<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h2 class="nobreak">UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME</h2>
<p class="center xxlg">
THE PETER PAN<br/>
PICTURE BOOK<br/></p>
<p class="center xlg">THE STORY OF PETER PAN</p>
<p class="center mlg"><span class="smcap">Retold by</span> DANIEL O’CONNOR</p>
<p class="center lg"><span class="smcap">From the Play by J.M. Barrie</span></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<div class="blockquot">
<p>“Miss Woodward’s pictures are really delightful. The whimsical
flavour of the fairy play is faithfully reflected, while for rich and
harmonious colouring and decorative quality of design they would be
difficult to surpass.”—<i>Athenaeum.</i></p>
<p>“It would be difficult to imagine anything more dainty. The pictures
are exquisitely beautiful, and to follow the story in Mr. Daniel
O’Connor’s version is almost as fascinating as it was to see Mr.
Barrie’s quaint creation on the stage.”—<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></p>
</div>
<h1 class="nobreak"><span class="sm">The</span><br/> Pinafore Picture Book</h1>
<p class="center"><span class="lg">The Story of</span><br/>
<span class="xxlg"><b>H·M·S·PINAFORE</b></span></p>
<p class="center"><span class="lg">Told</span><br/>
By<br/>
<span class="mlg">SIR W. S. GILBERT</span></p>
<p class="center">AND</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">-vii-</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak">TO MY YOUNG READERS</h2>
<p><span class="dropcap">I</span> HAVE been asked to explain to you how it comes to pass that this, the
story of a well-known Play, is now placed before you in the form of
a Tale. In the first place, many very young ladies and gentlemen are
never taken to the Theatre at all. It is supposed by certain careful
Papas and Mamas that very young ladies and gentlemen should go to bed
at an early hour, and that it is very bad for them to sit up as late as
half past eleven or twelve o’clock at night. Of course, this difficulty
could be overcome by taking them to Morning Performances, which are so
called because they invariably take place in the afternoon; but there
are drawbacks even to Morning Performances. Unless you are seated in
the front row of the stalls (where the band is sure to be too loud),
or in the front row of the dress circle (which is a long way off), the
enjoyment of very young ladies and gentle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">-viii-</span>men is pretty nearly sure to
be interfered with by the gigantic cart-wheel hats, decorated with huge
bunches of wobbling feathers that ill-bred and selfish ladies clap upon
their heads, nowadays, whenever they go to a theatre in the daytime.
A third reason (and perhaps the best of them all) is that very young
ladies and gentlemen find it rather difficult to follow the story of a
play, much of which is told in songs set to beautiful music, and all
of which is written in language which is better suited to their Papas
and Mamas than to themselves. A fourth reason (but this is not such a
good one as the other three) is that the Opera upon which this book
is founded is, unhappily, not played in every town every night of the
year. It should be, of course, but it is not, and it may very well
happen that some poor people have to go so long as two or three years
without having any opportunity of improving their minds by seeing it
performed. When we get a National Theatre, at which all the best plays
will be produced at the expense of the Public (who will also enjoy
the privilege of paying to see the Plays after they have defrayed
the cost of pro<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">-ix-</span>ducing them), “Her Majesty’s Ship Pinafore” will, no
doubt, be played once or twice in every fortnight for ever; but as some
years must elapse before this happy state of things can come to pass,
and as those who are very young ladies and gentlemen now may be very
middle-aged ladies and gentlemen then, it was thought that it would be
a kind and considerate action to supply them at once with a story of
the Play, so as not to subject them to the tantalizing annoyance of
having to wait (possibly) many years before they have an opportunity of
learning what it is all about.</p>
<p>As I would not for the world deceive my young readers, I think it right
to state that this story is entirely imaginary. It might very well have
happened but, in point of fact, it never did.</p>
<div class="figright illowp100" id="signature" style="max-width: 10.0625em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/signature.jpg" alt="W. S. Gilbert signature" title="W.S. Gilbert signature" /></div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">-x-</span></p>
<p class="center"><i>The extracts from Sir Arthur Sullivan’s music<br/>
to “H.M.S. Pinafore” are reproduced by permission<br/>
of the publishers, Messrs. Metzler and Co., Ltd.</i></p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">-xi-</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
<table class="autotable" style="width: 50%" summary="contents">
<tr>
<td> </td>
<td class="tdr sm">PAGE</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><span class="smcap"><SPAN href="#HER_MAJESTYS_SHIP_PINAFORE">Chapter I</SPAN></span></td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_1">1</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><span class="smcap"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_2">Chapter II</SPAN></span></td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_22">22</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><span class="smcap"><SPAN href="#CHAPTER_3">Chapter III</SPAN></span></td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_57">57</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><span class="smcap"><SPAN href="#Chapter_Four">Chapter IV</SPAN></span></td>
<td class="tdr"><SPAN href="#Page_70">70</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">-1-</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="HER_MAJESTYS_SHIP_PINAFORE">HER MAJESTY’S SHIP PINAFORE</h2>
<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="headpiece1" style="max-width: 28.1875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/headpiece1.jpg" alt="headpiece chapter 1" title="headpiece chapter 1" /></div>
<p class="tp"><span class="dropcap">G</span>REAT BRITAIN is (at present) the most powerful maritime country in the
world; she possesses a magnificent Fleet, superb officers and splendid
seamen, and one and all are actuated by an intense desire to maintain
their country’s reputation in its highest glory.</p>
<p>One of the finest and most perfectly manned ships in that magnificent
Fleet was Her Majesty’s Ship <i>Pinafore</i>, and I call the ship
“Her Majesty’s” because she belonged to good Queen Victoria’s time,
when men-of-war were beautiful objects to look at, with tall tapering
masts, broad white sails, and gracefully designed hulls; and not huge
slate-coloured iron tanks without masts and sails as they are to-day.
She was commanded by Captain Corcoran, R.N., a very humane, gallant,
and distinguished officer, who did everything in his power<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">-2-</span> to make
his crew happy and comfortable. He had a sweet light baritone voice,
and an excellent ear for music, of which he was extremely fond, and
this led him to sing to his crew pretty songs of his own composition,
and to teach them to sing to him. To encourage this taste among his
crew, he made it a rule on board that nobody should ever <i>say</i>
anything to him that could possibly be <i>sung</i>—a rule that was
only relaxed when a heavy gale was blowing, or when he had a bilious
headache. Harmless improving books were provided for the crew to read,
and vanilla ices, sugar-plums, hardbake and raspberry jam were served
out every day with a liberal hand. In short, he did everything possible
(consistently with his duty to Her Majesty) to make everybody on board
thoroughly ill and happy.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp52 border" id="illandhappy" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/illandhappy.jpg" alt="ill and happy" title="ill and happy" />
<div class="caption">IN SHORT, HE DID EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO MAKE EVERYBODY
ON BOARD THOROUGHLY ILL AND HAPPY</div>
</div>
<p>Captain Corcoran was a widower with one daughter, named Josephine, a
beautiful young lady with whom every single gentleman who saw her fell
head-over-ears in love. She was tall, exquisitely graceful, with the
loveliest blue eyes and barley-sugar coloured hair ever seen out of
a Pantomime, but her most attractive feature was, perhaps, her nose,
which was neither too long nor too short, nor too narrow nor too broad,
nor too straight. It had the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">-5-</span> slightest possible touch of sauciness
in it, but only just enough to let people know that though she could be
funny if she pleased, her fun was always gentle and refined, and never
under any circumstances tended in the direction of unfeeling practical
jokes. It was such a maddening little nose, and had so extraordinary
an effect on the world at large that, whenever she went into Society,
she found it necessary to wear a large pasteboard artificial nose of so
unbecoming and ridiculous a description that people passed her without
taking the smallest notice of her. This alone is enough to show what
a kind-hearted and self-sacrificing girl was the beautiful Josephine
Corcoran.</p>
<p>One of the smartest sailors on board Her Majesty’s Ship <i>Pinafore</i>
was a young fellow called Ralph Rackstraw, though, as will be seen
presently, that was not his real name. He was extremely good-looking,
and, considering that he had had very little education, remarkably
well-spoken. Unhappily he had got it into his silly head that a
British man-of-war’s man was a much finer fellow than he really is.
He is, no doubt, a very fine fellow indeed, but perhaps not quite so
fine a fellow as Ralph Rackstraw thought he was. He had heard a great
many songs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">-6-</span> and sentiments in which a British Tar was described as a
person who possessed every good quality that could be packed into one
individual, whereas there is generally room for a great many more good
qualities than are usually found inside any sailor. A good packer never
packs anything too tight; it is always judicious to leave room for
unexpected odds and ends, and British Tars are very good packers and
leave plenty of room for any newly acquired virtues that may be coming
along. So, although Ralph had gathered up many excellent qualities,
there were still some that he had not yet added to his collection, and
among these was a proper appreciation of the fact that he hadn’t got
them all. In short, his only fault was a belief that he hadn’t any.</p>
<p>Ralph Rackstraw was one of the many who loved Josephine to distraction.
Nearly all the unmarried members of the crew also loved Josephine, but
they were older and more sensible than Ralph, and clearly understood
that they could never be accepted as suitable husbands for a beautiful
young lady of position, who was, moreover, their own Captain’s
daughter. They knew that their manners were quite unsuited to polite
dining and drawing-rooms,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">-7-</span> and indeed they would have been very
uncomfortable if they had been required to sit at table with gentlemen
in gold epaulettes, and ladies in feathers and long trains; so they
very wisely reasoned themselves into a conviction that the sooner they
put Josephine out of their heads the better it would be for their peace
of mind.</p>
<p>There is a time, between four and six in the afternoon, when the
men-of-war sailors are allowed to cease their work and amuse themselves
with cheerful songs and rational conversation. It is called the
“dog-watch” (why, I can’t imagine), and at that time all who are not
engaged upon any special duty meet on the forecastle (which is the
front part of the upper deck) to sing pretty songs and tell each other
those harmless but surprising anecdotes which are known in the Royal
Navy as “yarns.” One of the most popular subjects of conversation
during the dog-watch on board the <i>Pinafore</i> was the kindness
and consideration shown by their good Captain Corcoran towards the
men under his command, and another was the agreeable fact that the
<i>Pinafore</i> was one of those jolly ships that never pitched and
rolled, and consequently never made any of the sailors sea-sick. The
crew, who had been carefully<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">-8-</span> trained by Captain Corcoran to sing more
or less in tune, always opened the dog-watch with this chorus:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">We sail the ocean blue,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">And our saucy ship’s a beauty!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">We’re sober men and true</div>
<div class="verse indent2">And attentive to our duty.</div>
<div class="verse indent0">When the balls whistle free o’er the bright blue sea,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">We stand to our guns all day;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">When at anchor we ride on the Portsmouth tide</div>
<div class="verse indent2">We’ve plenty of time to play!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp95" id="music_wesail" style="max-width: 39.8125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_wesail.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/wesail.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/wesail.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">-9-</span></p>
<p>This they used to sing as they sipped their ices, and ate their
rout-cakes and almond toffee. The song might strike you at first as
rather too complimentary to themselves, but it was not really so, as
each man who sang it was alluding to all the others, and left himself
out of the question, and so it came to pass that every man paid a
pretty compli<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">-10-</span>ment to his neighbours, and received one in return, which
was quite fair and led to no quarrelling.</p>
<p>As the sailors sat and talked they were joined by a rather stout but
very interesting elderly woman of striking personal appearance. She
was what is called a “bum-boat woman,” that is to say, a person who
supplied the officers and crew with little luxuries not included in the
ship’s bill of fare. Her real name was Poll Pineapple, but the crew
nick-named her “Little Buttercup,” partly because it is a pretty name,
but principally because she was not at all like a buttercup, or indeed
anything else than a stout, quick-tempered, and rather mysterious lady,
with a red face and black eyebrows like leeches, and who seemed to
know something unpleasant about everybody on board. She had a habit of
making quite nice people uncomfortable by hinting things in a vague
way, and at the same time with so much meaning (by skilful use of her
heavy black eyebrows), that they began to wonder whether they hadn’t
done something dreadful, at some time or other, and forgotten all about
it. So Little Buttercup was not really popular with the crew, but they
were much too kind-hearted to let her know it.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp45" id="littlebuttercup" style="max-width: 15.5625em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/littlebuttercup.jpg" alt="Little Buttercup" title="Little Buttercup" /></div>
<p>Little Buttercup had a song of her own which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">-11-</span> she always sang when she
came on board. Here it is:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I’m called Little Buttercup—dear Little Buttercup,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Though I could never tell why,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">But still I’m called Buttercup—poor Little Buttercup,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Sweet Little Buttercup, I.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="music_littlebuttercup" style="max-width: 39.875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_littlebuttercup.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/littlebuttercup.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/littlebuttercup.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I’ve snuff and tobaccy and excellent “jacky,”</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I’ve scissors and watches and knives,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I’ve ribbons and laces to set off the faces</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Of pretty young sweethearts and wives.</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I’ve treacle and toffee and very good coffee,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">“Soft Tommy” and nice mutton chops,</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">-12-</span>
<div class="verse indent0">I’ve chickens and conies and dainty polonies</div>
<div class="verse indent2">And excellent peppermint drops.</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Then buy of your Buttercup—dear Little Buttercup,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Sailors should never be shy—</div>
<div class="verse indent0">So, buy of your Buttercup—poor Little Buttercup—</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Come, of your Buttercup buy!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>“Thank goodness, <i>that’s</i> over!” whispered the sailors to each
other with an air of relief. You see, Little Buttercup always sang
that song whenever she came on board, and after a few months people
got tired of it. Besides not being really popular on account of her
aggravating tongue, she sold for the most part things that the liberal
Captain provided freely for his crew out of his own pocket-money. They
had soup, fish, an <i>entrée</i>, a joint, an apple pudding, or a jam
tart every day, besides eggs and ham for breakfast, muffins for tea,
and as many scissors, pocket-knives, and cigars as they chose to ask
for. So Little Buttercup was not even useful to them, and they only
tolerated her because they were gallant British Tars who couldn’t be
rude to a lady if they tried. In point of fact they <i>had</i> tried
on several occasions to say rude and unpleasant things to ladies, but
as they had invariably failed in the attempt they at last gave it up
as hopeless, and determined to be quietly polite under all possible<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">-13-</span>
circumstances. So they asked her to sit down, and take a strawberry ice
and a wafer, which she did rather sulkily as no one seemed to want any
of the things she had to sell.</p>
<p>“Tell us a story, Little Buttercup,” said Bill Bobstay. Bill was a
boatswain’s mate, who, besides being busily occupied in embroidering
his name in red worsted on a canvas “nighty case,” generally took the
lead in all the amusements of the dog-watch. “You can if you try, I’m
sure, Miss.”</p>
<p>“You’re quite right,” said Little Buttercup; “I could tell you stories
about yourselves which would make you all wish you had never been born.
