's all?--steward, wipe up that mess," said the captain, who was
rather nice in his eating.

"Do you know Jemmy Cavan, sir, at Barbadoes?" inquired the doctor.

"No, sir, I know no Jemmies," replied Captain Bradshaw, surprised at his
familiar address.

"He's a devilish good fellow, sir, I can tell you. When he gets you on
shore, he'll make you dine with him every day, whether or not. He'll
take no denial."

"Now, that's what I call a damned good fellow: you don't often meet a
chap like him," observed the master.

Captain Bradshaw felt that he was indirectly called a _chap_, which did
not please him.

"Mr Bradly, will you take some mutton?"

"If you please," said the master.

"Roberts, I'll trouble you to carve the saddle of mutton."

The first-lieutenant cut out a slice, and taking it on the fork, looked
at it suspiciously, and then held his nose over it.

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Rather high, sir, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I smell it here," said Jerry, who entered into the joke.

"Indeed! Steward, remove that dish; fortunately, it is not all our
dinner. What will you take, Mr Bradly?"

"Why, really, I seldom touch anything but the joint. I hate your
kickshaws, there's so much pawing about them. I'll wait, if you please;
in the meantime, I'll drink a glass of wine with you, Captain Bradshaw."

"The devil you will!" was nearly out of the captain's mouth, at this
reversal of the order of things; but he swallowed it down, and answered,
in a surly tone, "With great pleasure, sir."

"Come, doctor, let you and I hob and nob," said the first-lieutenant.
They did so, and clicked their glasses together with such force as to
break them both, and spill the wine upon the fine damask table-cloth.
Jerry could contain himself no longer, but burst out into a roar of
laughter, to the astonishment of Captain Bradshaw, who never had seen a
midshipman thus conduct himself at his table before: but Jerry could not
restrain his inclination for joining with the party, although he had no
excuse for _his_ behaviour.

"Bring some wine-glasses, steward; and you'll excuse me, gentlemen, but
I will thank you not to try the strength of them again," said Captain
Bradshaw, with a very majestic air.

"Now, Mr Ferguson, I shall be happy to take a glass of wine with you.
What will you have? There's sherry and Moselle."

"I prefer champagne, if you please," answered the surgeon, who knew that
Captain Bradshaw did not produce it ex