Dr. Munro thought it would be better
that he should not come down."
"In fact, I have ordered him to bed," said I.
"Then I move that Mr. Turpey be called upon to
act as host," said one of the new comers; and so it was
at once agreed.
Presently the other men arrived; but there was no
sign of the dinner. We waited for a quarter of an hour,
but nothing appeared. The landlady was summoned, but
could give no information.
"Captain Whitehall ordered it from a confectioner's,
sir," said she, in reply to the lieutenant's cross-
examination. "He did not tell me which confectioner's.
It might have been any one of four or five. He only said
that it would all come right, and that I should bake an
apple tart."
Another quarter of an hour passed, and we were all
ravenous. It was evident that Whitehall had made some
mistake. We began to roll our eyes towards the apple
pie, as the boat's crew does towards the boy in the
stories of shipwreck. A large hairy man, with an anchor
tattooed upon his hand, rose and set the pie in front of
Turpey.
"What d'you say, gentlemen,--shall I serve it out?"
We all drew up at the table with a decision
which made words superfluous. In five minutes the
pie dish was as clean as when the cook first saw it. And
our ill-luck vanished with the pie. A minute later the
landlady's son entered with the soup; and cod's head,
roast beef, game and ice pudding followed in due
succession.
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