CHAPTER XXI.
JACKO STEALS THE CAPTAIN'S PUDDING.
It would take a good many chapters to tell my readers all the tricks that this favourite of the gun-room mess played.
The surgeon, Dr. Grant, and he were excellent friends, and were often together; and sometimes if one of his mess-mates was a bit off colour, the Ugly Duckling would prescribe or pretend to prescribe for him, and his prescriptions were at times droll, to say the least.
One day, for instance, the white-faced young clerk was ailing. He frequently was.
"No use you going to Dr. Grant," said the Duckling; "he'll only give you black-strap and make you worse. Here, out with your note-book and I'll dictate a prescription. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Duckie."
"Well then, heave round: 'Recipe'. Got that down? It's Latin, you know, so have a care, but all the rest is English. Place a saucepan on the galley fire, and when it is heated to redness pour therein seven ounces of spirits of wine."
"Yes."
"When it comes to the boil place therein the tail of a toad—"