Journal of an African Cruiser
Journal of an African Cruiser
Book Excerpt
ways fine. We have not tacked ship
once since leaving Sandy Hook, and are almost ready to quarrel with the
continual fair wind. There is nothing else to find fault with, except the
performances of our French cook in the wardroom, who came on board just
before we left New York, and made us believe that we had obtained a
treasure. He told us that he had cooked for a French Admiral. We swore him
to secrecy on that point, lest the Commodore should be disposed to engage
the services of so distinguished an artist for his own table. But our
self-congratulations were not of long continuance. The sugared omelet
passed with slight remark. The beefsteak smothered in onions was merely
prohibited in future. But when, on the second day, the potatoes were
served with mashed lemon-peel, the general discontent burst forth; and we
scolded till we laughed again at the dilemma in which we found ourselves.
Next to being without food, is the calamity of being subjected, in the
middle of the Atlantic, to the diabolical arts of the
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