“Things with regard to this family seem to have gone on wild of late,” thought Mr. Chillingworth; “this may bring affairs to a conclusion, though I had much rather they had come to some other.  My life for it, there is a juggle or a mystery somewhere; I will do this, and then we shall see what will come of it; if this Sir Francis Varney meets him—­and at this moment I can see no reason why he should not do so—­it will tend much to deprive him of the mystery about him; but if, on the other hand, he refuse—­but then that’s all improbable, because he has agreed to do so.  I fear, however, that such a man as Varney is a dreadful enemy to encounter—­he is cool and unruffled—­and that gives him all the advantage in such affairs; but Henry’s nerves are not bad, though shaken by these untowards events; but time will show—­I would it were all over.”

With these thoughts and feelings strangely intermixed, Mr. Chillingworth set forward for Sir Francis Varney’s house.

* * * * *

Admiral Bell slept soundly enough though, towards morning, he fell into a strange dream, and thought he was yard arm and yard arm with a strange fish—­something of the mermaid species.

“Well,” exclaimed the admiral, after a customary benediction of his eyes and limbs, “what’s to come next? may I be spliced to a shark if I understand what this is all about.  I had some grog last night, but then grog, d’y’see, is—­is—­a seaman’s native element, as the newspapers say, though I never read ’em now, it’s such a plague.”

He lay quiet for a short time, considering in his own mind what was best to he done, and what was the proper course to pursue, and why he should dream.

“Hilloa, hilloa, hil—­loa!  Jack a-hoy! a-hoy!” shouted the admiral, as a sudden recollection of his challenge came across his memory; “Jack Pringle a-hoy? d—­n you, where are you?—­you’re never at hand when you are wanted.  Oh, you lubber,—­a-hoy!”

“A-hoy!” shouted a voice, as the door opened, and Jack thrust his head in; “what cheer, messmate? what ship is this?”

“Oh, you lubberly—­”

The door was shut in a minute, and Jack Pringle disappeared.

“Hilloa, Jack Pringle, you don’t mean to say you’ll desert your colours, do you, you dumb dog?”

“Who says I’ll desert the ship as she’s sea-worthy!”

“Then why do you go away?”

“Because I won’t be called lubberly.  I’m as good a man as ever swabbed a deck, and don’t care who says to the contrary.  I’ll stick to the ship as long as she’s seaworthy,” said Jack.

“Well, come here, and just listen to the log, and be d——­d to you.”

“What’s the orders now, admiral?” said Jack, “though, as we are paid off—­”

“There, take that, will you?” said Admiral Bell, as he flung a pillow at Jack, being the only thing in the shape of a missile within reach.

Jack ducked, and the pillow produced a clatter in the washhand-stand among the crockery, as Jack said,—­