York and Hamilton Corners farther and farther astern, and slowly forging toward Cuba, where, had Dick but known it, a curious and trying experience awaited him.
"Let's get Widdy to tell us a sailor's yarn," proposed Frank Bender, toward the close of that afternoon, when the lads had inspected every part of the ship, from the engine room to the chart house, and had even climbed part way up the shrouds.
"Fine!" cried Dick. "Widdy knows some good sea stories," and they gathered about the sailor who sat on a coil of rope, smoking.
"An' so," concluded the old salt, at the finish of his story, as he loaded his short, and rapidly blackening pipe, with some very dark tobacco, "an' so we was rescued an' taken aboard, an' the first thing my messmate, Marlinspike Ned, called for was plum duff, an' what's more, he got it."
"What's plum duff?" asked Paul Drew.
"It's a sailor's plum pudding," volunteered Dick, who had read many sea tales.
"Right," assented Widdy, "only it's better."
"I think I could make some," said the wealthy lad, who was not a little proud of his cooking abilities, and who had often shown his culinary skill when in camp.
"Ah, my boy!" exclaimed the old sailor, "plum duff ain't what it used to be. It ain't got the same flavor, split my lee scuppers if it has!"
"I'm sure I could make some that would have,"
