“What’s a rasher?” Roy demanded.
“For luncheon a—er—two or three simple little chops, and for dinner a small roast of beef or lamb or a friendly steak. Those, with a few vegetables and an occasional egg, suffice my simple needs. I might mention, however, that a suggestion of sweet, such as a plum-pudding, a mince-pie or a dab of ice-cream, has always seemed to me a proper topping off to a meal, if I may use the expression.”
“You may use any expression you like,” answered Roy cruelly, “but if you think we’re going to have roasts you’ve got another guess coming to you. Why, that kitchen—”
“Galley,” corrected Chub helpfully.
—“is too small for anything bigger than a French chop!”
“When Chub gets awfully hungry,” observed Dick, “we might tie up to the shore and cook him something over the fire; have a barbecue, you know.”
“Cook a whole ox for him,” laughed Roy. “I guess that’s the only way Chub will ever get enough to eat.”
“You quit bothering about me,” said Chub scornfully, “and study seamanship. Remember you’re to be an able seaman and if you don’t come up to the standard for able seaman I’ll do things to you with a belaying-pin.”
“Isn’t he the cruel-hearted captain?” asked Dick. “I don’t believe I want to ship with him, Roy.”