For some time he was too much occupied to talk, making regular attacks
upon the different _plats_, as Mr. Saunders called them, without much
regard to the cookery or the material. The only pauses were to drink, and
this was always done with a steadiness that never left a drop in the
glass. Still Mr. Truck was a temperate man; for he never consumed more
than his physical wants appeared to require, or his physical energies knew
how to dispose of. At length, however, he came to the steward's
_entremets_, or he began to stuff what he, himself, had called "oakum,"
into the chinks of his dinner.
Mr. Sharp had watched the whole process from the ladies' cabin, as indeed
had Eve, and thinking this a favourable occasion to ascertain the state of
things on deck, the former came into the main-cabin, commissioned by the
latter, to make the inquiry.
"The ladies are desirous of knowing where we are, and what is the state of
the gale, Captain Truck," said the gentleman, when he had seated himself
near the throne.
"My dear young lady," called out the captain, by way of cutting short the
diplomacy of employing ambassadors between them, "I wish in my heart I
could persuade you and Mademoiselle V.A.V., (for so he called the
governess, in imitation of Eve's pronunciation of her name,) to try a few
of these pickled oysters; they are as delicate as yourselves, and worthy
to be set before a mermaid, if there were any such thing.
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