hat point.

"Well sung, Gurney. Who made it?" inquired Phil Briant, an Irishman,
who, besides being a jack-of-all-trades and an able-bodied seaman, was
at that time acting-assistant to the cook and steward, the latter--a
half Spaniard and half negro, of Californian extraction--being unwell.

"I'm bound not to tell," replied Gurney, with a conscious air.

"Ah, then, yer right, my boy, for it's below the average entirely."

"Come, Phil, none o' yer chaff," cried Dick Barnes, "that song desarves
somethin' arter it. Suppose now, Phil, that you wos to go below and
fetch the bread-kid."

"Couldn't do it," replied Phil, looking solemn, "on no account wotiver."

"Oh, nonsense, why not?"

"'Cause its unpossible. Why, if I did, sure that surly compound o' all
sorts o' human blood would pitch into me with the carvin'-knife."

"Who? Tarquin?" cried Dick Barnes, naming the steward.

"Ay, sure enough that same--Tarquin's his name, an it's kuriously
befittin' the haythen, for of all the cross-grained mixtures o' buffalo,
bear, bandicoot, and crackadile I iver seed, he's out o' sight--"

"Did I hear any one mention my name?" inquired the steward himself who
came aft at that moment. He was a wild Spanish-like fellow, with a
handsome-enough figure, and a swart countenance that might have been
good-looking but for the thickish lips and nose and the bad temper that
marked it. Since getting into the tropics, the sailors had modified
their costumes considerably, and as each man had in some particular
allowed himself a slight play of fancy, their appearance, when grouped
together, was varied and picturesque. Most of them wore no shoes, and
the caps of some were, to say the least, peculiar. Tarquin wore a
broad-brimmed straw hat, with a conical crown, and a red silk sash tied
round his waist.

"Yes, Tarquin," replied Barnes, "we _wos_ engaged in makin'
free-an'-easy remarks on you; and Phil Briant there gave us to
understand that you wouldn't let us have the bread--kid up. Now, it's
my opinion you ain't goin' to be so hard on us as that; you will let us
have it up to comfort our hearts on this fine night, won't you?"

The steward, whose green visage showed that he was too ill to enter into
a dispute at that time, turned on his heel and walked aft, remarking
that they might eat the bottom out o' the ship, for all he cared.

"There now, you misbemannered Patlander, go and get it, or we'll throw
you overboard," cried Scrogg