in say to Mr Flinders, as he came down the companion
hatchway, rubbing his hands, as if in anticipation of his dinner; "an',
by thunder, I dew feel all powerful hungry!"

"So do I, sir," chimed in the first-mate. "I hope the stooard hez
somethin' good for us to eat. I feels raal peckish, I dew!"

"Hope ye ain't too partick'ler," rejoined Captain Snaggs; "fur this 'll
be the last dinner thet air conceited darkey, Sam, 'll cook fur ye,
Flinders. He goes in the fo'c's'le to-morrow, an' this hyar lout of a
stooard shall take his place in the galley."

"`Changey for changey, black dog for white monkey,'" observed the
first-mate with a snigger. "Eh, cap?"

"Ye've hit it, Flinders, I reckon," said the other; and, as he gave a
look round the cabin before taking his seat, which the Welsh steward
stood behind obsequiously, although he could not draw it out, as it was
lashed down to the deck and a fixture, the captain added: "Ye'd better
see about gettin' the deadlights up to them stern ports, Flinders, afore
nightfall. They look kinder shaky, an' if a followin' sea shu'd catch
us astern, we'd be all swamped in hyar, I guess."

"Aye, aye, sir!" said the first-mate, seating himself, too; that is, as
soon as he noticed that the steward, who had instantly rushed forward to
the galley for the dinner, which was keeping hot there, had returned
with a smoking dish, which he placed in front of the captain,
dexterously removing the cover almost at the same instant--"I'll see to
it the first thing when I go on deck again."

"An', Flinders," continued Captain Snaggs, ladling out a good portion of
the contents of the dish into a plate, which the steward passed on to
the first-mate, "I see a rope's-end hangin' down thaar, too, like a
bight of the signal halliards or the boom-sheet, which some lubber hez
let tow overboard. Hev it made fast an' shipshape. I hate slovenliness
like pizen!"

"So do I, sir, you bet," answered the mate, with his mouth full. "I'll
watch it when I go on the poop agen; but, ain't this fowl an' rice jest
galumptious, cap?"

"Pretty so so," said Captain Snaggs, who seemed somewhat critical, in
spite of his assertion of being ravenous and `a reg'ler whale on
poultry,' as he had observed when Jones took off the dish cover.
"Strikes me, thaar's a rum sort o' taste about it thet ain't quite
fowlish!"

"M-yum, m-yum; I dew taste somethin' bitterish," agreed Mr Flinders,
smacking his lips and deliberating app