In the matter of small trading we did a thriving business in the fo'c'sle, some of us even branching out into foreign trade with the starboard watch. I was the one to introduce this practice on board the _Fuller_, a relic of my schoolship days, when pools were formed in the different messes and five and ten rations of cold corned beef traded off for potatoes, or potatoes and butter paid out as rental for the use of the precious frying pans of which there were a few on board. When I worked out a system of credits for different kinds of grub on the _Fuller_ it was found to be a source of diversion and made possible some adjustment along the lines of personal taste, in the matter of our meals. We had stock fish every once in a while, no doubt as a concession to the Scandinavian contingent, to be found in every ship that sails the seas. I invariably passed off my share of this delicacy to Fred or Martin and would be credited with their rations of apple jack, a stew of musty dried apples; or I would contract for half of their whack of lime juice and vinegar. Mr. Zerk, with whom I always was a favorite, that is until we got to Honolulu, occasionally gave me a jar of preserves, of which he had a large store. These were home-made pickles and jams, and when brought into the fo'c'sle caused quite a commotion. "Rats with 'im and 'is rotten marmerlade," declared Jimmy in great dudgeon when I brought forward the first fruits of my "stand in." "Eat it yerself but don't ast no self-respectin' man to touch it," was the sarcastic way in which the haughty Marshall voiced his sentiments. "Wot do you say?" he demanded, glaring about the fo'c'sle to see if anyone dared dispute him. "Righto," piped up Joe. "That rotten skunk aft has poisoned the stuff, I'll bet." "No, it's good," I declared, dipping in with the tip of my sheath knife. It was a jar of very red cherry jam. It also had a very pleasant aroma as well as a pleasing taste. I purposely took a second very large helping and could see that the temptation to fall was great. "Here, Frenchy, don't eat any, now. Just _taste_ it, perhaps it does taste a little funny." Frenchy tasted. "I don't know. It does taste funny," he said. "Here, gimme a piece o' tack," and Joe was sampling the jam very liberally. In a moment all hands, including Jimmy, were tasting it, and all declared it tasted funny. As a matter of fact it did taste very funny if we accepted apple jack as a standard. As the last smear of jam was cleaned from the jar the hypercritical Jimmy had the nerve to remark, "That was the rottenest marmerlade I ever tasted." However, after that no questions were raised when I brought a donation forward, though to tell the truth these treats were scarce, as the mate's private stock ran out long before we got to Honolulu. CHAPTER X CABIN AND FO'C'SLE