d pickled cabbage is the
only thing that cures my sea-sickness."--(Perceiving Price about to
speak)--"Stop now--it's no use--there's not a word about pickled cabbage
in Shakespeare."

"I did not say that there was," retorted Price; "but there's `beef
without mustard,' and that will be your case now."

"And there's `Write me down an ass,'" replied Courtenay, who was not a
little vexed at the loss of his favourite condiment.

"Did you hear what Courtenay said of you, O'Keefe?" continued Price,
turning to the purser.

"Yes--yes--I know--hand him over a glass; but this is not a clane one.
Steward, will you bring a clane wine-glass?"

The rest laughed, while Courtenay proceeded.

"Why, O'Keefe, you hear better than ever. I say, doctor, you must put
me in the sick list--I'm not fit to take charge of a watch."

"If you'll prove that to me," replied Macallan, "I certainly will report
you."

"Well, I'll prove it to you in five seconds. I'm just in that state,
that if everything in the ship was to go overboard to the devil, I
shouldn't care. Now, with such a feeling of indifference, a person is
not fit to be trusted with the charge of a watch."

"That you're not fit to be trusted with the charge of a watch, as you
state it yourself, I shall not deny," replied Macallan; "but I consider
that to be a complaint for which you ought rather to be put _off_ the
list that on it."

"Ha! ha! ha! I say, Courtenay, you know what Shakespeare says, `'Tis
the curse of service,' that--that--"

"All hands, 'bout ship!" now resounded through the ship as it was
repeated in the variety of basses of the boatswain and his mates, at
either hatchway--one of the youngsters of the watch running down at the
same time to acquaint the officers, in his shrill falsetto, with that
which had been roared out loud enough to startle even the deaf purser.
The first-lieutenant, followed by the master, brushed by him, and was up
the ladder before his supererogatory communication could be delivered.

"How cursed annoying!" cried Courtenay. "I was just feeling a little
better, and now I shall be worse than ever."

"You recollect in the `Tempest,'" said Price, "where Shakespeare says--"

"Forecastle, there!" roared out Captain M---, from the quarter-deck, in
a voice that was distinctly heard below.

"By Jove, you'd better skip for it, or you'll have what Captain
M--- says. He's hailing your station," said Courtenay, laughing--a
piece of advice imm