"A shipmaster," he proceeded, "is lord paramount, quite the cock of his own walk, and nothing must crow where he is. He is responsible for the safety and comfort, for the well-being, moral, spiritual, and physical, of every creature aboard his ship; no matter the circumstances under which that creature came aboard, whether by paying cabin money, by shipwreck, or by signing articles. Miss Bellassys has come into my hands, and it is my duty, as master of this ship, to see that she's done right by."
The conflict of twenty emotions rendered me quite incapable to do anything more than stare at him.
"Now, Mr. Barclay," he continued, crossing his bow legs, and wagging a little stunted forefinger in a kindly, admonishing way, "don't be affronted by this preface, and don't be affronted by what I'm going to ask, for if all be plain sailing, I shall be able to do you and the young lady a real A1, copper-fastened service."
"Pray ask any questions you wish, captain," said I.
"This is an elopement, you say?"
"It is."
"Where from?"
"Boulogne-sur-Mer."
"Bullong-sewer-mare," he repeated. "Was the young lady at school?"
"She was."