Marmaduke Merry | Page 9

suppressed titter going on, "but I detest the sight of a wig block since--you know that Highland tragedy--"
"A man overboard! a man overboard!" was heard resounding in gruff voices from above.
"Oh, poor man, he will be drowned, he will be drowned," came in a sharper treble from the admiral's cabin.
I heard the shrill pipe of the boatswain's mate as boats were being lowered, and at that instant into the cabin rushed the French barber, wringing his hands in a frantic state, and exclaiming, "Oh, Captain, your beautiful vig, your beautiful vig, it vill all be spoilt, it vill all be spoilt."
"My wig!" shouted Captain Bumpus, in a voice of thunder. "My wig, you anatomy, you mendacious inventor of outrageous impossibilities. Begone out of the cabin, out of the ship, overboard with you, the instant dinner is served!" And he gave the unhappy barber a kick which sent him flying across the after-cabin, through the door of the outer one, against the sentry, who was knocked over, and soldier and barber lay floundering and kicking, and bawling and swearing in their native dialects, amid the laughter of the officers, who ran to see what had become of the little man, and the shouts of the men who were outside.
Meantime the tide was running strong, and the wig block drifted past the other ships of the fleet, from all of which boats instantly put off in chase. They were all assembled round the fatal block, and the bowman of one, more fortunate than the rest, had got hold of it, and held it up amid shouts of laughter, when a boat from the flagship arrived and claimed the prize.
As the boat returned and pulled up astern, the admiral shouted out, "Have you got the poor fellow?"
"It wasn't a man, sir; it was only the captain's wig, sir," was the answer.
"The captain's what?" cried the admiral.
"Captain Bumpus's wig," shouted the bowman, as he held it up for inspection.
"Come aboard with it, then," answered the admiral, roaring with laughter, for he richly enjoyed a joke.
I heard a merry giggle in the stern gallery. Captain Bumpus turned pale with rage and mortified vanity. I delivered my despatch, to which he said he would send an answer. The next day it was reported that he had resigned his commission and gone on shore. He could not bear the idea that the whole fleet should have discovered he wore a wig.
CHAPTER TWO.
Blue Peter had been for some hours flying aloft when Jonathan Johnson's pipe, sounding along the decks with a shrillness which surpassed the keenest of north-easterly gales, gave the expected order, which his mates, in gruffest of gruff tones, bawled out, of "All hands up anchor!" In an instant the whole ship was in an uproar, and seemed to me to be in the most dire confusion. Boatswain's mates were shouting and bawling, the officers hurrying to their stations, the men flying here and there, some aloft to loose sails, and others to halyards, sheets, and braces. I must own that I did not feel myself of any great service in assisting at the operation going forward, but I ran and shouted with the rest, and as the men passed me I told them to look sharp and to be smart, and to hurry along; but what they were about to do I was utterly unable to discover. I met Toby Bluff hurrying along, looking very much scared and half inclined to blubber. I asked him what was the matter.
"It's the big man with the rattan," (he alluded to the ship's corporal) "told me to go aft to the poop and stand by the mizen-topsail halyards," he exclaimed. "But, oh, Master Marmaduke, where they be it's more than my seven senses can tell. What shall I do? what shall I do?"
I saw some other boys running aft, so I advised him to go where they went, and to do whatever they did. I soon afterwards saw him hauling away sturdily at a rope, and though he tumbled down very often, he was quickly again on his feet. The fife and fiddle were meantime sounding merrily, and, as with cheerful tramp the men passed round the capstan-bars, the anchor was speedily run up to the bows. What the lieutenant on the forecastle could mean when he shouted out "Man the cat-fall," I could not divine, till I saw that some of the crew were securing the stock of the anchor by means of a tackle to a stout beam, which projected over the bows of the ship. "Over to the fish," next shouted out the officer, an order at first equally inexplicable to me, till I saw the flukes of the anchor hauled up close to the bows--fished, as it is called.
The sails were let fall and