“Do you know Jemmy Cavan, sir, at Barbadoes?” inquired the doctor.
“No, sir, I know no Jemmies,” replied Captain Bradshaw, surprised at his familiar address.
“He’s a devilish good fellow, sir, I can tell you. When he gets you on shore, he’ll make you dine with him every day, whether or not. He’ll take no denial.”
“Now, that’s what I call a damned good fellow: you don’t often meet a chap like him,” observed the master.
Captain Bradshaw felt that he was indirectly called a chap, which did not please him.
“Mr Bradly, will you take some mutton?”
“If you please,” said the master.
“Roberts, I’ll trouble you to carve the saddle of mutton.”
The first-lieutenant cut out a slice, and taking it on the fork, looked at it suspiciously, and then held his nose over it.
“Why, what’s the matter?”