Most assuredly the cook holds a most responsible position in the world, and it is not too much to say that the safety, honour, welfare, and integrity, yes, and even the happiness and intelligence of a people, depend in a great measure upon the head of the kitchen. The cook should, therefore, take his place amongst the high ministers of every state, for it is in his power to do far more good, and to give far greater pleasure to the many, than your prating philanthropist, who with meddling and muddling manners, large heart, but, generally speaking, small head, tries his best to make paupers of a people, and do harm generally. Your cook is the prime minister to the greatest potentate in the whole world, namely, king stomach, and therefore your cook, if he be a wise, skilful, and virtuous cook, should hold a high place in every community. My lord bishop do you cavil at my statement about his majesty, king stomach? Does he not dwell in the monastery? Does he not sit even at the priest's table, and say to the company, eat, drink, and be merry? Does the priest more than the layman turn his back upon the succulent oyster, the truffled turkey, the barded quail, the plover's egg, which may have cost a shilling, though the honest tradesman only perhaps gave a penny for the rook's egg, which he substitutes for it? Is the voice of our mighty potentate never heard in the bishop's palace? The priest is but a man. True, but too often he looks upon himself as the Lord's anointed who is to be approached with respect, and listened to with reverence, when from his throne, the pulpit, he preaches a self denial to others, that he does not find it convenient to practice himself.
As the Port watch were not on deck at the time of which we are speaking, it is not necessary to say much about the men that composed it, further than to mention that Bob Mainstay was the captain, and a most experienced seaman, quite equal, many thought, to old Bill Dogvane, and very much more certain, though he had not Bill's command of language. Indeed, few had, for Bill could spin a yarn many fathoms long. The first lieutenant of the Port watch was Ben Backstay, a safe steady going seaman, universally respected, and both he and his captain had had no finishing touches put on by the university of Billingsgate, and in consequence they were courteous gentlemen. The captain was perhaps a little imperious and keen of speech. Then, of course, there were all the other officers and able seamen, and there was a merry, clever little fellow, who though only a middy, must not be lost sight of: for he was destined to rise step by step, and even jumps to a high position in the old Ship of State. And he will play no mean part in our present history. Random Jack as he was called, delighted annoying old Dogvane, in fact, he buzzed about the whole of the Starboard watch like a mosquito, and was the merriest, and most cheery little devil that ever put on a sailor's jacket. People at first laughed and jeered at the middy, but he cared not. Only those laugh in the end who win, and he was contented to bide his time, and through fair weather and foul, in ups and downs, he never lost confidence in himself, and herein lies the mainspring of greatness and very much of the world's success.
It has been shown that the old fighting instinct of the Buccaneer was present amongst all his children, and that it was not absent even on board of the Church Hulk. No wonder then that it showed itself to a marked degree amongst his ship's crew, which, however, had not as yet advanced so far as to run an opponent through with three feet of cold steel or plug him with an ounce of lead, like some of his neighbours; nor was his ship's deck strewn about with spittoons, like, it was said, Jonathan's at one time was. In a matter of expectoration Jonathan was great. A spittoon, if properly aimed at the head of an antagonist, political or otherwise, might bring a debate to a speedy, and perhaps a satisfactory conclusion.
Though Captain William Dogvane swore he was essentially a man of peace, his life proved him to be a man of war, and he displayed a marvellous aptitude for getting into rows and then swearing that they were none of his making. Then if he found that he was getting the worst of a fight he would at once give in; own himself in the wrong, and apologize all round, and sometimes tread on peoples' toes in doing so, and consequently getting more abuse than thanks for his disinterestedness. Dogvane said it was a noble and magnanimous thing to own oneself in the wrong, and so save bloodshed; but his enemies said it was generally due solely to cowardice, and they had some reason for saying this, as far as Dogvane was concerned, for he never owned himself wrong until he had been two or three times beaten in the open, and then the enormity of the action—not the beating—became apparent to him. This shifty old salt would at once ware ship, and put all the blame for everything upon the other watch, the members of which, if they only did a half of what old Dogvane accredited them with, deserved to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. This skilled old sailor could sail on any tack and before any wind. In his lifetime he had been many things and had served in both watches; but there was nothing out of the way in this, as it was no unusual thing for a man to commence in the Starboard watch and finish up in the Port, and the reverse. Then old Dogvane could do almost anything. There was nothing too great for him to tackle. He could talk for hours upon the Mosaic Cosmogony. Science would try to knock him over with facts; but Dogvane would, to his own entire satisfaction, prove that science was altogether wrong. He would discuss religion, philosophy, ethics, in fact, anything, with any past master in the craft, and he had the quality, said to be peculiar to the race from which he sprang, of never knowing when he was beaten.
