“Like ---- and blazes, your honour, axing your pardon, and the deck's.”
“Young gentleman,” said Dodd to Mr. Meredith, a midshipman, “be so good as to send the cook aft.”
The cook came, and received, not an oath nor a threat but a remonstrance, and a grim warning.
In the teeth of this he burnt the soup horribly the very next day. The crew sent the lucky foretopman aft again. He made his scrape and presented his fid. The captain tasted the soup, and sent Mr. Grey to bid the boatswain's mate pipe the hands on deck and bring the cook aft.
“Quartermaster, unsling a fire-bucket and fill it from the men's kids: Mr. Tickell, see the cook swallow his own mess. Bosen's mate, take a bight of the flying jib sheet stand over him, and start him if he dailies with it.” With this the captain went below, and the cook, supping at the bucket delivered himself as follows: “Well, ye lubbers, it is first--rate. _There's_ no burn in it. It goes down like oil. Curse your ladylike stomachs; you ain't fit for a ship; why don't ye go ashore and man a gingerbread coach and feed off French frogs and Italian baccy-pipe stems? (Whack.) What the ---- is that for?”
_Boatswain's mate._ “Sup more, and jaw less.”
“Well, I am supping as fast as I can. (Whack, whack.) Bloody end to ye, what are ye about? (Whack, whack, whack.) Oh, Joe, Lord bless you, I _can't_ eat any more of it. (Whack.) I'll give you my grog for a week only to let me fling the ---- stuff over the side. (Whack, whack, whack.) Oh, good, kind, dear Mr. Tickell, do go down to the captain for me.” (Whack, whack.)
“Avast!” cried the captain, reappearing; and the uplifted rope fell harmless.
“The cook has received a light punishment this time, for spoiling the men's mess. My crew shall eat nothing I can't eat myself. My care is heavier than theirs is; but not my work, nor my danger in time of danger. Mind that, or you'll find I can be as severe as any master afloat. Purser.”
“Double the men's grog: they have been cheated of their meal.”
“And stop the cook's and his mate's for a week.”
“Shipmates, listen to me,” said the foretopman. “This old _Agra_ is a d----d com--for--table ship.”
The oracular sentence was hailed with a ringing cheer. Still, it is unlucky the British seaman is so enamoured of theological terms; for he constantly misapplies them.