BUNSBY TAKEN CAPTIVE.

505

inexorable resolution, and wearing conspicuously attached to her obdurate bosom a stupendous watch and appendages, which the Captain recognised at a glance as the property of Bunsby, conducted under her arm no other than that sagacious mariner; he, with the distraught and melancholy visage of a captive borne into a foreign land, meekly resigning himself to her will. Behind them appeared the young MacStingers, in a body, exulting. Behind them, two ladies of a terrible and steadfast aspect, leading between them a short gentleman in a tall hat, who likewise exulted. In the wake, appeared Bunsby's boy, bearing umbrellas. The whole were in good marching order; and a dreadful smartness that pervaded the party would have sufficiently announced, if the intrepid countenances of the ladies had been wanting, that it was a procession of sacrifice, and that the victim was Bunsby.

The first impulse of the Captain was to run away. This also appeared to be the first impulse of Bunsby, hopeless as its execution must have proved. But a cry of recognition. proceeding from the party, and Alexander MacStinger running up to the Captain with open arms, the Captain struck.

"Well, Cap'en Cuttle!" said Mrs. MacStinger. "This is indeed a meeting! I bear no malice now. Cap'en Cuttle— you needn't fear that I'm a going to cast any reflexions. I hope to go to the altar in another spirit." Here Mrs. MacStinger paused, and drawing herself up, and inflating her bosom with a long breath, said, in allusion to the victim, "My usband, Cap'en Cuttle!"

The abject Bunsby looked neither to the right nor to the left, nor at his bride, nor at his friend, but straight before him at nothing. The Captain putting out his hand, Bunsby put out his; but, in answer to the Captain's greeting, spake no word.

"Cap'en Cuttle," said Mrs. MacStinger, "if you would wish to heal up past animosities, and to see the last of your friend, my usband, as a single person, we should be appy of your

con pany to chapd. Hre is a lady here," said Mr. MeStriger, turning and to the more intrepid of the two, y bridesmaid, the wild glad of your protection, Cape

Cuttle."

The short gentem in the tall hat, who it appeared was the husband of the other lady, and who evidently exulted at the reduction of a fellow-creature to his own condition, gave place at this, and resigned the lady to Captain Cuttle. The lady immediately seized him, and, observing that there was no time to lose, give the word, in a strong voice, to advance.

The Captain's concern for his friend, not unmingled, at fist, with some concern for himself-for a shadowy terror that he might be married by violence, possessed him, until h knowledge of the service came to his relief, and remen.bering the legal obligation of saying, "I will," he felt himself personally safe so long as he resolved, if asked any question. distinctly to reply "I won't "-threw him into a profuse perspiration; and rendered him, for a time, insensible to the moven ents of the procession, of which he now formed a fiture, and to the sation of his fair companion. But

. he learnt from this lady that she M. Bokum, who had held an employment tom House; that she was the dearest friend of M. MaStinger, whom she considered a pattern for her sex; that she had often heard of the Captain, and now hoped he had repented of his past life; that she trusted Mr. Bunsby knew what a blessing he had gained, but that she feared men seldom did know what such blessings were. until they had lost them; with more to the same purpose

All this time, the Captain could not but observe that Mrs. Bokum kept her eyes steadily on the bridegroom, and the whenever they came near a court or other narrow turn og which appeared favourable for flight, she was on the ad to cut him off if he attempted escape. The other lady, too, as well as her husband, the short gentleman with the t hat, were plainly on guard, according to a preconcet c.

A VIGILANT GUARD.

507 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.