Well, the minute that pudding hove in sight Pratt and me laughed. The middle of it was stuck full of long feathers!
“Heavens and earth! What are those things for?” cried Warriner.
“Dem is fedders, sah. You tole me dat holly was to be stuck up in de middle, but dat bush ain’t to be foun’ in dese pahts. I done de best I could, Mass’.”
“Was ever such a thing heard of! And are those feathers from the chicken we have just eaten?”
“Laws, no. I done kotched de rooster—Golly! how dat ole bird did squawk—and I yanked de fedders out ob his tail. Dere dey is, a wavin’ like a flag.”
Warriner was about to pull the feathers out and throw them away, but the Cap’n and me rather liked the looks of ’em, so he stopped. Then the sauce appeared. White of egg beaten stiff was on top of it. Next Cornwallis brought a dish and turned the brandy around the pudding. How awful it smelled! Not a bit like any brandy that I ever saw. Warriner looked a bit puzzled, but before he had time to say a word the cook struck a match and touched it to the liquor.
The whole thing blazed right up to the skylight, and scared all hands nearly to death! You could have knocked me over with a fish-hook, and that darky rolled up the whites of his eyes and acted as if he was praying. Warriner’s face turned all colors, and Pratt was scared and mad both. He jerked the cloth and everything off the table, took off his coat and threw it on the blaze. Then he stamped on it.
None of us spoke a word for a minute; we were clean on our beam ends. Then Pratt looked at the passenger and roared out: “Well, sir, you’ve raised h— with your pudding, I must say! Like to have burned us all up into the bargain. That’s what comes of setting brandy on fire. I thought when you spoke of it, it was the d—dest nonsense to burn up a lot of good liquor that might better be drunk.”
Warriner had found his voice by this time.