"Are you men never comin' down to breakfast? What's the use of slavin' my head off, if you're goin' to hang 'round up there till everything gets cold? It would try the temper of a saint to cook for a crew like you!"
"Now, now, Uncle Zenas, there's no need of wastin' so much breath, for we were all ready to come down before you spoke the first word, an' I'm afraid you'll never know what the temper of a saint may be," Captain Eph replied mildly as he led the way down the ladder, and when the three were in the kitchen the cook asked:
"How many of you are goin' to work on the boat to-day?"
"That's Sammy's job, an' I reckon we'd better not interfere with him, for he always works harder when he's alone."
"Then what's to hinder your gettin' a mess of fish for dinner? We've eaten salt meat so long that I'm afraid of drownin' myself through drinkin' so much water."
"You shall have all the fish you can cook, Uncle Zenas," Captain Eph replied, and, turning to Sidney, he asked, "Would you like to go out for a spell, Sonny? There ain't much sport to deep-sea fishin'; but it's a change after a man has hung 'round this 'ere ledge in a fog-storm."
It is hardly necessary to state that the lad accepted the invitation eagerly, and before he took his place at the table Uncle Zenas brought out his own oil-skins for the lad to wear, saying as he did so:
"This 'ere fog is about the same as rain, an' if the fish bite well Cap'n Eph is likely to stay a long spell, for it seems to me he reg'larly loses his head as soon as he gets a cod-line in his hand."