CHAPTER IX
A SERIES OF REVELATIONS
“I don’t suppose the food will be very good,” confided Phil to his brother, as they removed the traces of the exciting morning, in their cabin.
“No, according to the sea stories I’ve read it won’t,” returned Ted. “Just salt pork, hard tack, and weak coffee, I expect.”
“Then you are due for a surprise,” exclaimed a hearty voice, and, turning, the boys beheld the captain. At the thought that their uncomplimentary remarks had been overheard, the boys grew crimson. But the skipper prevented any attempt at apology by saying: “I hope some time some one will write a story and tell the honest truth about the food we sailors have on the Great Lakes. Maybe it’s pork and hard tack on salt water—and from some of their sailors I’ve seen that’s plenty good enough for them—but if we don’t set better meals than nine out of ten of our men have at home, then I don’t know a buoy from a light-house.”
Deeming it best to say nothing, the boys quickly finished their ablutions and accompanied the skipper aft to the dining-cabin.
On the port side the boys beheld the crew seated at tables covered with white oil cloth. Each table was provided with a big portion of corned beef and cabbage, fish, potatoes, squash, peas, pies, bread, and cake, while from the coffee-pots there came the savoury aroma of good coffee.
“See any hard tack?” smiled the captain.
“It looks bully,” exclaimed Phil. “Where do we sit, anywhere?”
“You’ll eat at the officers’ table;” and the captain quickly led the way into a dining-room seemingly perfect in its appointments and handsomely furnished.