<i>I</i> know who takes sugar-plums to bed with him” (looking at one),
“and who doesn’t say his prayers” (looking at another), “and who sucks
his thumb in his hammock” (looking at the third), “and who makes ugly
faces at his Captain when his back’s turned” (looking at a fourth),
“and who does his front hair with patent curlers” (looking at a fifth),
“and who puts raspberry jam into his messmates’ boots” (looking at a
sixth).</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp53 border" id="sugarplums" style="max-width: 28.3125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/sugarplums.jpg" alt="sugar-plums" title="sugar-plums" />
<div class="caption">“I KNOW WHO TAKES SUGAR-PLUMS TO BED WITH HIM”</div>
</div>
<p>All the sailors referred to looked very hot and uncomfortable, for
their consciences told them that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">-14-</span> Little Buttercup had hit off their
various weaknesses with surprising accuracy.</p>
<p>“Let’s change the subject,” said Bill Bobstay (he was the one who ate
sugar-plums in bed), “we all have our faults. But, after all, we’re not
so bad as poor Dick Deadeye—that’s one comfort!”</p>
<p>Now this was very unjust on the part of Mr. Bobstay. Dick Deadeye, who
sat apart from the others, busy manicuring his nails, was one of the
ugliest persons who ever entered the Navy. His face had been so knocked
about and burnt and scarred in various battles and from falling down
from aloft, that not one feature was in its proper place. The wags
among the crew pretended that his two eyes, his nose, and his mouth,
had been playing “Puss in the Corner,” and that his left eye, having
been unable to find a corner that was unoccupied, was consequently
left in the middle. Of course this was only their nonsense, but it
shows what a very plain man he must have been. He was hump-backed, and
bandy-legged, and round-shouldered, and hollow-chested, and severely
pitted with small-pox marks. He had broken both his arms, both his
legs, his two collar-bones, and all his ribs, and looked just as if
he had been crumpled up in the hand of some enormous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">-17-</span> giant. He
ought properly to have been made a Greenwich Pensioner long ago, but
Captain Corcoran was too kind-hearted to hint that Dick Deadeye was
deformed, and so he was allowed to continue to serve his country as
a man-o’-war’s man as best he could. Now Dick Deadeye was generally
disliked because he was so unpleasant to look at, but he was really
one of the best and kindest and most sensible men on board the
<i>Pinafore</i>, and this shows how wrong and unjust it is to judge
unfavourably of a man because he is ugly and deformed. I myself am
one of the plainest men I have ever met, and at the same time I don’t
know a more agreeable old gentleman. But so strong was the prejudice
against poor Dick Deadeye, that nothing he could say or do appeared
to be right. The worst construction was placed upon his most innocent
remarks, and his noblest sentiments were always attributed to some
unworthy motive. They had no idea what the motive was, but they felt
sure there <i>was</i> a motive, and that he ought to be ashamed of it.</p>
<p>Dick Deadeye sighed sadly when Mr. Bobstay spoke so disparagingly of
him. He wiped a tear from his eye (as soon as he had found that organ),
and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">-18-</span> then continued to manicure his poor old cracked and broken nails
in silence.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter with the man?” said Little Buttercup; “isn’t he
well?”</p>
<p>“Aye, aye, lady,” said Dick, “I’m as well as ever I shall be. But I
<i>am</i> ugly, ain’t I?”</p>
<p>“Well,” said little Buttercup, “you are certainly plain.”</p>
<p>“And I’m three-cornered, ain’t I?” said he.</p>
<p>“You <i>are</i> rather triangular.”</p>
<p>“Ha! ha!” said Dick, laughing bitterly. “That’s it. I’m ugly, and they
hate me for it!”</p>
<p>Bill Bobstay was sorry he had spoken so unkindly.</p>
<p>“Well, Dick,” said he, putting down his embroidery, “we wouldn’t go to
hurt any fellow creature’s feelings, but, setting personal appearance
on one side, you can’t expect a person with such a name as ‘Dick
Deadeye’ to be a popular character—now, can you?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Dick, sadly, “it’s asking too much. It’s human nature, and I
don’t complain!”</p>
<p>At this moment, a beautiful tenor voice was heard singing up in the
rigging:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">-19-</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent6">The Nightingale</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Loved the pale moon’s bright ray</div>
<div class="verse indent6">And told his tale</div>
<div class="verse indent0">In his own melodious way,</div>
<div class="verse indent10">He sang, “Ah, Well-a-day!”</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent6">The lowly vale</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For the mountain vainly sighed;</div>
<div class="verse indent6">To his humble wail</div>
<div class="verse indent0">The echoing hills replied,</div>
<div class="verse indent10">They sang, “Ah, Well-a-day!”</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>“Who is the silly cuckoo who is tweetling up aloft?” asked Little
Buttercup, rather rudely, as she scooped up the last drops of her ice.</p>
<p>“That?” said Bobstay, “Why, that’s only poor Ralph Rackstraw who’s in
love with Miss Josephine.”</p>
<p>“Ralph Rackstraw!” exclaimed little Buttercup, “Ha! I could tell you a
good deal about <i>him</i> if I chose. But I won’t—not yet!”</p>
<p>At this point Ralph descended the rigging and joined his messmates on
deck.</p>
<p>“Ah, my lad,” said one of them, “you’re quite right to come down—for
you’ve climbed too high. Our worthy Captain’s child won’t have nothing
to say to a poor chap like you.”</p>
<p>All the sailors said “Hear, hear,” and nodded<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">-20-</span> their heads
simultaneously, like so many china mandarins in a tea-shop.</p>
<p>“No, no,” said Dick Deadeye, “Captains’ daughters don’t marry common
sailors.”</p>
<p>Now this was a very sensible remark, but coming from ugly Dick Deadeye
it was considered to be in the worst possible taste. All the sailors
muttered, “Shame, shame!”</p>
<p>“Dick Deadeye,” said Bobstay, “those sentiments of yours are a disgrace
to our common nature.”</p>
<p>Dick shrugged his left eyebrow. He would have shrugged his shoulders
if he could, but they wouldn’t work that way; so, always anxious to
please, he did the best he could with his left eyebrow, but even that
didn’t succeed in conciliating his messmates.</p>
<p>“It’s very strange,” said Ralph, “that the daughter of a man who
hails from the quarter-deck may not love another who lays out on the
fore-yard arm. For a man is but a man, whether he hoists his flag at
the main-truck, or his slacks on the main deck.”</p>
<p>This speech of Ralph’s calls for a little explanation, for he expressed
himself in terms which an ordinary landsman would not understand. The
quarter-deck is the part of the ship reserved for officers, and the
fore-yard arm is a horizontal spar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">-21-</span> with a sail attached to it, and
which crosses the front mast of a ship, and sailors are said to “lay
out” on it when they get on to it for the purpose of increasing or
reducing sail. Then again, the main-truck is the very highest point of
the middle mast, and it is from that point that the Captain flies his
flag, while a sailor is said to “hoist his slacks” when he hitches up
the waist-band of his trousers to keep them in their proper place. Now
you know all about <i>that</i>.</p>
<p>“Ah,” said Dick Deadeye, “it’s a queer world!”</p>
<p>“Dick Deadeye,” said Mr. Bobstay, “I have no desire to press hardly
on any human being, but such a wicked sentiment is enough to make an
honest sailor shudder.”</p>
<p>And all his messmates began to shudder violently to show what honest
sailors they were and how truly Bobstay had spoken; but at that moment
the ship’s bell sounding four strokes gave them notice that the
dog-watch had come to an end. So the crew put away their manicure boxes
and embroidered “nighty cases” and dispersed to their several duties.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">-22-</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_2">CHAPTER 2</h2>
<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="headpiece2" style="max-width: 27.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/headpiece2.jpg" alt="Chapter 2" title="Chapter 2" /></div>
<p><span class="dropcap">O</span>NE of the most important personages in the Government of that day was
Sir Joseph Porter, the First Lord of the Admiralty. You would naturally
think that the person who commanded the entire Navy would be the most
accomplished sailor who could be found, but that is not the way in
which such things are managed in England. Sir Joseph Porter, who had
risen from a very humble position to be a lawyer and then a Member of
Parliament, was, I believe, the only man in England who knew nothing
whatever about ships. Now, as England is a great maritime country, it
is very important that all Englishmen should understand something about
men-of-war. So as soon as it was discovered that his ignorance of a
ship was so complete that he didn’t know one end of it from the other,
some important person said “Let us set this poor ignorant gentleman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">-23-</span> to
command the British Fleet, and by that means give him an opportunity
of ascertaining what a ship really is.” This was considered to be a
most wise and sensible suggestion, and so Sir Joseph Porter was at once
appointed “First Lord of the Admiralty of Great Britain and Ireland.” I
daresay you think I am joking, but indeed I am quite serious. That is
the way in which things are managed in this great and happy country.</p>
<p>Now Sir Joseph Porter was one of the many people who, having
accidentally seen her without her nose, had fallen a victim to the
extraordinary beauty of Miss Josephine Corcoran. He quite recognized
the fact that his position as First Lord of the Admiralty of this
mighty country rendered it undesirable that he should marry so obscure
a lady as the daughter of a mere captain in the Navy, but Josephine’s
charm was so overpowering that he determined to put his pride in his
pocket and condescend to bestow his hand upon her. So one day he
announced to Captain Corcoran that it was his intention to visit Her
Majesty’s Ship <i>Pinafore</i> in order to propose for his daughter’s
hand.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="josephine" style="max-width: 28.4375em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/josephine.jpg" alt="Josephine" title="Josephine" />
<div class="caption">SIR JOSEPH PORTER WAS ONE OF THE MANY PEOPLE WHO HAD
FALLEN A VICTIM TO THE BEAUTY OF MISS JOSEPHINE CORCORAN</div>
</div>
<p>Now most people would think that Josephine would have gladly accepted
so great a man as Sir<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">-24-</span> Joseph, but it so happened that that young
lady was not at all impressed by the honour which he proposed to
confer upon her. She did not object to him personally (indeed she had
never seen him) but she was a girl of spirit with a will of her own,
and had no idea of being handed over, without her consent, to any
gentleman, however important a person he might be. Moreover (and this
was a profound secret) she had been greatly struck with the many good
qualities of Ralph Rackstraw, who never lost a chance of distinguishing
himself in her eyes. Whenever he saw her looking in his direction, he
assumed a series of the most graceful and captivating attitudes ever
seen, and Josephine was never tired of watching him as he gradually
moved from one beautiful pose to another—each more graceful and more
truly artistic than the last. His lovely tenor voice also charmed her
greatly, and his performances on a penny jews’ harp appeared to her to
excel any music that the most expensive instruments could produce. At
the same time, she was much too proud and too well-behaved to allow
Ralph to know that she admired him. So it was a secret between her and
herself, and neither was so dishonourable as to violate the other’s
confidence.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">-27-</span></p>
<p>On the eventful morning of Sir Joseph’s intended visit, Captain
Corcoran came on deck as soon as he had finished his breakfast. Captain
Corcoran had arranged a pretty little musical method of greeting his
crew, and the crew practised it with him until they were perfect. This
was how he greeted his crew every day:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">My gallant crew, good morning!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="gallantcrew" style="max-width: 28.25em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/gallantcrew.jpg" alt="gallant crew" title="gallant crew" />
<div class="caption">“MY GALLANT CREW, GOOD MORNING!”</div>
</div>
<p>And they would reply:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Sir, good morning!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Then he would say:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I hope you’re all quite well!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And they would answer:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Quite well, and you, Sir?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And he would reply:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I am in reasonable health, and happy</div>
<div class="verse indent0">To see you all once more.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And they would sing:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">You do us proud, Sir!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Of course, when he was not quite well he would alter the words to suit
his condition, like this:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I have a dreadful toothache, yet I’m happy</div>
<div class="verse indent0">To see you all once more!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Or,</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I have a housemaid’s knee, yet I am happy</div>
<div class="verse indent0">To see you all once more!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">-28-</span></p>
<p>And so forth, for Captain Corcoran never intentionally said anything
that was not strictly true.</p>
<p>After this introduction he used to tell them something about himself:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain.</span> I am the captain of the <i>Pinafore</i>!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew.</span> And a right good captain too!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain</span> (<i>politely</i>).</div>
<div class="verse indent12">You’re very, very good,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">And be it understood,</div>
<div class="verse indent14">I command a right good crew!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp57" id="music_captain" style="max-width: 39.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_captain.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/captain.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/captain.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>to each other</i>).</div>
<div class="verse indent12">We’re very, very good,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">And be it understood,</div>
<div class="verse indent14">He commands a right good crew!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain.</span> Though related to a peer<SPAN name="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</SPAN></div>
<div class="verse indent12">I can hand, reef, and steer,<SPAN name="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</SPAN></div>
<div class="verse indent14">And ship a selvagee.</div>
