Blossom darkly.
"WHOSE UNCLE JOSEPH HAD TO GO ABROAD WITHOUT STOPPING TO PACK UP?"
The skipper made no reply, but the anxiety of the crew to have these
vital problems solved was so manifest that he turned his back on the
virago and went towards the mate, who at that moment dipped hurriedly to
escape a wet dish-clout. The two men regarded each other, pale with
anxiety.
"Now, you just move off," said Mrs. Blossom, shaking another clout at
them. "I won't have you hanging about my galley. Keep to your own end of
the ship."
The skipper drew himself up haughtily, but the effect was somewhat
marred by one eye, which dwelt persistently on the clout, and after a
short inward struggle he moved off, accompanied by the mate. Wellington
himself would have been nonplussed by a wet cloth in the hands of a
fearless woman.
"She'll just have to have her own way till we get to Llanelly," said the
indignant skipper, "and then I'll send her home by train and ship
another cook. I knew she'd got a temper, but I didn't know it was like
this. She's the last woman that sets foot on my ship--that's all she's
done for her sex."
In happy ignorance of her impending doom Mrs. Blossom went blithely
about her duties, assisted by a crew whose admiration for her increased
by leaps and bounds; and the only thing which ventured to interfere with
her was a stiff Atlantic roll, which they encountered upon rounding the
Land's End.
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