CHAPTER IV.
The Mermaid Palace; or, Captain Toughyarn's Dream.
"Come unto these yellow sands."
—Tempest.
Well, messmates, I don't know whether I am sufficiently clear up aloft to recollect all the details of my dream; but hold hard a moment, perhaps I can. Ah! yes; I remember now.
I thought I was on board my good ship, the Dreadnought, which was bound for Timbuctoo. I was seated in my cabin, making an entry in the log, when I was aroused by a noise of shouting on deck. I thought I would go and see what was adrift; but hardly was I out of the cabin when, in the twinkling of a bowsprit, I found myself pinioned.
The crew were in a state of mutiny, and headed by the first mate. I was speedily lashed to the mizen, when Ned Upaloft (that was the name of the first mate), presenting a brace of pistols at my face, called upon me to yield.
"Avast, there! Ned Upaloft," I cried; "and you, Jack Haulaway, with the whole gang of you, and tell me what the devil is the meaning of this mutinous conduct."
"No more palaver, but yield," he cried.
"Never!" I answered.