repeated this to the cook, who was pleased to hear it.
It made him rather more kind in his manner to me. He did not know who
Mr. Scott really was. He asked me a lot of questions about what I knew
of Mr. Scott. I replied that I'd heard that he was a Spanish merchant, a
friend of Mr. Jermyn's. As for Mr. Jermyn, he knew' an uncle of mine. I
had helped him to recover his pocket-book; that was all that I knew of
him; that was why he had given me my present post as servant. More I
dared not say; for I remembered the Duke's sharp sword on my chest. We
talked thus, as we washed the dishes; the cook in a sweeter mood (having
had his morning dram of brandy); I, myself, trying hard to win him to a
good opinion of me. I asked him if I might clean his copper for him;
it was in a sad state of dirt. "You'll have work enough 'ere, boy," he
said, tartly, "without you running round for more. You mind your own
business." After this little snap at my head (no thought of thanks
occurred to him) he prepared breakfast for us, out of the remains of the
cabin breakfast. I was much cheered by the prospect of food, for nearly
three hours of hard work had given me an appetite. At a word from the
cook, I brought out two little stools from under the bunk. Then I placed
the "bread-barge," or wooden bowl of ship's biscuits, ready for our
meal, beside our two plates.

Breakfast was just about to begin, when my enemy, the boatswain,
appeared at the galley door. "Here, cook," he said, "where's that
limb of a boy? Oh, you're there, are you? Feeding your face. Get a
three-cornered scraper right now. You'll scrape up that slush you
spilled, before you eat so much as a reefer's nut." I had to go on deck
again for another hour, while I scraped up the slush, which was, surely,
spilled as much by himself as by me, since he was not looking where he
was going any more than I was. I got no breakfast. For after the grease
was cleaned I was sent to black the gentlemen's boots; then to make up
their beds; then to scrub their cabin clean. After all this, being faint
with hunger, I took a ship's biscuit from the locker in the cabin to eat
as I worked. I did not know it; but this biscuit was what is known as
"captain's bread," a whiter (but less pleasant) kind of ship's biscuit,
baked for officers. As I was eating it (I was polishing the cabin
door-knobs at the time) the captain came down for a dram of brandy. He
saw what I was eating. At once he read me a lecture, cal