Mother Careys Chicken | Page 9

slight nod, and the man went back.
The former individual then went to the big opening in the deck:
"Below! Morgan!" he shouted.
"Ahoy!" came from somewhere in the interior of the great vessel, and
directly after a pleasant, manly, brown face appeared above the steps.
"Take charge; I'm going to have some tea."
"All right! Who's this?"
"Skipper's cub," said the first-mate shortly. "Here, boy, come along."
The new arrival gave him a friendly nod, and Mark's first sensation was
that he would have preferred to stay with him, but the first-mate looked
back, and he followed quickly into the cabin, where the sight of a
comfortable meal, with clean cloth, and an appetising odour, changed
the current of his thoughts.
"Engines that work want coal and water," said the mate gruffly. "We've
been at work; let's coal. Sit down."

Mark obeyed, and Bruff crept under his seat.
"You've brought that dog with you, then?"
"He came, sir."
"Same thing. I hate dogs. Take off that cover."
Mark obeyed, and there was a steaming dish of fried steak and onions,
looking tempting in the extreme.
"Now, then, will you carve or be old woman?"
"I--I'll carve," said Mark, for though he had a suspicion that to be old
woman meant pouring out the tea, he was not sure.
"Go ahead, then, my lad. Plates hot?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's your style. Don't be afraid of the onions. No ladies aboard."
Mark helped the steak, and the mate poured out the tea and hewed a
couple of lumps off a cottage-loaf.
"There you are," he said; "and make much of it. No steaks and new
bread at sea."
"But you've plenty of other things, sir."
"Humph, yes! We manage to live. More sugar?"
"No, sir, thanks."
"Help yourself, my lad. Rum un, aren't I?"
"You don't expect me to say what I think, do you?" said Mark smiling.
"One to you, boy," said the mate, nodding; and this time there was a

vestige of a smile on his plain face. "Here, ugly, try that."
This was the outside of a big piece of gristly steak which the mate cut
off, and held toward the dog, who approached slowly and as if in doubt,
but ended by taking it.
"Yah! What are you sniffing at? Think there was mustard on it? Big
friends, I suppose, you and him?"
"Yes, sir, we're capital friends."
"Humph! Better make friends with a good lad of your age. I hate dogs.
What are you laughing at?"
"You, sir."
"Eh? Oh! I see!" paid the mate grimly. "I do, though, all the same.
Don't you believe it?"
"No," replied Mark smiling; "and Bruff does not believe it either."
For after the mate had given the dog a couple of pieces of steak, Bruff
had stopped by him and laid the heavy head upon his knee to patiently
wait for further consignments of cargo, which, however, did not come,
for the chief officer was thoughtfully stirring his tea with his left hand,
while his right, as he said he hated dogs, was involuntarily rubbing the
rough jowl, the process being so satisfactory that Bruff half-closed his
eyes.
"Humph! This seems a better dog than some," said the mate. "No
business on board ship, though. I don't even like chickens; but we're
obliged to put up with them. I'm always glad, though, when they're
eaten. I once went a voyage with a cow on deck. They wanted the milk
for an officer's lady and her children. That cow used to make me
melancholy."
"Why, sir? Was she such a bad sailor?"
"No; she was always stretching out her neck to try and lick some green

paint off one of the boats. Thought it was grass. Cows have no brains.
Hallo! What is it, Billy?"
"Mr Morgan wants you, sir."
"What is it?"
"One on 'em, sir, right below."
"Bah!" ejaculated the mate. "Coming directly. Let him wait till I've
finished my tea."
The sailor gave Mark a knowing look, and made a sign which the lad
did not comprehend, as he disappeared through the door.
Mark would have given something to ask who "one on 'em" was, for
the news seemed to have ruffled the mate terribly. A few minutes
before he had been growing quite friendly; now he was as gruff as ever,
finishing his steak viciously, and drinking his tea far hotter than was
good for him.
"I'd like to trice them all up and give them the cat," he exclaimed
suddenly, and with so much emphasis that at the last magic word Bruff
suddenly sprang into action, cocked his ears and tail, uttered a fierce
growling bark, and then looked excitedly from one to the other, his
eyes plainly enough asking the question "Where?"
"Get out with you, ugly!"