ned for a single moment to their
coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be
told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate.

The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost
as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives
above-mentioned, Mrs. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm
nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her
upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in
the King's service. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial
connections. She had been married four times: three of her husbands died
of hempen fevers; and the fourth, having been twice condemned, was saved
from the noose by Jonathan Wild, who not only managed to bring him off,
but to obtain for him the situation of under-turnkey in Newgate.

On the appearance of the thief-taker, Mrs. Spurling was standing near
the fire superintending some culinary preparation; but she no sooner
perceived him, than hastily quitting her occupation, she elbowed a way
for him and the knight through the crowd, and ushered them, with much
ceremony, into an inner room, where they found the objects of their
search, Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok, seated at a small table,
quietly smoking. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther
order, she withdrew.

Both the janizary and the skipper arose as the others entered the room.

"This is the gentleman," observed Jonathan, introducing Trenchard to the
Hollander, "who is about to intrust his young relation to your care."

"De gentleman may rely on my showing his relation all de attention in my
power," replied Van Galgebrok, bowing profoundly to the knight; "but if
any unforseen accident--such as a slip overboard--should befal de jonker
on de voyage, he mushn't lay de fault entirely on my shoulders--haw!
haw!"

"Where is he?" asked Sir Rowland, glancing uneasily around. "I do not
see him."

"De jonker. He's here," returned the skipper, pointing significantly
downwards. "Bring him out, Quilt."

So saying, he pushed aside the table, and the janizary stooping down,
undrew a bolt and opened a trap-door.

"Come out!" roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. "You're wanted."

But as no answer was returned, he trust his arm up to the shoulder into
the hole, and with some little difficulty and exertion of strength, drew
forth Thames Darrell.

The poor boy, whose hands were pinione