"And the rest of the young gentlemen?" roared the enraged officer. "All masthead, sir." "Ah!" said Captain Boltrope, as he smiled grimly, "under the circumstances, Mr. Breezy, you had better go to the masthead too." CHAPTER III. At the masthead I made the acquaintance of two youngsters of about my own age, one of whom informed me that he had been there three hundred and thirty-two days out of the year. "In rough weather, when the old cock is out of sorts, you know, we never come down," added a young gentleman of nine years, with a dirk nearly as long as himself, who had been introduced to me as Mr. Briggs. "By the way, Pills," he continued, "how did you come to omit giving the captain a naval salute?" "Why, I touched my hat," I said, innocently. "Yes, but that isn't enough, you know. That will do very well at other times. He expects the naval salute when you first come on board--greeny!" I began to feel alarmed, and begged him to explain. "Why, you see, after touching your hat, you should have touched him lightly with your forefinger in his waistcoat, so, and asked, 'How's his nibs?'--you see?" "How's his nibs?" I repeated. "Exactly. He would have drawn back a little, and then you should have repeated the salute remarking, 'How's his royal nibs?' asking cautiously after his wife and family, and requesting to be introduced to the gunner's daughter." "The gunner's daughter?" "The same; you know she takes care of us young gentlemen; now don't forget, Pillsy!" When we were called down to the deck I thought it a good chance to profit by this instruction. I approached Captain Boltrope and repeated the salute without conscientiously omitting a single detail. He remained for a moment, livid and speechless. At length he gasped out:-- "Boatswain's mate?" "If you please, sir," I asked, tremulously, "I should like to be introduced to the gunner's daughter!" "O, very good, sir!" screamed Captain Boltrope, rubbing his hands and absolutely capering about the deck with rage. "O d--n you! Of course you shall! O ho! the gunner's daughter! O, h--ll! this is too much! Boatswain's mate!" Before I well knew where I was, I was seized, borne to an eight-pounder, tied upon it and flogged! CHAPTER IV. As we sat together in the cockpit, picking the weevils out of our biscuit, Briggs consoled me for my late mishap, adding that the "naval salute," as a custom, seemed just then to be honored more in the BREACH than the observance. I joined in the hilarity occasioned by the witticism, and in a few moments we were all friends. Presently Swizzle turned to me:-- "We have been just planning how to confiscate a keg of claret, which Nips, the purser, keeps under his bunk. The old nipcheese lies there drunk half the day, and there's no getting at it." "Let's get beneath the state-room and bore through the deck, and so tap it," said Lankey.