Eating is the chief occupation at sea. It's the great topic as well as the great business of the day, especially in small sailing vessels like the "Black Hawk;" although anything is good enough for me when I can't get nothin' better, which is the true philosophy of life. If there is a good dish and a bad one set before me, I am something of a rat, I always choose the best.

There are few animals, as there are few men, that we can't learn something from. Now a rat, although I hate him like pyson, is a travelling gentleman, and accommodates himself to circ.u.mstances. He likes to visit people that are well off, and has a free and easy way about him, and don't require an introduction. He does not wait to be pressed to eat, but helps himself, and does justice to his host and his viands. When hungry, he will walk into the larder and take a lunch or a supper without requiring any waiting on. He is abstemious, or rather temperate in his drinking. Mola.s.ses and syrup he prefers to strong liquors, and he is a connoisseur in all things pertaining to the dessert. He is fond of ripe fruit, and dry or liquid preserves, the latter of which he eats with cream, for which purpose he forms a pa.s.sage to the dairy. He prides himself on his knowledge of cheese, and will tell you in the twinkling of an eye which is the best in point of flavour or richness. Still he is not proud--he visits the poor when there is no gentlemen in the neighbourhood, and can accommodate himself to coa.r.s.e fare and poor cookery. To see him in one of these hovels, you would think he never knew anything better, for he has a capital appet.i.te, and can content himself with mere bread and water. He is a wise traveller, too. He is up to the ways of the world, and is aware of the disposition there is everywhere to entrap strangers. He knows now to take care of himself. If he is ever deceived, it is by treachery. He is seized sometimes at the hospitable board, and a.s.sa.s.sinated, or perhaps cruelly poisoned. But what skill can ensure safety, where confidence is so shamefully abused? He is a capital sailor, even bilge-water don't make him squeamish, and he is so good a judge of the sea-worthiness of a ship, that he leaves her at the first port if he finds she is leaky or weak. Few architects, on the other hand, have such a knowledge of the stability of a house as he has. He examines its foundations thoroughly, and if he perceives any, the slightest chance of its falling, he retreats in season, and leaves it to its fate. In short, he is a model traveller, and much may be learned from him.

But, then, who is perfect? He has some serious faults, from which we may also take instructive lessons, so as to avoid them. He runs all over a house, sits up late at night, and makes a devil of a noise. He is a nasty, cross-grained critter, and treacherous even to those who feed him best. He is very dirty in his habits, and spoils as much food as he eats. If a door ain't left open for him, he cuts right through it, and if by accident he is locked in, he won't wait to be let out, but hacks a pa.s.sage ship through the floor. Not content with being entertained himself, he brings a whole retinue with him, and actilly eats a feller out of house and home, and gets as sa.s.sy as a free n.i.g.g.e.r. He gets into the servant-gall's bed-room sometimes at night, and nearly scares her to death under pretence he wants her candle; and sometimes jumps right on to the bed, and says she is handsome enough to eat, gives her a nip on the nose, sneezes on her with great contempt, and tells her she takes snuff. The fact is, he is hated everywhere he travels for his ugly behaviour as much as an Englishman, and that is a great deal more than sin is by half the world.

Now, being fond of natur, I try to take lessons from all created critters. I copy the rat's travelling knowledge and good points as near as possible, and strive to avoid the bad. I confine myself to the company apartments, and them that's allotted to me! Havin' no family, I take n.o.body with me a-visitin', keep good hours, and give as little trouble as possible; and as for goin' to the servant-gall's room, under pretence of wanting a candle, I'd scorn such an action. Now, as there is lots of good things in this vessel, rat like, I intend to have a good dinner.

"Sorrow, what have you got for us to-day?"

"There is the moose-meat, Ma.s.sa."

"Let that hang over the stern, we shall get tired of it."

"Den, Ma.s.sa, dar is de Jesuit-priest; by golly, Ma.s.sa, dat is a funny name. Yah, yah, yah! dis here n.i.g.g.ar was took in dat time. Dat ar a fac."

"Well, the turkey had better hang over too."

"Sposin' I git you fish dinner to-day, Ma.s.sa?"

"What have you got?"

"Some tobacco-pipes, Ma.s.sa, and some miller's thumbs." The rascal expected to take a rise out of me, but I was too wide awake for him.

Cutler and the doctor, strange to say, fell into the trap, and required an explanation, which delighted Sorrow amazingly. Cutler, though an old fisherman on the coast, didn't know these fish at all.

And the doctor had some difficulty in recognising them, under names he had never heard of before.

"Let us have them."

"Well, there is a fresh salmon, Ma.s.sa?"

"Let us have steaks off of it. Do them as I told you, and take care the paper don't catch fire, and don't let the coals smoke 'em. Serve some lobster sauce with them, but use no b.u.t.ter, it spoils salmon. Let us have some hoss-radish with it."

"Hoss-radish! yah, yah, yah! Why, Ma.s.sa, whar under the sun does you suppose now I could git hoss-radish, on board ob dis 'Black Hawk?' De sea broke into my garden de oder night, and kill ebery created ting in it. Lord a ma.s.sy, Ma.s.sa, you know dis is notin' but a fishin'-craft, salt pork and taters one day, and salt beef and taters next day, den twice laid for third day, and den begin agin. Why, dere neber has been no cooking on board of dis here fore-and-after till you yourself comed on board. Dey don't know nuffin'. Dey is as stupid and ignorant as coots."

Here his eye rested on the captain, when with the greatest coolness he gave me a wink, and went on without stopping.

"Scept ma.s.sa captain," said he, "and he do know what is good, dat ar a fact, but he don't like to be ticular, so he takes same fare as men, and dey isn't jealous. 'Sorrow,' sais he, 'make no stinction for me. I is used to better tings, but I'll put up wid same fare as men.'"

