orlop deck. He had already begun to protest upon the unreasonableness
of rotatory coats, or of having a quarter-deck pair of trousers, like
the wives of the ancient Britons, common to the sept. The ungrateful
rogue! He had on, at the very time, the only quarter-deck-going coat
among us, which was mine, and which he had just borrowed to enable him
to go on deck, and report everything right below.

"Captain Reud's compliments to Mr Pigtop, and would be glad of his
company to dinner."

Angelic words, when the invited reefer has a clean shirt, or collar, and
a decent uniform.

"`Mr Pigtop's compliments to Captain Reud, and will be most happy to
wait on him.' There, you dogs," said the elated Pigtop, "I say no more
lending of clothes. Here, you, Josh, jump forward, and tell the tailor
I must have my uniform by four bells."

Josh jumped forward with a very intelligent grin upon his
tallow-complexioned but handsome countenance.

Now, the captain and ward-room officers all knew very well of the
unaccountable destruction of our clothes, which, they affected to
believe, was not unaccountable to them. They said it arose from very
natural causes; a little of which was to be ascribed to dampness, a
little to the cockroaches, and a great, a very great deal to our
proverbial carelessness. Well. A midshipman careless! But some people
_may_ libel with impunity. Whatever they thought, they enjoyed our
dilemmas, both of food and of clothing.

An hour before the captain's dinner was ready, the much envied suit was
brought aft, and duly displayed on Mr Pigtop's chest. The ward-room
officers, or at least those of them with whom he could take that
liberty, were invited out to view it. It was pronounced, for
ship-tailoring, excellent.

Pigtop's elation was great. So was Josh Daunton's; but all in a quiet,
submissive way. Our envy was proportionate. Josh was an excellent
barber, and he volunteered to shave the happy diner-out--the offer was
accepted. Then came the turn of fate--then commenced the long series of
the poor mate's miseries. It was no fault of Daunton's, certainly--but
all the razors were like saws. The blood came out over the black visage
of Mr Pigtop; but the hair stayed most pertinaciously on. The sufferer
swore--how horribly he swore! The time was fast elapsing. After a most
tremendous oath from the sufferer, which would have almost split an oak
plank, Joshua said, in his lowly and insinuating voice,