 lady, too, as well as her
husband, the short gentleman with the tall hat, were plainly on guard, according
to a preconcerted plan; and the wretched man was so secured by Mrs. MacStinger,
that any effort at self-preservation by flight was rendered futile. This,
indeed, was apparent to the mere populace, who expressed their perception of the
fact by jeers and cries; to all of which, the dread MacStinger was inflexibly
indifferent, while Bunsby himself appeared in a state of unconsciousness.
    The Captain made many attempts to accost the philosopher, if only in a
monosyllable or a signal; but always failed, in consequence of the vigilance of
the guard, and the difficulty, at all times peculiar to Bunsby's constitution,
of having his attention aroused by any outward and visible sign whatever. Thus
they approached the chapel, a neat whitewashed edifice, recently engaged by the
Reverend Melchisedech Howler, who had consented, on very urgent solicitation, to
give the world another two years of existence, but had informed his followers
that, then, it must positively go.
    While the Reverend Melchisedech was offering up some extemporary orisons,
the Captain found an opportunity of growling in the bridegroom's ear:
    »What cheer, my lad, what cheer?«
    To which Bunsby replied, with a forgetfulness of the Reverend Melchisedech,
which nothing but his desperate circumstances could have excused:
    »D-d bad.«
    »Jack Bunsby,« whispered the Captain, »do you do this here, o' your own free
will?«
    Mr. Bunsby answered »No.«
    »Why do you do it, then, my lad?« inquired the Captain, not unnaturally.
    Bunsby, still looking, and always looking with an immoveable countenance, at
the opposite side of the world, made no reply.
    »Why not sheer off?« said the Captain.
    »Eh?« whispered Bunsby, with a momentary gleam of hope.
    »Sheer off,« said the Captain.
    »Where's the good?« reported the forlorn sage. »She'd capter me agen.«
    »Try!« replied the Captain. »Cheer up! Come! Now's your time. Sheer off,
Jack Bunsby!«
    Jack Bunsby, however, instead of profiting by the advice, said in a doleful
whisper:
    »It all began in that there chest o' yourn. Why did I ever conwoy her into
port that night?«
    »My lad,« faltered the Captain, »I thought as you had come over her; not as
she
