“Quartermaster, unsling a fire-bucket and fill it from the men's kids: Mr. Tickell, see the cook swallow his own mess. Bosen's mate, take a bight of the flying jib sheet stand over him, and start him if he dailies with it.” With this the captain went below, and the cook, supping at the bucket delivered himself as follows: “Well, ye lubbers, it is first--rate. _There's_ no burn in it. It goes down like oil. Curse your ladylike stomachs; you ain't fit for a ship; why don't ye go ashore and man a gingerbread coach and feed off French frogs and Italian baccy-pipe stems? (Whack.) What the ---- is that for?” _Boatswain's mate._ “Sup more, and jaw less.” “Well, I am supping as fast as I can. (Whack, whack.) Bloody end to ye, what are ye about? (Whack, whack, whack.) Oh, Joe, Lord bless you, I _can't_ eat any more of it. (Whack.) I'll give you my grog for a week only to let me fling the ---- stuff over the side. (Whack, whack, whack.) Oh, good, kind, dear Mr. Tickell, do go down to the captain for me.” (Whack, whack.) “Avast!” cried the captain, reappearing; and the uplifted rope fell harmless. “Silence, fore and aft!” (Pipe.) “The cook has received a light punishment this time, for spoiling the men's mess. My crew shall eat nothing I can't eat myself. My care is heavier than theirs is; but not my work, nor my danger in time of danger. Mind that, or you'll find I can be as severe as any master afloat. Purser.” “Sir.” “Double the men's grog: they have been cheated of their meal.” “Ay, ay, sir.” “And stop the cook's and his mate's for a week.” “Ay, ay, sir.” “Bosen, pipe down.” “Shipmates, listen to me,” said the foretopman. “This old _Agra_ is a d----d com--for--table ship.” The oracular sentence was hailed with a ringing cheer. Still, it is unlucky the British seaman is so enamoured of theological terms; for he constantly misapplies them. After lying a week like a dead log on the calm but heaving waters, came a few light puffs in the upper air and inflated the topsails only: the ship crawled southward, the crew whistling for wind. At last, one afternoon, it began to rain, and after the rain came a gale from the eastward. The watchful skipper saw it purple the water to windward, and ordered the topsails to be reefed and the lee ports closed. This last order seemed an excess of precaution; but Dodd was not yet thoroughly acquainted with his ship's qualities: and the hard cash round his neck made him cautious. The lee ports were closed, all but one, and that was lowered. Mr. Grey was working a problem in his cabin, and wanted a little light and a little air, so he just drooped his port; but, not to deviate from the spirit of his captain's instructions, he fastened a tackle to it; that he might have mechanical force to close it with should the ship lie over.