"Beg pardon, sir," said this gentleman, whom I presently learnt was Mr Quadrant, the master, or navigating officer of the ship; one who used in the old days to have charge of all the material on board a man-of-war, just as the commander looks after the crew. "None of those stores, sir, have come off from the dockyard that were promised this morning, and all my hands are idle below. What am I to do, sir?" "Send a boat at once to the storekeeper, to lodge a complaint." "Yes, sir. But, there's only the jollyboat left, sir, now, besides the dinghy. All the others are ashore." "Well, send the jollyboat; and, I say, Mr Quadrant," added Commander Nesbitt as the master was waddling off down the companionway, "tell the midshipman who goes with the boat that if the things are not sent aboard at once, he is to make application at the Admiral's office, complaining of the delay. P'raps, though, you'd better go yourself, eh?" "I will if you like, sir," sighed the master, who had already had too much exercise between decks and up and down the hatchways to feel enamoured of a walk ashore over the rough cobblestones of the dockyard. "But, I don't think they'll hurry any the more for me than they would for a middy, sir. He would be able, too, sir, to cheek the yard people all the better, sir." "Just as you please, Mr Quadrant," returned the commander in a decided tone. "I should prefer, however, your going yourself to sending any other officer." This was equivalent to an order; and the master with a deep groan disappeared, only to make room for Mr Nipper, the purser. This gentleman came across the gangway from the hulk--on board of which we were all berthed while our own ship was fitting out. He seemed in a great heat, as if something had put him out very much indeed, looking worried beyond endurance. "Captain Nesbitt, sir," said he to the commander, touching his cap like the others, "what am I to do, sir?" "I'm sure I can't say, Mr Nipper," rejoined the commander in an off-hand way, for he had just given the order to sway the yard aloft, and was watching whether the spar cleared the top and keeping a wary eye that it did not get foul of the mainstay, or something else aloft. "What's the matter?" "Those people at the victualling yard haven't sent our fresh beef yet aboard, sir," answered the purser, a thin, fussy little man, in a whining way, as if he were going to cry, "and there's nothing to serve out for the men's dinners--at least, not enough for all." "That's too bad!" cried the commander, indignantly; "why did you not tell me of this before?" "I was expecting the boat would come with the meat every minute, sir." "Is there no beef at all on board?" "Only the wardroom and gunroom supply." "Then serve that out at once to the men--they sha'n't go without their dinner if I can help it." "But, sir, what will the officers do?"