e we were to land. I told him that, unless he wished to the
contrary, we were to run to Vissarion; but that my instructions were
to land at whatever port he wished. Whereupon he told me that he
wished to stay the night at some place where he might be able to see
some "life." He was pleased to add something, which I presume he
thought jocular, about my being able to "coach" him in such matters,
as doubtless even "an old has-been like you" had still some sort of
an eye for a pretty girl. I told him as respectfully as I could that
I had no knowledge whatever on such subjects, which were possibly of
some interest to younger men, but of none to me. He said no more; so
after waiting for further orders, but without receiving any, I said:

"I suppose, sir, we shall run to Vissarion?"

"Run to the devil, if you like!" was his reply, as he turned away.
When we arrived in the creek at Vissarion, he seemed much
milder--less aggressive in his manner; but when he heard that you
were detained at Plazac, he got rather "fresh"--I use the American
term--again. I greatly feared there would be a serious misfortune
before we got into the Castle, for on the dock was Julia, the wife of
Michael, the Master of the Wine, who is, as you know, very beautiful.
Mr. Melton seemed much taken with her; and she, being flattered by
the attention of a strange gentleman and Your Honour's kinsman, put
aside the stand-offishness of most of the Blue Mountain women.
Whereupon Mr. Melton, forgetting himself, took her in his arms and
kissed her. Instantly there was a hubbub. The mountaineers present
drew their handjars, and almost on the instant sudden death appeared
to be amongst us. Happily the men waited as Michael, who had just
arrived on the quay-wall as the outrage took place, ran forward,
wheeling his handjar round his head, and manifestly intending to
decapitate Mr. Melton. On the instant--I am sorry to say it, for it
created a terribly bad effect--Mr. Melton dropped on his knees in a
state of panic. There was just this good use in it--that there was a
pause of a few seconds. During that time the little Cockney valet,
who has the heart of a man in him, literally burst his way forward,
and stood in front of his master in boxing attitude, calling out:

"'Ere, come on, the 'ole lot of ye! 'E ain't done no 'arm.