ry!--They are supposed to
have a sweetheart in every port, though, to be sure, none of them are
likely be above anybody's station. But their sighs are an
encouragement to Ralph to tell all about his sweetheart, and he
immediately does so. He sings rapturously of her appearance and of how
unworthy he is. The crew nearly melts to tears during the recital.
Just as Ralph has revealed that his love is Josephine, the Captain's
daughter, and all the crew but Dick Deadeye are about to burst out
weeping, the Captain puts in an appearance.

"My gallant crew,--good morning!" he says amiably, in that
condescending manner quite to be expected of a Captain. He inquires
nicely about the general health of the crew, and announces that he is
in reasonable health himself. Then with the best intentions in the
world, he begins to throw bouquets at himself:

I am the Captain of the _Pinafore_,

he announces, and the crew returns:

And a right good Captain too.

You're very, very good,
And be it understood,
I command a right good crew,

he assures them.

Tho' related to a peer,
I can hand, reef and steer,
Or ship a selvagee;
I'm never known to quail
At the fury of a gale,--
And I'm never, never sick at sea!

But this is altogether too much. The crew haven't summered and
wintered with this gallant Captain for nothing.

"What, never?" they admonish him.

"No,--never."

"What!--NEVER?" and there is no mistaking their emphasis.

"Oh, well--hardly ever!" he admits, trimming his statement a little:
and thus harmony is restored. Now when he has thus agreeably said good
morning to his crew, they leave him to meditate alone, and no one but
Little Buttercup remains. For some reason she perceives that the
Captain is sad. He doesn't look it, but the most comic moments in
comic opera are likely enough to be the saddest. Hence Little
Buttercup reminds him that she is a mother (she doesn't look it) and
therefore to be confided in.

"If you must know, Little Buttercup, my daughter Josephine! the
fairest flower that ever blossomed on ancestral timber"--which is very
neat indeed--"has received an offer of marriage from Sir Joseph
Porter. It is a great honour, Little Buttercup, but I am sorry to say
my daughter doesn't seem to take kindly to it."

"Ah, poor Sir Joseph, I know perfectly what it means to love not
wisely but too well," she remarks, sighing tenderly and looking most