"You've been knocked over, I see," said the irrepressible Sid, smiling
intelligently at him. "Well, I'm off for the jig."

"Tar-a-ta! tar-a-ta!"

The trumpet punctually announced the appearance of so much colorless
linen and broadcloth on the floor; but the Basins, who were fine, gazed
at his severe costume with tender pity.

"Sid," appreciating this, dared not laugh: he endeavored to redeem this
lack of beauty by a display of his white bediamonded hand on his
watch-guard, as he entreated a partner for the dance, but he was not
held for much; that was evident.

Now and then in the reel he touched Vesty's hand, or swung with her,
and he stared at her consistently and immoderately throughout; but
always for him the holy lids were low over her eyes.

My heart exulted something like the next blast of the trumpet; I turned
to look. Vesty was safe.

"Tar-a-ta! tar-a-ta!"

But Captain Pharo needed no stirring strain to his consciousness as he
walked, with scarcely perceptible limp, to the middle of the floor.

That flowered jacket, the arnica bloom glowing like sunrise on the
back! Those new trousers, of "middling" sacks, "Brand No. 1" proudly
distinct upon the right leg!

"Give me sea-room here, give me sea-room," said the hero; "and jest
wait till I git my spavins warmed up a little!"

A wide, clear swath was cut from the billows that surrounded Captain
Pharo.

"Now then," said he, pulling his pipe from his pocket, and drawing a
match in the usual informal way; "Poo! poo! hohum!--

[Illustration: Music fragment: "'My days are as the grass, Or as--']

strike up somethin' lively over there, Gurd. Give us 'The Wracker's
Darter,' by clam!"

Gurdon, who had returned to relieve Fluke at the violin, good-naturedly
struck up "The Wrecker's Daughter."

"Can't ye put a little sperrit into 'er, Gurd? Is this 'ere a fun'al?
That 's it! Now then--'Touch and go is a good pilot.'"

With these words, Captain Pharo sprang with ox-like levity from the
floor, and amid the giddy swiftness of the music I was occasionally
conscious of hearing his mailed heels flow together with a clash that
made the rafters ring. He descended at last ominously, but when the
reverberations died away I looked, and saw that he was whole.

Notely came over and shook hands with him, laid an arm proudly on his
proud shoulder, and led him away to the "mess" room, where his stewards
were busy.

"Dodrabbit ye, Pharo!" cried a voice from the f