<div class="verse indent12">I am never known to quail</div>
<div class="verse indent12">At the fury of a gale,</div>
<div class="verse indent14">And I’m never, never sick at sea!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>who know better</i>). What, never?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain</span> (<i>mere forgetfulness</i>). No, never!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>who remember one instance</i>). What, <i>never</i>?</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">-32-</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain</span> (<i>who now recollects the occasion they are referring to</i>). Hardly ever!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>delighted at having caught him tripping</i>).</div>
<div class="verse indent6">He’s hardly ever sick at sea!</div>
<div class="verse indent6">Then give three cheers and one cheer more</div>
<div class="verse indent6">For the hardy Captain of the <i>Pinafore</i>!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain.</span> I do my best to satisfy you all!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew.</span> And with you we’re quite content.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain.</span> You’re exceedingly polite,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">And I think it only right,</div>
<div class="verse indent14">To return the compliment!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>to each other</i>).</div>
<div class="verse indent13">We’re exceedingly polite</div>
<div class="verse indent13">And he thinks it only right</div>
<div class="verse indent15">To return the compliment!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain.</span> Bad language or abuse</div>
<div class="verse indent12">I never, never use,</div>
<div class="verse indent14">Whatever the emergency;</div>
<div class="verse indent12">“How tiresome!” I may</div>
<div class="verse indent12">Occasionally say,</div>
<div class="verse indent14">But I never use a big, big B!<SPAN name="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</SPAN></div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>who remember a certain occasion</i>). What, never?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain</span> (<i>the circumstance had slipped his memory</i>). No, never!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>who don’t mean to let him off</i>). What, <i>never</i>?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Captain</span> (<i>the incident suddenly occurring to him</i>). Hardly ever!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">The Crew</span> (<i>who have scored</i>).</div>
<div class="verse indent12">Hardly ever says a big, big B!</div>
<div class="verse indent6">Then give three cheers and one cheer more</div>
<div class="verse indent6">For the well-bred Captain of the <i>Pinafore</i>!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">-33-</span></p>
<p>And they gave three of the heartiest cheers you ever heard. After this
pretty little ceremony (which might with advantage be more generally
adopted throughout the Navy), the officers and sailors employed
themselves with a variety of easy little tasks suited to rather lazy
people on a very fine warm day. Captain Corcoran (who was never idle)
was about to retire to his cabin to arrange the figures of a minuet
which he intended to teach his men to dance, when his attention was
arrested by Josephine, who at that moment came on deck. The poor young
lady was very sad, and sang a remarkably beautiful song of her own
composition.</p>
<p>It ran like this:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Sorry her lot who loves too well,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Sad are the sighs that own the spell</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Heavy the sorrow that bows the head</div>
<div class="verse indent0">When Love is alive and Hope is dead!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>The good Captain was distressed to see his dear daughter in this
bilious frame of mind.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp51 border" id="bilious" style="max-width: 27.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/bilious.jpg" alt="bilious" title="bilious" />
<div class="caption">THE GOOD CAPTAIN WAS DISTRESSED TO SEE HIS DEAR DAUGHTER
IN THIS BILIOUS FRAME OF MIND</div>
</div>
<p>“My child,” said he, “I grieve to see that you are a prey to
melancholy.”</p>
<p>“There’s another verse, Papa,” said Josephine, who rather resented
interruption.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">-34-</span></p>
<p>“Don’t sing it, my child; your music depresses us both. I want you to
look your best to-day, for Sir Joseph Porter will arrive presently to
claim your promised hand.”</p>
<p>“Nay, father,” said Josephine, “I can esteem, reverence, even venerate
Sir Joseph, for I shouldn’t be surprised if he is a great and good man,
but I cannot love him, for, alas! my heart is given!”</p>
<p>“Given!” exclaimed her father, “and to whom? Not to some gilded
lordling?”<SPAN name="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</SPAN></p>
<p>“No, Papa,” said she, “the object of my affection is no lordling. Oh,
pity me, for he is but a humble sailor on board your own ship!”</p>
<p>“Impossible!” said Captain Corcoran.</p>
<p>“Yet it is true,” replied Josephine, “too true!”</p>
<p>“A common sailor!” exclaimed the Captain, “oh, fie!”</p>
<p>“I quite feel the ‘fie,’” said she, “but he’s anything but common.”</p>
<p>“Come, my child,” said her father, “let us talk this over. In a matter
of the heart I would not control my daughter. I attach little value to
rank or wealth, but the line must be drawn somewhere. A<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">-37-</span> man in
that lowly station may be brave and worthy, but at every step he would
make dreadful blunders that Society would never pardon. He would drop
his h’s, and eat peas with his knife.”</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran’s sentiments upon this point were so right and just
that one is more sorry than ever that he should have boasted, in his
song, of being related to a peer. It is just one of those unfortunate
little slips that one never can quite get out of one’s mind.
Personally, I hope he did it only because he wanted a rhyme to “steer,”
but, after all, that’s a very poor excuse.</p>
<p>“All that you say is true,” replied Josephine, “but fear not, Papa;
I have a heart, and therefore I love; but I am your daughter, and
therefore I am proud. Though I carry my love with me to the tomb he
shall never, never know it!”</p>
<p>Poor girl, she thought so at the time, but as the result will show, she
sadly over-estimated her strength of mind, and the consequence was a
pretty kettle of fish, I promise you!</p>
<p>At this point a message was brought to the Captain by Lieutenant
Hatchway, that the ship’s barge was approaching with Sir Joseph on
board, accompanied by his two plain sisters, his three ugly aunts,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">-38-</span>
and ever so many pretty cousins, their daughters. Sir Joseph was a
gentleman of great refinement, who was very easily shocked, and as
he knew that the society of charming ladies had the effect of making
everybody polite and considerate, he never travelled any great distance
without them.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp64" id="sirjoseph" style="max-width: 21.9375em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/sirjoseph.jpg" alt="Sir Joseph" title="Sir Joseph" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">-39-</span></p>
<p>“Pipe the side and man ship,” said the Captain, which meant that he
wished all the officers to stand in a row to salute the First Lord, and
all the crew to stand upright on the various spars that crossed the
three masts, which is the way in which superior persons were always
received on a man-of-war. The Captain of Marines (who are a kind of
military sailors or nautical soldiers) brought up his men that they
might “present arms” with their rifles at the word of command, and the
ship’s band were ready with all their instruments to play “God save the
Queen” at the proper moment.</p>
<p>All these preparations were ready by the time the ship’s barge (which
is a very large and handsome boat rowed by twelve sailors, seated two
and two) was alongside, and in a few moments Sir Joseph Porter and his
female relations stepped on board. The Officers saluted, the Marines
presented arms, the drums rattled, the band struck up the National
Anthem, and nine-pounder guns were fired from the middle deck.</p>
<p>Sir Joseph, who was quite as fond of music as Captain Corcoran, had
composed these remarkable verses which he always sang whenever he went
on board a man-of-war.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">-40-</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Sir Joseph.</span></div>
<div class="verse indent4">I’m the monarch of the sea,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">The ruler of the Queen’s Navee,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">Whose praise Great Britain loudly chaunts!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And the Ladies sang:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent4">And we are his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp64" id="music_monarch" style="max-width: 40em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_monarch.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/monarch.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/monarch.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Sir Joseph.</span></div>
<div class="verse indent4">When at anchor here I ride</div>
<div class="verse indent4">My bosom swells with pride,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">And I snap my fingers at a foeman’s taunts!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">All the Ladies.</span></div>
<div class="verse indent4">And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">Sir Joseph.</span></div>
<div class="verse indent4">But when the breezes blow</div>
<div class="verse indent4">I generally go below,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">And seek the seclusion that a cabin grants!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">All the Ladies.</span></div>
<div class="verse indent4">And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts.</div>
<div class="verse indent4">His sisters and his cousins,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">Whom he reckons up by dozens,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">And his aunts!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Then Sir Joseph (who was proud of his lowly origin, and who thought
that a short sketch of his career would afford a useful example to
ambitious persons in a humble rank of life) was so good as to sing the
following song:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">When I was a lad I served a term</div>
<div class="verse indent0">As office-boy in an attorney’s firm;</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">-42-</span>
<div class="verse indent0">I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And I polished up the handle of the big front door.</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I polished up that handle so successfullee</div>
<div class="verse indent2">That now I am the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp63" id="music_wheniwasalad" style="max-width: 39.5em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_wheniwasalad.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/wheniwasalad.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/wheniwasalad.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp44" id="polishhandle" style="max-width: 13.8125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/polishhandle.jpg" alt="polish up the handle" title="polish up the handle" /></div>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">As office-boy I made such a mark</div>
<div class="verse indent0">That they gave me the post of a junior clerk;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I served the writs with a smile so bland,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And I copied all the letters in a big round hand.</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I copied all the letters in a hand so free</div>
<div class="verse indent2">That now I am the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee.</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">-43-</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">In serving writs I made such a name,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">That an articled clerk I soon became;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I wore clean collars and a bran-new suit</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For the pass-examination at the Institute.</div>
<div class="verse indent2">That pass-examination did so well for me</div>
<div class="verse indent2">That now I am the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Of legal knowledge I acquired such a grip,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">That they took me into partnership,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And that junior partnership I ween</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Was the only ship that I had ever seen.</div>
<div class="verse indent2">But that same ship so suited me</div>
<div class="verse indent2">That now I am the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I grew so rich that I was sent</div>
<div class="verse indent0">To the House as a Member of Parliament,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I always voted at my party’s call,<SPAN name="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</SPAN></div>
<div class="verse indent0">And I never thought of thinking for myself at all.</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I thought so little they rewarded me</div>
<div class="verse indent2">By making me the Ruler of the Queen’s Navee.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Now landsmen all, whoever you may be,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">If you want to rise to the top of the tree—</div>
<div class="verse indent0">If your soul isn’t fettered to an office-stool</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Be careful to be guided by this golden rule—</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Stick close to your desks and never go to sea,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">And you all may be rulers of the Queen’s Navee.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">-45-</span></p>
<p>(Between ourselves, I think this last suggestion was rather silly, for
he was addressing people who had already gone to sea, and consequently
could not possibly act on his advice. But I’m afraid that Sir Joseph,
though a very distinguished man, was, like a good many other very
distinguished men, a bit of a goose.)</p>
<p>“You’ve a remarkably fine crew, Captain Corcoran,” said Sir Joseph when
he had finished his song, and was quite sure that they didn’t want him
to sing it again.</p>
<p>“It <i>is</i> a fine crew,” said Captain Corcoran.</p>
<p>“I hope you treat them kindly, Captain Corcoran?”</p>
<p>“Indeed, I hope so, Sir Joseph.”</p>
<p>“No bullying, I trust; no strong language of any kind?”</p>
<p>“Oh never, Sir Joseph!”</p>
<p>“What, <i>never</i>?” said Sir Joseph, who had heard rumours to the
contrary.</p>
<p>The Captain’s eye met those of some of his crew, who shook their
fingers significantly at him.</p>
<p>“Well, hardly ever,” said the Captain, “they are an excellent crew, and
do their work thoroughly without it.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">-46-</span></p>
<p>Sir Joseph was one of those people whom it is extremely difficult to
satisfy, for you never quite knew whether what you said would please
him or make him angry, and it generally did the latter. He was very
