.

"Here's success to the right side," added the master, as he drank off
the contents of the glass.

"I drink that toast with all my mind, heart, and soul," added the
engineer, with decided emphasis, though he knew that "the right side"
did not always convey the same idea.

"Help yourself, Mr.-- I've forgot your name, Second Mate," he added as
he moved towards the companion ladder.

"Jerry Sandman, sir, and I will help myself to what I want," replied
Christy.

"That's right, Mr. Sandman; make yourself at home in this cabin. I must
go on deck and take a look at the Tallahatchie," added the master as he
went up the ladder, followed by Graines.

The lieutenant helped himself to a glass of water, after rinsing
the tumbler, for that was what he wanted. Sopsy the cook immediately
appeared, bearing a tray on which were several dishes of eatables, bread
and ham being the principal. The bottle was in his way; and after he had
drunk off half a tumblerful of its contents, he removed it to the
pantry. He proceeded to set the table.

"Oft in der chizzly night, 'fore slumber's yoke hab tooken me," hummed
Sopsy as he worked at the table.

"Where is this schooner bound, Sopsy?" asked Christy.

"Bound to dat boon whar no trab'ler returns," replied the cook, pausing
in his occupation and staring the second mate full in the face.

"That bourn is Nassau, I reckon," laughed the lieutenant.

"I s'pose she's gwine dar if she don't go to dat boon where no trab'lers
come back agin," answered Sopsy seriously. "Be you Meth'dis' o'
Bab'tis', Massa Mate?"

"Both, Sopsy."

"Can't be bof, Massa."

"Then I'm either one you like."

"That ain't right, Massa Secon' Mate, 'cordin' as you was brung up,"
said the cook, shaking his head violently, as though he utterly
disapproved of the mate's theology.

"I'm a theosophist, Sopsy."

"A seehossofist!" exclaimed the cook, dropping a plate in his
astonishment. "We don't hab none o' dem on shore in de Souf. I reckon
dey libs in de water."

"No; they live on the mountains."

"We hain't got no mount'ns down here, and dat's de reason we don't
hab none on 'em," added Sopsy as he went to the pantry; but presently
returned with a plate of pickles in one hand and the whiskey bottle in
the other. "Does dem sea-hosses drink whisker, Massa Secon' Mate?"

"They never drink a drop of it."

"Dis colored pusson ain't no sea-hoss, and he do drink whiskey when
he kin git it," added the cook; and he