"Papa! oh, save him--save our dear Papa!"

There was no danger. Presently a crimson face rose over the boat's
stern, blowing like a grampus. A pair of dripping epaulets followed;
and then the Admiral stood up, knee-deep in water, and swore and spat
alternately.

How different from that glittering hero, at sight of whom, not an
hour before, the Trojan dames at their lattices had stopped their
needlework to whisper! Down his nose and chin ran a pitiable flood;
his scanty locks, before so wiry and obstinate, lay close against his
ears; his gorgeous uniform, tarnished with slime, hung in folds, and
from each fold poured a separate cascade; the whole man had become
suddenly shrunken.

Speechless with rage, the little man clambered over the stern and
shook his fist at the wondering spectacles of Mr. Fogo.

"You shall repent this, sir! You shall--Jane, push the boat off at
once!"

But even the dignity of a fine exit was denied the Admiral. The boat
was by this time firmly aground, and he was forced to stand, forming
large pools upon the stern-board, while the grinning Caleb pushed her
off. And still Mr. Fogo looked mildly on, with his hands in the
wash-tub.

"Do you hear me, sir? You shall repent this!" raved the Admiral.