fond of popularity, and as there were five hundred sailors on board
the <i>Pinafore</i>, and only one Captain, he thought it a good plan
to snub the Captain in order to make friends of the crew. It is true
that he was in love with the Captain’s daughter, but he felt sure that
the Captain was so anxious to have such a great and powerful man as the
First Lord of the Admiralty for a son-in-law, that a few snubs more or
less might be safely indulged in. So when Captain Corcoran praised his
crew so highly, Sir Joseph Porter said to him, very angrily:</p>
<p>“Don’t patronize them, sir. That you are their Captain is a mere
accident of birth. I cannot permit these noble fellows to be patronized
because an accident of birth has placed you above them, and them below
you.”</p>
<p>Poor Captain Corcoran turned very red and felt extremely tingly down
the back at being so publicly rebuked. It is always a mistake to rebuke
people in the presence of those who have to obey them, if it can
possibly be avoided.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">-47-</span></p>
<p>“I am the last person to insult a British sailor, Sir Joseph,” said he.</p>
<p>“You are the last person who did,” said Sir Joseph, snappishly.</p>
<p>I feel quite sorry for Captain Corcoran, who really meant as well as
possible. He was a much truer gentleman than Sir Joseph, though I can’t
quite forget that unfortunate remark of his about being related to a
Peer.</p>
<p>During this conversation, Ralph Rackstraw had assumed in succession
several of his choicest attitudes, and these naturally attracted Sir
Joseph’s attention.</p>
<p>“Captain Corcoran,” said he, “desire that splendid seaman to step
forward.”</p>
<p>“Rackstraw,” said the Captain, “three paces to the front, march!”</p>
<p>Sir Joseph pretended to be greatly shocked at this abrupt command.</p>
<p>“If what?” said Sir Joseph very sternly.</p>
<p>The Captain was puzzled.</p>
<p>“I beg your pardon,” said he, “I don’t quite understand.”</p>
<p>“If you <i>please</i>,” said Sir Joseph, with a very strong emphasis on
the “please.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">-48-</span></p>
<p>Now it is not usual in the Navy to say “if you please” whenever you
give an order. It would take up too much time. But Captain Corcoran was
bound to obey the great man, though you will observe that the great man
never said “if you please” when he addressed Captain Corcoran.</p>
<p>The Captain, looking as if he had just bitten a pill, said “Oh yes, of
course. If you <i>please</i>.”</p>
<p>And accordingly, Ralph Rackstraw took three paces to the front, and
if ever a Captain in the Navy said “Bother” under his breath, Captain
Corcoran was that man.</p>
<p>“You’re a remarkably fine fellow,” said Sir Joseph, addressing Ralph.</p>
<p>“Yes, your honour,” replied Ralph, who was too well acquainted with his
duty to presume to differ from the First Lord of the Admiralty.</p>
<p>“And a first-rate seaman, I’ll be bound.”</p>
<p>“There’s not a smarter sailor in the Navy, your honour,” said Ralph,
“though I say it who shouldn’t.”</p>
<p>This sounds rather conceited of Ralph, but he had learnt from Captain
Corcoran to speak the exact truth on all occasions. Besides, he wanted
to convince Sir Joseph how right he was in the opinion he had formed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">-49-</span></p>
<p>“Now tell me, Ralph—don’t be afraid—how does your Captain treat you?”</p>
<p>“A better Captain don’t walk the deck, your honour!”</p>
<p>And all the rest of the crew said “Hear, hear!”</p>
<p>This was not quite what Sir Joseph wanted. He would rather that
Ralph had said, “Well, he does his best, poor chap,” or something
of that half complimentary kind. However, he managed to conceal his
disappointment.</p>
<p>“Good,” said he, “I like to hear you speak well of your commanding
officer. I dare say he doesn’t deserve it, but it does you credit. Now,
Captain Corcoran, a word with you in private.”</p>
<p>“Certainly, Sir Joseph,” replied the Captain, “Boatswain,” said he,
turning towards Mr. Bobstay, “in commemoration of Sir Joseph’s visit,
see that an extra tub of raspberry jam is served out to the ship’s
company.”</p>
<p>“Beg pardon,” said Mr. Bobstay, who hadn’t forgotten Sir Joseph’s
lesson in politeness, “if <i>what</i>, your honour?”</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran could scarcely believe his ears.</p>
<p>“‘If what?’” said he, “I don’t—I really don’t think I understand you!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">-50-</span></p>
<p>“If you <i>please</i>, your honour!”</p>
<p>The Captain looked thunderstruck, when Sir Joseph interposed.</p>
<p>“The gentleman is quite right. If you <i>please</i>.”</p>
<p>The Captain had almost let out another “Bother!” but he gulped it down
with a great effort.</p>
<p>“If you <i>please</i>!” said he, and Sir Joseph entered the cabin
with Captain Corcoran, followed by his two plain sisters, his three
ugly aunts, and all his pretty cousins. Refreshments had thoughtfully
been provided for them in the ward-room, (which is the apartment
assigned to the lieutenants on board a man-o’-war), and they enjoyed
a delightful luncheon in the agreeable society of the junior officers
in gilt buttons and gold epaulettes, who paid even more attention to
Sir Joseph’s plain sisters and ugly aunts than they did to his younger
and more attractive relations; which shows what thoroughly well-bred
gentlemen British naval officers are. Plain elderly people are just
as hungry as young and pretty ones; and nobody ought to make any
distinction between them. While Sir Joseph communicated his matrimonial
intentions at great length to Captain Corcoran in his private cabin,
the crew broke up and withdrew to the forecastle to discuss the events
of the morning.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="luncheon" style="max-width: 28.5625em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/luncheon.jpg" alt="luncheon" title="luncheon" />
<div class="caption">LUNCHEON IN THE WARD-ROOM</div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">-53-</span></p>
<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Bobstay, “Sir Joseph’s a true gentleman; courteous and
considerate to the very humblest.”</p>
<p>“Well spoke! Well spoke!” they all cried. (They should have said
“spoken,” and would have done so if their education had been properly
attended to.)</p>
<p>You see, these poor ignorant sailors were not shrewd enough to
understand that Sir Joseph had his reasons for flattering them so
outrageously. He longed for “popularity,” and determined to acquire it
at any price, and it is quite clear that, as far as the crew of the
<i>Pinafore</i> was concerned, he had fully achieved his object.</p>
<p>“Hold hard!” said another of the crew, Bill Bowling by name, “we are
not as humble as all that. Sir Joseph has explained our true position
to us, and if he says that a British sailor is any man’s equal, why
it’s our duty to believe him!”</p>
<p>“That’s right enough!” muttered all the sailors, except Dick Deadeye,
who knew better.</p>
<p>“You’re on the wrong tack,” said he, “and so’s Sir Joseph. He means
well, but he don’t know. When people have to obey other people’s
orders, equality’s out of the question.”</p>
<p>I really believe that if the crew had not been re<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">-54-</span>strained by humane
consideration, they would have pulled Dick Deadeye’s hair.</p>
<p>“Dick Deadeye,” said Mr. Bobstay, “if you go for to infuriate this here
ship’s crew too far, I won’t answer for being able to hold them in. I’m
shocked, that’s what I am, shocked.”</p>
<p>“Messmates,” said Ralph, who had been greatly impressed by what Sir
Joseph had said, “my mind’s made up. I’ll speak to the Captain’s
daughter, and tell her, like an honest man, of the honest love I have
for her!”</p>
<p>The crew cheered loudly.</p>
<p>“Is not my love as good as another’s?” continued Ralph, “Is not my
heart as true as another’s? Have I not hands and eyes and ears and
limbs like another?”</p>
<p>“You’ve got as pretty an outfit of them useful articles as any man on
board,” said Mr. Bobstay.</p>
<p>“True,” said Ralph, rather despondently, “I lack birth.”</p>
<p>Here Bill Bowling interfered with a rather silly joke.</p>
<p>“Not a bit of it,” said Bill, “you’ve got a berth on board this very
ship!”</p>
<p>“Well said,” replied Ralph, who, sailor-like,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">-55-</span> jumped at any argument,
however ridiculous, that he thought would help his case, “I had
forgotten that. Messmates, don’t you approve my determination?”</p>
<p>There was a general murmur of “Aye, aye,” “we do,” and “right you are.”</p>
<p>“I don’t—no, I do <i>not</i>!”</p>
<p>Of course it was Dick Deadeye who said this.</p>
<p>Bill Bobstay was in despair.</p>
<p>“What is to be done with this here hopeless chap?” said he. “Suppose we
sing him the official Admiralty song that Sir Joseph wrote and caused
to be distributed through the Fleet? It may bring this here miserable
creetur to a proper state of mind!”</p>
<p>Ralph gave the key-note on his jews’ harp, and they all struck up in
chorus. Notwithstanding Ralph’s thoughtful precaution, they began on
seven different notes, but by the time they had finished the third line
they had wobbled into something like an agreement as to the key in
which it was to be sung:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent2">A British Tar is a soaring soul</div>
<div class="verse indent4">As free as a mountain bird;</div>
<div class="verse indent2">His energetic fist should be ready to resist</div>
<div class="verse indent4">A dictatorial word.</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">-56-</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">His nose should pant and his lip should curl,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent2">His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">His brow with scorn be wrung;</div>
<div class="verse indent2">He never should bow down to a domineering frown</div>
<div class="verse indent4">Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">His hair should twirl and his face should scowl,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">His eyes should flash and his chest protrude,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And this should be his customary attitude.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And as they sang the last line, they all, except Ralph, assumed
fighting attitudes as if they were inviting the whole world to “come
on.” Ralph stood apart in the pose of Ajax defying the lightning, for
it was his strict rule to assume classical attitudes only.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">-57-</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_3">CHAPTER 3</h2>
<div class="figcenter illowp98" id="headpiece3" style="max-width: 27.375em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/headpiece3.jpg" alt="Chapter 3" title="Chapter 3" /></div>
<p><span class="dropcap">T</span>he ward-room lunch was finished, and all the ladies were playing
“Bridge” for nuts with the officers, except Josephine, whose thoughts
were too much occupied with other and more important matters. So she
came on deck to indulge in a <i>rêverie</i> all alone.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="reverie" style="max-width: 28em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/reverie.jpg" alt="reverie" title="reverie" />
<div class="caption">SO SHE CAME ON DECK TO INDULGE IN A RÊVERIE ALL
ALONE</div>
</div>
<p>“It is useless,” said she to herself; “Sir Joseph’s attentions disgust
me. I know that he is a truly great and good man, for he told me so
himself, and of course he would know;<SPAN name="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</SPAN> but to me he seems tedious,
fretful, and dictatorial. Yet his must be a mind of no common order, or
he would not dare to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">-58-</span> teach my dear Father to dance a hornpipe on the
cabin table.”</p>
<p>It was Sir Joseph’s firm belief that if Great Britain were to retain
her proud position as the most powerful naval country in the world, it
was essential that all her sailors should learn to dance hornpipes. It
was all he knew about the Navy, and he had been three years learning
that.</p>
<p>As Josephine soliloquized, she saw Ralph Rackstraw advancing towards
her with an undulating swan-like motion that teemed with unspeakable
grace.</p>
<p>“Ralph Rackstraw!” she exclaimed, withdrawing from her pocket the false
nose which she always put on when she thought she was going to be too
much admired.</p>
<p>“Nay, lady,” said he, “put away yon pasteboard mockery. The matchless
beauty of the real one is so deeply graven in my memory that I can see
it even through that hollow absurdity.”</p>
<p>“In that case,” said she, “it is of course useless to wear it, for it
is uncomfortable wear on a warm day.” And she returned it to her pocket.</p>
<p>“Lady,” said Ralph, “I have long wished to meet you alone.”</p>
<p>“That’s nonsense,” she replied, “you can’t be alone if I am here, you
know.”</p>
<p>“An unworthy quibble,” said he. “You know perfectly well what I mean.
It is unladylike to sneer at a poor sailor-man because his education
has been neglected.”</p>
<p>“It is true,” she replied. “I beg your pardon.”</p>
<p>“Granted,” said he, with the ready urbanity of one of Nature’s noblemen.</p>
<p>Poor Josephine was much touched by this generous and freely accorded
forgiveness, and the affection that she had long entertained for him
struggled with her sense that it would never do to unite herself with
a humble and illiterate sailor. Moreover, she had promised her papa
that no consideration should induce her to let Ralph Rackstraw know her
real sentiments towards him, so she drew a “Diabolo”<SPAN name="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</SPAN> from her pocket
and pretended to be wholly absorbed in the game. She usually played it
with great skill, throwing the Diabolo as high as the mast head and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">-62-</span>
catching it on the string with her eyes shut; but so great was her
agitation that she missed it every time, to the serious damage of her
renowned nose.</p>
<p>“Nay, lady,” said Ralph, “I see that my presence has unsettled you—I
will withdraw.”</p>
<p>“No, Ralph, you may remain,” she said. She did not like him to go away
with the impression that she was but a clumsy player after all. And
again she tossed the “Diabolo” high into the air, and again it came
down on her beautiful little nose.</p>
<p>“Lady,” said he, “put aside that silly toy and listen. I am a poor
uneducated fellow who has dared to love you, but before you dismiss
me with contempt, do not forget that I am a British sailor. It is
important to bear that in mind.”</p>
<p>Josephine was much moved, and though she was a girl of great strength
of mind she would not trust herself to speak. So she merely exclaimed
“Pooh!” and again threw up the toy, with the same painful results.</p>
<p>“Nay, lady,” said he, “I feel that this indifference is assumed. I
distinctly see a tear trembling in your left eye.”</p>
<p>“It—it was the Diabolo,” she said (not quite truthfully), “it hurt.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">-63-</span></p>
<p>“Then—you reject me?” said he.</p>
<p>“Sir,” said she, “you forget the disparity in our ranks.”</p>
<p>“I forget nothing, haughty girl,” said Ralph. “Give me hope, and what
I lack in education and polite accomplishments, I will endeavour to
acquire. Drive me to despair, and in death alone I shall look for
consolation. I am proud, and cannot stoop to implore. I have spoken and
I await your word.”</p>
<p>As he finished, he assumed an attitude of such extraordinary dignity
that Josephine was on the point of saying “Take me and be happy,” but
the noble girl called all her resolution to her aid, and haughtily
replied:</p>
<p>“You shall not wait long—your proffered love I contemptuously reject.
