Jack Pringle whistled, and the admiral looked puzzled.  Like the admiral in the song, too, he “grew paler,” and then Mr. Crinkles added,—­

“Who has forged my name to a letter such as this, I cannot imagine.  As for writing to you, sir, I never heard of your existence, except publicly, as one of those gallant officers who have spent a long life in nobly fighting their country’s battles, and who are entitled to the admiration and the applause of every Englishman.”

Jack and the admiral looked at each other in amazement, and then the latter exclaimed,—­

“What!  This from a lawyer?”

“A lawyer, sir,” said Crinkles, “may know how to appreciate the deeds of gallant men, although he may not be able to imitate them.  That letter, sir, is a forgery, and I now leave you, only much gratified at the incident which has procured me the honour of an interview with a gentleman, whose name will live in the history of his country.  Good day, sir!  Good day!”

“No!  I’m d——­d if you go like that,” said Jack, as he sprang to the door, and put his back against it.  “You shall take a glass with me in honour of the wooden walls of Old England, d——­e, if you was twenty lawyers.”

“That’s right, Jack,” said the admiral.  “Come, Mr. Crinkles, I’ll think, for your sake, there may be two decent lawyers in the world, and you one of them.  We must have a bottle of the best wine the ship—­I mean the house—­can afford together.”

“If it is your command, admiral, I obey with pleasure,” said the attorney; “and although I assure you, on my honour, I did not write that letter, yet some of the matters mentioned in it are so generally notorious here, that I can afford you information concerning them.”

“Can you?”

“I regret to say I can, for I respect the parties.”

“Sit down, then—­sit down.  Jack, run to the steward’s room and get the wine.  We will go into it now starboard and larboard.  Who the deuce could have written that letter?”

“I have not the least idea, sir.”

“Well—­well, never mind; it has brought me here, that’s something, so I won’t grumble much at it.  I didn’t know my nephew was in England, and I dare say he didn’t know I was; but here we both are, and I won’t rest till I’ve seen him, and ascertained how the what’s-its-name—­”

“The vampyre.”

“Ah! the vampyre.”

“Shiver my timbers!” said Jack Pringle, who now brought in some wine much against the remonstrances of the waiters of the establishment, who considered that he was treading upon their vested interests by so doing.—­“Shiver my timbers, if I knows what a wamphigher is, unless he’s some distant relation to Davy Jones!”

“Hold your ignorant tongue,” said the admiral; “nobody wants you to make a remark, you great lubber!”

“Very good,” said Jack, and he sat down the wine on the table, and then retired to the other end of the room, remarking to himself that he was not called a great lubber on a certain occasion, when bullets were scuttling their nobs, and they were yard arm and yard arm with God knows who.