l as soon as he returned;
and sailing with a fine stiff breeze, he was far outside the light when
the doctor announced dinner. "What have you got that's good, old chap?"
said he to the cook.

"Fust stripe, Massa Cap'en. A right good chance o' homony and bacon
fry," returned the negro.

"Homony and what? Nothing else but that?"

"Why, massa! gracious, dat what Massa Whaley give all he cap'en, an' he
tink 'em fust-rate," said the negro.

As they were the only whites on board, the captain took little Tommy
into the cabin with him to sit at the same table; but there was too much
truth in the negro's statement, and instead of sitting down to one of
those nice dinners which are spread in Boston ships, both great and
small, there, on a little piece of pine board, swung with a preventer,
was a plate of black homony covered with a few pieces of fried pork, so
rank and oily as to be really repulsive to a common stomach. Beside
it was an earthen mug, containing about a pint of molasses, which was
bedaubed on the outside to show its quality. The captain looked at it
for a minute, and then taking up the iron spoon which stood in it, and
letting one or two spoonfuls drop back, said, "Old daddie, where are all
your stores? Fetch them out here."

"Gih, massa! here 'em is; 'e's jus' as Massa Stoney give 'em," said the
negro, drawing forth a piece of rusty and tainted bacon, weighing about
fifteen pounds, and, in spots, perfectly alive with motion; about a
half-bushel of corn-grits; and a small keg of molasses, with a piece of
leather attached to the bung.

"Is that all?" inquired the captain peremptorily.

"Yes, massa, he all w'at 'em got now, but git more at Massa Whaley
plantation win 'em git da."

"Throw it overboard, such stinking stuff; it'll breed pestilence on
board," said the captain to the negro, (who stood holding the spoiled
bacon in his hand, with the destructive macalia dropping on the floor,)
at the same time applying his foot to the table, and making wreck of
hog, homony, molasses, and plates.

"Gih-e-wh-ew! Massa, I trow 'im o'board, Massa Whaley scratch 'em back,
sartin. He tink 'em fust-rate. Plantation nigger on'y gits bacon twice
week, Massa Cap'en," said he, picking up the wreck and carrying it upon
deck, where it was devoured with great gusto by the negroes, who fully
appreciated the happy God-send.

The captain had provided a little private store of crackers, cheese,
segars, and a bottle of brandy, an