CHAPTER VIII.
HOW A CREW, THAT WOULD SAIL ON A WASHING-DAY, WAS SHIPWRECKED: WITH AN ADVERTISEMENT AGAINST WOMEN.
It was a bright April morning, and the Admiral's boat, as it swept proudly past the little town, cast a wealth of bright reflection on the water.

Inhabitants of Troy, sitting at their windows, and overlooking the harbour, caught sight of the yellow dresses, the blue coat with its gold lace, and the red face beneath the cocked-hat, and whispered to each other that something was in the wind.
Jane and Calypso rowed--for the Trojan maidens in those days were not above pulling an oar, and did not mind blisters--while Sophia sat in the bows, her mushroom hat "a world too wide" for the little green parasol hoisted above it.

The Admiral himself held the tiller ropes, and occasionally gave a word of command.

It was a gracious spectacle.
But as the boat drew clear of the jetties with their press of vessels, and Kit's Cottage hove in sight, the Admiral's eyes, which were fixed ahead, grew suddenly very large and round.
"This is very extraordinary!" he muttered, "very extraordinary indeed!" "What is it, papa ?" and the three Misses Buzza simultaneously turned their mushroom hats to look.
"I cannot tell, Sophia; but to me it appears as if these people were--not to put too fine a point upon it--washing." It was quite true.

On the little beach, Mr.Fogo, with his sleeves turned up and a large apron pinned around him, was standing before a huge tub, industriously washing.