"Mr Prose, the first-lieutenant wants you, immediately," said the quarter-master, who had been despatched to him again. "Why, how can I go up with a dog's collar round my neck?" "I'm sorry, very sorry indeed, Prose. Never mind--say it was me." "Say it was you! Why, so it was you. I'd better say that I'm sick." "Yes, that will do. What shall your complaint be?--a _lockjaw_? I'll go up and tell Mr Bully--shall I?" "Do--tell him I'm not well." Jerry went up accordingly. "Mr Prose is not well, sir--he has a sort of lock-jaw." "I wish to God you had the same complaint, sir," replied the first-lieutenant, who owed him one. "Macallan, is Mr Prose ill?" "Not that I know of; he has not applied to me. I'll go down and see him before I go on shore." Macallan came up laughing, but he recovered his seriousness before Bully perceived it. "Well, doctor?" "Mr Prose is certainly not very fit to come on deck in his present state," said Macallan, who then descended the side, and the boat, which had been waiting for him, shoved off. But, this time, Jerry was caught in his own trap. "Mr J---, where is the dog's collar?--it must be oiled and cleaned," said the first-lieutenant. "Shall I give it to the armourer, sir?" replied Jerry. "No, bring it up to me." Jerry went down, and returned in a few minutes. "I cannot find it, sir; I left it in the berth when I came on deck." "That's just like your usual carelessness, Mr J---. Now go up to the mast-head, and stay there till I call you down." Jerry, who did not like the turn which the joke had taken, moved up with a very reluctant step--at the rate of about one ratline in ten seconds. "Come, sir, what are you about?--_start up_." "I'm no _up-start_, sir," replied Jerry to the first-lieutenant--a sarcasm which hit so hard, that Jerry was not called down till dark; and long after Prose had, by making interest with the captain's steward, obtained the keys, and released his neck from its enthralment. The party in the second boat were landed on the reef, and while the rest were attending to the survey, Macallan was employed in examining the crevices of the rocks, and collecting the different objects of natural history which presented themselves. The boat was sent on board, as it was not required until the afternoon, when the gun-room officers were to return to dinner. The captain's gig remained on shore, and the coxswain was employed by Macallan in receiving from him the different shells and varieties of coral, with which the rocks were covered. "Take particular care of this specimen," said the surgeon, as he delivered a bunch of corallines into the hands of Marshall, the coxswain. "I ax your pardon, Mr Macallan,--but what's the good of picking up all this rubbish?" "Rubbish!" replied the surgeon, laughing--"why you don't know what it is. What do you think those are which I just gave you?" "Why, weeds are rubbish, and these be only pieces of seaweed." "They happen to be _animals_."