"Thank you; that will just suit me, sir."
"You seem to be a good lad, and I like to see such get along. We had one young fellow on our last trip, but he wasn't worth his salt. Tell Jeff I said you could mess with the rest."
Larry soon learned that Jeff was the ship's cook,—a tall, fat mulatto, much given to singing and dancing whenever the occasion allowed. Jeff smiled broadly when the boy told him what Grandon had said.
"All right, sah, jess git Hobson or one ob de rest to make room fo' yo', an' yo' kin hab' all yo' wants, includin' plum duff an' a slice o' mutton. We is livin' high in dis port."
"Mutton and plum duff will just strike me right," smiled Larry. "When I was on the bark Rescue, it was salt horse almost every day."
"Well, I ain't sayin' wot de boys gits on a long trip," answered the cook. "We runs putty close to de wind sometimes."
"Avast there, Jeff!" cried Luke Striker. "Don't give the captain a black eye when he don't deserve it. The eatin' on board of the Columbia is all it should be, an' more, without thanking the cook, either. Ain't that so, Hobson?"
