normous club in
his right hand, became him well.

The first few seconds of dead silence, with which this was received,
were succeeded by a long and loud burst of applause, the heartiness of
which plainly showed that the scene far exceeded the expectations of the
men.

"Bravo!" cried the captain, "excellent! nothing could be better."

"It beats natur, quite," said one.

"All to sticks," cried another.

"And wot a tree-mendous giant he makes. Three cheers for Peter Grim,
lads!"

Three cheers were promptly given, with right good-will, but the Giant
did not move a muscle. He was far too deeply impressed with the
importance of playing his part well to acknowledge the compliment.
Having gazed long enough to enable the men to get rid of their first
flow of enthusiasm, Blunderbore rose majestically, and, coming forward
to the foot-lights, looked straight over the heads of the men, and
addressed himself to the opposite bulkhead.

"Oh! 'tis a dismal thing," he began, and continued to spout his part
with flashing eyes and considerable energy until he came to the word
Blunderbuss, when, either from a mistaken notion as to when it was his
time to go on, or nervous forgetfulness of the plan of the piece, the
Little Bear sprang over the edge of the iceberg and alighted on the
middle of the stage.

"Oh! bad luck to yees intirely," said the Big Bear from behind the
scenes in an angry whisper, which was distinctly heard by the audience,
"ye've gone and spoiled it all, ye have. Come off, will ye, and take
yer turn at the right time, won't ye?"

In the midst of the shout of delight caused by this mistake, O'Riley,
forgetting that he was a bear, rushed on the stage on his hind-legs,
seized the Little Bear by the fore-leg, and dragged him off at the other
side amid loud applause. Blunderbore, with admirable self-possession,
resumed his part the instant there was a calm, and carried it
successfully to a close.

Just as he ended, Fred waddled on, in the guise of an Esquimaux woman,
and so well was he got up that the crew looked round to see if Aninga
(who, with her husband, had been allowed to witness the play) was in her
place. Fred had intentionally taken Aninga as his model, and had been
very successful in imitating the top-knot of hair. The baby, too, was
hit off to perfection, having been made by Mivins, who proved himself a
genius in such matters. Its head was a ball of rags covered with brown
leather, and two white