"He is complaining of the pork, sir. I have referred him to you."
He gave me a sharp look, and leaning forwards, said in a quiet, mild voice—
"What's the matter, my man?"
"Why, sir, I've been asked to come and say that the pork that's been served to the men is in a werry bad state, to be sure. It's more smell than meat, and what ain't smell is brine."
"I am sorry to hear that," said the captain in a most benignant manner. "Look into the cuddy and tell the steward I want him."
The steward stepped on to the quarter-deck and looked up at his master in a way that made me suspect he had got his cue.
"What's the matter with the pork, steward?"
"Nothing, sir, that I know of."
"The men say it smells strong—that's what you say, I think?" remarked the captain, addressing the man.
"Werry strong, sir—strong enough to sit upon, sir."