“And as I am not among the privileged,” added Jerry, who had already forgotten the hint, “I’ll take my whack to-day.”
“Perhaps you may,” observed the captain, drily.
The officers now began to be very noisy, arguing among themselves upon points of service, and taking no notice whatever of the captain. The master, in explanation, drew a chart, with wine, upon the polished table, while the first-lieutenant defended his opinion with pieces of biscuit, laid at different positions—during which two more glasses were demolished.
The captain rang, and ordered coffee in an angry tone. When the officers had taken it, he bowed stiffly, and wished them good evening.
There was one dish which was an object of abhorrence to Captain Bradshaw. The first-lieutenant, aware of it, as they rose to depart, said, “Captain Bradshaw, if it’s not too great a liberty, we should like to have some tripe to-morrow. We are all three very partial to it.”
“So am I,” rejoined Jerry.
Captain Bradshaw could hold out no longer. “Leave the cabin immediately, gentlemen. By heavens, you shall never put your legs under my table again.”
“Are we not to dine here to-morrow, sir?” replied the first-lieutenant with affected surprise; “the order says, ‘every day.’”
“Till further orders,” roared the captain; “and now you have them, for I’ll be damned if ever you dine with me again.”
The officers took their departure, restraining their mirth until they gained the gun-room: and Jerry was about to follow, when Captain Bradshaw caught him by the arm.