He placed a large blue jug before them, in which was some steaming compound, covered by a large breakfast cup, stuck in the mouth of the jug, while on a plate was a fair-sized pile of bread and butter.
“There you are, messmates; say your grace and fall to.”
“Look here,” said Don quickly. “You know we were taken by the press-gang last night?”
“Do I know? Why, didn’t I help?”
“Oh!” ejaculated Don, with a look of revulsion, which he tried to conceal. “Look here,” he said; “if you will take a message for me to my mother, in Jamaica Street, you shall have a guinea.”
“Well, that’s handsome, anyhow,” said the man, laughing. “What am I to say to the old lady?”
“That we have been seized by the press-gang, and my uncle is to try and get us away.”
“That all?”
“Yes, that’s all. Will you go?”
“Hadn’t you better have your breakfuss?”