'Mr.—Mr. Ossulton's, I think—sir—my lord, I mean.'
'Very well, steward; then recollect in future you always address that gentleman as Mr. Ossulton.'
'Yes, my lord,' and the steward went down below, and was obliged to take a couple of glasses of brandy to keep himself from fainting.
'Who are they, and what are they, Mr. Maddox?' cried the lady's-maid, who had been weeping.
'Pirates!—bloody, murderous stick-at-nothing pirates!' replied the steward.
'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.
'Oh, madam! oh, miss! oh, 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 for 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!'