"Do you really have to live on pork and beans on a cruise?" asked Katrine.
"Jerry was only speaking figuratively," explained Jack, with a laugh. "Of course we do better than that. The only time we really suffered was in a bit of a shake-up we had on the way over. The second week out we had a blow, and had to live on hardtack and coffee for three days."
"And Gonzague must have stood on his head to make the coffee, too," put in Tab.
"Was it really so bad as that?" asked Katrine. "I mean," she explained as the others laughed, "did it really blow so hard he couldn't cook things?"
"Well," responded Taberman, "for forty hours we had it so hard we jolly well thought we'd have to cut."
"Cut?" queried Mrs. Fairhew.
"Yes, the sticks, you know," Jack explained.
From the expression on her face it was abundantly evident that the lady did not know, but she said nothing. She had but the most casual acquaintance with nautical affairs, and made no pretense of understanding the speech of mariners; and she was always willing to let a matter of this sort go, rather than to submit to a lengthy exposition.
Katrine, on the other hand, while of course not proficient in the art of handling yachts, knew enough to appreciate that when cutting away the masts had been contemplated, things must have been at a pass really dangerous. Now she made no comment, but she gave a swift glance at Jack, that had in it much of the admiration which Desdemona felt at the recital of the perils through which Othello had borne himself bravely. Jack happened to catch her eye; she flushed and turned to Jerry.
"Don't you tire of it all?" she asked. "I should think that to have the monotony broken only by danger in which you can't have any rest or comfort would be dreadfully wearisome."