Again: A dance was required at a moment's notice for a second _danseuse_, and the stage manager was distracted. "You must make something at once, Sullivan," he said. "But," replied the composer, "I haven't even seen the girl. I don't know her style or what she needs." However, the stage manager sent the dancer to speak with Sullivan, and presently he called out: "I've arranged it all. This is exactly what she wants: Tiddle-iddle-um, tiddle-iddle-um, rum-tirum-tirum--sixteen bars of that; then: rum-tum-rum-tum--heavy you know--" and in ten minutes the dance was made and ready for rehearsal. H.M.S.[B] "PINAFORE" The Right Honourable Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B. First Lord of the Admiralty. Captain Corcoran Commanding H.M.S. _Pinafore_. Ralph Rackstraw Able seaman. Dick Deadeye Able seaman. Bill Bobstay Boatswain's mate. Bob Becket Carpenter's mate. Tom Tucker Midshipmate. Sergeant of marines Josephine The Captain's daughter. Hebe Sir Joseph's first cousin. Little Buttercup A Portsmouth bumboat woman. First Lord's sisters, his cousins, his aunts, sailors, marines, etc. The story takes place on the quarterdeck of H.M.S. _Pinafore_, off Portsmouth. Composer: Sir Arthur Sullivan. Author: W.S. Gilbert. [Footnote B: Her Majesty's Ship.] ACT I On the quarterdeck of the good ship _Pinafore_, along about noon, on a brilliant sunny day, the sailors, in charge of the Boatswain, are polishing up the brasswork of the ship, splicing rope, and doing general housekeeping, for the excellent reason that the high cockalorum of the navy--the Admiral, Sir Joseph Porter--together with all his sisters and his cousins and his aunts, is expected on board about luncheon time. When an Admiral goes visiting either on land or sea, there are certain to be "doings," and there are going to be mighty big doings on this occasion. If sailors were ever proud of a ship, those of the _Pinafore_ are they. The _Pinafore_ was, in fact, the dandiest thing afloat. No sailor ever did anything without singing about it, and as they "Heave ho, my hearties"--or whatever it is sailors do--they sing their minds about the _Pinafore_ in a way to leave no mistake as to their opinions. We sail the ocean blue, And our saucy ship's a beauty. We're sober men and true, And attentive to our duty. When the balls whistle free, O'er the bright blue sea, We stand to our guns all day. When at anchor we ride, On the Portsmouth tide, We've plenty of time for play--Ahoy, Ahoy! And then, while they are polishing at top speed, on board scrambles Little Buttercup. Naturally, being a bumboat woman, she had her basket on her arm. "Little Buttercup!" the crew shouts; they know her well on pay-day.