The Ojabberaways who served on board the old Ship of State were for the most part in the Starboard watch, and if by any chance they changed over to the other side to serve their purpose, the alliance was never of long duration nor was it altogether of an honourable kind.
CHAPTER XV.
A time came when things were said to be as they ought not to be; discontent became very prevalent. It is always thus; but the people, it was said—and with some show of reason—had quarrelled with their prosperity. Labour had combined against capital, and the workers refused to work except upon their own terms. They demanded shorter hours and more pay, Nor would they, if they could help it, allow others to labour. The Buccaneer's system of education had perhaps something to do with this state of things, for it taught his children almost everything, except how to gain a living, gave many of them exalted opinions, crammed their heads, but left their stomachs empty, until in time the serving class bid fair to be educated out of his island. All wanted to be masters and mistresses, and the kitchen was looked down upon. Things came to such a pass that it was far easier to obtain a governess who could teach almost anything, for thirty pounds a year, than a cook for the same amount, whose knowledge of her trade barely soared as high as boiling a potato, or grilling properly a mutton chop, and who even with this small amount of professional skill was insolent if found fault with.
Then the Buccaneer's tradesmen, being true chips of the ancient block, were frequently extortionists, if not actual robbers. They were certainly well imbued with his first principle of trade, namely, the turning of their five talents into ten, and some at least were not above selling short weight and adulterating their merchandise; but these of course were the dishonest ones, the black sheep that are said to exist in every flock. Then before things reached the consumer they had to be dealt with by the middle men, a species of vampire who sucked a good deal of the profit out of the article; so the consumer was driven into the hands of the foreign cheap-Jack, who soon began to sell more than ever. The Buccaneer's old coxswain, who, it must be owned, was a bit of a preacher, and like all such a little prosy, spoke up as was his wont: "Mates," he said, addressing a lot of grumblers, who had assembled together to air their grievances, "don't you see you've got your ship's head lying in the wrong direction? You are cutting your throats, my hearties, like a swimming pig, for while some of you are quarrelling with your masters, and others of you are going in for keeping up the prices, these furrin cheap-Jacks are doing a thriving trade. Shipload after shipload of their merchandise is coming in. They are ousting you, my lads, out of your own markets, while you stand by, pipe in mouth and hands in pockets, demanding your shorter hours and higher wages." "What would you have us do, mate?" cried a burly fellow from the crowd, as he held his pipe in one hand and a quart pot in the other. "Are we to work our souls and bodies out, day after day, and year after year, while our masters are building up a pile, and palaces to put it in? We ain't agoing to work like some of our neighbours for a mere nothing; neither are we agoing to live on black bread and sour crout; so unless our masters are going to cave in and come down with the needful, we are going to hold out. As for the cheap-Jack fellows, let our master make 'em pay toll. Let's have everything fair and above board. Put that in your pipe, old man, and smoke it." "Lads!" cried old Jack, "you are killing your goose that lays the golden eggs; or, you are frightening her over the water, which amounts to the same thing." "Let her go, mate. If she stays here and stops laying eggs, we'll wring her neck, and divide her carcass amongst us. We shall have a good feed then anyhow, and be equal all round." So there were strikes, and a great cry out against capital, and trade began to work down towards the sea-shore, and unfolding her wings, prepared to take flight to other and more congenial climes.
Whenever the old coxswain got his master's ear upon the subject, his favourite, Liberty, was sure to be on the other side, telling him to let things alone. This aggravated old Jack, who one day exclaimed; "Pray, madam! how far are you going to take our master along this road of freedom?" "Good, honest Jack, that is for you to say," cried madam, with a smile and a curtsey. "Aye, aye, that is all well enough, my fine lady. But there is not a place you don't go to with those doctrines of yours. You commenced upstairs in the parlour, and now you have gone down into the kitchen, and heaven only knows where you intend to stop. What is the use of my saying anything? Where you lead my master follows; no matter whether the road you are on goes to the devil or not. It is no use my holding on to his coat tails, when you are coaxing him, cajoling him, and pulling him forward by both his hands." So saying the old coxswain went his way, muttering something about women in general, that was not altogether complimentary to the fair sex. But the honest coxswain, when ruffled, said, like many other people, very much more than what he meant.