I objected to this arrangement, and offered to sleep on a sofa in the saloon; but Mr. Solomons persisted, assuring me he should take good care of himself, and would not submit to any annoyance from his room-mate. As soon as this point was settled, I retired, and slept soundly till the breakfast gong roused me from my tired slumbers. When I went to the saloon, E. Dunkswell was in his place at the table; but Mr. Solomons had taken the place which I occupied the day before, so as to bring himself between the obnoxious individual and myself. E. Dunkswell did not appear to have a ravenous appetite. He looked sheepish and disconcerted; and I could not tell whether it was on account of his spree, because he had discovered the loss of the papers, or because he found in the morning that he had a new room-mate. My friend was cheerful and happy, and so was I. We talked and laughed as though E. Dunkswell had been tipsy, or out of existence. We took no notice of him, either by word or look. It was a beautiful day, and we adjourned to the hurricane deck to enjoy the cool air and the prospect of the ever-throbbing ocean. Tom Thornton's agent soon followed us. He walked up and down the uneasy deck; and occasionally glanced at me. I thought he had something to say to me; but he evidently did not like my close intimacy with Mr. Solomons. During the day, I occasionally saw him, and he always appeared to be watching me; but I carefully avoided him. On the following day, however, I went forward to the bow alone. "Passengers not allowed forward of that mark," said a sailor, pointing to a chalk line drawn across the deck. "You are fined, sir." "What for?" I asked. "For crossing the line." "Why don't you put up a notice, so that passengers need not cross it?" I demanded. "Because they wouldn't go over the line if we did, sir." "How much is the fine?" "Anything you please, sir." It was a practical joke, one of Jack's tricks, and I paid the fine, amid the laughter of half a dozen passengers, who had already been made victims. As I retreated, I encountered E. Dunkswell. He looked sour and savage. "I want to see you," said he, gruffly. "I don't want to see you," I replied, continuing on my walk aft. "You have insulted me," he persisted, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Insulted you!" I replied, pausing; for I was curious to know in what manner I had insulted so vile a creature as he was. "You have insulted me!" he repeated. "You said that before. How?" "You exchanged berths with that old chap you run with." "I don't know that it concerns you if I did." "It was the same as saying that I am not fit company for you," said he, shaking his head. "If it was, it was also saying that you were fit company for Mr. Solomons," I replied; and I regarded this as a clincher in the line of argument. "It was not my pleasure to room with him." "It is not my pleasure to room with you," I added.