"Sorrow," said the captain, "how can you tell such a barefaced falsehood. What an impudent liar you are, to talk so before my face. I never said anything of the kind to you."

"Why, Ma.s.sa, now," said Sorrow, "dis here child is wide awake, that are a fac, and no mistake, and it's onpossible he is a dreamin'. What is it you did say den, when you ordered dinner?"

"I gave my orders and said nothing more."

"Exactly, Ma.s.sa, I knowed I was right; dat is de identical ting I said. You was used to better tings; you made no stinctions, and ordered all the same for boaf of you. Hoss-radish, Ma.s.sa Slick," said he, "I wish I had some, or could get some ash.o.r.e for you, but hoss-radish ain't French, and dese folks nebber hear tell ob him."

"Make some."

"Oh, Ma.s.sa, now you is makin' fun ob dis poor n.i.g.g.ar."

"I am not. Take a turnip, sc.r.a.pe it the same as the radish, into fine shaving, mix it with fresh mustard, and a little pepper and vinegar, and you can't tell it from t'other."

"By golly, Ma.s.sa, but dat are a wrinkle. Oh, how missus would a lubbed you. It was loud all down sout dere was a great deal ob 'finement in her. n.o.body was good nuff for her dere; dey had no taste for cookin'.

She was mighty high 'mong de ladies, in de instep, but not a mossel of pride to de n.i.g.g.ars. Oh, you would a walked right into de c.o.c.kles ob her heart. If you had tredded up to her, she would a married you, and gub you her tree plantations, and eight hundred n.i.g.g.ar, and ebery ting, and order dinner for you herself. Oh, wouldn't she been done, gone stracted, when you showed her how she had shot her grandmother?1 wouldn't she? I'll be dad fetched if she wouldn't."

1 Shooting one's granny, or grandmother, means fancying you have discovered what was well known before.

"Have you any other fish?" I said.

"Oh yes, Ma.s.sa; some grand fresh clams."

"Do you know how to cook them?"

"Ma.s.sa," said he, putting his hands under his white ap.r.o.n, and, sailor-like, giving a hitch up to his trousers, preparatory to stretching himself straight; "Ma.s.sa, dis here n.i.g.g.ar is a rambitious n.i.g.g.ar, and he kersaits he can take de shine out ob any n.i.g.g.ar that ever played de juice harp in cookin' clams. Missus structed me husself. Ma.s.sa, I shall nebber forget dat time, de longest day I live.

She sent for me, she did, and I went in, and she was lyin' on de sofa, lookin' pale as de inside of parsimmon seed, for de wedder was brilin'

hot.

"'Sorrow,' said she.

"'Yes, Missus,' said I.

"'Put the pillar under my head. Dat is right,' said she; 'tank you, Sorrow.'

"Oh, Ma.s.sa, how different she was from abulitinists to Boston. She always said Tankee, for ebery ting. Now ablutinists say, 'Hand me dat piller, you darned rascal, and den make yourself skase, you is as black as de debbil's hind leg.' And den she say--

"'Trow dat scarf over my ankles, to keep de bominable flies off.

Tankee, Sorrow; you is far more handier dan Aunt Dolly is. Dat are n.i.g.g.ar is so rumbustious, she jerks my close so, sometimes I tink in my soul she will pull 'em off.' Den she shut her eye, and she gabe a cold shiver all ober.

"'Sorrow,' sais she, 'I am goin' to take a long, bery long journey, to de far off counteree.'

"'Oh dear me! Missus,' says I; 'Oh Lord; Missus, you ain't a goin' to die, is you?' and I fell down on my knees, and kissed her hand, and said, 'Oh, Missus; don't die, please Missus. What will become oh dis n.i.g.g.ar if you do? If de Lord in his goodness take you away, let me go wid you, Missus;' and I was so sorry I boohooed right out, and groaned and wipy eye like courtin' amost.

"'Why, Uncle Sorrow,' said she, 'I isn't a goin' to die; what makes you tink dat? Stand up: I do railly believe you do lub your missus. Go to dat closet, and pour yourself out a gla.s.s of whiskey;' and I goes to de closet--just dis way--and dere stood de bottle and a gla.s.s, as dis here one do, and I helpt myself dis fashen.

"'What made you tink I was a goin' for to die?' said she, 'do I look so ill?'

"'No, Missus; but dat is de way de Boston preacher dat staid here last week spoke to me,--de long-legged, sour face, Yankee villain. He is uglier and yallerer dan Aunt Phillissy Anne's crooked-necked squashes.

I don't want to see no more ob such fellers pysonin' de minds ob de n.i.g.g.ars here.'

"Says he, 'My man.'

"'I isn't a man,' sais I, 'I is only a n.i.g.g.ar.'

"'Poor, ignorant wretch,' said he.

"'Ma.s.sa,' sais I, 'you has waked up de wrong pa.s.senger dis present time. I isn't poor, I ab plenty to eat, and plenty to drink, and two great trong wenches to help me cook, and plenty of fine frill shirt, longin' to my old ma.s.sa, and bran new hat, and when I wants money I asks missus, and she gives it to me, and I ab white oberseer to shoot game for me. When I wants wild ducks or wenson, all I got to do is to say to dat Yankee oberseer, 'Missus and I want some deer or some canvasback, I spect you had better go look for some, Ma.s.sa Buccra.'

No, no, Ma.s.sa, I ain't so ignorant as to let any man come over me to make seed-corn out of me. If you want to see wretches, go to James Town, and see de poor white critters dat ab to do all dere own work deyselves, cause dey is so poor, dey ab no n.i.g.g.ars to do it for 'em.'