another object--to find Curly Tom, no easy matter, that worthy being by
no means a welcome guest there; that he did come there sometimes,
however, Lambert knew, for as long as no warrant was out against him,
however bad his character, he could not be turned away from the inn when
he paid his shot; he did not like openly to ask for such a character,
but sat down trusting that when the ale made the farmers loquacious he
should gain some clue to his whereabouts. Fortune seemed destined to be
his friend in more than one way that evening. The sound of a pistol shot
was heard in the road leading towards the seaport, which was some ten
miles distant; and a few moments after, a burly seafaring man entered
the tap-room, dragging after him, in his powerful grasp, a ruffianly
ill-looking countryman; no other indeed than the man of all others
Lambert wished most to see, viz: Curly Tom.

'Cast your anchor there,' said the seaman, 'and if you attempt to slip
moorings, afore you've been over-hauled by the skipper, split my
topsails but I'll bring you up all standing with this barking iron,'
pressing the muzzle of a pistol to the fellow's forehead.

'Put up your pistol,' said the fellow sullenly. 'I beant going to run;
you've broke my head and dinged all the wind oot of ma body.'

'What is the matter, my good man?' said Mr. Lambert, coming forward. 'I
am a magistrate, and can take your deposition.'

'Matter!' said the sailor, 'piracy is the matter. I was making for this
ere port, charged with despatches from my commanding officer, when this
ere shark ranges alongside and pops his barking iron into my face, and
wants me to break cargo and hand over to him, but I brought my harpoon
handle to bear on his figure head and he capsized, and his barker got