminished. As the reader is aware, it is an excellent story, and has
but one drawback--that it is not true; and so, as these three simple
shipmen now heard it for the first time, their eyes stood out of their
faces, and their mouths gaped like codfish at a fishmonger's.

Pretty soon a second measure of mulled ale was called for; and while Dick
was still artfully spinning out the incidents a third followed the
second.

Here was the position of the parties towards the end: Arblaster,
three-parts drunk and one-half asleep, hung helpless on his stool. Even
Tom had been much delighted with the tale, and his vigilance had abated
in proportion. Meanwhile, Dick had gradually wormed his right arm clear
of its bonds, and was ready to