Part 25 (2/2)

”Tar-a-ta! tar-a-ta!”

But Captain Pharo needed no stirring strain to his consciousness as he walked, with scarcely perceptible limp, to the middle of the floor.

That flowered jacket, the arnica bloom glowing like sunrise on the back! Those new trousers, of ”middling” sacks, ”Brand No. 1” proudly distinct upon the right leg!

”Give me sea-room here, give me sea-room,” said the hero; ”and jest wait till I git my spavins warmed up a little!”

A wide, clear swath was cut from the billows that surrounded Captain Pharo.

”Now then,” said he, pulling his pipe from his pocket, and drawing a match in the usual informal way; ”Poo! poo! hohum!--

[Ill.u.s.tration: Music fragment: ”'My days are as the gra.s.s, Or as--']

strike up somethin' lively over there, Gurd. Give us 'The Wracker's Darter,' by clam!”

Gurdon, who had returned to relieve Fluke at the violin, good-naturedly struck up ”The Wrecker's Daughter.”

”Can't ye put a little sperrit into 'er, Gurd? Is this 'ere a fun'al?

That 's it! Now then--'Touch and go is a good pilot.'”

With these words, Captain Pharo sprang with ox-like levity from the floor, and amid the giddy swiftness of the music I was occasionally conscious of hearing his mailed heels flow together with a clash that made the rafters ring. He descended at last ominously, but when the reverberations died away I looked, and saw that he was whole.

Notely came over and shook hands with him, laid an arm proudly on his proud shoulder, and led him away to the ”mess” room, where his stewards were busy.

”Dodrabbit ye, Pharo!” cried a voice from the fondest of the Artichokes, seizing him with an exultant pride which he affected to hide under derogatory language; ”was that you I seen in there jest now, stompin' the frescoes off'n the ceilin'?”

”Altogether most entertaining jig that has been danced this evening,”

said one of Notely's broadcloth guests, very superciliously.

”Oh, I hain't danced none yit,” said Captain Pharo, too confident to show contempt; ”only warmin' my spavins;” and he heartlessly turned the complete flower in view for the further annihilation of the gentleman in black.

”Ef I c'd 'a' got on my scuffs,” said Captain Leezur, his sun-visage showing against the crimson back of an easy-chair, ”I don't know but what I sh'd been 'most tempted ter jine the darnce myself. But no; I couldn't pervail with 'em--so long sence I've wrarstled with 'em--so I come right 'long in my felts.”

”No, ye can't dance 'The Wracker's Darter,' that is, not as she orter be danced, in felts,” said Captain Pharo; ”she 's a tune 't wants the emphasis brought right down onto her; felts won't do it, nor scuffs neither.”

”That off foot o' mine kind o' b'longs to the church, anyway,” said Captain Leezur sweetly; ”has for years; don't pain me much as I knows on, but she ain't seound: if t'other one starts off kind o' skittish she 's sartin to hold back----”

”Ye'd orter be thankful 't ye only has to contend with natch'al diserbilities,” interposed Captain Pharo, ”'n' don't have any o' these d--d ructions played on ye.”

”Oh, by the way, what are 'ructions'?” inquired the guest of supercilious temperament.

”Le' me see,” said Captain Pharo; ”you're the one 't Note said was from Was.h.i.+n'ton, ain't ye? Was.h.i.+n'ton, D.C.?”

”Certainly.”

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