But on the second I was
well again, regained my appetite, and ate salt meat, bacon, and peas
as well as a sailor; the stockfish, the barley, and the coffee and
tea, I left untouched.
A real sailor never drinks water; and this observation of mine was
confirmed by our captain and steersman: instead of beer or wine,
they took tea, and, except at meals, cold tea.
On Sunday evenings we had a grand supper, for the captain had eight
eggs, which he had brought from Denmark, boiled for us four people.
The crew had a few glasses of punch-essence mixed in their tea.
As my readers are now acquainted with the varied bill of fare in
such a ship, I will say a few words of the table-linen. This
consisted only of an old sailcloth, which was spread over the table,
and looked so dirty and greasy that I thought it would be much
better and more agreeable to leave the table uncovered. But I soon
repented the unwise thought, and discovered how important this cloth
was. One morning I saw our valet treating a piece of sailcloth
quite outrageously:
