Chapter 11 - Page 2

things that a sailor needs; and for my own
part, it had never entered my mind, that sailors had no table to sit
down to, no cloth, or napkins, or tumblers, and had to provide every
thing themselves. But so it was.

The first thing they did was this. Every sailor went to the cook-house
with his tin pot, and got it filled with coffee; but of course, having
no pot, there was no coffee for me. And after that, a sort of little tub
called a "kid," was passed down into the forecastle, filled with
something they called "burgoo." This was like mush, made of Indian corn,
meal, and water. With the "kid," a. little tin cannikin was passed down
with molasses. Then the Jackson that I spoke of before, put the kid
between his knees, and began to pour in the molasses, just like an old
landlord mixing punch for a party. He scooped out a little hole in the
middle of the mush, to hold the molasses; so it looked for all the world
like a little black pool in the Dismal Swamp of Virginia.

Then they all formed a circle round the kid; and one after the other,
with great regularity, dipped their spoons into the mush, and after
stirring them round a little in the molasses-pool, they swallowed down
their mouthfuls, and smacked their lips over it, as if it tasted very
good; which I have no doubt it did; but not having any spoon, I wasn't
sure.

I sat some time watching these proceedings, and wondering how polite
they were to each other; for, though there were a great many spoons to
only one dish, they never got entangled. At last, seeing that the mush
was getting thinner and thinner, and that it was getting low water, or
rather low molasses in the little pool, I ran on deck, and after
searching about, returned with a bit of stick; and thinking I had as
good a right as any one else to the mush and molasses, I worked my way
into the circle, intending to make one of the party. So I shoved in my
stick, and after twirling it about, was just managing to carry a little
burgoo toward my mouth, which had been for some time standing ready open
to receive it, when one of the sailors perceiving what I was about,
knocked the stick out of my hands, and asked me where I learned my
manners; Was that the way gentlemen eat in my country? Did they eat
their victuals with splinters of wood, and couldn't that wealthy
gentleman my father afford to buy his gentlemanly son a spoon?

All the rest joined in, and pronounced me an ill-bred, coarse, and
unmannerly youngster, who, if permitted to go on with such behavior as
that, would corrupt the whole crew, and make them no better than swine.

As I felt conscious that a stick was indeed a thing very unsuitable to
eat with, I did not say much to this, though it vexed