"So I thought," was the reply. "If you have time, you can call upon the Admiral Survival of the Fittest."
"Gentlemen," said that illustrious official, after they had entered his bureau, "it is usual to salute me by tugging at your forelocks and scraping the deck with your right feet. While you perform this operation, you will notice that I will hitch up my trousers in true nautical style."
"Oh, certainly," returned Mr. Punch, "Delighted! But, Admiral, isn't that sort of thing a little old-fashioned?"
"And what of that, Sir? In spite of everything we still have hearts of oak. We have not changed since the time of NELSON and Trafalgar. We can still run up the rigging (there isn't any but that is an unimportant detail) like kittens, and reef a sail (there's not one left, but what does that matter?) in a Nor-Wester as our ancestors did before us. And if you don't believe me, go to any public dinner when response is being made for the Navy."
"But if the ships have changed, would it not be better if the crews had undergone an appropriate transformation?"
"We don't think so. But, there, it's no use palavering. Some day the matter will be put to the test?"
"By a war?"
"No; by the Fleet starting for a cruise in calm weather. Some say we should all go to the bottom. But I am talking of the Planet Neptune. On your little Earth, I suppose, things are very different?"
"Very," replied Mr. Punch. "We have the Admiralty!"