“Don’t worry, boys; I’ll fix it,” broke in our executive officer, Mr. Chipp. “If we can’t right our ship, I can right this mess table anyhow. I’ll have the carpenter saw a foot off each of the legs on the high end and that’ll about compensate for the heel and level it off for us.”
“Chipp, I’m ashamed of you,” I objected. “Your cure’s worse’n the disease. That’ll fix the slope, true enough, but what’ll the skipper and you and I do? Shortening these legs a foot will put this end of the table in our laps. How’ll we eat then; cross-legged on the deck like a lot of Japs? Maybe you can, you must be used to it, being just back from there! But I’m afraid I’m too stiff in the joints to flemish down my legs properly!”
Chipp, who had just come back from the Orient to join the Jeannette, saw the point, considered a moment, then looked speculatively down the table to the low end where sat the mess treasurer and the juniors in the mess.
“You’re right, chief. That’ll never do; there’s too much rank up here to monkey with this end of the table. Instead, I’ll have Sweetman level off by adding a foot to those table legs on the starboard end.”
Immediately Danenhower, facing the captain from the low end of the table, flared up.
“And what do you expect me to do then, Mr. Chipp? Get myself a high chair like a damned infant so I can reach the table while I eat? And wear a bib too, maybe? Forget it!”
Chipp, squelched from both ends of the table, shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I give up, mates! Anchor your soup plates anyway you can then. But don’t be blaming me if your chow finishes in the scuppers instead of down your gullets.” He relapsed into silence.
The meal proceeded with difficulty. Tong Sing, bending low over each man’s shoulder in succession, sought to maintain his grip on the sloping deck the while he tried to level off the platter of salt pork long enough for each to help himself, but it was evident that it was only a matter of time till one of us got the contents of that platter in his lap. After two near accidents, avoided only by skillful juggling of the platter by the impassive Tong Sing, the captain motioned the steward to quit serving and put the dish down before him.
“Enough, Charley. Set that platter down right here. Lend a hand, Melville, at passing those plates, and I’ll serve out myself. We’ll have to let formality in serving go by the board till spring’s here and we’re on an even keel again. Let’s have your plate now, Dan,” he called, as the relieved steward deposited the heaping dish of pork before the captain and padded off to the galley for the potatoes.