HOMEWARD BOUND. 133

«Bress de Lawd, honey, yer old uncle wouldn’ tech
that stuff more’n he’d hang hisself on de jib-boom.”

« Don’t you think it is wholesome?”

«Wholesome, chile? Can what’s been fed on dead
men be good fur to eat? I’se a gwine to go hungry
a mighty long spell fore any ob dat stuff goes down
my froat.”

Then the old darkey toddled away to the galley with
his arms full of dishes, and Ben, too anxious regarding
the safety of his vessel, even though no danger threatened,
to remain long in one place, went on deck.

It was not necessary for Mr. Bean to wait many hours
before he was able to say “I told you so” in regard to
the weather.

By ten o’clock in the forenoon the breeze had sprung
up from the west, and the brig was again in motion; but
rolling uneasily in the swell from the southwest, which
increased much more rapidly than did the wind.

By the time he was putting the finishing touches to
the food for dinner, old Eliphalet had quite as much as
he could do to keep the pots and pans on the stove, and
Ben, alarmed by this singular combination of a heavy
swell and a light wind, consulted the barometer.

“Tt is falling,’ Miss Dunham said, as she noted his
occupation, “and it seems as if Mr. Bean’s prediction was
to prove true, in this case at least. JI cannot understand,
though, why the brig should pitch so terribly with nothing
more than a fair sailing breeze.”

“We are probably getting the tail end of a hurricane,”