.

KEARNEY (angrily). Rahnkin! Who is Rahnkin?

SIR HOWARD. Our host the missionary.

KEARNEY (subsiding unwillingly). Oh! Rahnkin, is he? He'd better look
sharp or he'll be late. (Again exploding.) What are they doing with
those prisoners?

Rankin hurries in, and takes his place near Sir Howard.

SIR HOWARD. This is Mr. Rankin, Captain Kearney.

RANKIN. Excuse my delay, Captain Kearney. The leddy sent me on an
errand. (Kearney grunts.) I thought I should be late. But the first
thing I heard when I arrived was your officer giving your compliments to
Leddy Ceecily, and would she kindly allow the prisoners to come in, as
you were anxious to see her again. Then I knew I was in time.

KEARNEY. Oh, that was it, was it? May I ask, sir, did you notice any
sign on Lady Waynflete's part of cawmplying with that verry moderate
request?

LADY CICELY (outside). Coming, coming.

The prisoners are brought in by a guard of armed bluejackets.

Drinkwater first, again elaborately clean, and conveying by a virtuous
and steadfast smirk a cheerful confidence in his innocence. Johnson
solid and inexpressive, Redbrook unconcerned and debonair, Marzo uneasy.
These four form a little group together on the captain's left. The rest
wait unintelligently on Providence in a row against the wall on the
same side, shepherded by the bluejackets. The first bluejacket, a petty
officer, posts himself on the captain's right, behind Rankin and Sir
Howard. Finally Brassbound appears with Lady Cicely on his arm. He is
in fashionable frock coat and trousers, spotless collar and cuffs,
and elegant boots. He carries a glossy tall hat in his hand. To an
unsophisticated eye, the change is monstrous and appalling; and its
effect on himself is so unmanning that he is quite out of countenance--a
shaven Samson. Lady Cicely, however, is greatly pleased with it; and the
rest regard it as an unquestionable improvement. The officers fall back
gallantly to allow her to pass. Kearney rises to receive her, and stares
with some surprise at Brassbound as he stops at the table on his left.
Sir Howard rises punctiliously when Kearney rises and sits when he sits.

KEARNEY. Is this another gentleman of your party, Lady Waynflete? I
presume I met you lahst night, sir, on board the yacht.

BRASSBOUND. No. I am your prisoner. My name is Brassbound.

DRINKWATER (officiously). Kepn Brarsbahnd, of the schooner Thenksgiv--

REDBROOK (hastily). Shut up, you fool. (He elbow