"And a piece of fat pork?"
"Yes, that I can."
"It's thanks to me then, Pater," replied he; "so you'll have no more of my medicine until you fall sick again."
"I hope not," replied I, "for it was not very pleasant."
"Pleasant! you simple Simple, when did you ever hear of physic being pleasant, unless a man prescribe for himself? I suppose you'd be after lollipops for the yellow fever. Live and larn, boy, and thank Heaven that you've found somebody who loves you well enough to baste you when it's good for your health."
I replied, "that I certainly hoped that much as I felt obliged to him, I should not require any more proofs of his regard."
"Any more such striking proofs, you mean, Pater; but let me tell you that they were sincere proofs, for since you've been ill I've been eating your pork and drinking your grog, which latter can't be too plentiful in the Bay of Biscay. And now that I've cured you, you'll be tucking all that into your own little breadbasket, so that I'm no gainer, and I think that you may be convinced that you never had or will have two more disinterested thumpings in all your born days. However, you're very welcome, so say no more about it."
I held my tongue and ate a very hearty breakfast. From that day I returned to my duty, and was put into the same watch with O'Brien, who spoke to the first lieutenant, and told him that he had taken me under his charge.
Chapter XII
New theory of Mr Muddle remarkable for having no end to it—Novel practice of Mr Chucks—O'Brien commences his history—There were giants in those days—I bring up the master's night-glass.