Now
really, Peter, what with the squealing of the pigs and his wife's piano,
we are almost driven mad. I don't know which is the worse of the two; if
you go aft you hear the one, if you go forward you hear the other, by
way of variety, and that, they say, is charming. But, is it not shocking
that such a beautiful frigate should be turned into a pig-sty, and that
her main-deck should smell worse than a muckheap?"
"But how does his wife like the idea of living only upon hog's flesh?"
"She! Lord bless you, Peter! why, she looks as spare as a shark, and she
has just the appetite of one, for she'll _bolt_ a four-pound piece of
pork before it's well put on her plate."
"Have you any more such pleasant intelligence to communicate, O'Brien?"
"No, Peter; you have the worst of it. The lieutenants are good officers
and pleasant messmates: the doctor is a little queer, and the purser
thinks himself a wag; the master, an old north-countryman, who knows his
duty, and takes his glass of grog. The midshipmen are a very genteel set
of young men, and full of fun and frolic. I'll bet a wager there'll be a
bobbery in the pig-sty before long, for they are ripe for mischief. Now,
Peter, I hardly need say that my cabin and everything I have is at your
service; and I think if we could only have a devil of a gale of wind, or
a hard-fought action, to send the _pigs_ overboard and smash the
_piano_, we should do very well."
The next day I went on board, and was shown down into the cabin, to
report my having joined.
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