Though to catch my drift he’s striving,
I’ll dissemble—I’ll dissemble—
When he sees at what I’m driving
Let him tremble—let him tremble!
and, muttering to herself in a fashion which might be described, musically, as a triumph of pianissimo, she disappeared mysteriously into the forward part of the ship.
Captain Corcoran—though very uneasy at her portentous utterances—was rather disposed to pat himself on the back for having tackled her on her own ground in the matter of stringing rhymes, and (as he thought) beaten her at it. But in this he was wrong, for if you compare her lines with his, you will see that whereas her lines dealt exclusively with people and things who were not so important as they thought themselves to be, his lines were merely chopped-up proverbs that had nothing to do with each other or with anything else. Still it wasn’t bad for a first attempt, and although we must give her the prize, I think he deserves a “highly commended.”
Now although Sir Joseph had gone to bed, he was so worried about Josephine that he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. So as it was a beautiful warm night, and everybody (as he supposed) asleep, he thought he would go on deck in his pyjamas, and console himself with a cigar. Accordingly he went on deck, but finding that the Captain was in close conversation with a lady, he very properly retired to his cabin to put on the beautiful and expensive uniform of a Cabinet Minister which he had worn during the day, and which were the only clothes he had brought with him. He had completed his toilet and returned to the deck just as Captain Corcoran was endeavouring to pat himself on the back for his cleverness in stringing rhymes with Little Buttercup.
“What are you trying to do?” said Sir Joseph, as he noticed that the Captain had some difficulty in reaching the exact part of the back which he wished to pat. “Can I help you?”
“WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?” SAID SIR JOSEPH