Go, sir, and learn to cast your eyes on some village maiden in your own
poor rank—they should be lowered before your Captain’s daughter!”</p>
<p>And so saying, with the tell-tale tears streaming down her face, she
strode magnificently to her cabin, where she almost sobbed her little
heart out. Poor Josephine!</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp52 border" id="telltaletears" style="max-width: 28.0625em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/telltaletears.jpg" alt="tell-tale tears" title="tell-tale tears" />
<div class="caption">SO SAYING, WITH TELL-TALE TEARS STREAMING DOWN HER FACE,
SHE STRODE MAGNIFICENTLY TO HER CABIN</div>
</div>
<p>Ralph Rackstraw was furious. In defiance of all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">-64-</span> ship-rules he loudly
summoned all the crew to the quarter-deck.</p>
<p>“Why! what’s all this?” said Mr. Bobstay. “Is the ship on fire, or have
they made you Port Admiral?”</p>
<p>“Neither,” gasped Ralph. “I have told Josephine of my love, and she has
scornfully rejected me!”</p>
<p>“Ah! what did I tell you!” said the crew, as one man.</p>
<p>“Well, Ralph,” said Bobstay, “I was afraid you were over sanguine.”</p>
<p>“Aye, aye,” said Dick Deadeye, “it was too much to expect.”</p>
<p>“Will somebody, please, take this chap away and put his head in the
flour-bin,” said Mr. Bobstay. “His sentiments are simply disgraceful.”</p>
<p>And two brawny sailors took poor Dick away (kicking meekly) and dipped
his head into the flour-bin until he assured them that he would behave
better in future.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp74" id="flour" style="max-width: 23.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/flour.jpg" alt="flour" title="flour" /></div>
<p>“Life is no longer worth living,” said Ralph. “Has anybody got such a
thing as a pistol handy?”</p>
<p>Mr. Bobstay was overcome with emotion, for he loved Ralph rather better
than his own mother;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">-67-</span> and the crew, quite unmanned, sobbed on each
other’s shoulders.</p>
<p>“Come,” says Ralph, “a pistol!”</p>
<p>Mr. Bobstay, who was one of the most tender-hearted creatures living,
could never refuse anything to the friend of his heart. So the good
fellow reluctantly produced a full-sized horse-pistol and proceeded to
load it as quickly as his hiccupping sobs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">-68-</span> would allow him, while Ralph
was taking an affectionate leave of his beloved ship-mates.</p>
<p>“Here you are, Ralph,” he said, handing him the loaded pistol. “Bless
you, my boy. Be cool and aim straight. It—it’ll be soon over!”</p>
<p>And the brawny seaman fairly sobbed like a girl.</p>
<p>“My friends,” said Ralph, “for the last time, farewell! And when I am
dead convey my respectful compliments to Miss Josephine and tell her
that she’s done it and I hope she likes it.”</p>
<p>So saying, he placed the pistol to his head while all the crew stopped
their ears, for if there was one thing they hated more than another, it
was the bang of an exploding fire-arm.</p>
<p>But you will be surprised to hear that Ralph was not to die just then.
Josephine, who had been watching all this through her cabin window
(which looked on to the quarter-deck), couldn’t stand it any longer.
Forgetting her family pride, her brilliant prospects, and even her
promise to her papa, she rushed out and flung herself into Ralph’s arms
with a shriek in which devoted love, acute anguish, humbled pride, wild
determination, and maidenly reserve were perceptibly blended. She had
often practised this shriek, so as to have it ready for emergencies,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">-69-</span>
and it was much admired by her family and friends.</p>
<p>Ralph, visibly moved, flung away the pistol, which exploded as it fell,
making all the crew jump and cutting off poor Deadeye’s only remaining
little toe. Ralph embraced Josephine rapturously as the crew danced,
shouted, and flung up their caps for very joy. It was arranged that the
happy pair, accompanied by the ship’s company, should steal away that
very night at twelve, in order to be married without a moment’s delay,
and as they all knew a chorus which happened to fit the situation
exactly, they sung it as loud as they could:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Let’s give three cheers for the sailor’s bride,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Who casts all thoughts of rank aside,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Who gives up home and fortune too,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For the honest love of a sailor true!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>All this time Sir Joseph, in the Captain’s cabin, was so busily
occupied in explaining to Captain Corcoran, at great length, how
tremendous a sacrifice he was making in condescending to marry
Josephine, and the Captain was listening to him so attentively, that
neither of them heard anything of the noisy rejoicings I have just
described.</p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">-70-</span></p>
<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_Four"><span class="smcap">Chapter Four</span></h2>
<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="headpiece4" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/headpiece4.jpg" alt="Chapter 4" title="Chapter 4" /></div>
<p><span class="dropcap">I</span>T was night, and a beautiful crescent moon was shining over the placid
blue waters of Portsmouth Harbour. All the hammocks had been taken from
the receptacles on deck called hammock-nettings in which they were kept
during the day, carried below, and hung up from hooks in the beams
of the lower decks. The sailors who were not required on deck were
supposed to be fast asleep in them, but I’m afraid they slept with one
eye open, because it would soon be time for them to escape secretly
from the ship in order to accompany Ralph Rackstraw and the beautiful
Josephine to Portsmouth Town to be married. Josephine did not go to
bed at all, but was busily occupied in packing up a few indispensable
necessaries (not forgetting her pasteboard nose) in a small handbag,
and in writing an affec<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">-71-</span>tionate farewell letter to her kind Papa. Now I
want it to be distinctly understood that Josephine was very much to be
blamed for the step she was about to take. In the first place, a young
lady should, under no circumstances, fall in love with a young man
greatly beneath her in social rank, and in the second place, no young
lady should ever take such an important step as getting married without
her Papa’s express approval. In this case, Josephine had distinctly
promised her Papa that she would never, under any circumstances, let
Ralph Rackstraw know even that she had fallen in love with him, whereas
here she was, actually preparing to leave the ship with him secretly
in order that they might be married! It is true that it is some excuse
for her that she revealed her affection for Ralph as the only means
of preventing him from killing himself, but, having done that, she
should have gone to her Papa without a moment’s delay, and explained
to him the dreadful circumstances under which she had felt bound to
disclose her secret. Captain Corcoran had shown himself to be a most
affectionate and sympathetic father, and he would, no doubt, have
made every allowance for the distressing situation in which she found
herself. He might even have gone so far<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">-72-</span> (and I think he would) as to
have provided masters for Ralph who would have taught him to spell and
dance, drink soup without gobbling, eat peas with a fork, play bridge,
and, in short, make him fit to take his place creditably among ladies
and gentlemen.</p>
<p>Poor Captain Corcoran had also been greatly worried by the events of
the day. He had been severely rebuked by Sir Joseph, in the presence
of his crew, for not having said “if you please” when he gave them an
order; he had been greatly upset by his daughter’s determination to
decline Sir Joseph’s handsome offer (and also by her short and snappish
replies to Sir Joseph’s pretty speeches at dinner that evening) and, to
crown everything, Sir Joseph had threatened to have him placed under
arrest and tried by Court Martial because he did not rebuke Josephine
for her rudeness to him at dinner. Of course, if the First Lord of the
Admiralty had known anything whatever about the Navy, he would have
been aware that no Court Martial would have punished Captain Corcoran
for his daughter’s rudeness; but he knew nothing at all about the Navy,
having, as we know, been brought up in a solicitor’s office.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp53 border" id="snappish" style="max-width: 28.8125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/snappish.jpg" alt="snappish" title="snappish" />
<div class="caption">HER SHORT AND SNAPPISH REPLIES TO SIR JOSEPH’S PRETTY
SPEECHES AT DINNER</div>
</div>
<p>So instead of going to bed at his usual hour<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">-75-</span> Captain Corcoran
brought his banjo on deck and began to sing to the moon, as sentimental
people will do who find themselves in such low spirits that they cannot
sleep. He had written and composed the song in his cabin (after Sir
Joseph had retired to rest) and when he had practised it until he knew
it by heart, he came up on deck to sing it. The moon was behind a cloud
at the time but as soon as she became aware that a gentleman was going
to sing to her, she politely blew the cloud aside and listened to hear
what he had to say.</p>
<p>This was the pretty song that he sang:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Fair moon, to thee I sing</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Bright regent of the heavens,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Say, why is everything</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Either at sixes or sevens?</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I have lived hitherto</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Free from the breath of slander,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Beloved by all my crew—</div>
<div class="verse indent2">A really popular commander.</div>
<div class="verse indent0">But now my kindly crew rebel,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">My daughter to a Tar is partial,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Sir Joseph storms, and, sad to tell,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">He threatens a Court Martial!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Fair moon, to thee I sing,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Bright regent of the heavens,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Say, why is everything</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Either at sixes or at sevens?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">-76-</span></p>
<p>The moon not being in the position to give him the required
information, withdrew behind her cloud, and was seen no more.</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran had no idea that anyone except the moon was listening
to him, as he sang, but in point of fact, Little Buttercup, who was
concealed by the mizen-mast, had heard his beautiful light-baritone
voice, and her attention was arrested by the charm of the dainty melody.</p>
<p>Now I must tell you something about Little Buttercup, who had had a
very adventurous career. At the time of my story, she was a buxom, well
preserved person, about sixty-five years of age. She had known Captain
Corcoran all his life, and when he was a handsome young lieutenant
of twenty-five I am sorry to say she fell hopelessly in love with
him, although the old goose was at least twenty years older than he.
Lieutenant Corcoran (as he was then) commanded a little gun-boat called
the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>, and I should explain that a gun-boat, in
those days, was a very small vessel, rigged something like a miniature
ship, and was armed with one, two, or three big guns. Lieutenant
Corcoran was then in the very flower of manly beauty, and all the young
ladies of Portsmouth were quite as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">-77-</span> much in love with him as Little
Buttercup was. Of course, Lieutenant Corcoran scarcely noticed Little
Buttercup—she used to wash for the ship, and he only saw her now and
then, when she brought his linen aboard. At length the <i>Hot Cross
Bun</i> was ordered to make ready to go to sea, and Little Buttercup,
who couldn’t bear the thought that she might never see him again,
dressed herself in sailor’s clothes, and presented herself on board,
as a (not very) young man who wanted to go to sea. Captain Corcoran,
who, as a matter of course, did not recognize her in this disguise,
accepted her as a member of his crew, and when the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>
sailed Little Buttercup sailed with it. She was extremely clumsy as
a sailor, but the kind-hearted Lieutenant, who couldn’t bear to hurt
anybody’s feelings, overlooked her awkwardness in consideration of the
eager alacrity with which she endeavoured, however unsuccessfully,
to obey all his commands. Indeed the crew, generally, were much more
remarkable for gentle politeness and cheerful goodwill than for mere
pulling and hauling. They were, without exception, most amiable and
well-behaved young persons, with beautiful complexions, very dainty
white hands, small delicate waists, and a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">-78-</span> great quantity of carefully
dressed back-hair. Lieutenant Corcoran was bound to admit that as
sailor-men they were not everything that could be desired, (being all
very sea-sick when it was not quite calm), but, in his opinion, they
more than compensated for this drawback by their singularly polite and
refined demeanour when they were quite well.</p>
<p>One day (and it was a terrible day for Little Buttercup) he went on
shore for a couple of hours, and returned with a beautiful young lady,
whom he presented to his crew as his newly-wedded wife; upon which, to
his intense discomfiture, all the crew gave a gurgle, and fell down in
so many separate fainting fits, and he then discovered that, without
a single exception, they were Portsmouth maidens who had dearly loved
him and who had taken the very steps that Little Buttercup herself had
taken, in order that they might not be separated from their adored
Lieutenant! Of course they were all discharged at once (his bride
insisted on that), and Little Buttercup did not see him again for
twenty long years. By this time he had been promoted to be Captain of
the <i>Pinafore</i>; his wife had died, and he was left a widower with
one daughter, the beautiful Josephine, who is the heroine of my story.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">-79-</span></p>
<p>From the moment that Little Buttercup learnt that Lieutenant Corcoran
was a married man she determined, as a matter of course, to think of
him no more, and, by a tremendous effort, she succeeded in banishing
him altogether from her mind; but, now that he was a widower and again
free to marry, all her old affection revived. By this time, as you
know, she was a bum-boat woman, and in that capacity she enjoyed many
opportunities of seeing and talking to Captain Corcoran, who hadn’t
the remotest idea that she had formerly been one of the lady-like crew
of the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i>, and Little Buttercup never mentioned the
circumstance, as, to tell the plain truth, she was not particularly
proud of it.</p>
<p>As the Captain sang his song, Little Buttercup wondered what was the
matter with him.</p>
<p>“How sweetly he carols forth his melody to the listening moon,” said
she to herself. “Of whom is he thinking? Of some high-born beauty?
It may be! Who is poor Little Buttercup that she should expect his
thoughts to dwell on one so lonely?”</p>
<p>“Ah, Little Buttercup,” said Captain Corcoran, as he caught sight of
her, “still on board? That is not quite right, little one—all ladies
are requested to go on shore at dusk.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">-80-</span></p>
<p>“True, dear Captain,” she replied, “I tried to go, but the recollection
of your pale and sad face seemed to chain me to the ship. I would fain
see you smile before I leave.”</p>
<p>“I will try,” said he.</p>
<p>He endeavoured to smile, but it was little more than a creaky
mechanical grin.</p>
<p>“Not good enough, Captain,” replied Little Buttercup, “don’t be
faint-hearted; try again, because I want to go home.”</p>
<p>Again he tried to smile, but without success.</p>
<p>“Ah, Little Buttercup,” said he, “I fear it will be long before I
recover my accustomed cheerfulness, for misfortunes crowd upon me, and
all my old friends seem to have turned against me!”</p>
<p>“Do not say ‘all,’ dear Captain,” exclaimed Little Buttercup. “That
were unjust to one, at least!”</p>
<p>“True,” said Captain Corcoran, “for you are staunch to me. Good old
Buttercup!”</p>
<p>At this point poor Little Buttercup’s resolution gave way. With a
bitter cry she knelt at his feet, and sobbed loudly as she kissed his
hand.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="buttercupcaptain" style="max-width: 28.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/buttercupcaptain.jpg" alt="Buttercup and Captain" title="Buttercup and Captain" />
<div class="caption">LITTLE BUTTERCUP AND THE CAPTAIN</div>
</div>
<p>“Little Buttercup,” said Captain Corcoran, “it would be affectation to
pretend that I do not under<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">-83-</span>stand your meaning. I am touched to the
heart by your innocent regard for me, and were we differently situated,
I think I could have returned it. As it is, I regret to say that I can
be nothing to you but a friend.”</p>
<p>Little Buttercup, who always knew more about people than anybody else,
knew a good deal of Captain Corcoran’s history, as will presently
appear. <i>He was not really Captain Corcoran</i>, and she knew it.
