The cookmaid lay in a little apartment contiguous to the kitchen; and
whether disturbed by these horrible tales of apparitions, or titillated
by the savoury steams that issued from the punch-bowl, she made a virtue
of necessity, or appetite, and dressing herself in the dark, suddenly
appeared before them to the no small perturbation of both. Timothy, in
particular, was so startled, that, in his endeavours to make a hasty
retreat towards the chimney-corner, he overturned the table; the liquor
was spilt, but the bowl was saved by falling on a heap of ashes. Mrs.
Cook having reprimanded him for his foolish fear, declared, she had got
up betimes, in order to scour her saucepans; and the captain proposed to
have the bowl replenished, if materials could be procured. This
difficulty was overcome by Crabshaw; and they sat down with their new
associate to discuss the second edition.

The knight's sudden disappearing being brought upon the carpet, their
female companion gave it as her opinion, that nothing would be so likely
to bring this affair to light, as going to a cunning man, whom she had
lately consulted about a silver spoon that was mislaid, and who told her
all the things that she ever did, and ever would happen to her through
the whole course of her life.

Her two companions pricked up their ears at this intelligence; and Crowe
asked if the spoon had been found. She answered in the affirmative; and
said the cunning man described to a hair the person that should be her
true lover, and her wedded husband; that he was a seafaring man; that he
was pretty well stricken in years--a little passionate or so; and that he
went with his fingers clinched like, as it were. The captain began to
sweat at this description, and mechanically thrust his hands into his
pockets; while Crabshaw pointing to him, told her he believed she had got
the right sow by the ear. Crowe grumbled, that mayhap for all that he