I got their coffee, promising to make that for them, at all events, and down I went, being ordered out peremptorily. I did not purpose to go, and was deaf to all orders of the kind. They kindly put out the fire, and I sat down to await its rekindling. They sent up for the first mate, and he came down, furiously repeating the order to vacate the kitchen.
I said, "The Doctor would'nt like to know you were making love to me—I am Aunt Becky," and he replied, angrily, that if I did not leave forthwith, he would throw me overboard.
I said, "O don't drown me yet—I haven't said, positively, I won't have you," and he retired in disgust, leaving me victor of the field, with the exasperated darkies punching me every now and then, and regarding me with looks of intense hate. I did not heed things of this sort, a combat usually made me stronger, and the boys got their coffee, and it did not cost them ten cents a pint either. As I saw them swallowing it from their blackened, battered cups, I wondered if I could not find something in the shape of bread to help it relish the next time, and I did.
I found two boxes of hard tack, the owner of which seemed a myth, and accepting them as a Providential gift in answer to my earnest desires, I knocked off the corner of one, and, without a single pang of conscience, filled my apron, and distributed the biscuit among the hungry crew.
Just as I was opening the second box, Dr. Bunnel, the embalmer came up, asking me by what authority I was opening his boxes of hard tack, and I, too eager,