More than that, she knew who he really was, but it did not suit her to
tell him just then. I believe that this mysterious Little Buttercup was
able to prove, from the hidden depths of her miscellaneous information,
that every human being alive was somebody else, and that no human being
alive was what people really supposed him to be. Fortunately, she only
revealed her knowledge bit by bit as it suited her, but it is terrible
to think what an amount of confusion she might have created in highly
respectable families if she had chosen to disclose all she knew at once.</p>
<p>Knowing who Captain Corcoran was, and how little reason he really
had to plume himself on his superior position as a Captain in the
Navy, Little Buttercup’s naturally hasty temper began to sim<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">-84-</span>mer.
The gipsy blood that ran in her veins gave her a curious power of
prophesying backwards. I mean that she could foretell what you were,
and remember what you will be, which is quite unlike the usual kind of
fortune-telling that comes of crossing a gipsy’s hand with a sixpence.
She also possessed a remarkable power of expressing herself in rhyme
without ever having to hunt for the last words of her lines, which gave
a peculiar force and emphasis to her words, and convinced everybody
that what she said was supernatural, and consequently true.</p>
<p>So, getting gradually more and more angry with Captain Corcoran for
despising her, as she called it (though he was the last person in the
world to despise anybody) she summoned her remarkable rhyming ability
to her aid in the following utterances:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Things are seldom what they seem (said she)</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Skim-milk masquerades as cream;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">High-lows pass as patent leathers;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Jackdaws strut in peacocks’ feathers.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Rhyming is rather infectious, so Captain Corcoran, catching the
disease, replied (rather puzzled)</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Very true,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">So they do!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp58" id="music_seldom" style="max-width: 40.125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_seldom.jpg" alt="Things are seldom what they seem" title="Things are seldom what they seem" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/seldom.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/seldom.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">-86-</span></p>
<p>(It was an easy rhyme, suited to a mere beginner.)</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Black sheep dwell in every fold; (said she)</div>
<div class="verse indent0">All that glitters is not gold;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Storks turn out to be but logs;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Bulls are but inflated frogs.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>The captain thought <i>he</i> could do as well as this, but he
considered that it was best to confine himself at present to quite easy
rhymes, so he said:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">So they be</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Frequentlee.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Buttercup resumed:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Drops the wind and stops the mill;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Turbot is ambitious brill;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Gild the farthing if you will,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">But it is a farthing still.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>The Captain replied:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Yes, I know</div>
<div class="verse indent0">That is so.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Then, beginning to feel his feet, as the saying is, he ventured into
deeper water:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Though to catch your drift I’m striving,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">It is shady—it is shady.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>(He repeated “it is shady” to give him time to think of the next rhyme,
though he pretended that the repetition was part of the structure of
the verse.)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">-87-</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I don’t see at what you’re driving.</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Mystic lady—mystic lady!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Having discovered that this sort of rhyming was much easier than it
appeared at first sight to be, he determined to show her that other
people were just as smart as she was, and (if you come to that) even a
little bit smarter.</p>
<p>So he began:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Though I’m anything but clever,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I could talk like that for ever.</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Once a cat was killed with care:</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Only brave deserve the fair.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent12">Very true,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">So they do.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>said Little Buttercup (mimicking his own way of replying to her). The
Captain continued:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Wink is often good as nod;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Spoils the child who spares the rod;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Thirsty lambs run foxy dangers;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Dogs are found in many mangers.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Here he paused to consider what he should say next, and Little
Buttercup (to give him time) said, just as before:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Frequentlee,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I agree.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>By this time the Captain had thought of something more:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">-88-</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Paw of cat the chestnut snatches;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Worn-out garments show new patches;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Men are grown-up “catchy-catches.”</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Yes (said Little Buttercup) I know</div>
<div class="verse indent0">That is so.</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Then she sang, under her breath, so that nobody at all should hear her.</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Though to catch my drift he’s striving,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I’ll dissemble—I’ll dissemble—</div>
<div class="verse indent0">When he sees at what I’m driving</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Let him tremble—let him tremble!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>and, muttering to herself in a fashion which might be described,
musically, as a triumph of <i>pianissimo</i>, she disappeared
mysteriously into the forward part of the ship.</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran—though very uneasy at her portentous utterances—was
rather disposed to pat himself on the back for having tackled her on
her own ground in the matter of stringing rhymes, and (as he thought)
beaten her at it. But in this he was wrong, for if you compare her
lines with his, you will see that whereas her lines dealt exclusively
with people and things who were not so important as they thought
themselves to be, his lines were merely chopped-up proverbs that had
nothing to do with each other or with anything else. Still it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">-89-</span> wasn’t
bad for a first attempt, and although we must give her the prize, I
think he deserves a “highly commended.”</p>
<p>Now although Sir Joseph had gone to bed, he was so worried about
Josephine that he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. So as it was a
beautiful warm night, and everybody (as he supposed) asleep, he thought
he would go on deck in his pyjamas, and console himself with a cigar.
Accordingly he went on deck, but finding that the Captain was in close
conversation with a lady, he very properly retired to his cabin to put
on the beautiful and expensive uniform of a Cabinet Minister which he
had worn during the day, and which were the only clothes he had brought
with him. He had completed his toilet and returned to the deck just as
Captain Corcoran was endeavouring to pat himself on the back for his
cleverness in stringing rhymes with Little Buttercup.</p>
<p>“What are you trying to do?” said Sir Joseph, as he noticed that the
Captain had some difficulty in reaching the exact part of the back
which he wished to pat. “Can I help you?”</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="trying" style="max-width: 28.4375em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/trying.jpg" alt="trying" title="trying" />
<div class="caption">“WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?” SAID SIR JOSEPH</div>
</div>
<p>“Thank you, Sir Joseph,” replied the Captain, “I have a particular
reason for wishing to pat my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">-90-</span>self between the two shoulder blades,
and—and it’s not easy to get at.”</p>
<p>“Allow me, Captain Corcoran,” and he obligingly patted him on the very
spot.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Sir Joseph, that is capital,” said Captain Corcoran, much
relieved, “but I am sorry to see your Lordship out of bed at this hour.
I hope your crib is comfortable.”</p>
<p>“Pretty well,” said Sir Joseph, who made it a rule never quite to
approve of anything that was done for him, “the fact is I am worried
about your daughter. I am disappointed with her. To tell the plain
truth, I don’t think she’ll do.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to hear that, Sir Joseph,” replied the Captain, “Josephine
is, I am sure, sensible of your condescension.”</p>
<p>“She naturally would be,” said Sir Joseph, who was really too conceited
for words.</p>
<p>“Perhaps your exalted rank dazzles her,” remarked Captain Corcoran.</p>
<p>Here again we become conscious of that nasty irritating little blot on
the good Captain’s character. He attached so much importance to mere
rank that I am afraid we must put him down as just a teeny-weeny-wee
bit of a sn-b.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">-93-</span></p>
<p>“Do you really think it does?” asked Sir Joseph.</p>
<p>“Well, she is a modest girl, and, of course, her social position is far
below that of a Cabinet Minister. Possibly she feels that she is not
worthy of you.”</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran knew better than that, but his natural kindness of
heart would not allow him to tell Sir Joseph the plain truth—that
Josephine looked upon him as a conceited donkey, because he was afraid
that, being a touchy old gentleman, he might not like that.</p>
<p>“That is really a very sensible suggestion,” said Sir Joseph.</p>
<p>“See,” said the Captain, “here she comes. If you would kindly reason
with her and assure her officially, that it is a standing rule at the
Admiralty that love levels all ranks, her respect for an official
utterance might induce her to look upon your offer in its proper light.”</p>
<p>“It is not unlikely,” said Sir Joseph, “and I am glad I am not wearing
my pyjamas. Let us withdraw and watch our opportunity.”</p>
<p>So they withdrew behind the mast, as Josephine stepped upon deck.</p>
<p>Poor Josephine was very uneasy and conscience-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">-94-</span>stricken at the
unjustifiable step she was going to take that night. As the moment for
her flight approached, she became more and more uncomfortable; and as
her cabin was hot, and the night lovely, she thought she would wait
more comfortably on deck until the fatal moment for her departure.</p>
<p>Naturally a good and honourable young lady, she felt that she was doing
an unpardonable thing in leaving her good Papa secretly in order to
marry a man of whom she knew that he disapproved. In common fairness,
however, it should be explained that it was the first time she had ever
left her father in order to be secretly married to <i>anybody</i>, and
she resolved that, after this once, nothing on earth should ever induce
her to do so again.</p>
<p>Josephine had a neat literary turn, and it was her practice to express,
in poetical form, the various arguments for and against any important
step that she contemplated taking. She had amassed quite a large
amount of these effusions, which she was in the habit of singing, on
appropriate occasions, to any airs that would fit them. So, finding
herself quite alone (as she supposed) it occurred to her to sing,
in subdued tones, a composition which had direct reference to her
misguided affection for Ralph.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">-95-</span></p>
<p>This was the song:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">The hours creep on apace,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">My guilty heart is quaking;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Oh, that I might retrace</div>
<div class="verse indent2">The step that I am taking!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Its folly it were easy to be showing;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">What am I giving up, and whither going?</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">On the one hand, papa’s luxurious home,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Hung with ancestral armour and old brasses,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Carved oak, and tapestry from distant Rome,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Rare “blue and white,” Venetian finger glasses,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Rich oriental rugs and sofa pillows,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And everything that isn’t old, from Gillows’.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">And, on the other, a dark dingy room</div>
<div class="verse indent2">In some back street, with stuffy children crying,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Where organs yell and clacking housewives fume,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">And clothes are hanging out all day a-drying:</div>
<div class="verse indent0">With one cracked looking-glass to see your face in,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And dinner served up in a pudding basin.</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Oh, god of Love and god of Reason—say</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Which of you twain shall my poor heart obey?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>But the two potentates, so pathetically appealed to, declined to
undertake the responsibility of advising her. I expect they both
thought that she was quite old enough to judge for herself.</p>
<p>Poor Josephine was greatly distracted at the ugly prospect of love
in a back street that she had con<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">-96-</span>jured up for herself, and her
resolution began to waver. The social difference between her and her
chosen husband was so enormous, and the discomforts that she would
be obliged to endure in the humble surroundings that awaited her
presented themselves to her mind so vividly, that she had almost
resolved that instead of eloping with Ralph, she would unpack her
dressing-bag, put her hair up in Hinde’s curlers, and go to bed like a
good girl. I regret to think that, in contemplating this step, she was
influenced solely by the fact that if she married Ralph she would have
to surrender all the luxuries she was accustomed to, and that remorse
for being about to break the heart of her affectionate and indulgent
father did not appear to influence her in the least. I am very partial
to Josephine, but I cannot regard her in the light of a thoroughly
estimable young lady.</p>
<p>Sir Joseph endeavoured in vain to catch the words of Josephine’s song,
but she had been taught the Italian method of singing, which consists
in “la-la-ing” all the vowels and allowing the consonants to take
care of themselves, and consequently the words of her song were quite
unintelligible to him—indeed they might have been Hebrew for anything
he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">-97-</span> could tell. So when she had finished, he and Captain Corcoran
approached her.</p>
<p>“Madam,” said he, “it has been represented to me that you are appalled
by my exalted rank. I desire to convey to you, officially, my
deliberate assurance that if your hesitation is attributable to that
circumstance, it is unequivocally uncalled for.”</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp76" id="madam" style="max-width: 26.625em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/madam.jpg" alt="Madam" title="Madam" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">-98-</span></p>
<p>It is a rule at the Admiralty that when a person in authority has to
make an announcement he is bound to use all the longest words he can
find that will express his meaning.</p>
<p>“Oh, indeed,” replied Josephine; “then your Lordship is of opinion that
married happiness is <i>not</i> inconsistent with discrepancy in rank?”</p>
<p>This was artful on Josephine’s part, for if Sir Joseph agreed, he would
practically be admitting that there was no reason why Josephine should
not condescend to marry a common sailor if she had a mind to do so.</p>
<p>“Madam,” said Sir Joseph, loftily, “I am officially of that opinion,”
and he took a pinch of snuff with an air that suggested that he had
finally settled the question once for all.</p>
<p>“I thank you, Sir Joseph,” she replied, with a low curtsey. “I
<i>did</i> hesitate, but I will hesitate no longer.” And with another
curtsey she retired to her own cabin, muttering to herself, “He little
thinks how successfully he has pleaded his rival’s cause!”</p>
<p>The Captain, who shared Sir Joseph’s impression that Josephine had made
up her mind to accept him, was overjoyed.</p>
<p>“Sir Joseph,” said he, “I cannot express to you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">-99-</span> my joy at the happy
result of your eloquence. Your argument was unanswerable.”</p>
<p>“Captain Corcoran,” replied Sir Joseph, “it is one of the happiest
characteristics of this inexpressibly fortunate country that official
replies to respectfully uttered interrogatories are invariably regarded
as unanswerable.”</p>
<p>And Sir Joseph, having discharged this mouthful of long words, withdrew
to complete his night’s rest.</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran could not conceal his exultation. Indeed, there was
no reason why he should as he was entirely alone. He clasped his
hands, smiled broadly, took a long breath of relief and had just
begun to dance the hornpipe that Sir Joseph had taught him (to see if
he remembered the steps) when he was interrupted by the unexpected
appearance of poor deformed Dick Deadeye, who approached him with the
irregular jerky action of a triangle that is being trundled like a hoop.</p>
<p>“Captain,” whispered he, “I want a word with you!” And he placed his
hand impressively on the Captain’s wrist.</p>
<p>“Deadeye!” said he, “<i>you</i> here? Don’t!”</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp52 border" id="deadeye" style="max-width: 28.125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/deadeye.jpg" alt="Deadeye" title="Deadeye" />
<div class="caption">“DEADEYE!” SAID THE CAPTAIN, “<i>YOU</i> HERE? DON’T!”</div>
</div>
<p>“Ah, don’t shrink from me, Captain!” replied<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">-100-</span> Deadeye. “I’m unpleasant
to look at and my name’s agin me, but I ain’t as bad as I look!”</p>
<p>“What do you want with me at this time of night?” said Captain Corcoran.</p>
<p>Deadeye looked round mysteriously to make quite sure that they were
unobserved.</p>
<p>“I’ve come,” said he, “to give you warning!”</p>
<p>“Indeed!” exclaimed the Captain, who was delighted to think that there
was a chance of getting rid of Deadeye without hurting his feelings.
