Mrs. Cliff's Yacht

by Frank R. Stockton

"You are very practical, Miss Croup," remarked the Reverend Mr. Hodgson, the youngest clergyman on board. "But I am sure you need not have the least fear. We are moored firm and fast, and I have no doubt Captain Burke will soon arrive with the necessary men to take you to Jamaica."

Willy dried her eyes, and then she said, "There's another practical thing I'm thinking of,—there isn't any breakfast, and the cook's gone! But I believe we can arrange that. I could cook the breakfast myself if I had anybody to help me. I'll go speak to Mrs. Cliff."

Mrs. Cliff was decidedly of the opinion that they all ought to have breakfast, and that she and Willy could at least make coffee, and serve the passengers with bread and butter and preserved meats, but she remarked to Mr. Hodgson that perhaps the gentlemen would rather go to their hotels and get their breakfast.

"No indeed," said Mr. Hodgson, a stout, sun-browned fellow, who looked more like a hunter than a clergyman. "We have been talking over the matter, and we are not going to desert you until the new men come. And as to breakfast, here are Mr. Litchfield and myself ready to serve as stewards, assistants, cooks, or in any culinary capacity. We both have camped out and are not green hands. So you must let us help you, and we shall consider it good fun."

"It will be funny," said Willy, "to see a minister cook! So let's go down to the kitchen. I know where it is, for I've been in it!"

"I think, Miss Croup," said Mr. Litchfield, a tall young man with black hair and side whiskers, and a good deal of manner, "that you should say galley or caboose, now that we are all nautical together."

"Well, I can't cook nautical," said Willy, "and I don't intend to try! But I guess you can eat the food if it isn't strictly naval."

In a few minutes the volunteer cooks were all at work, and Willy's familiarity with household affairs, even when exhibited under the present novel conditions, shone out brightly. She found some cold boiled potatoes, and soon set Mr. Hodgson to work frying them. Mrs. Cliff took the coffee in hand with all her ante-millionnaire skill, and Willy skipped from one thing to another, as happy as most people are whose ability has suddenly forced them to the front.

"Oh, you ought to see the Synod setting the table!" she cried, bursting into the galley. "They're getting things all wrong, but it doesn't matter, and they seem to be enjoying it. Now then, Mr. Litchfield, I think you have cut all the bread that can possibly be eaten!"

Mr. Burdette had gone on shore with the Captain, and Mr. Portman considered it his duty to remain on deck, but the volunteer corps of cooks and stewards did their work with hearty good-will, and the breakfast would have been the most jolly meal that they had yet enjoyed together if it had not been for the uncertainty and uneasiness naturally occasioned by the desertion of the crew.