"Well then, kill somebody yourself!" shouted the Ugly Duckling. "Ta-ta! I'm off to give the doctor a dancing lesson on the main-deck."
Well, that was precisely what he was doing five minutes after.
Dr. Grant was a splendid dancer of Highland flings and reels, &c., but, good-looking fellow though he was, he would have told you himself that he always felt a fool at an English ball or hop, and he hated being a wall-flower.
So the Ugly Duckling had offered to teach him, and had you come forward on the fighting-deck during practising-time, you would have seen a sight to amuse you. There was the chief bo's'n, a capital violinist, seated astraddle on one of the big guns, and playing some sweet, sad waltz, and yonder the little Duckling and the great Scotch doctor floating round and round the deck, with an awkwardness, however, that caused all the onlookers to shout with merriment.
The doctor didn't laugh a bit. It was a very serious matter for him indeed. His happiness was at stake; so he stuck to it, and tripped on the not very light fantastic toe.
His assiduity was finally rewarded, however, and he became one of the best dancers on board, and on shore was quite a favourite with the ladies.
* * * * * * * * * * *
At first the great monkey had been simply called Jacko, or Able-seaman Jacko. But the Duckling determined to raise him to the rank of admiral. First and foremost, however, he took no small pains in teaching his simian friend to walk erect. This he soon learned. Then to salute, &c.
After he was perfect in these accomplishments Jacko's promotion came. Well, you know, reader, it isn't the first time one of a ship's crew has risen from powder-monkey to admiral.
Then why shouldn't Jacko? Why not indeed?