“Do you propose to leave the Navy, then?”</p>
<p>“No, no,” said Deadeye, “I don’t mean that. Listen!”</p>
<p>The Captain was disappointed, but he listened, nevertheless.</p>
<p>And in accordance with the standing rule that no one was ever to
<i>say</i> anything to the Captain that could be <i>sung</i>, Dick
Deadeye struck up as follows:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Kind Captain, I’ve important information</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the kind Commander that you are),</div>
<div class="verse indent0">About a certain intimate relation</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the Merry Maiden and the Tar!).</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp98" id="music_kindcaptain" style="max-width: 39.8125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_kindcaptain.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/kindcaptain.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/kindcaptain.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<p>The Captain, who had his book of rhymes handy, consulted it for a
moment and then replied:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">-103-</span></p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Good fellow, in conundrums you are speaking</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the mystic sailor that you are),</div>
<div class="verse indent0">The answer to them vainly I am seeking</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the Merry Maiden and the Tar!).</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Of course the Captain was completely puzzled, having no idea what
Deadeye was alluding to. So Dick explained:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Kind Captain, your young lady is a sighing</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the simple Captain that you are),</div>
<div class="verse indent0">This very night with Rackstraw to be flying</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the Merry Maiden and the Tar!).</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">-104-</span></p>
<p>Captain Corcoran was dreadfully distressed at this piece of
information, but he pulled himself together with an effort and replied
(after a moment with his rhyming dictionary):</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Good fellow, you have given timely warning</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the thoughtful sailor that you are),</div>
<div class="verse indent0">I’ll talk to Master Rackstraw in the morning!</div>
<div class="verse indent2">(Sing hey, the cat-o’-nine-tails and the Tar!)</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And, so singing, Captain Corcoran produced from his pocket a
beautifully inlaid little presentation “cat-o’-nine-tails,” and, as he
flourished it, he brought it down accidentally (but heavily) on poor
Dick’s back. Dick, grateful for any attention, pulled his forelock
respectfully and trundled off into the fore-part of the ship.</p>
<p>I ought to explain that the cat-o’-nine-tails is a cruel kind of whip
with nine thongs, which was, at that time, commonly used in the Navy to
punish badly behaved seamen, but Captain Corcoran was much too humane a
man to use it. It happened to be in his pocket because it was a present
from his dear old white-haired apple-cheeked grandmama which had only
arrived that day.</p>
<p>Dick Deadeye had warned the Captain just in time; for as Dick crept
off, the Captain saw a large<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">-105-</span> body of the crew, with Ralph among them,
advancing on tip-toe towards the boats which were hanging from irons,
called davits, in the ship’s side, and at the same time Josephine came
out of her cabin with her handbag in her hand, and crept silently
to where Ralph was standing. It was more than flesh and blood could
stand, and, in the anger of the moment, the Captain exclaimed “Bother!”
and brought the cat-o’-nine-tails down on the breach of a gun which
happened to be handy.</p>
<p>All the crew were dreadfully startled.</p>
<p>“Why! what was that?” said Bob Buntline, one of the sailors who had not
yet spoken.</p>
<p>“It was only the cat,” said Bill Boom.</p>
<p>Bill Boom was perfectly right. It <i>was</i> the “cat.”</p>
<p>As Josephine met Ralph, and while the crew were mustering on the
quarter-deck, the Captain glanced hastily through his rhyming
dictionary, and, having found what he wanted, revealed himself,
exclaiming “Hold!”</p>
<p>Much alarmed and greatly astonished to find their Captain among them,
they all held.</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran advanced and seizing his daughter by the hand twirled
her away from Ralph<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">-106-</span> Rackstraw, who looked like the Apollo Belvedere
struck stupid.</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Naughty daughter of mine (<i>sang the Captain</i>)</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I insist upon knowing</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Where you may be going</div>
<div class="verse indent0">With these sons of the brine?</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For my excellent crew,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Though foes they could thump any,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Are scarcely company</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For a lady like you!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp81" id="naughty" style="max-width: 26.375em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/naughty.jpg" alt="Naughty daughter" title="Naughty daughter" /></div>
<p>Ralph wasn’t going to stand this. He had been taught by the First Lord
of the Admiralty that a British sailor is the finest fellow in the
world, and if you can’t believe a First Lord, whom can you believe? So,
pulling himself together he began:</p>
<p>“Haughty Sir, when you address”—</p>
<p>“Poetry, please,” said Captain Corcoran, “I allow no sailor to address
me in prose.”</p>
<p>Ralph thought for a moment, and then declaimed (in the key of G):</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Proud officer, that haughty lip uncurl! (<i>the Captain uncurled his haughty upper lip as desired</i>)</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Vain man, suppress that supercilious sneer! (<i>he suppressed it at once</i>)</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For I have dared to love your matchless girl—</div>
<div class="verse indent2">A fact well known to all my messmates here!</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">-107-</span></div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">I, humble, poor, and lowly born,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">The meanest in the port division—</div>
<div class="verse indent0">The butt of epauletted Scorn—<SPAN name="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</SPAN></div>
<div class="verse indent2">The mark of quarter-deck derision—</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Have dared to raise my wormy eyes</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Above the dust to which you’d mould me;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">In manhood’s glorious pride to rise,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I am an Englishman—behold me!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">-108-</span></p>
<p>And at once all the crew, carried off their feet with enthusiasm,
shouted their own domestic National Anthem, led by the energetic Mr.
Bobstay:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">He is an Englishman!</div>
<div class="verse indent2">For he himself hath said it,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">And it’s greatly to his credit</div>
<div class="verse indent2">That he is an Englishman!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For he might have been a Rooshian</div>
<div class="verse indent0">A French, or Turk, or Prooshian,</div>
<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">-109-</span>
<div class="verse indent2">Or perhaps I-tal-i-an!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">But, in spite of all temptations</div>
<div class="verse indent0">To belong to other nations,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">He remains an Englishman!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp94" id="music_englishman" style="max-width: 39.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_englishman.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/englishman.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/englishman.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<p>And when they had finished, all the crew wiped their eyes (which were
full of manly tears), and shook hands with each other until their
emotion had in some degree subsided. Indeed three or four of them were
carried off in hysterics, and had to be revived with eau-de-Cologne,
a tub of which always stood on the forecastle. Speaking for myself, I
do not quite see that Ralph Rackstraw deserved so very much credit for
remaining an Englishman, considering that no one seems ever to have
proposed to him that he should be anything else, but the crew thought
otherwise and I daresay they were right.</p>
<p>Captain Corcoran hardly knew how to act, for he so seldom got into a
tearing rage that he didn’t know what it was considered usual for a
man in tearing rage to do. He was anxious not to overdo it, and at
the same time he felt that it was necessary to let them know that a
tearing rage was what he was in. After some reflection, and a glance
at his dictionary, he concluded that the best way was to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">-110-</span> depart from
his usual calm correct way of speaking, and horrify them by introducing
some really unpardonable language. So he exclaimed:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent6">In uttering a reprobation</div>
<div class="verse indent8">To any British Tar,</div>
<div class="verse indent6">I try to speak with moderation,</div>
<div class="verse indent8">But you have gone too far.</div>
<div class="verse indent6">I’m very sorry to disparage</div>
<div class="verse indent8">A humble foremast lad,</div>
<div class="verse indent6">But to seek your Captain’s child in marriage,</div>
<div class="verse indent8">Why, hang it, it’s too bad!</div>
<div class="verse indent8">Yes, hang it, it’s too bad!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">(I don’t care, I will say it, and risk the consequences)—</div>
<div class="verse indent8">Yes, hang it, it’s too bad!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>The crew were awestruck, for they had never, in all their experience
of Captain Corcoran, known him to forget himself as far as to use
an expression of this description. Three times too—not once, but
<i>three</i> times, as if he revelled in his wickedness! And what
made the circumstance more impressive was that as their amazement and
agitation subsided, they saw the First Lord of the Admiralty standing,
apparently thunderstruck, in their midst!</p>
<p>“I am appalled,” said Sir Joseph, as soon as he could control his
tongue. “Simply appalled!”</p>
<p>There was no mistake about it—he was quite white with the shock that
the Captain’s language<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">-111-</span> had given him. He was no longer a First Lord—he
was a Monument of Pathetic Imbecility.</p>
<p>“To your cabin, Sir,” said he, trembling with emotion, “and consider
yourself under the strictest arrest.”</p>
<p>“Sir Joseph,” said Captain Corcoran, “pray hear me—”</p>
<p>“To your cabin, Sir!”</p>
<p>And a couple of marines marched him off under the command of the
smallest midshipman in the ship.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="marines" style="max-width: 28.375em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/marines.jpg" alt="Marines" title="Marines" />
<div class="caption">A COUPLE OF MARINES MARCHED HIM OFF UNDER THE COMMAND OF
THE SMALLEST MIDSHIPMAN IN THE SHIP</div>
</div>
<p>Sir Joseph had by this time somewhat recovered his composure.</p>
<p>“Now tell me, my fine fellow,” said he, addressing Ralph Rackstraw,
“How came your Captain so far to forget himself?”</p>
<p>“Please your honour,” said Ralph, pulling respectfully at his forelock,
“it was thus wise. You see I’m only a topman—a mere foremast hand—”</p>
<p>“Don’t be ashamed of that,” said Sir Joseph, “a topman is necessarily
at the top of everything.”</p>
<p>This, of course, was not the case, but Sir Joseph, having been a
solicitor, did not know any better.</p>
<p>“Well, your honour,” said Ralph, “love burns as brightly on the
forecastle as it does on the quarter-<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">-112-</span>deck, and Josephine is the
fairest bud that ever blossomed on the tree of a poor fellow’s wildest
hopes!”</p>
<p>Sir Joseph could scarcely believe his ears.</p>
<p>“Are you referring to—er—Miss Josephine Corcoran?” gasped Sir Joseph.</p>
<p>“That’s the lady, Sir,” said Ralph, “in fact here she is, bless her
little heart!”</p>
<p>And Josephine rushed into Ralph’s outstretched arms.</p>
<p>“She’s the figure-head of my ship of life—the bright beacon that guides
me into the port of happiness—the rarest, the purest gem that ever
sparkled on a poor but worthy fellow’s trusting brow.”</p>
<p>The crew burst into tears at this lovely speech and sobbed heavily.
