The Duckling took up some nice ship's serge and buttons and gold-lace from the paymaster, and then he made friends with the ship's tailor. In less than a week after this, behold Jacko rigged out in the full-dress of a rear-admiral, cocked-hat, sword, and all.
No ward-room officer except Dr. Grant was "in the know", and the doctor good-naturedly gave the Duckling the use of the sick-bay for training purposes, and for the practice of their evolutions.
I verily believe, from the aptitude to learn which Jacko evinced, that the droll rascal was not a little proud of his splendid uniform and epaulettes.
Anyhow, his education was soon complete. So one evening, as the captain, all alone in his quarters, was bending over a chart—the ship being then not far from land,—Bobbie, the wee Scotch midshipmite, who was a great favourite with Captain Leeward, knocked smartly at his door and quickly entered.
"An admiral come off to see you, sir!" he squeaked. "Shall I show him in?"
"Most certainly, Mr. Robertson. But—"
And the captain rose in some agitation, and pushed back his chair.
The state of his feelings may be better conceived than printed when in marched Admiral Jacko.
Jacko took off his cocked hat, and bowed.
"Ah—ha—ah—ha," the monkey said, for all the world like a nervous man beginning a speech, and held out his little black hand as if to shake.