“By the powers, Massa Yolliffe, but it is not seasonable at all to send for me just now, anyhow, seeing how the praters are in the coppar, and so many blackguard ‘palpeens all ready to change net for net, and better themselves by the same mistake, ‘dam um.’ ”

“Mesty, you know I never send for you myself, or allow others to do so, unless it is necessary,” replied Jolliffe; “but this poor lad has eaten nothing since he has been on board, and is very hungry—you must get him a little tea.”

“Is it tay you mane, sir?—I guess, to make tay, in the first place I must ab water, and in the next must ab room in the galley to put the kettle on—and’ pose you wanted to burn the tip of your little finger just now, it’s not in the galley that you find a berth for it—and den the water before seven bells. I’ve a notion it’s just impassible.”

“But he must have something, Mesty.”

“Never mind the tea, then,” replied Jack, “I’ll take some milk.”

“Is it milk massa manes, and the bumboat woman on the oder side of the bay?”

“We have no milk, Mr. Easy; you forget that we are on blue water,” replied Jolliffe, “and I really am afraid that you’ll have to wait till dinner—time. Mesty tells the truth.”

“I tell you what, Massa Yolliffe, it just seven bells, and if the young gentleman would, instead of tay, try a little out of the coppar, it might keep him asy. It but a little difference, tay soup and pay soup. Now a bowl of that, with some nuts and a flourish of pepper, will do him good, anyhow.”

“Perhaps the best thing he can take, Mesty; get it as fast as you can.”

In a few minutes the black brought down a bowl of soup and whole peas swimming in it, put before our hero a tin bread—basket full of small biscuits, called midshipmen’s nuts, and the pepper—castor. Jack’s visions of tea, coffee, muffins, dry toast, and milk vanished as he perceived the mess; but he was very hungry, and he found it much better after he had swallowed it. It struck seven bells, and he accompanied Mr. Jolliffe on deck.