What the devil do you think Vattel would say
to such a supper as this?"
"I think, sir, he would call it a werry good supper, for a ship in a hard
gale of wind. That's my honest opinion, Captain Truck, and I never deceive
any gentleman in a matter of food. I think, Mr. Wattel would approve of
that there supper, sir."
"Perhaps he might, for he has made blunders as well as another man. Go,
mix me a glass of just what I love when I've not had a drop all day.
Gentlemen, will any of you honour me, by sharing in a cut? This beef is
not indigestible, and here is a real Marylander, in the way of a ham. No
want of oakum to fill up the chinks with, either."
Most of the gentlemen were too full of the gale to wish to eat; besides
they had not fasted like Captain Truck since morning. But Mr. Monday, the
bagman, as John Effingham had termed him, and who had been often enough at
sea to know something of its varieties, consented to take a glass of
brandy and water, as a corrective of the Madeira he had been swallowing.
The appetite of Captain Truck was little affected by the state of the
weather, however; for though too attentive to his duties to quit the deck
until he had ascertained how matters were going on, now that he had fairly
made up his mind to eat, he set about it with a heartiness and simplicity
that proved his total disregard of appearances when his hunger was sharp.
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