"Give way, lads, give way," he shouted aloud. "The captain is in a hurry, for there's something in the wind, depend on that." We were, I suspect, so completely in a position under the sun, as observed from the frigate, that we could not be seen. Presently the report of another gun struck our ears. On this Mr Fitzgerald seemed to lose all patience. "Hand me an oar and a boat-hook," he exclaimed, "and some rope-yarn." What was our surprise to see him strip off his trousers, and make the waistband fast to the boat-hook, which he secured for a yard across the blade of an oar stepped upright as a mast. Having secured some pieces of rope-yarn to the legs of his unmentionables, he stood up and began blowing away with might and main into the upper portions, stopping every now and then to gain breath, and to shout, "Give way, lads, with a will--give way like troopers--give way, ye hardy sons of Neptune, or of sea-cooks, if you prefer the appellation. Give way like Tritons. We are doing all that men can do. Who dare say we can do more? But we must not stop to talk." Then, once more filling out his cheeks, he began to blow and puff with might and main as before. Grey and I, though not a little shocked, were convulsed with laughter; so of course were the men, whose countenances, as they bent to their oars, were wreathed in the broadest of broad grins, while shouts of scarce suppressed laughter burst ever and anon from their throats. "Faith, the captain can't say it's my fault if we don't get aboard in time. I've done all that any officer in His Majesty's service could do to expedite matters, at all events," he observed at length, stopping to draw breath. "And more than most officers would dream of doing, Mr Fitzgerald," I answered, quietly, really fearing that he had gone mad.