dinner two or three of them sniffed suspiciously at the food they were eating.
"This don't taste just right to me," said Shamhaven. "The meat tastes decayed."
"And the vegetables ain't much better," put in Conroy,—a sturdy Irish-American, who was one of the best seamen on the schooner.
"Dat dinner am fust-class," cried Jeff. "I ain't gwine to stand yere an' see you growlin' at it."
"It certainly tastes a bit off, Jeff," put in Jack Wilbur. "Taste it yourself."
The cook did so, and his face looked doubtful for a moment.
"Guess dat needs a little salt an' pepper," he said, slowly. It did not taste nearly as good as he had anticipated.
As there was nothing else to do, and they were hungry, the men ate the meal, grumbling to themselves as they did so. Luke said but little and ate sparingly, and his example was followed by Cal Vincent.
The captain, Grandon, and Larry ate in the cabin and the dinner served to them was first-class in every particular.
"Guess Jeff is spreading himself, just to show what he can do," remarked Larry to the first mate, after he had finished his repast.
