`This is the day afore
Christmas,' says Andy Boyle, `an' to-night will be Christmas eve,
an' it's pretty tough fur us to be sittin' here with not even so
much hardtack as we want, an' all the time thinkin' that the hold
of this ship is packed full of the gayest kind of good things to
eat.' `Shut up about Christmas!' says Tom Simmons. `Them two
youngsters of mine, up in Bangor, is havin' their toes and noses
pretty nigh froze, I 'spect, but they'll hang up their stockin's
all the same to-night, never thinkin' that their dad's bein'
cooked alive on a empty stomach.' `Of course they wouldn't hang
'em up,' says I, if they knowed what a fix you was in, but
they don't know it, an' what's the use of grumblin' at 'em fur
bein' a little jolly?' `Well,' says Andy `they couldn't be more
jollier than I'd be if I could git at some of them fancy fixin's
down in the hold. I worked well on to a week at 'Frisco puttin'
in them boxes, an' the names of the things was on the outside of
most of 'em; an' I tell you what it is, mates, it made my mouth
water, even then, to read 'em, an' I wasn't hungry, nuther,
havin' plenty to eat three times a day. There was roast beef,
an' roast mutton, an' duck, an' chicken, an' soup, an' peas, an'
beans, an' termaters, an' plum-puddin',an' mince-pie--' `Shut up
with your mince-pie!' sung out Tom Simmons. `Isn't it enough to
have to gnaw on these salt chips, without hearin' about mince-
pie?' `An' more'n that' says Andy, `there was canned peaches,
an' pears, an' plums, an' cherries.
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