The table of Captain Oughton was liberally supplied, and the officers embarked proved (as they almost invariably do) to be pleasant, gentlemanlike companions. The boxing-gloves were soon produced by Captain Oughton, who soon ascertained that in the officer who "would peel so well" he had found his match. The mornings were passed away in sparring, fencing, reading, walking the deck, or lolling on the hen-coops upon the poop. The announcement of the dinner-hour was a signal for rejoicing; and they remained late at the table, doing ample justice to the captain's excellent claret. The evening was finished with cards, cigars, and brandy pawnee. Thus passed the time away for the first three weeks of the passage, during which period all parties had become upon intimate terms.
But the voyage is, in itself, most tedious; and more tedious to those who not only have no duty to perform, but have few resources. As soon as the younger officers thought they might take a liberty, they examined the hen-coops, and selecting the most promising-looking cocks, trimmed them for fighting; chose between themselves, as their own property, those which they most approved of, and for some days fed and sparred them, to get them into wind, and ascertain the proper way in which they should be spurred. In the meantime, two pairs of spurs were, by their directions, clandestinely made by the armourer of the ship, and, when ready, they took advantage of the time when Captain Oughton was every day employed with the ship's reckoning, and the poulterer was at his dinner (viz., from twelve to one), to fight a main. The cocks which were killed in these combats were returned to the hen-coops, and supposed by the poulterer, who had very often had a glass of grog, to have quarrelled within the bars.
"Steward," said Captain Oughton, "why the devil do you give us so many fowls for dinner? the stock will never last out the voyage: two roast fowls, two boiled fowls, curried fowl, and chicken pie! What can you be thinking of?"
"I spoke to the poulterer on the subject, sir; he constantly brings me down fowls, and he tells me that they kill each other fighting."
"Fighting! never heard of fowls fighting in a coop before. They must be all game fowls."
"That they are, most of them," said Mr Petres; "I have often seen them fighting when I have been on the poop."
"So have I," continued Ansell; "I have seen worse cocks in the pit."
"Well, it's very odd; I never lost a cock in this way in all my voyages.
Send the poulterer here; I must inquire about it."
"Yes, sir," replied the steward; and he quitted the cabin.
With the exception of the major, who knew nothing of the circumstances, the officers thought it advisable to decamp, that they might not be present when the dénouement took place. The poulterer made his appearance, was interrogated, and obliged, in his own defence, to criminate the parties, corroborating his assertions by producing a pair of spurs found upon a cock which had been killed, and thrown behind the coop in a hurry, at the appearance of Captain Oughton on deck.