"Oh!" screamed the lady's-maid, "what will become of us, poor unprotected females?" And she hastened into the cabin, to impart this dreadful intelligence.
The ladies in the cabin were not in a very enviable situation. As for the elder Miss Ossulton (but, perhaps, it will be better in future to distinguish the two ladies, by calling the elder simply Miss Ossulton, and her niece, Cecilia), she was sitting with her salts to her nose, agonised with a mixture of trepidation and wounded pride. Mrs Lascelles was weeping, but weeping gently. Cecilia was sad, and her heart was beating with anxiety and suspense—when the maid rushed in.
"O madam! O miss! O Mrs Lascelles! I have found it all out!—they are murderous, bloody, do-everything pirates!!!"
"Mercy on us!" exclaimed Miss Ossulton; "surely they will never dare—?"
"Oh, ma'am, they dare anything!—they just now were throwing the steward overboard—and they have rummaged all the portmanteaus, and dressed themselves in the gentlemen's best clothes—the captain of them told the steward that he was Lord B.—and that if he dared to call him anything else, he would cut his throat from ear to ear—and if the cook don't give them a good dinner, they swear that they'll chop his right hand off, and make him eat it, without pepper or salt!"
Miss Ossulton screamed, and went off into hysterics. Mrs Lascelles and Cecilia went to her assistance; but the latter had not forgotten the very different behaviour of Jack Pickersgill, and his polite manners, when he boarded the vessel. She did not, therefore, believe what the maid had reported, but still her anxiety and suspense were great, especially about her father. After having restored her aunt, she put on her bonnet, which was lying on the sofa.
"Where are you going, dear?" said Mrs Lascelles.
"On deck," replied Cecilia. "I must and will speak to these men."
"Gracious heaven, Miss Ossulton going on deck! have you heard what
Phoebe says?"
"Yes, aunt, I have; but I can wait here no longer."