ers and
ship's company, who used to amuse themselves with his peculiarities, and
allow him a greater freedom than usual. But Billy's grand _forte_, in
his own opinion, was a lexicographer. He had a small Entick's
dictionary, which he always carried in his jacket-pocket, and nothing
gave him so much pleasure as any one referring to him for the meaning of
a hard word, which, although he could not always explain correctly, he
certainly did most readily. Moreover, he was, as may be supposed, very
fond of interlarding his conversation with high-sounding phraseology,
without much regard as to the context.

Although Billy Pitt was the doctor's servant, Courtenay, who had taken a
great fancy to him, used to employ him as his own, to which, as the
doctor was not a man who required much attendance himself, and was very
good-natured, no objection had been raised.

We must repeat the question--

"I say, Billy Pitt, did you stow away the two jars of pickled cabbage in
my cabin?"

"No, sar, I no hab'em to stow. Woman say, that Mr Kartney not pay for
the pickled onun--say quite incongrous send any more."

"Not pay for the onions! No, to be sure I didn't; but I gave her a
fresh order, which is the same thing." (Price laid down the potato
which he was in the act of peeling, and stared at Courtenay with
astonishment.) "Well, to a London tradesman, it is, I can assure you."

"It may be, but I cannot conceive how. If you owe me ten shillings, I
can't consider borrowing ten more the same thing as paying the first."

"Pooh! you do not understand these things."

"I do not, most certainly," replied the master, resuming his potato.

"And so you haven't got them?" resumed Courtenay to the servant.

"No, sar. She say Massa Kartney owe nine shillings for onuns, and say I
owe farteen for 'baccy, and not trust us any more. I tell just as she
say, sir. Gentleman never pay for anything. She call me damned nigger,
and say, like massa like man. I tell her not give any more
_rhoromantade_, and walk out of shop."

"Well, how cursed annoying! Now, I never set my mind upon anything but
I'm disappointed. One might as well be Sancho in the Isle of Barataria.
I think I'll go up to the captain, and ask him to heave-to, while I
send for them. Do you think he would, master, eh?" said Courtenay, in
affected simplicity of interrogation.

"You had better try him," replied Pearce, laughing.

"Well, it would be very considerate of him, an