bottle of rum and a can of water, and surrounded by most of the members
of the mess not on duty. Gogles followed me, and took his seat. The
can of water and the biscuit was shoved over to him. He eyed the black
bottle wistfully.

"No, no; that isn't good stuff for babies," said Perigal, shaking his
head; "if we had some milk you should have it, Gogles."

"I wish we had; why don't we keep some cows on board?" whispered Gogles.

"What would you feed them on?" asked Grey.

"Grass and hay, when we could get them, of course," answered Gogles,
sagaciously.

"Not at all," remarked Bobus. "Carpenters' shavings are the things. On
board a ship to which I belonged, we had two goats and a cow to feed our
captain's baby, and whenever we ran short of hay or grass, what do you
think the captain did? Cut their throats and eat them? No, not he.
Why, he was a very ingenious man, and so he had some pairs of green
spectacles made, which he used to clap over their eyes, and then when
the shavings were chopped up fine, they used to eat them greedily,
believing they were grass. He first gave them all the old straw hats he
could collect, but that was an expensive way of feeding them."

"I should think so, Bobus," observed McAllister, who did not like joking
himself, and had an especial antipathy to Bobus's jokes or stories, or
to Bobus himself. "May I ask what ship that was in?"

"What ship? why, the old Thunderer, to the best of my recollection,"
answered Bobus, seriously.

"Everything wonderful happened on board the old Thunderer," observed
McAllister. "Bobus having been left drunk on shore, is the only
survivor of her crew, and there is no one to contradict him."

"I wasn't drunk; I was sick, and you know that perfectly well,"
exclaimed Bobus, getting angry. "I won't have my veracity called in
question. I've the feelings of a gentleman, and my honour to support,
as well as others."

"But you shouldn't support it by telling crammers," said McAllister, who
took a pleasure in irritating poor Bobus.

"Order!" cried Perigal, who was always a peacemaker. "Come, Mac, let
Bobus spin his yarns, and do you spin yours; and now just go on with
that story about the Highlands which you had begun the other evening,
when the squall struck the ship."

McAllister was soon in the midst of some wonderful Highland legend,
while attempting to listen to which I fell fast asleep.

We were once more at anchor in Port Royal harbour. Seve