"A boiled calf's head, my lord."

"A boiled calf's head! Let it be roasted, or I'll roast you, sir!" cried
Pickersgill in an angry tone.

"Yes, my lord; I'll roast it."

"And what else, sir?"

"Maintenon cutlets, my lord."

"Maintenon cutlets! I hate them--I won't have them, sir. Let them be
dressed _a l'ombre Chinoise_."

"I don't know what that is, my lord."

"I don't care for that, sirrah; if you don't find out by dinner-time,
you're food for fishes--that's all; you may go."

The cook walked off wringing his hands and his night-cap as well--for he
still held it in his right hand--and disappeared down the fore-hatchway.

"I have done this to pay you a deserved compliment, ladies; you have
more courage than the other sex."

"Recollect that we have had confidence given to us in consequence of
your pledging your word, my lord."

"You do me, then, the honour of believing me?"

"I did not until I saw you," replied Mrs Lascelles; "but now I am
convinced that you will perform your promise."

"You do, indeed, encourage me, madam, to pursue what is right," said
Pickersgill, bowing; "for your approbation I should be most sorry to
lose, still more sorry to prove myself unworthy of it."

As the reader will observe, everything was going on remarkably well.

Chapter VI

THE SMUGGLING YACHT

Cecilia returned to the cabin, to ascertain whether her aunt was more
composed; but Mrs Lascelles remained on deck. She was much pleased with
Pickersgill; and they continued their conversation. Pickersgill entered
into a defence of his conduct to Lord B.; and Mrs Lascelles could not
but admit the provocation. After a long conversation, she hinted at his
profession, and how superior he appeared to be to such a lawless life.

"You may be incredulous, madam," replied Pickersgill, "if I tell you
that I have as good a right to quarter my arms as Lord B. himself; and
that I am not under my real name. Smuggling is, at all events, no crime;
and I infinitely prefer the wild life I lead at the head of my men, to
being spurned by society because I am poor. The greatest crime in this
country is poverty. I may, if I am fortunate, some day resume my name.
You may, perhaps, meet me, and, if you please, you may expose me."

"That I should not be likely to do," replied the widow; "but still I
regret to see a person, evidently intended for better things, employed
in so disreputable a profession."

"I hardly know, madam, what is a