oticed, had
lost none of his cheek since our separation, and now put on the air of a
post captain at the least. "Begging y'r pardon, sir, but getting ashore
from Spithead, with a northerly wind a-blowin', ain't quite so easy as
landing from Point and you're moored over against Blockhouse Fort!"

"That may be, but it's none of my business," said young Mills, loftily,
waiving Dobbs's plea aside as a mere trivial matter. "I want some
breakfast. What have you at all fit for a christian to eat? I see
nothing here, nothing at all."

"Got some werry nice cold 'am, sir, in my pantry," cried Dobbs, with
effusion, at this opening, glad of having something he could offer.
"Shall I cut you a plate o' that, sir--just try a wee bit off the
knuckle end, sir?"

"All right, if there is nothing else, but I suppose it will be all bone
and gristle, or as hard as a cat-block," replied Tommy; heaving a most
portentous sigh of disappointment, though winking slily to me to show
that he was only `putting all this on' to astonish the other fellows,
who were gazing at him with open mouths in wonder at his assurance and
grand seigneur manner. "You may get me a couple of eggs, also, while
you're about it, steward. Mind they're fresh and have no chickens in
them; I don't like poultry in the morning so early!"

Of course there was a loud guffaw at this, the three purser's clerks,
who were eating bread and butter at the lower end of the table, not
daring to put in a word of objection to the fare, seeming to enjoy the
joke mightily.

Not so, however, Dobbs.

"Werry sorry, sir, but there's no heggs," he replied to this somewhat
imperative order from Master Tommy, looking absolutely crestfallen at
having thus to confess the shortcomings of his commissariat. "The
caterer of the mess, sir, forgot to horder 'em, sir."

"No eggs!" cried Tommy, in the tone of tragic denunciation which Cicero
might have used when exposing the iniquities of Cataline. "This is
really impardonable!"

"Never mind, sir," hastily whispered Dobbs, holding out a gleam of hope,
as he thought, "we'll get some at Plymouth as soon as we anchor in the
Sound, sir. You shall get some there, sir, never you fear, sir."

"Plymouth? Why, I may lose the number of my mess myself long before I
ever reach there!" said Tommy, contemptuously. "A caterer who forgets
to provide eggs for the mess ought to be keel-hauled! Who _is_ the
caterer, steward?"

"Mr Stormcock, sir."

"O