Then a topman saw the Pirate come a-sailing in the bay, And reported to the Captain in the customary way. "I'll receive him," said Sir Peter, "with a musical salute!" And he gave some imitations of a double-jointed flute. Then the Pirate cried derisively, "I've heard it done before!" And he hoisted up a banner emblematical of gore. But Sir Peter said serenely, "You may double-shot the guns While I sing my little ballad of 'The Butter on the Buns.'" Then the Pirate banged Sir Peter and Sir Peter banged him back, And they banged away together as they took another tack. Then Sir Peter said politely, "You may board him, if you like"-- And he played a little dirge upon the handle of a pike. Then the "Biddies" poured like hornets down upon the Pirate's deck, And Sir Peter caught the Pirate, and he took him by the neck, And remarked, "You must excuse me, but you acted like a brute When I gave my imitation of that double-jointed flute." So they took that wicked Pirate, and they took his wicked crew, And tied them up with double knots in packages of two; And left them lying on their backs in rows upon the beach With a little bread and water within comfortable reach. [Illustration: "SIR PETER CAUGHT THE PIRATE, AND HE TOOK HIM BY THE NECK."] Now the Pirate had a treasure (mostly silverware and gold), And Sir Peter took and stowed it in the bottom of his hold; And said "I will retire on this cargo of doubloons, And each of you, my gallant crew, may have some silver spoons." Now commodores in coach-and-fours, and corporals in cabs, And men with carts of pies and tarts, and fishermen with crabs, And barristers with wigs, in gigs, still gather on the strand-- But there isn't any music save a little German band. "I think Sir Peter was perfectly grand!" said Dorothy, as the Admiral finished his verses. "He was so composed." "So was the poetry," said the Admiral. "It _had_ to be composed, you know, or there wouldn't have been any." "_That_ would have been fine!" remarked the Highlander. The Admiral got so red in the face at this, that Dorothy thought he was going into some kind of a fit; but just at this moment there was a sharp rap at the door, and Sir Walter exclaimed, "_That's_ Bob Scarlet, and here we are in his flower-bed!" "Jibs and jiggers!" said the Admiral, "I never thought of that. What do you suppose he'll do?" "Pick us!" said the Highlander, with remarkable presence of mind. "Then tell him we're all out," said the Admiral to Dorothy in extreme agitation, and with this, the whole Caravan disappeared under the bed with all possible despatch. "We _are_ out, you know," said Dorothy to herself, "because there's no _in_ for us to be in"; and then she called out in a very loud voice, "We're all out in here!" which wasn't exactly what she meant to say, after all.