Saunders' coffee. Once in his throne, at
the head of the long table, the worthy master, after a proper attention to
his passengers, set about the duty of restoration, as the steward
affectedly called eating, with a zeal that never failed him on such
occasions. He had just swallowed a cup of the coffee, about which he had
lectured Saunders, when a heavy flap of the sails announced the sudden
failure of the wind.
"That is bad news," said Captain Truck, listening to the fluttering blows
of the canvas against the masts. "I never like to hear a ship shaking its
wings while there is a heavy sea on; but this is better than the Desert of
Sahara, and so, my dear young lady, let me recommend to you a cup of this
coffee, which is flavoured this morning by a dread of ouran-outangs, as
Mr. Saunders will have the honour to inform you--"
A jerk of the whole ship was followed by a report like that made by a
musket. Captain Truck rose, and stood leaning on one hand in a bent
attitude, expectation and distrust intensely portrayed in every feature.
Another helpless roil of the ship succeeded, and three or four similar
reports were immediately heard, as if large ropes had parted in quick
succession. A rending of wood followed, and then came a chaotic crash, in
which the impending heavens seemed to fall on the devoted ship.
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