"Very poor—not so goot as py my las' ship," answered Semmel. "Some grub here not fit to eat."
It was soon noised around that Semmel was not feeling well and that he had complained that the food dealt out at noontime had made him sick. As soon as Captain Ponsberry heard of this he went to interview Jeff, the colored cook, who, as of old, was singing gayly to himself among the pots and pans of the ship's galley.
"Wasn't nuffin de mattah wid dat grub, Cap'n Ponsberry," exclaimed Jeff, after hearing what the commander of the ship had to say. "It was jess as good as we always has."
"Was it thoroughly cooked?"
"Yes, sah—I don't 'low nuffin to go from dis yere galley 'less it am well cooked."
"Are your pots and kettles clean?"
"Yes, sah—yo' can see fo' yourself, sah."
The captain did see, and moreover he knew that Jeff was usually a careful and conscientious culinary artist who always gave the men the best his stock afforded.
"Well, be careful of what you cook and how you cook it after this," said Captain Ponsberry.
"Would yo' mind tellin' me, sah, who is kicking, sah?" asked Jeff, respectfully.