ter stood. `Now, lads,'
says I, `to speak plain English, the sloop is sinkin' so you had as well
turn to an' pump for yer lives, an' I'll show ye how.' With that I off
coat an' set to work, an' took my turn the whole voyage. But it was
touch an' go with us. We nigh sank in the harbour here, an' I had to
run her ashore to perwent her goin' down in deep water. They're
patchin' up the rotten plank at this minute, an' if old Stuart won't go
in for a general overhaul, we'll be ready for sea in a day or two, and
you'll have the pleasure o' navigatin' a lot o' wrecked Roosians to
London. Now, waiter, ahoy!--"

"Yessir."

"Fetch me a pannikin o' tea, for it's dry work tellin' a anikdot. You
see, Gaff, I'm a reg'lar teetotaller--never go the length o' coffee even
without a doctor's surtificate. Another cup, Susan?"

"No thank 'ee, father, I couldn't."

"Werry good. Now, Gaff, what's the 'ticklers o' _your_ case. Time
about's fair play, you know."

Gaff, feeling a gush of confidence come over him, and having ascertained
that, in regard to secrecy, Susan was as "safe as the bank," related the
circumstances of the wreck, and his having left Emmie at her
grandfather's villa; the relation of all which caused Haco Barepoles to
give vent to a series of low grunts and whistles, expressive of great
surprise.

"Now," said Gaff in conclusion, "there's a land-shark, (by which I means
a lawyer), in London what writes to me that there's somethin' I'll hear
of to my advantage if I calls on him."

"Don't go," said Haco, stoutly, as he struck the table with his fist,
causing the crockery to rattle again; "take the advice of an old friend,
an' _don't go_. If you do, he'll _do_ you."

"Thank'ee, an' I'd foller yer advice, but I happens to know this
land-shark. He's an old acquaintance, an' I can trust him."

"Oh, that alters the case--well?"

"Well, but before I go," continued Gaff, "I wants to write a letter to
old Stuart to warn him to look arter Emmie; a very partikler letter."

"Ay, how much partikler a one?" inquired Haco.

"A hambigoo-ous one," replied his friend.

"A ham--what?" said Haco interrogatively.

"A ham-big-oo-ous one."

"What sort of a one may that be, mate?"

"Well," said Gaff, knitting his heavy brows, and assuming altogether a
learned aspect, "it's a one that you can't make head nor tail of nohow;
one as'll read a'rnost as well back'ard as for'ard, an' yet has got a
smack o' somethin' mysteriou