able, was handsomely decorated all
round its base, the Silver Queen having been originally intended for the
passenger trade, although since turned into a cargo ship, and now going
out to Shanghai with a freight of Manchester goods, and Sheffield and
Birmingham hardware.
A nicely-cushioned seat with a reversible back, so that people could
either face their cabins or the table as they pleased by shifting it
this way and that, was fixed along either side of the table; and at the
extreme aftermost end of this, behind the mizzen-mast, I saw Mr
Saunders and Matthews. They were comfortably enjoying themselves over
their tea, judging by the cups and saucers before them, and other
accompaniments of that meal; and evidently not hurrying themselves about
it, for it was more than an hour since they had left the deck.
Our appearance did not at all discompose them; both looking up at our
entrance, while Mr Saunders motioned to Tim to take a seat beside him.
"Hullo, bosun! Come in to forage--eh?" he cried, with his mouth still
full and his jaws wagging away, "Bring yourself to an anchor, old ship;
and bear a hand."
"Thank ye kindly, Misther Saunders; I will sorr, savin' y'r prisince,"
said Tim Rooney, seating himself, however, on the other side of the
table close to the end of the passage way by which we had entered. "I
thought it toime to have a bit atwane me teeth as I haven't tasted bit
nor sup since dinner, an' that war at eight bells. This youngster, too,
wor famished, an' so I brought him along o' me."
"I'm sure you're welcome," answered the second mate, losing no time
though at his eating, but still keeping up his knife and fork play while
talking. "Ah, the new apprentice Mr Mackay was telling me about just
now--eh?"
"Yes, sir," said I for he glanced over towards me as he spoke.
"Well, I hope you'll get on well with your shipmates."
He did not say any more, completing his sentence by draining his tea-
cup; and my friend the boatswain, apparently taking this as a hint,
shouted out in a tone that made my ears tingle: "Ahoy there, stoo-ard!"
"Yase, yase, I coom," replied someone in a queer squeaky voice, that had
a strong foreign accent, from somewhere in the darkness beyond the foot
of the the companion way, where the gleam of the solitary saloon lamp
did not quite penetrate; "I coom, sare, queek, queek."
"Ye'd betther come sharp, sharp, or I'll know the rayson why," growled
Tim Rooney, however, before h
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