“It’s a dead calm with them soldiers—­head round the compass,” said one of the seamen to another.

“To the left—­face—­quick march, to the left—­turn—­to the right—­turn—­close file—­mark time—­right—­left—­right—­left—­forward.”

“Them ’ere chap’s legs all going together put one in mind of a centipee—­don’t they, Tom?”

“Yes, but they don’t get on quite so fast.  Holloh, what pipe’s that?—­’All hands, air bedding.’”

The ship was hauled close to the wind, which was light.  At the pipe, the sailors below ran up the hatchway, and those on deck threw down their work.  In a minute every hammock was out of the netting, and every seaman busy at unlashing.

“Now, major, we had better go into the cabin,” said Captain Oughton, laughing.  “I shall, I can assure you.”

Beds and blankets which are not aired or shook more than once a month, are apt to be very full of what is termed fluff and blanket hairs, and they have a close smell, by no means agreeable.  The sailors, who had an idea that the order had not been given inconsiderately, were quite delighted, and commenced shaking their blankets on the forecastle and weather gangway, raising a cloud, which the wind carried aft upon the parties exercising upon the quarter-deck.

“What the devil is all this?” cried Captain Majoribanks, looking forward with dismay.  “Order—­arms.”

Lieutenant Winterbottom and half of his party were now seized with a fit of coughing.  “Confound it!—­shut—­pans—­handle—­upon my soul I’m choked.”

“This is most excessively disagreeable,” observed Mr Petres; “I made up my mind to be tarred when I came on board, but I had no idea that we should be feathered.”

“Support—­d—­n it, there’s no supporting this!” cried Captain Majoribanks.  “Where’s Major Clavering?  I’ll ask to dismiss the men.”

“They are dismissing a great many little men, forward, I suspect,” said the first mate, laughing.  “I cannot imagine what induced Captain Oughton to give the order:  we never shake bedding except when the ship’s before the wind.”

This last very consoling remark made it worse than all; the officers were in an agony.  There was not one of them who would not have stood the chance of a volley from a French regiment rather than what they considered that they were exposed to.  But without Major Clavering’s permission they could not dismiss their men.  Captain Majoribanks hastened to the cabin, to explain their very unpleasant situation, and received the major’s permission to defer the exercise.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Captain Oughton, “what is the matter?”

“The matter!” replied Ansell.  “Why, my flesh creeps all over me.  Of all the thoughtless acts, Captain Oughton, it really beats—­”

“Cock-fighting,” interrupted the captain, with a loud laugh.  “Now we are quits.”

The officers hastened below to wash and change their dress after this very annoying retaliation on the part of Captain Oughton.  When they felt themselves again clean and comfortable, their good humour returned, although they voted their captain not to be very refined in his ideas, and agreed with him that his practical joke beat “cock-fighting.”