"Sol Gills!" said the Captain, as if he were putting the most improbable case in the world, "it ain’t the name of Mac Stinger as you ’re a trying to remember?"
"Of course it is!" exclaimed the Instrument Maker. "To be sure Ned. Mrs. Mac Stinger!"
Captain Cuttle, whose eyes were now as wide open as they would be, and the knobs upon whose face were perfectly luminous, gave a long shrill whistle of a most melancholy sound, and stood gazing at everybody in a state of speechlessness.
"Overhaul that there again, Sol Gills, will you be so kind?" he said at last.
"All these letters," returned Uncle Sol, beating time with the forefinger of his right hand upon the palm of his left, with a steadiness and distinctness that might have done honour, even to the infallible chronometer in his pocket, "I posted with my own hand, and directed with my own hand, to Captain Cuttle, at Mrs. Mac Stinger’s, Number nine Brig Place."
The Captain took his glazed hat off his hook, looked into it, put it on, and sat down.
"Why, friends all," said the Captain, staring round in the last state of discomfiture, "I cut and run from there!"
"And no one knew where you were gone, Captain Cuttle?" cried Walter hastily.
"Bless your heart, Wal’r," said the Captain, shaking his head, "she’d never have allowed o’ my coming to take charge o’ this here property. Nothing could be done but cut and run. Lord love you, Wal’r!" said the Captain, "you ’ve only seen her in a calm! But see her when her angry passions rise—and make a note on!"
"I’d give it her!" remarked the Nipper, softly.
"Would you, do you think, my dear?" returned the Captain, with feeble admiration. "Well, my dear, it does you credit. But there ain’t no wild animal I wouldn’t sooner face myself. I only got my chest away by means of a friend as nobody’s a match for. It was no good sending any letter there. She wouldn’t take in any letter, bless you," said the Captain, "under them circumstances! Why, you could hardly make it worth a man’s while to be the postman!"
"Then it’s pretty clear, Captain Cuttle, that all of us, and you and Uncle Sol especially," said Walter, "may thank Mrs. Mac Stinger for no small anxiety."
The general obligation in this wise to the determined relict of the late Mr. Mac Stinger, was so apparent, that the Captain did not contest the point; but being in some measure ashamed of his position, though nobody dwelt upon the subject, and Walter especially avoided it, remembering the last conversation he and the Captain had held together respecting it, he remained under a cloud for nearly five minutes—an extraordinary period for him when that sun, his face, broke out once more, shining on all beholders with extraordinary brilliancy; and he fell into a fit of shaking hands with everybody over and over again.
At an early hour, but not before Uncle Sol and Walter had questioned each other at some length about their voyages and dangers, they all, except Walter, vacated Florence’s room, and went down to the parlour.
