Ralph. No, your honour.
Sir J. That’s a pity: all sailors should dance hornpipes. I will teach you one this evening, after dinner. Now, tell me—don’t be afraid—how does your captain treat you, eh?
Ralph. A better captain don’t walk the deck, your honour.
All. Hear!
Sir J. Good. I like to hear you speak well of your commanding officer; I dare say he don’t deserve it, but still it does you credit. Can you sing?
Ralph. I can hum a little, your honour.
Sir J. Then hum this at your leisure. (Giving him MS. music.) It is a song that I have composed for the use of the Royal Navy. It is designed to encourage independence of thought and action in the lower branches of the service, and to teach the principle that a British sailor is any man’s equal, excepting mine. Now, Captain Corcoran, a word with you in your cabin, on a tender and sentimental subject.
Capt. Ay, ay, Sir Joseph. Boatswain, in commemoration of this joyous occupation, see that extra grog is served out to the ship’s company at one bell.
Boat. Beg pardon. If what, your honour?
Capt. If what? I don’t think I understand you.