By degrees the boys became accustomed to their new situation, and began to feel much more contented.  The only thing that troubled them was the food they received.  It consisted, for the most part, of salt pork and beef, and hard crackers, with now and then a little flour and dried apples.  Simpson, who had been in the navy nearly all his life, and had become well acquainted with its rules and regulations, asserted that they did not receive half their allowance, and promised that, if he could detect the paymaster’s steward in the act of cheating them, he would pay him back in his own coin.  Now Blinks, for that was the steward’s name, was a notorious cheat; he never gave the men their full rations.  On the contrary, he often boasted that he cleared not less than a hundred pounds of provisions every day.  He was the caterer of the steerage mess, and many a pound of flour and apples, which should have been given to the men, found its way to his table, in the shape of pies and puddings.  Blinks always rose early, and as soon as he was dressed, the steerage steward, every morning, brought to his room a lunch, consisting of coffee and apple-pie.  He was very fond of pies, and had several made every day.  Every time the men passed the galley, they saw long rows of them set out to cool.  Many a midnight plundering expedition had been planned against the galley, but without success.  The door and windows were securely fastened at sundown, and all attempts to effect an entrance were unavailing.  It was also useless to attempt to bribe the cook, for Blinks, who was a strict accountant, always knew how many pies were made every day, and if any of them were missing, the cook was sure to suffer.  One evening, while Frank and Simpson were engaged in washing up the supper-dishes, the latter inquired: 

“Would you like one of those pies we saw in the galley to-day?”

“Yes,” answered Frank; “they looked very tempting.”

“Well,” said Simpson, lowering his voice to a whisper, “we’ll have some of them to-night.”

“How will we get them?” inquired Frank.

“Why, we’ll steal them.  We can’t beg or buy them.  Besides, the stuff they are made of rightfully belongs to us.  I don’t care a snap for the pies, but I don’t want to see that rascally steward growing fat off our grub.”

“I’m in for it,” answered Frank, who had long wanted an opportunity to revenge himself on Blinks.

“Will that cousin of yours lend us a hand?” inquired Simpson.

“Yes, without any coaxing.  He does not like the steward any better than I do.  But I’d like to know how we are going to work to get at the pies?  The doors and windows are all fastened.”

“We will pry up the galley, so that one of us can crawl under it.  I’ve put a handspike where I can find it in a moment.  We shall have no trouble at all.”

As soon as the dishes were washed and stowed away in the mess-chest, Frank went to find his cousin, who was always ready for any mischief of that kind, and readily agreed to the proposal.  When bedtime came, the three slung their hammocks together, and, to all appearances, were soon fast asleep.  At nine o’clock the ship’s corporal put out all the berth-deck lights, which left the place shrouded in darkness.  As soon as he had gone forward again, Simpson raised himself on his elbow, and whispered: