me a little brigantine, he'd chartered,
and with three dusky lads for a crew and some grub and two big chests on
her quarter-deck we sail out. And the first thing I says when we were
clear o' the harbor was: "What's them chests for?" And he opens up one
of 'em and says: "Behold, senor, your uniform!"

And I looks and there's five gold stripes on the sleeve of the coat to
begin with. And draws it all out, pants and all, and I see it's an
admiral's special full-dress uniform!

"For me?" I says.

"Certain-ly," he says. "You, senor, shall be an admiral. Why not?"

"Well," I says, "I don' know why not either, only it's some rank to
start with. But what'll you be?" And at that he opens up the other chest
and hauls out another uniform and holds it up f'r me to look at, and,
pointin' to the insignia, he asks: "What rank shall such be?"

It was a general's uniform, and I tells him so.

"So?" he says. Then bowing to me: "Then I, senor, if you do not object,
shall be a gen'ral."

"Sure--why not, senor?" I says. "And there's cert'nly some class to the
quarter-deck o' this brigantine. Let's get into 'em." And we got into
'em, an' gorgeous, oh, gorgeous, they were. An' rememberin' the market
price o' hams when I was buyin' hams, I figured they must 'a' cost ten
or fifteen million dollars apiece. And I hadn't been an hour in
mine--solid gold almost, and a gold-mounted shappo and a gold belt and a
dazzlin' sword--before I begins to appreciate what it was to be an
admiral and to respect every admiral ever I'd sailed under--except maybe
two or three--for bein' good enough to look at me at all while they were
standing round deck in their uniforms. An' f'r the next hour I kept that
crew hoppin' from one end of the brigantine to the other, just to see
'em hop when I gives an order with my admiral's uniform on.

But after I got so I could take off my shappo and draw my sword and look
down at myself without swellin' up, I says to the gen'ral, "What
d'y'say, senor gen'ral, to a little action?" and points to a lad
quarterin' down the wind toward us with a Red flag up. "It's plain," I
says, "he don't know the Blues is in. What d'y'say if we shake him up
same as a real privateer--send a hot shot across his forefoot and make
him haul his wind?"

"No, no," and the gen'ral shakes his head.

And soon there came another fellow inbound and with a Red flag up, but
again the gen'ral said, "Paysheeons, paysheeons, senor admiral," and
raises o