He was,
moreover, disposed to be inconveniently punctilious about the way in
which his efforts were regarded. For the first day the crew ate in
silence, but at dinner-time on the second the storm broke.
"What are yer looking at your vittles like that for?" inquired the
"Bruiser" of Sam Dowse, as that able-bodied seaman sat with his plate in
his lap, eyeing it with much disfavour. "That ain't the way to look at
your food, after I've been perspiring away all the morning cooking it."
"Yes, you've cooked yourself instead of the meat," said Sam warmly.
"It's a shame to spoil good food like that; it's quite raw."
"You eat it!" said the "Bruiser" fiercely; "that's wot you've go to do.
Eat it!"
For sole answer the indignant Sam threw a piece at him, and the rest of
the crew, snatching up their dinners, hurriedly clambered into their
bunks and viewed the fray from a safe distance.
"Have you 'ad enough?" inquired the "Bruiser," addressing the head of
Sam, which protruded from beneath his left arm.
"I 'ave," said Sam surlily.
"And you won't turn up your nose at good vittles any more?" inquired the
"Bruiser" severely.
"I won't turn it up at anything," said Sam earnestly, as he tenderly
felt the member in question.
"You're the only one as 'as complained," said the "Bruiser.
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