Amongst the surprises which the future was preparing for me, this might not be the least.
"We accept," I answered; "only I will ask your permission, sir, to address one question to you--one only." "Speak, sir." "You said that we should be free on board." "Entirely." "I ask you, then, what you mean by this liberty ?" "Just the liberty to go, to come, to see, to observe even all that passes here save under rare circumstances--the liberty, in short, which we enjoy ourselves, my companions and I." It was evident that we did not understand one another.
"Pardon me, sir," I resumed, "but this liberty is only what every prisoner has of pacing his prison.

It cannot suffice us." "It must suffice you, however." "What! we must renounce for ever seeing our country, our friends, our relations again ?" "Yes, sir.

But to renounce that unendurable worldly yoke which men believe to be liberty is not perhaps so painful as you think." "Well," exclaimed Ned Land, "never will I give my word of honour not to try to escape." "I did not ask you for your word of honour, Master Land," answered the commander, coldly.
"Sir," I replied, beginning to get angry in spite of my self, "you abuse your situation towards us; it is cruelty." "No, sir, it is clemency.

You are my prisoners of war.

I keep you, when I could, by a word, plunge you into the depths of the ocean.