ward your
opinion."

This rebuke not only abashed Mr. Pert, but for a time intimidated the
rest; and the professor was obliged to proceed, and extricate the
British fleet by himself. He concluded by awarding Admiral Rodney the
victory, which must have been exceedingly gratifying to the family
pride of the surviving relatives and connections of that distinguished
hero.

"Shall I clean the board, sir?" now asked Mr. Pert, brightening up.

"No, sir; not till you have saved that crippled French ship in the
corner. That ship, young gentlemen, is the Glorieuse: you perceive she
is cut off from her consorts, and the whole British fleet is giving
chase to her. Her bowsprit is gone; her rudder is torn away; she has
one hundred round shot in her hull, and two thirds of her men are dead
or dying. What's to be done? the wind being at northeast by north?"

"Well, sir," said Mr. Dash, a chivalric young gentleman from Virginia,
"I wouldn't strike yet; I'd nail my colours to the main-royal-mast! I
would, by Jove!"

"That would not save your ship, sir; besides, your main-mast has gone
by the board."

"I think, sir," said Mr. Slim, a diffident youth, "I think, sir, I
would haul back the fore-top-sail."

"And why so? of what service would _that_ be, I should like to know,
Mr. Slim?"

"I can't tell exactly; but I think it would help her a little," was the
timid reply.

"Not a whit, sir--not one particle; besides, you can't haul back your
fore-top-sail--your fore-mast is lying across your forecastle."

"Haul back the main-top-sail, then," suggested another.

"Can't be done; your main-mast, also, has gone by the board!"

"Mizzen-top-sail?" meekly suggested little Boat-Plug.

"Your mizzen-top-mast, let me inform you, sir, was shot down in the
first of the fight!"

"Well, sir," cried Mr. Dash, "I'd tack ship, anyway; bid 'em good-by
with a broadside; nail my flag to the keel, if there was no other
place; and blow my brains out on the poop!"

"Idle, idle, sir! worse than idle! you are carried away, Mr. Dash, by
your ardent Southern temperament! Let me inform you, young gentlemen,
that this ship," touching it with his cutlass, "_cannot_ be saved."

Then, throwing down his cutlass, "Mr. Pert, have the goodness to hand
me one of those cannon-balls from the rack."

Balancing the iron sphere in one hand, the learned professor began
fingering it with the other, like Columbus illustrating the rotundity
of the globe before the Ro