posed, off any one of the floors or stairs, in spite of all his guz zlings and his muzzlings, such was the care and pains bestowed upon him!" Mrs. Mac Stinger stopped to fetch her breath; and her face flushed with triumph in this second happy introduction of Captain Cuttle's muzzlings. "And he runs awa-a-a-ay!" cried Mrs. Mac Stinger, with a lengthening-out of the last syllable that made the unfortunate Captain regard himself as the meanest of men; "and keeps away a twelvemonth! From a woman! Sitch is his conscience! He hasn't the courage to meet her hi-i-i-igh;" long syllable again; "but steals away like a felion. Why, if that baby of mine," said Mrs. Mac Stinger, with sudden rapidity, was to offer to go and steal away, I'd do my duty as a mother by him, till he was covered with wales!" 66 The young Alexander, interpreting this into a positive promise, to be shortly redeemed, tumbled over with fear and grief, and lay upon the floor exhibiting the scies of his shoes and making such a deafening outcry, that Mrs. Mac Stinger found it necessary to take him up in her arm, where she quieted him, ever and anon, as he broke out again, by a shake that seemed enough to loosen his teeth. "A pretty sort of a man is Cap'en Cuttle," said Mrs. Mac Stinger, with a sharp stress on the first syllable of the Captain's name, "to take on for—and to lose sleep for-and to faint along of and to think dead forsooth-and to go up and down the blessed town like a mad woman, asking questions after! Oh, a pretty sort of a man! Ha ha ha ha! He's worth all that trouble and distress of mind, and much more. That's nothing, bless you! Ha ha ha ha! Cap'en Cuttle," said Mrs. Mac Stinger, with severe re-action in her voice and manner, "I wish to know if you're a-coming home?" The frightened Captain looked into his hat, as if he saw nothing for it but to put it on, and give himself up. "Cap'en Cuttle," repeated Mrs. Mac Stinger, in the same determined manner," I wishto kno wif you'rea-coming home, Sir." The Captain seemed quite ready to go, but faintly suggested something to the effect making so much of "not noise about it." “Aye, aye, aye," said Bunsby, in a soothing tone. my lass, awast!" "Awast, "And who may you be, if you please!" retorted Mrs. Mac Stinger, with chaste loftiness. "Did you ever lodge at Number Nine, Brig Place, Sir? My memory may be bad, but not with me, I think. There was a Mrs. Jollson lived at Number Nine before me, and perhaps you're mistaking me for her. That is my only ways of accounting for your familiarity, Sir." "Come, come, my lass, awast, awast!" said Bunsby. Captain Cuttle could hardly believe it, even of this great man, though he saw it done with his waking eyes; but Bunsby, advancing boldly, put his shaggy blue arm round Mrs. MacStinger, and so softened her by his magic way of doing it, and by these few words-he said no more-that she melted into tears, after looking upon him a few moments, and observed that a child might conquer her now, she was so low in her courage. Speechless and utterly amazed, the Captain saw him gradually persuade this inexor: ble woman into the shop, return for rum and water and a candle, take them to her, and pacify her without appearing to utter one word. Presently he looked in with his pilot-coat on, and said, "Cuttle, I'm a-going to act as convoy home;" and Captain Cuttle, more to his confusion than if he had been put in irons himself, for safe transport to Brig Place, saw the family pacifically filing off, with Mrs. Mac Stinger at their head. He had scarcely time to take down his canister, and stealthily convey some money into the hands of Juliana Mac Stinger, his former favorite and Chowley, who had the claim upon him that he was naturally of a maritime build, before the Midshipman was abandoned by them all; and Bunsby, whispering that he'd carry on smart, and hail Ned Cuttle again before he went aboard, shut the door upon himself, as the last member of the party. Some uneasy ideas that he must be walking in his sleep, or that he had been troubled with phantoms, and not a family of flesh and blood, beset the Captain at first, when he went back to the little parlor, and found himself alone. Illimitable faith in, and immeasurable admiration of, the Commander of the Cautious Clara, succeeded, and threw the Captain into a wondering trance. Still, as time wore on, and Bunsby failed to reappear, the Captain began to entertain uncomfortable doubts of another kind. Whether Bunsby had been artfully decoyed to Brig Place, and was there detained in safe custody as hostage for his friend; in which case it would become the Captain, as a man of honor, to release him, by the sacrifice of his own liberty. Whether he had been attacked and defeated by Mrs. Mac Stinger, and was ashamed to show himself after his discomfiture. Whether Mrs. Mac Stinger, thinking better of it, in the uncertainty of her temper, had turned back to board the Midshipman again, and Bunsby, pretending to conduct her by a short cut, was endeavoring to lose the family amid the wilds and savage places of the city. Above all, what it would behove in, Captain Cuttle, to do, in case of his hearing no more, either of the Mac Stingers or of Bunsby, which, in these wonderful and unforeseen conjunctions of events, might possibly happen. He debated all this until he was tired; and still no Bunsby. He made up his bed under the counter, all ready for turning in; and still no Bunsby. At length, when the Captain had given him up, for that night at least, and had begun to undress, the sound of approaching wheels was heard; and, stopping at the door, was succeeded by Bunsby's hail. The Captain trembled to think that Mrs. Mac Stinger was not to be got rid of, and had been brought back in a coach. But no. Bunsby was accompanied by nothing but a large box, which he hauled into the shop with his own hands, and as soon as he had hauled in, sat upon. Captain Cuttle knew it for the chest he had left at Mrs. Mac Stinger's house, and looking, candle in hand, at Bunsby more attentively, believed that he was three sheets in the wind, or, in plain words, drunk. It was difficult, however, to be sure of this; the Commander having no trace of expression in his face when sober. "Cuttle," said the Commander, getting off the chest, and opening the lid, "are these here your traps?" Captain Cuttle looked in, and identified his property. |