"Certainly," admitted the Governor, "but such documents are only supplied to European Royal Personages, or other foreigners of extreme distinction."
"I have the requisite document," replied the curiously-garbed stranger, and he was bowed into a well-appointed cell, and furnished with the tangled rope for which he had petitioned.
And about the same time a sea-faring man applied to be rated on one of Her Majesty's Ships of War.
"Impossible!" was the immediate reply of the Captain, who was rather short-tempered.
"Nothing is impossible to the Admiralty," said the sea-faring man; "and, if you will glance at this paper, you will see that I have special permission from Whitehall to be mast-headed, or to undertake some other naval manoeuvre of a more modern date."
Suppressing an exclamation of a somewhat profane character, the Captain gave the required permission, and a few minutes later the sea-faring man was mounting (with some difficulty), the quivering rungs of a rope-ladder.
A few hours after the happening of these events, a weary soldier, a half-starved convict, and a sailor covered with bruises, met by chance in the common room of a tavern. For some minutes they were too exhausted to speak. At length, the convict declared that the organisation of Her Majesty's Prisons was simply perfect.
"I greatly doubt it," replied the soldier; "but I can insist with truth, that nothing can possibly equal the admirable condition of the Queen's Barracks."
"I don't for a moment believe it," put in the sea-faring man; "but I am prepared to swear that the arrangements of the Admiralty could not possibly be better."
"Very likely," sneered the convict; "and no doubt they could not be worse!"