"Eggs, Ma'am?--no eggs to be had." "Milk." "The cow arn't calved that' to pervide that." "Well, get me some suet." "None in the ship. Only a little rancid butter." "Take away the flour and the board. The idea of making a plum-pudding out of putrid water, musty flour, and raisins, is too ridiculous." "Give me some of the raisins," said Sam, "and Hanibal will make a sea plum-pudding." "I wonder what it will be like!" And Flora laughed, as she gave him as many raisins as he required. It was amusing to watch the Captain at dinner, playing the petty tyrant over the poor French pilot, on to whose plate he chucked the outside slice of the hard, tough beef, as if he had been throwing a bone to a dog. The pilot showed his white teeth, and his dark eyes blazed as he flashed them full in the Captain's face, and, throwing the meat back into the dish, he strode from the table. "Brother," said Collins, a name he seldom applied to the Captain, and only when he wished to impress him particularly on any important subject, "you had better try anither tack wi' the pilot. That won't do. He's a proud, high-spirited fellow; he'll no stand ony nonsense." "He may sit it, then. I'll treat him as I please." "Then he'll leave you to navigate the St. Lawrence alone." The Captain shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing. "Let me ca' him back to the table, and apologise." "Call him back if you like; but, d---- the apology!" "I'll mak' it straight," cried Collins; and, leaving the cabin, he soon returned with the Frenchman, followed by Sam and the sea-pudding, who, placing it before the Captain with a most impressive air, looked triumphantly across the table at Mrs. Lyndsay. "A nice piece of duff that, Sam," said Boreas, striking his knife and fork into the fair sides of the jolly white pudding. "Wery nice, Sir," responded Sam. "This your manufacturing, Mrs. L.?" Flora shook her head.--"I was not going to disgrace the national dish by compounding it of such materials." "You have been stingy of the plums, Sam. They are scarcely within hail of each other." "He should have told the cook to whistle while he was picking them," said Flora, laughing. "I gave out plenty for a large, rich pudding." "I'll help the youngsters first," said Boreas, handing a large slice to James Hawke; "boys love duff." The first mouthful was enough for poor Jim. He made a horrid face, and pushed back his plate. "Hey! what's the matter with the lad?" "Oh!" said Jim, hurrying from the table. "I shall never be able to eat plum-pudding again." The pudding looked so clean and nice, that Flora was tempted to taste it. She no longer wondered at the boy's disgust. It was made with rancid fat, bad water, and boiled in the sea-brine. To a stomach unaccustomed to such dainties, it was unpalatable in the highest degree. Yet the Captain, Mate, and Pilot ate of it, and pronounced it excellent.