Bobbie stuffed his mouth with his handkerchief. It would have been rude to laugh before his captain, but when the latter threw himself down in his chair in an apparent state of convulsions, then the midshipmite laughed too, and even the captain's steward could not refrain from joining the chorus.
Five minutes after this the ship seemed shaken from stem to stern by the wild hilarity of the ward-room officers. They had been at their dessert when Bobbie introduced the Admiral.
The best of it all was, that Jacko himself looked as grave as an Oxford don. Never a smile was on his face. Not even the ghost of one.
But the new admiral was given a chair and a plate, and, behaving himself with all decorum, enjoyed a hearty feast of nuts and raisins. After this, accompanied by Bobbie, he bowed and took his leave. He had taken good care, however, to stuff one of his cheeks with nuts before he got down off his chair, till it stuck out like—so the doctor phrased it—a very bad case of inflammation of the parotid gland.
Admiral Jacko, it must be admitted, was a very funny fellow, but I fear I could not certify that he was strictly honest. Real rear-admirals would never, for instance, do what Admiral Jacko did once. He was on the fighting-deck one day, and noticed the captain's steward pass into the saloon with a nice little plum-pudding.
Jacko, in full uniform, walked past the door several times and had a sniff, the sentry smiling and presenting arms to him. But presently an officer entered to inform the captain that a strange man-o'-war was in sight, and leaving his luncheon he went on deck to have a look at her. This was the Rear-admiral's chance. He rushed in and as quickly came out again, hugging the brown and savoury pudding in his arms.
The sentry didn't present arms to him this time, only he determined not to tell upon poor Jacko.
"Bring in the pudding, steward," said Captain Leeward.
"Oh, sir, I brought it!"
"Then where is it?"