“That’s true,” said Chips; “and he won’t truss hisself, as ye might call it.”
“No; if he’d on’y jest double up his legs, Chips, and close reef that jibboom o’ his, we might manage some’ow.”
“A kind o’ sentry-box would just be the thing, old Can.”
“Humph! yes. I wonder why the skipper didn’t bring a grandfather’s clock with ’im; that would suit the ’Ral all to pieces.”
But a sort of sentry-box, with a tarpaulin in front of it, was finally rigged up for the ’Ral, and placed just abaft the main-mast, to which it was lashed.
The ’Ral didn’t take to it quite kindly at first, but after studying it fore and aft he finally thought it would fit him nicely.
It would be protection from the sun on hot days, and when it blew a bit the men would draw down the tarpaulin, and he would be snug enough.
But in sunny weather it must be confessed that, solemnly standing there in his sentry-box, the Admiral did look a droll sight.
The ’Ral was a very early riser. He always turned out in time to go splashing about while the hands were washing decks, and although they often turned the hose on him he didn’t mind it a bit.
One very hot day, the poor ’Ral was observed standing pensively up against the capstan. His head was out of sight, thrust into one of the holes.