The company had a Cook with them upon this occasion. He was the man of all others to tell you a draught of London ale out of a hundred. No one could match him in roasting and boiling; his made-dishes, potted beef, raised pies, and blanc-mangers, were absolutely eminent.
There was a Shipman, or merchantman too, a West-countryman; I think he came from Dartmouth: he rode upon a hack—as well as he was able: and wore a gown of coarse stuff, which came down as low as his knee: also a dagger suspended by a lace from his neck under his arm. The hot summer had made his face all brown—he was a fine hearty looking fellow. Many and many a cask of wine had he brought from Bourdeaux while the merchants were fast asleep in their beds. He was not remarkable for tenderness of conscience, seeing that if he were engaged at sea, and had got the upper-hand, he always sent his prisoners home by water.[1] But for skill in reckoning his tides; for knowing all the
- ↑ This passage, which in the original appears to be rather
