_Dick._ You’re on a wrong tack, and so is he. He means well, but he don’t know. When people have to obey other people’s orders, equality’s out of the question. _All_ (_recoiling_). Horrible! horrible! _Boat._ Dick Deadeye, if you go for to infuriate this here ship’s company too far, I won’t answer for being able to hold ’em in. I’m shocked! that’s what I am--shocked! _Ralph_ (_coming forward_). Messmates, my mind’s made up. I’ll speak to the captain’s daughter, and tell her, like an honest man, of the honest love I have for her. _All._ Hurrah! _Ralph._ Is not my love as good as another’s? Is not my heart as true as another’s? Have I not hands and eyes and ears and limbs like another? _All._ Ay, ay. _Ralph._ True, I lack birth---- _Boat._ You’ve a berth on board this very ship. _Ralph._ Well said--I had forgotten that. Messmates, what do you say? do you approve my determination? _All._ We do. _Dick._ _I_ don’t. _Boat._ What is to be done with this here hopeless chap? Let us sing him the song that Sir Joseph has kindly composed for us. Perhaps it will bring this here miserable creetur to a proper state of mind. GLEE.--RALPH, BOATSWAIN, BOATSWAIN’S MATE, AND CHORUS. A British tar is a soaring soul, As free as a mountain bird! His energetic fist should be ready to resist A dictatorial word. His nose should pant and his lip should curl, His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl, His bosom should heave and his heart should glow, And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow. CHORUS.--His nose should pant, etc. His eyes should flash with an inborn fire, His brow with scorn be wrung; He never should bow down to a domineering frown, Or the tang of a tyrant tongue. His foot should stamp and his throat should growl, His hair should twirl and his face should scowl, His eyes should flash and his breast protrude, And this should be his customary attitude! (_Pose._) CHORUS.--His foot should stamp, etc. [_All strike attitude and then dance off to hornpipe down hatchway, excepting RALPH, who remains, leaning pensively against bulwark._ _Enter JOSEPHINE from cabin._ _Jos._ It is useless--Sir Joseph’s attentions nauseate me. I know that he is a truly great and good man, but to me he seems tedious, fretful, and dictatorial. Yet his must be a mind of no common order, or he would not dare to teach my dear father to dance a hornpipe on the cabin table. (_Sees RALPH._) Ralph Rackstraw! (_Overcome by emotion._) _Ralph._ Ay, lady--no other than poor Ralph Rackstraw! _Jos._ (_aside_). How my head beats! (_Aloud._) And why poor, Ralph?