“Eh? What? How?” exclaimed the Oddity, with a sort of nervous dance. “You astonish me! Do--you--really--mean to say--I’m obligated to go--whether I’ve a right or not?” “I do indeed, Sir--I’m sorry for it, but it can’t be helped. My orders are positive. The moment the mail is on board I must cast off.” “Indeed!--well--but you know--why, that’s _your_ duty, not _mine_. _I_ have no right to be cast off! I’ve no right to be here at all. I’ve no right to be anywhere--except in Merrion Square!” The Captain was bothered. He shrugged up his shoulders, then gave a low whistle, then plunged his hands in his pockets--then gave a loud order to somebody, to do something, somewhere or other; and then began to walk short turns on the deck. His Captive, in the meantime, made hasty strides towards the stern, as if intending to leap overboard; but he suddenly stopped short, and took bewildered look at the receding coast. The original wrong was visibly increasing in length, breadth, and depth, every minute; and he again confronted the Captain. [Illustration: DEEP DISTRESS PRODUCED BY MACHINERY.] “Well, Skipper--you’ve thought better of it--I’ve no right in the world, have I?--You will turn her round?” “Totally impossible, Sir--quite out of my power.” “Very well, very well, very well indeed!” the Original’s temper was getting up as well as the sea. “But mind, Sir--I protest. I protest against _you_, Sir--and against the ship--and the ocean, Sir--and everything! I’m getting further and further out--but, remember, I’ve no _right_! You will take the consequences. I have no right to be kidnapped--ask the Crown lawyers, if you think fit!” After this denouncement, the Speaker began to pace up and down like the Captain, but at the opposite side of the deck. He was on the boil, however, as well as the engine,--and every time that he passed near the man whom he considered as his Sir Hudson Lowe, he gave vent to the inward feeling in a jerk of the head, accompanied by a short pig-like grunt. Now and then it broke out in words, but always the same four monosyllables, “This--is--too--bad”--with a most emphatic fall of the foot to each. At last it occurred to a stout pompous-looking personage to interpose as a mediator. He began by dilating on the immense commercial importance of a punctual delivery of letters--thence he insisted on the heavy responsibility of the Captain; with a promise of an early return packet from Holyhead--and he was entering into a congratulation of the fineness of the weather, when the Original thought it was time to cut him short.