It had quite a different effect on Sir Joseph who, forgetting all his
dignity, danced about the deck in a blind fury.</p>
<p>“You—you impertilent presumtiful, disgracious, audastical sommon
cailor,” exclaimed Sir Joseph, chopping up and transposing his letters
and syllables in a perfectly ridiculous manner, “<i>I’ll</i> teach you
to lall in fove with your daptain’s caughter! Away with him to the
barkest bungeon on doard!” Of course he meant to say “the darkest
dungeon on board” and <i>would</i> have said it if he had had his
temper under proper control.</p>
<p>Josephine clung to Ralph and declared that as he was to be shut up in
a cell, she would go with him, but they were violently torn asunder,
and, a pair of handcuffs having been placed on Ralph’s wrists by the
serjeant of the marines, he was taken away in custody. At this point
Sir Joseph became calm and coherent again.</p>
<p>“And as for you, Miss Corcoran—” he began, but before he could say what
he was going to say (whatever it was) Little Buttercup came forward,
and exclaimed “Hold!”</p>
<p>“Why?” Sir Joseph asked, not unnaturally.</p>
<p>“Because I have a tale to unfold,” she replied.</p>
<p>“We are all attention,” said Sir Joseph. “Proceed.”</p>
<p>And Little Buttercup proceeded thus:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">A many years ago,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">When I was young and charming,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">As some of you may know,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">I practised baby-farming.<SPAN name="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</SPAN></div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp93" id="music_amanyyears" style="max-width: 39.5em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/music_amanyyears.jpg" alt="music" title="music" />
<p class="right sm">By special permission of the publishers, Metzler & Co., Ltd.</p>
</div>
<p class="center bp">[<SPAN href="music/amanyyearsago.mp3">Listen</SPAN>] [<SPAN href="music/amanyyearsago.mxl">MusicXML</SPAN>]</p>
<p>The crew were most interested in this piece of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">-116-</span> news, and, expecting
that she was about to reveal something that would entirely alter the
aspect of affairs, they muttered to each other:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Now this is most alarming—</div>
<div class="verse indent0">When she was young and charming</div>
<div class="verse indent0">She practised baby-farming</div>
<div class="verse indent2">A many years ago!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">-117-</span></p>
<p>Little Buttercup continued:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Two tender babes I nussed,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">One was of low condition,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">The other “upper crust,”<SPAN name="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</SPAN></div>
<div class="verse indent2">A regular patrician!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Again the crew said to each other, by way of explaining how the case
stood:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Now this is the position—</div>
<div class="verse indent0">One was of low condition,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">The other a patrician,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">A many years ago!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>This having been made quite clear to them, Little Buttercup continued
the story:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Oh, bitter is my cup,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">However could I do it?</div>
<div class="verse indent0"><i>I mixed those children up</i>,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">And not a creature knew it!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter illowp53 border" id="mixed" style="max-width: 27.8125em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/mixed.jpg" alt="mixed up" title="mixed up" />
<div class="caption">“I MIXED THOSE CHILDREN UP”</div>
</div>
<p>This was quite an inexcusable piece of carelessness on the part of
Little Buttercup. If she had any doubt which was which, she could so
easily have tied a bit of blue ribbon round the neck of one, and a
luggage-label round the neck of the other. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">-118-</span> sailors were surprised
at this culpable neglect of duty and replied:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">However could you do it?</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Some day no doubt you’ll rue it,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Although no creature knew it</div>
<div class="verse indent2">So many years ago!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Little Buttercup, not heeding their interruption, concluded her
confession thus:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">In time each little waif</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Forsook his foster-mother,<SPAN name="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</SPAN></div>
<div class="verse indent0">The well-born babe was Ralph—</div>
<div class="verse indent2">Your Captain was the other!!!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Again the crew explained the situation to each other, that there might
be no mistake about it:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">They left their foster-mother;</div>
<div class="verse indent0">The one was Ralph, our brother,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Our Captain was the other,</div>
<div class="verse indent2">A many years ago!!!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Here was a pretty kettle of fish! Ralph was, properly speaking, a
Captain in the Navy, and Captain Corcoran was only a common sailor!</p>
<p>“Am I really to understand,” said Sir Joseph, “that during all these
years, each has been occupying the other’s position?”</p>
<p>“That,” said Little Buttercup, “is the idea I intended to convey.”</p>
<p>“And you’ve done it very well,” said Sir Joseph, and all the crew
applauded so vigorously that Little Buttercup thought they wished to
hear it all over again, and had actually got so far as “A many years
ago,” when Sir Joseph interrupted her:</p>
<p>“Let them both appear before me at once,” said he.</p>
<p>And immediately Ralph appeared dressed in Captain Corcoran’s uniform
as a captain in the navy, and Captain Corcoran in Ralph’s uniform as a
man-o’-war’s man!</p>
<p>This had been carefully arranged by Little Buttercup herself. Knowing
that the time had come when it would be necessary that she should
reveal her secret, she had previously caused one of Captain Corcoran’s
uniforms to be conveyed to Ralph’s quarters, and one of Ralph’s
uniforms to be placed in Captain Corcoran’s cabin, with a note, pinned
to each bundle, explaining the condition of affairs. Now we see
what Little Buttercup meant when she sang those mysterious lines to
Captain Corcoran about things being seldom what they seem, skim-milk
masquerading as cream, and so forth. Oh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">-122-</span> she was a knowing one, I can
tell you, was Little Buttercup!</p>
<p>As Corcoran (no longer a captain) stepped forward, Josephine rushed to
him in amazement.</p>
<p>“My father a common sailor!” she exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Corcoran, “it is hard, is it not, my dear?”</p>
<p>During this time Ralph was too much occupied<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">-123-</span> in trying to catch sight
of the two epaulettes which glistened on his shoulders, to attend to
anything else.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp39" id="epaulettes" style="max-width: 12.6875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/epaulettes.jpg" alt="epaulettes" title="epaulettes" /></div>
<p>“This,” said Sir Joseph, “is a very singular occurrence, and, as far as
I know, nothing of the kind has ever happened before. I congratulate
you both.”</p>
<p>Then, turning towards Captain Rackstraw, as we must now call him, he
said (indicating Corcoran), “Desire that remarkably fine seaman to step
forward.”</p>
<p>“Corcoran,” said Captain Rackstraw, “three paces to the front—march!”
just as Corcoran, when he was a captain, had said to Ralph.</p>
<p>Corcoran, however, knew his rights, and wasn’t going to stand being
spoken to in this abrupt fashion.</p>
<p>“If <i>what</i>?” said Corcoran, touching his cap.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand you,” said Captain Rackstraw haughtily.</p>
<p>“If you <i>please</i>,” said Corcoran, with a strong emphasis on the
“please.”</p>
<p>“Perfectly right,” said Sir Joseph, “if you <i>please</i>.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course,” said Captain Rackstraw, “if you please.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">-124-</span></p>
<p>And Corcoran stepped forward and saluted, like the smart man-o’-war’s
man that he was.</p>
<p>“You’re an extremely fine fellow,” said Sir Joseph, turning him round
as he inspected him.</p>
<p>“Yes, your Honour,” said Corcoran, who was still too good a judge to
contradict a First Lord of the Admiralty.</p>
<p>“So,” observed Sir Joseph, “it seems that you were Ralph and Ralph was
you.”</p>
<p>“So it seems, your Honour,” said Corcoran, with a respectful pull at
his forelock.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Sir Joseph, “I need not tell you that, after this change
in your condition, a marriage with your daughter will be out of the
question.”</p>
<p>“Don’t say that, your Honour,” replied Corcoran, “Love levels all
ranks, you know!”</p>
<p>Sir Joseph was rather taken aback by being confronted with his own
words. But, having been a solicitor, he was equal to the occasion.</p>
<p>“It does to a considerable extent,” said Sir Joseph, “but it does not
level them as much as that. It does not annihilate the difference
between a First Lord of the Admiralty and a common sailor, though it
may very well do so between a common sailor and his Captain, you know.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">-125-</span></p>
<p>“I see,” said Corcoran; “that had not occurred to me.”</p>
<p>“Captain Rackstraw,” said Sir Joseph, “what is your opinion on that
point?”</p>
<p>“I entirely agree with your Lordship,” said Ralph, whose love for
Josephine overcame all other considerations. “If your Lordship doesn’t
want her, I’ll take her with pleasure.”</p>
<p>He said this because, fine fellow as he was, and deeply as he loved
Josephine, he considered that it was his duty, as an officer in the
Navy, to give Sir Joseph the first choice.</p>
<p>“Then take her, sir, and mind you make her happy.”</p>
<p>And Captain Rackstraw arranged with Josephine that they would go on
shore at once and be married at once. Fortunately the clergyman was
still waiting for them, although he had become rather impatient at the
delay.</p>
<p>During this conversation, Corcoran had a word or two with Buttercup,
who took that opportunity of revealing herself to him as one of the
maidenly crew of the <i>Hot Cross Bun</i> of twenty years ago. He was
greatly touched at the story of her faithful devotion to him, and
determined to repay it.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">-126-</span></p>
<p>“My Lord,” said he to Sir Joseph, “I shall be quite alone when
Josephine marries, and I <i>should</i> like a nice little wife to sew
buttons on my shirt and mend my socks.”</p>
<p>“By all means,” said Sir Joseph. “Can you suggest anybody?”</p>
<p>Corcoran presented blushing Little Buttercup to Sir Joseph, who gave
her sixpence on the spot as a wedding present. Little Buttercup was so
touched by Sir Joseph’s liberality that she burst into tears.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp54 border" id="blushing" style="max-width: 28.75em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/blushing.jpg" alt="blushing" title="blushing" />
<div class="caption">CORCORAN PRESENTED BLUSHING LITTLE BUTTERCUP TO SIR
JOSEPH, WHO GAVE HER SIXPENCE ON THE SPOT</div>
</div>
<p>Corcoran, overjoyed, at once broke into song, adapting, on the spur of
the moment, the well-known and familiar words with which he used to
greet his crew every morning, thus:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent10">I was the Captain of the <i>Pinafore</i>!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And all the crew chorused:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent10">And a right good Captain too!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Corcoran.</span> And though before my fall</div>
<div class="verse indent10">I commanded of you all,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">I’m a member of the crew!</div>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent10">I shall marry with a wife</div>
<div class="verse indent10">In my humble rank of life,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">And you, my own, are she!</div>
<div class="verse indent30">[<i>Indicating</i> <span class="smcap">Little Buttercup</span>.</div>
<div class="verse indent10">I must wander to and fro,</div>
<div class="verse indent10">But, wherever I may go,</div>
<div class="verse indent12">I shall never be unkind to thee!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">-129-</span></p>
<p>And the crew sang, rather slyly:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">What, never?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>Replied he:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">No, never!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>The crew, more slyly still:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">What, <i>never</i>?</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And the Captain, whose experience of his former wife had taught
him that even the most amiable married people <i>will</i> fall out
occasionally, replied:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent8">Hardly ever!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">Hardly ever be unkind to thee!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>And they all sang:</p>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="stanza">
<div class="verse indent0">Then give three cheers and one cheer more</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For the hardy seamen of the <i>Pinafore</i>!</div>
<div class="verse indent4">For he is an Englishman,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">And he himself hath said it,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">And it’s greatly to his credit</div>
<div class="verse indent4">That he is an Englishman!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">For he might have been a Rooshian,</div>
<div class="verse indent0">A French, or Turk, or Prooshian,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">Or perhaps I-tal-i-an!</div>
<div class="verse indent0">But, in spite of all temptations</div>
<div class="verse indent0">To belong to other nations,</div>
<div class="verse indent4">He remains an Englishman!</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<p>In short, there were general rejoicings all round. Lemon ice, shoulders
of mutton, ginger-beer and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">-130-</span> <i>meringues-à-la-crème</i> were served
out in profusion, and Sir Joseph, who happened to know a number of
surprising conjuring tricks, brought a rabbit smothered in onions out
of his left boot, to the intense delight of the crew. All the sisters
and cousins and aunts of Sir Joseph tumbled out of bed as soon as they
heard the news, and came on deck after a hasty toilette. A general
dance followed in which Ralph and Josephine particularly distinguished
themselves, and then they all went on shore that the clergyman (who had
nearly grown tired of waiting and wanted to go home to his breakfast
bacon) might join the happy couple in matrimony. Corcoran was married
at the same time to Little Buttercup, and Captain Rackstraw most kindly
gave him a week’s leave that he and his wife might go and enjoy some
sea-bathing at Ventnor.</p>
<p>Captain Rackstraw proved to be a most excellent Commander, and was just
as much beloved as Captain Corcoran had been, while Corcoran took up
Ralph’s duties with enthusiasm, and became one of the smartest top-men
on board. It is an excellent test of a man’s character when he resigns
himself with cheerfulness to a sudden change from dignified<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">-131-</span> affluence
to obscure penury, and I can’t help thinking that, on the whole, he was
a very fine fellow.</p>
<p>But still I do wish he had not made that very unfortunate remark about
being related to a peer.</p>
<div class="figcenter illowp86" id="end" style="max-width: 25.875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/end.jpg" alt="end" title="end" />
<div class="caption">THE END</div>
</div>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<div class="figcenter illowp51" id="endcolophon" style="max-width: 9.0625em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/endcolophon.jpg" alt="end colophon" title="end colophon" /></div>
<p class="center sm">
CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.<br/>
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.<br/></p>
<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
<h2 class="nobreak">FOOTNOTES</h2>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</SPAN> I’m afraid this was rather snobbish on Captain Corcoran’s
part But as the least little bit of snobbishness was his only fault
(and I am sorry to say that a great many highly respectable people are
afflicted with it) I think we may forgive him this once. But if he does
it again we shall have to take serious notice of it.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</SPAN> These are various simple nautical operations which your
kind papa will explain to you.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</SPAN> He meant “Bother!”—a vulgar expression that only the
strongest provocation can excuse.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</SPAN> I should have thought he would have liked a gilded
lordling, but you never can tell.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</SPAN> This means that he always did exactly as he was told
by those who knew better than he did. I hope my readers will all
imitate his example, and then, perhaps, when they grow up they will
also be rewarded by being placed at the head of an important Public
Department.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</SPAN> Sir Joseph was mistaken, but to do him justice, he
believed that he was telling the truth. Josephine’s estimate of his
character was much nearer the mark.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</SPAN> “Diabolo” was not publicly played at the date of my story.
The game was invented by Josephine, and she reserved it at first for
her own entertainment; but eventually Messrs. Ayres of Aldersgate
Street were induced to make it public, with considerable pecuniary
results, all of which she handed over, like a good girl, to the
Sailors’ Institute.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</SPAN> The idea of Scorn wearing epaulettes is rather a fine
figure of speech. I do not remember to have met it before.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</SPAN> By ‘baby-farming’ she meant that she earned her living by
taking in little children to nurse, while their Papas and Mamas were
travelling on the Continent.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</SPAN> A vulgar expression intended to imply that one of them
belonged to a family of some social importance. It is not an expression
that I can recommend for general use, but Little Buttercup wanted a
rhyme for ‘nussed,’ and there was no other word handy that would do.</p>
</div>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</SPAN> That is to say, when their respective parents returned to
England and reclaimed them.</p>
</div>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr class="chap"/>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="transnote"><i>Transcriber’s Note:</i><br/> Obvious printer errors
have been corrected without note.<br/>
Illustrations and music notation have
been moved to the nearest appropriate paragraph break so as not to
interrupt the flow of the text.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr class="pgx" />
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
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