"I am ready," and Fernando got up and started diagonally across the room, stepping with his feet very wide apart. The pretended Lord Kildee took his arm, and they got to the door, where Fernando missed his footing and went tumbling down the steps in a very undignified manner. His lordship, Kildee, having imbibed rather freely himself, kept him company, and for a few seconds they remained at the bottom of the flight, dividing their time between studying astronomy and the laws of gravitation.
Fernando had badly smashed the captain's chapeau and one fine plume was gone. They had not gone far before they ran upon a watchman, who threatened to run them in; but the police of those days were as susceptible to a bribe as they are to-day, and after donating liberally to the cause of justice and protection, they were taken to their rooms instead of the calaboose.
Young Stevens had no definite recollection of how he ever got to bed; but he awoke next morning with a wretched headache and found himself in a red coat, with the epaulets and gold lace of an officer. By degrees, the whole thing came back to him.
Terrence came in a few moments later, a smile on his face, as he remarked they were in "the divil's own scrape."
"Why?" asked Fernando.
"We should have taken the clothes back to the captain."
Fernando, who was in total ignorance of the manner in which the uniform was procured, asked:
"How did you get them?"
Terrence told him the whole story, and Fernando, despite his wretched headache, laughed until the tears coursed down his cheeks.
"That's not all, me foine boy. The whole thing is out. The papers printed this morning are full of it. They say the captain was seen just before daylight goin' down the street to his boat with a sheet wrapped about him."