All night the Naval Monarch with the loose cheeks and jelly smile of the swinging sign-board creaked.

Flaws of the North-easter swung and banged him.

He creaked high, in complaint,--low, in some partial contentment.

There was piping of his boatswain, shrill piping--shrieks of the whistle.

How many nights had that most ill-fated of brides lain listening to the idiotic uproar! It excused a touch of craziness.