On the first morning out, the steward of the Montauk commenced the dispensation of his news; for no sooner was he heard rattling the glasses, and shuffling plates in the pantry, than the attack was begun by Mr. Dodge, in whom "a laudable thirst after knowledge," as exemplified in putting questions, was rather a besetting principle. This gentleman had come out in the ship, as has been mentioned, and unfortunately for the interest of his propensity, not only the steward, but all on board, had, as it is expressed in slang language, early taken the measure of his foot. The result of his present application was the following brief dialogue.
"Steward," called out Mr. Dodge, through the blinds of his state-room; "whereabouts are we?"
"So I s'pose, sir; nobody is better at guessing and divining than Mr. Dodge."
"But in what part of the Channel are we, Saunders?"
"From Portsmouth Roads to this place, sir."
Mr. Dodge was satisfied, and the steward, who would not have dared to be so explicit with any other cabin-passenger, continued coolly to mix an omelette. The next attack was made from the same room, by Sir George Templemore.
"Steward, my good fellow, do you happen to know whereabouts we are?"
"Certainly, sir; the land is still werry obwious."
"_Nicely_, sir;" with a mincing emphasis on the first word, that betrayed there was a little waggery about the grave-looking mulatto.
There was a shuffling in the state-room, followed by a silence. The door of Mr. Sharp's room was now opened an inch or two, and the following questions issued through the crevice:
"Do you mean that the wind is favourable?"
"For the Montauk, sir; she's a persuader in this breeze."
"But is she going in the direction we wish?"
"If the gentleman wishes to perambulate America, it is probable he will get there with a little patience."
Mr. Sharp pulled-to his door, and ten minutes passed without further questions; the steward beginning to hope the morning catechism was over, though he grumbled a wish that gentlemen would "turn out" and take a look for themselves. Now, up to this moment, Saunders knew no more, than those who had just been questioning him of the particular situation of the ship, in which he floated as indifferent to the whereabouts and the winds, as men sail in the earth along its orbit, without bethinking them of parallaxes, nodes, ecliptics, and solstices. Aware that it was about time for the captain to be heard, he sent a subordinate on deck, with a view to be ready to meet the usual questions from his commander. A couple of minutes were sufficient to put him _au courant_ of the real state of things. The next door that opened was that of Paul Blunt, however, who thrust his head into the cabin, with all his dark curls in the confusion of a night scene.