He then summoned Saunders to the quarter-deck, where the following
dialogue took place between them:
"This is a devil of a category to be in, Master Steward!"
"Well, he might be better, sir. I only wish the good butter may endure
until we get in."
"If it fail, I shall go nigh to see you clapt into the State's prison, or
at least into that Gothic cottage on Blackwell's Island."
"There is an end to all things, Captain Truck, if you please, sir, even to
butter. I presume, sir, Mr. Vattel, if he know anything of cookery, will
admit that."
"Harkee, Saunders, if you ever insinuate again that Vattel belonged to the
coppers, in my presence, I'll take the liberty to land you on the coast
here, where you may amuse yourself in stewing young monkeys for your own
dinner. I saw you aboard the other ship, sir, overhauling her
arrangements; what sort of a time will the gentlemen be likely to have
in her?"
"Atrocious, sir! I give you my honour, as a real gentleman, sir. Why,
would you believe it, Captain Truck, the steward is a downright nigger,
and he wears ear-rings, and a red flannel shirt, without the least
edication. As for the cook, sir, he wouldn't pass an examination for Jemmy
Ducks aboard here, and there is but one camboose, and one set of coppers."
"Well, the steerage-passengers, in that case, will fare as well as the
cabin.
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