“I once knew a chemist who tried one,” said George, “an’ it blew him out of the winder; but I never heard o’ shipmasters trying ’em.”
“There’s all kinds of experiments,” rejoined the other, “What do you say to a lady cook, George?”
“A what?” asked the mate in tones of strong amazement. “What, aboard a schooner?”
“Why not?” inquired the skipper warmly; “why not? There’s plenty of ’em ashore—why not aboard ship?”
“’Tain’t proper, for one thing,” said the mate virtuously.
“I shouldn’t have expected you to have thought o’ that,” said the other unkindly. “Besides, they have stewardesses on big ships, an’ what’s the difference? She’s a sort o’ relation o’ mine, too—cousin o’ my wife’s, a widder woman, and a good sensible age, an’ as the doctor told her to take a sea voyage for the benefit of her ’elth, she’s coming with me for six months as cook. She’ll take her meals with us; but, o’ course, the men are not to know of the relationship.”
“What about sleeping accommodation?” inquired the mate, with the air of a man putting a poser.
“I’ve thought o’ that,” replied the other; “it’s all arranged.”
The mate, with an uncompromising air, waited for information.
“She—she’s to have your berth, George,” continued the skipper, without looking at him. “You can have that nice, large, airy locker.”