“May I ask, captain,” I said, bending forward and speaking very distinctly, “what you think of Fenian manifestoes?”
The captain’s ruddy face became a shade darker from honest indignation.
“They are poor cowardly things,” he said, “as silly as they are wicked.”
“The impotent threats of a set of anonymous scoundrels,” said a pompous-looking old gentleman beside him.
“Oh, captain!” said the fat lady at my side, “you don’t really think they would blow up a ship?”
“I have no doubt they would if they could. But I am very sure they will never blow up mine.”
“May I ask what precautions are taken against them?” said an elderly man at the end of the table.
“All goods sent aboard the ship are strictly examined,” said Captain Dowie.
“But suppose a man brought explosives aboard with him?” said I.
“They are too cowardly to risk their own lives in that way.”