“Oh, no, madam,” answered the first mate. “We’ve sometimes salt pork, and vegetables now and agin; and pea-soup, and plum-duff—”
“Plum-duff, Ailie,” interrupted the captain, in order to explain, “is just a puddin’ with few plums and fewer spices in it. Something like a white-painted cannon-shot, with brown spots on it here and there.”
“Is it good?” inquired Ailie.
“Oh, ain’t it!” remarked Mr Rokens, who had just concluded Number 6, and felt his self-possession somewhat restored. “Yes, miss, it is; but it ain’t equal to whale’s-brain fritters, it ain’t; them’s first-chop.”
“Have whales got brains?” inquired Miss Martha, in surprise.
“Brains!” echoed Miss Jane, in amazement.
“Yes, madam, they ’ave,” answered the first mate, who had hitherto maintained silence, but having finished tea was now ready for any amount of talk; “and what’s more remarkable still, they’ve got several barrels of oil in their skulls besides.”
“Dear me!” exclaimed the sisters.
“Yes, ladies, capital oil it is, too; fetches a ’igher price hin the markit than the other sort.”
“By the bye, Millons, didn’t you once fall into a whale’s skull, and get nearly drowned in oil?” inquired the doctor.