Part 18 (1/2)

”Come, none of your dictionary in the pantry there, but show your physiognomy in my presence. What the devil do you think Vattel would say to such a supper as this?”

”I think, sir, he would call it a werry good supper, for a s.h.i.+p in a hard gale of wind. That's my honest opinion, Captain Truck, and I never deceive any gentleman in a matter of food. I think, Mr. Wattel would approve of that there supper, sir.”

”Perhaps he might, for he has made blunders as well as another man. Go, mix me a gla.s.s of just what I love when I've not had a drop all day.

Gentlemen, will any of you honour me, by sharing in a cut? This beef is not indigestible, and here is a real Marylander, in the way of a ham. No want of oak.u.m to fill up the c.h.i.n.ks with, either.”

Most of the gentlemen were too full of the gale to wish to eat; besides they had not fasted like Captain Truck since morning. But Mr. Monday, the bagman, as John Effingham had termed him, and who had been often enough at sea to know something of its varieties, consented to take a gla.s.s of brandy and water, as a corrective of the Madeira he had been swallowing.

The appet.i.te of Captain Truck was little affected by the state of the weather, however; for though too attentive to his duties to quit the deck until he had ascertained how matters were going on, now that he had fairly made up his mind to eat, he set about it with a heartiness and simplicity that proved his total disregard of appearances when his hunger was sharp.

For some time he was too much occupied to talk, making regular attacks upon the different _plats_, as Mr. Saunders called them, without much regard to the cookery or the material. The only pauses were to drink, and this was always done with a steadiness that never left a drop in the gla.s.s. Still Mr. Truck was a temperate man; for he never consumed more than his physical wants appeared to require, or his physical energies knew how to dispose of. At length, however, he came to the steward's _entremets_, or he began to stuff what he, himself, had called ”oak.u.m,”

into the c.h.i.n.ks of his dinner.

Mr. Sharp had watched the whole process from the ladies' cabin, as indeed had Eve, and thinking this a favourable occasion to ascertain the state of things on deck, the former came into the main-cabin, commissioned by the latter, to make the inquiry.

”The ladies are desirous of knowing where we are, and what is the state of the gale, Captain Truck,” said the gentleman, when he had seated himself near the throne.

”My dear young lady,” called out the captain, by way of cutting short the diplomacy of employing amba.s.sadors between them, ”I wish in my heart I could persuade you and Mademoiselle V.A.V., (for so he called the governess, in imitation of Eve's p.r.o.nunciation of her name,) to try a few of these pickled oysters; they are as delicate as yourselves, and worthy to be set before a mermaid, if there were any such thing.”

”I thank you for the compliment, Captain Truck, and while I ask leave to decline it, I beg leave to refer you to the plenipotentiary Mademoiselle Viefville” (Eve would not say herself) ”has intrusted with her wishes.”

”Thus you perceive, sir,” interposed Mr. Sharp again, ”you will have to treat with me, by all the principles laid down by Vattel.”

”And treat you, too, my good sir. Let me persuade you to try a slice of this anti-abolitionist,” laying his knife on the ham, which he still continued to regard himself with a sort of melancholy interest. ”No? well, I hold over-persuasion as the next thing to neglect. I am satisfied, sir, after all, as Saunders says, that Vattel himself, unless more unreasonable at his grub than in matters of state, would be a happier man after he had been at his table twenty minutes, than before he sat down.”

Mr. Sharp perceiving that it was idle to pursue his inquiry while the other was in one of his discursive humours, determined to let things take their course, and fell into the captain's own vein.

”If Vattel would approve of the repast, few men ought to repine at their fortune in being so well provided.”

”I flatter myself, sir, that I understand a supper, especially in a gale of wind, as well as Mr. Vattel, or any other man could do.”

”And yet Vattel was one of the most celebrated cooks of his day.”

Captain Truck stared, looked his grave companion steadily in the eye, for he was too much addicted to mystifying, not to distrust others, and picked his teeth with redoubled vigilance.

”Vattel a cook! This is the first I ever heard of it.”

”There was a Vattel, in a former age, who stood at the head of his art as a cook; this I can a.s.sure you, on my honour: he may not have been your Vattel, however.”

”Sir, there never were two Vattels. This is extraordinary news to me, and I scarcely know how to receive it.”

”If you doubt my information, you may ask any of the other pa.s.sengers.

Either of the Mr. Effinghams, or Mr. Blunt, or Miss Effingham, or Mademoiselle Viefville will confirm what I tell you, I think; especially the latter, for he was her countryman.”

Hereupon Captain Truck began to stuff in the oak.u.m again, for the calm countenance of Mr. Sharp produced an effect; and as he was pondering on the consequences of his oracle's turning out to be a cook, he thought it not amiss to be eating, as it were, incidentally. After swallowing a dozen olives, six or eight anchovies, as many pickled oysters, and raisins and almonds, as the advertis.e.m.e.nts say _a volonte_, he suddenly struck his fist on the table, and announced his intention of putting the question to both the ladies.

”My dear young lady,” he called out, ”will you do me the honour to say whether you ever heard of a cook of the name of Vattel?”