"A man overboard! a man overboard!" was heard resounding in gruff voices
from above.

"Oh, poor man, he will be drowned, he will be drowned," came in a
sharper treble from the admiral's cabin.

I heard the shrill pipe of the boatswain's mate as boats were being
lowered, and at that instant into the cabin rushed the French barber,
wringing his hands in a frantic state, and exclaiming, "Oh, Captain,
your beautiful vig, your beautiful vig, it vill all be spoilt, it vill
all be spoilt."

"My wig!" shouted Captain Bumpus, in a voice of thunder. "My wig, you
anatomy, you mendacious inventor of outrageous impossibilities. Begone
out of the cabin, out of the ship, overboard with you, the instant
dinner is served!" And he gave the unhappy barber a kick which sent him
flying across the after-cabin, through the door of the outer one,
against the sentry, who was knocked over, and soldier and barber lay
floundering and kicking, and bawling and swearing in their native
dialects, amid the laughter of the officers, who ran to see what had
become of the little man, and the shouts of the men who were outside.

Meantime the tide was running strong, and the wig block drifted past the
other ships of the fleet, from all of which boats instantly put off in
chase. They were all assembled round the fatal block, and the bowman of
one, more fortunate than the rest, had got hold of it, and held it up
amid shouts of laughter, when a boat from the flagship arrived and
claimed the prize.

As the boat returned and pulled up astern, the admiral shouted out,
"Have you got the poor fellow?"

"It wasn't a man, sir; it was only the captain's wig, sir," was the
answer.

"The captain's what?" cried the admiral.

"Captain Bumpus's wig," shouted the bowman, as he held it up for
inspection.

"Come aboard with it, then," answered the admiral, roaring with
laughter, for he richly enjoyed a joke.

I heard a merry giggle in the stern gallery. Captain Bumpus turned pale
with rage and mortified vanity. I delivered my despatch, to which he
said he would send an answer. The next day it was reported that he had
resigned his commission and gone on shore. He could not bear the idea
that the whole fleet should have discovered he wore a wig.

CHAPTER TWO.

Blue Peter had been for some hours flying aloft when Jonathan Johnson's
pipe, sounding along the decks with a shrillness which surpassed the
keenest of north-easterly gales, gave the expected