After I had called the two gentlemen, I gave the glass bull's-eyes in the swing ports a rub with a cloth. I was at work in this way when the two gentlemen entered. Mr. Jermyn smiled to see me with my coat off, rubbing at the glass. He also wished me good morning, which Mr. Scott failed to do. Mr. Scott took no notice of me one way or the other; but sat down at the locker, asking when breakfast would be ready. “Get breakfast, boy,” Mr. Jermyn said. At that I put my glass-rag into the locker. I hurried off to the galley to bring the breakfast, not knowing rightly whether it would be there or in another place. The cook, surly brute, made a lot of offensive remarks to me, to which I made no answer. He was glad to have someone to bully, for he had the common man's love of power, with all his hatred of anything more polished than himself. I took the breakfast aft to the cabin, where, by this time, the ship's captain was seated. I placed the dish before Mr. Jermyn.
“Why haven't you washed your hands, boy?” he asked, looking at my hands.
“Wash them now, then. Don't come to wait at table with hands like that again. I didn't think you were a dirty boy.”
I was not a dirty boy; but, having been at work since before six that morning, I had had no chance of washing myself. I could not answer; but the injustice of Mr. Jermyn's words gave me some of the most bitter misery which I have known. For brutal, thoughtless injustice, it is difficult to beat the merchant ship. I stole away to wash myself, very glad of the chance to get away from the cabin. When I was ready, it was time to clear the breakfast things to the galley, to wash them with the cook. Luckily, I had overheard Mr. Jermyn say “how well this cook can devil kidneys.” I repeated this to the cook, who was pleased to hear it. It made him rather more kind in his manner to me. He did not know who Mr. Scott really was. He asked me a lot of questions about what I knew of Mr. Scott. I replied that I'd heard that he was a Spanish merchant, a friend of Mr. Jermyn's. As for Mr. Jermyn, he knew' an uncle of mine. I had helped him to recover his pocket-book; that was all that I knew of him; that was why he had given me my present post as servant. More I dared not say; for I remembered the Duke's sharp sword on my chest. We talked thus, as we washed the dishes; the cook in a sweeter mood (having had his morning dram of brandy); I, myself, trying hard to win him to a good opinion of me. I asked him if I might clean his copper for him; it was in a sad state of dirt. “You'll have work enough 'ere, boy,” he said, tartly, “without you running round for more. You mind your own business.” After this little snap at my head (no thought of thanks occurred to him) he prepared breakfast for us, out of the remains of the cabin breakfast. I was much cheered by the prospect of food, for nearly three hours of hard work had given me an appetite. At a word from the cook, I brought out two little stools from under the bunk. Then I placed the “bread-barge,” or wooden bowl of ship's biscuits, ready for our meal, beside our two plates.